Meant to post today, but I kept getting distracted. Well, I can post more tomorrow. We've only got a four hour day tomorrow at work.

Woo hoo!!

These are some of the things that make Christmas Christmas for me.

1) John Denver and the Muppets
2) The toilet paper roll Santa that I made in third grade and that has topped the tree ever since
3) Snickerdoodles
4) My mom's tuna and cream cheese spread that we have on Christmas morning
5) A roaring fire
6) The Christmas stocking that was knitted for me while my mom was still pregnant and has graced the mantlepiece of every house my family has lived in
7) The hand-made Christmas ornaments (my grandmother's, mother's and mine)
8) It's A Wonderful Life
9) O, Holy Night
10) A Christmas Carol

I have caught and corrected so many errors in my last two posts. I only hope I've caught them all. In my mind's eye, I can see Faustus with his red pen marking up my blog entries.

Terrifying thought.

Especially since I see him dressed up like some sort of Victorian-era school marm with old lady glasses on a chain and his hair in a bun.

Maybe I just need some caffeine.

Only two days to go until my second most hated holiday, New Year's Eve. Nothing like that and Valentine's Day to make me really aware of being alone.

Well, thank God for alcohol.

One of the advantages of going to mom's house for Christmas is that I can catch up on my reading. I didn't grow up where she lives now and I don't know anyone. I tend to stay at the house for the entire time I visit her (especially since I don't have a car). This trip was no exception.

I started with 'Ruled Brittania' by Harry Turtledove. This was a Christmas gift. While I'd never read any of Turtledove's work before, I'd always been intrigued by his alternate reality stories (several of his series are set in a United States where the South had won the Civil War or in a world where the outcome of World War II had been completely different). This book envisioned an England where the Spanish Armada had won and England was now a territory of Spain. Set in the late 1500s, the plot deals with an attempt to free England from King Philip's rule and return Elizabeth to the throne.

The central characters in the novel are William Shakespeare, whose work is key to the coming revolution, and Spanish playwright, Lope de Vega.

Considering that these are two of my favorite playwrights and that I generally like Elizabethan dramatists (Christopher Marlowe and Thomas Dekker are also in the novel), I was really intrigued by the concept.

Generally, I enjoyed it. Good use of language and an appreciation for Shakespeare and Marlowe. I thought Turtledove's de Vega was not as well drawn as the other characters, but how many people even know who Lope de Vega was? I'll give him credit for that, at least. And he does a really good job of making the period (especially the theater and religious intrigue) come to life. Worth a read, if you can handle reading a lot of blank verse.

Next I read 'The Da Vinci Code'. Um, okay. I don't really see what all the hype is about. Wait, actually I do. We live in a country that loves conspiracy theories. This is a book about the ultimate conspiracy. Of course that would go over well.

Sad thing is, though, it isn't a particularly good book. Bland characters. Action sequences that seem very forced. Illogical events.

It would have been interesting to see a better novelists' take on this subject.

Still, at least I've read it. Now I can sit in Starbucks and not feel left out of the soccer moms' conversations.

Last book was another gift (thanks, Palochi), Michael Thomas Ford's debut novel, 'Last Summer'. I really like Ford's non-fiction works, so I was looking forward to reading this book. And I've got to say it was pretty good.

Granted, it was no 'Tales of the City', though it certainly owes a lot to Maupin. And to many other gay writers. In fact, peppered throughout the novel are enough references to gay writers, icons, movies, etc., to make this both an interesting novel and a primer for Gay Studies 101. Considering that one of the story lines revolves around a high school runaway who is just finding out what it means to be gay and that Ford has written several books for gay and questioning youth, it is clearly intentional. And good for him.

Like 'Tales of the City', 'Last Summer' deals with a group of people whose lives intersect, in this case over a summer in Provincetown. The characters are interesting, the stories are engaging, and it is often laugh-out-loud funny. My only problem with the book is that it was too short. With the number of stories being told, it seemed that things moved a little too quickly. Romances that should have taken weeks seemed to happen in days. Plots came together and fell apart with incredible speed. Life-changing decisions were briefly considered then made. I just wanted things to slow down a little.

That being said, I kind of hope that Ford continues with these characters. While I don't think they'll ever replace Mary Anne, Mouse and Mona, I was interested enough in them to want to see what will happen to them in the future.

So that was the reading side of my Christmas break. In addition, I watched hour after hour of cooking and designing shows and have come up with all sorts of things I want to do around the apartment. Now if I can just get my landlady to let me paint.

I'm back. I had a surprisingly good Christmas. Some nice gifts. Good family bonding time.

All in all very pleasant.

But I'm hungry right now, so I'm going to go eat lunch. I'll post a little when I get back.

Merry Christmas, everybody. I'll be back next week.

My mother, Lord love her, after twisting my arm and forcing me to promise to travel to her house on Christmas Eve along with the rest of creation, instead of Christmas Day when everyone else will be at home, called today to tell me that if it looked like terrorists were going to attack the city or the train system, I should come on Christmas Day instead. Oy.

If it looks like terrorists are going to attack, traveling will be very, very low on my list of priorities. Curling up in a fetal position under my bed will be the order of the day.

Ah, well.

Last night I went to a delightful dinner party in honor of this man's birthday. It afforded me an opportunity to talk with Faustus for a while, which I really hadn't had a chance to do yet. Good food. Good conversation. A very pleasant evening. It was the sort of thing I imagined myself doing when I moved to New York. Going out with a group of friends and their friends, having discussions about theater and literature. More often than not, however, I spend my evenings at home watching movies. Ah, well.

Sadly, MAK had to leave early for his trip to visit his family. I walked David home so he could give me my belated birthday present, a Goblin journal. I, too, have ordered something from Cafe Press for his birthday present, a Gotham Knights Rugby Calendar.

Good times.

Today was another 'do nothing' day at work. Well, I did do one interesting thing. I played Santa Claus and took a bunch of presents to a special education class at an elementary school in Queens. The kids were wheelchair-bound and non-verbal. Many were mentally retarded. Several of the kids had feeding tubes and other physical problems.

I will say this for myself, I managed not to cry while I was dropping off the presents and meeting all the kids and their teachers.

It just broke my heart to see how much the deck was already stacked against these kids and their families.

Sure makes all my problems seem remarkably trivial.

So, let's see. Got a little catching up to do.

Last Thursday . . . drinks with Mike, MAK and PatCH. A lovely, civilized time. Any rumors you may hear about me sticking my hands down people's shirts to feel their smooth, smooth chests, stripping people's clothing off in order to see their tattoos (and other bits of their anatomy), sucking a ring off someone's finger, or blatantly staring at people's asses (especially the hot Mohawked waiter) are complete and utter fabrications and the people who spread such filth should be stripped naked, covered with honey from head to toe and . . . um . . .

I'm sorry, I seem to have lost my train of thought.

And we're moving . . .

Woke up Friday with a screaming hangover. It was worth it, though.

Friday I had a celebrity sighting. Frank Langella was at the post office choosing letters as part of Operation Santa Claus. Good for him.

That night I went to the Eagle for their Christmas party. The team was invited. Fun event. Food, open bar, good company. Sadly, my foot was absolutely killing me, so I had to leave early. As lame as it was having to go home and ice my foot instead of staying out with my friends, I really needed it. Saturday the foot was much better.

Saturday was a quiet day. Went shopping. Watched 'Get Real'. Got together with Mike for coffee at Rita's then went back to his place and watched the second half of 'Angels in America'. I haven't seen the first half, but I did see the plays when they were on Broadway, so I didn't think it mattered too much.

The show was amazing. Al Pacino was absolutely incredible. I really didn't see how they were going to adapt it for the screen, but it worked. I can't wait till it's out on DVD.

Yesterday was another quiet one. Had brunch with the new president of the rugby club. We talked about a number of club related things. In fact, the brunch lasted four hours. I'm still a little up in the air about his way of doing things, but I think I'll adapt. For now, my focus is going to be membership and developing our fan base. Should be interesting.

Got home and made dinner. My birthday gifts to myself this year (other than my, um, art DVDs) were cookbooks. Seven of them. Last night I tried out a crockpot recipe for Eggplant, Tomato and Chickpea Stew. It turned out really well. A little more runny than I would have liked, but I can fix that next time. It made a huge amount of food, so I'll have to wind up freezing quite a bit of it. Still, it's nice to have a freezer full of good food, especially for those nights that I don't feel like cooking.

I can't wait to try out more of the recipes. One of the cookbooks is nothing put 'one pot' recipes. Soups, stews, casseroles, etc. It's going to be great cooking some of those dishes.

And I have to say that I love coming home to a house that is full of the smells of cooking. Walking in and smelling garlic, tomatoes, oranges, cinnamon, dill, bread . . . well, it makes it feel more like home.

Tomorrow night, I'm going to mull cider, so the house should smell amazing after that.

Sunday night I watched 'Billy Elliot'. Even though I said that 'Beautiful Thing' is my favorite movie, I think 'Billy Elliot' really is. It's also one of those movies that I really can't watch with someone else (except maybe Mike since he has little or no respect left for me) because I always end up crying like a baby at the end of that movie. It's kind of embarrassing with people who don't know me that well. There are several scenes that kill me. The bit where Billy's dad breaks the strike to try to earn money for Billy's audition and training. The scene with Billy saying goodbye to his father and brother at the bus station. Billy trying to say goodbye to his grandmother and she pulls him into a fierce embrace, knowing that in all likelihood, they won't see each other again.

Yep. I'm tearing up now thinking about it.

But then, I cry at the drop of a hat. What can you do?

So here I am today. Nearly done with my shopping (or at least the shopping I have to do before Christmas . . . some of my friends and I exchange gifts after the holidays). I have to buy something Barbie-related for my niece. I need to get something for my stepsister and her husband.

Finally, I have to get some presents for my Operation Santa family. Not the most original thing, but I think I'm going to send them a gift certificate to Toys 'R Us. There are four kids and I only know what one of them wants. I figure it's safer to let the parents deal with all that.

Well, that's it for now. Tonight is David's dinner party. I can't wait. I've got to say, I've made some great friends by having a blog.

As I've mentioned, I've got great luck when it comes to raffles and drawings. Witness the trip to Trinidad that I recently won.

Well, I just got an e-mail today saying I'd won a weekend at a bed & breakfast in Upstate New York. Food and ski passes included.

So, who wants to be my ski buddy?

Woo hoo!!!! Blogger has redeemed itself. My site is updating.

Well, I'm really drunk after a night of partying with MAK, PatCH and Mike. PatCH is an evil person when it comes to stealth ordering drinks for people. But I had such a great time.

Rather than posting all the good gossip, I'll wait to see what MAK and PatCH post. If they spill the beans on me . . . well, I'll be sharing a little bit about them as well.

Bloody blogger isn't updating my site. Same thing happened to Brian a few months back.

Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks!!!!

Go here and let these "pro family" dicks know what you really think of gay marriage.

I love 'Beautiful Thing'. In fact, I think it is probably my favorite movie. Sure it's not perfect, but it's so romantic and beautiful.

And on that note, I'm off to bed. Have to be up super early to see ROTK.

Woo hoo!!!!!

I'm taking off from work tomorrow. It has nothing to do with going to see 'Return of the King'. That is just a happy coincidence.

I'm so excited I could pee. Or maybe that's all the coffee I've been drinking.

Didn't make it to the party last night. Between the cold and my foot, I didn't feel very social.

Instead I went home and watched 'But I'm a Cheerleader' which is such a fun movie. Just what I needed. Monday night I watched 'Broken Hearts Club'. As you can see, I'm working my way through my gay-themed DVDs. Tonight might be 'Beautiful Thing' or 'Get Real'.

I didn't have my usual insomnia last night. I did wake up every four hours needing another dose of cold medicine, but at least I was sleeping between doses.

For those of you who were curious about my Amazon Wish List, I've finally figured out how to post it. It's in the Links section.

You don't have to buy me anything. But browsing through it might give you a little insight into the fucked up chasm of my mind.

Continuing with this week's my-life-sucks theme, I have a nasty cold and my fucking foot is messed up again. I'm going to make an appointment with a doctor and find out once and for all what the hell is wrong.

Hell of a way to start a week.

On the up side of things, I'm supposed to see a friend of mine who's in town tonight. She's throwing a party for all her friends at the Fat Black Pussycat, which one assumes is a bar.

If I don't feel any better, I may not go. But it would be good to see her again.

Another weekend in the bag. Not a fucking thing to show for it.

Friday, coffee with Mike. First time in three weeks that I saw him.

Saturday, sleep late. Pick up some art books and prints and stuff that I'd bought off of eBay. Go to Paul's party. That was a bit of a fiasco. I was going over there with English David. Neither of us brought the address. Once we got to Jersey, I had to call Mike (three times before he picked up) and had to have him log in to my e-mail for me and find the address. Brilliant.

The party was a lot of fun. Good company, lots of singing around the piano, good food and drinks . . . everything you could want.

Wound up taking the PATH train back the wrong way and ended up at the Trade Center stop. That was odd. Macabre, I suppose. If you think about it too much.

Today, saw 'nDavid's opera. It was okay. Saw Mike for a few seconds after the show. He was with David's family so we didn't really talk.

You know, I'm happy for him and David. I'm happy about his job and everything like that too. But I miss my friend.

Guess I'm getting a full dose of the holiday blues. And all the lonliness that goes with it.

Well, time to go finish my laundry.

Paul's party was a blast.

More later.

Well, I can't access my blog, but at least I can update it.

Since I can't seem to catch a fucking break this week, here was my day.

Work, blah, blah, blah.

Go to the opera to see 'nDavid. Train breaks down at 34th St. By the time I get uptown, the show has started. Try to buy tickets for the Sunday show. The box office woman tells me the box office is officially closed. I have to buy the tickets the day of.

Fine.

Go back downtown. Get together with Mike. Bitch about rugby stuff. Mention the fact that he forgot my birthday. He gets upset at himself, though frankly, I don't much care. He has David. He has his job. He has his family. I'm more at the outskirts of his life right now. He doesn't love me any less; he just doesn't have as much time for me or my life. And my birthday shouldn't be something that he is concerned about. I mean, I'm not a kid. Birthdays don't have the same meaning that they did back then. I told him not to beat himself up and that we would go out to dinner sometime.

Fine.

At least tomorrow is Paul's party. Should be fun. Even if it is in Jersey.

Good news: I'm going to Trinidad.

Bad news: I'm going to Trinidad.

Turns out it's just one ticket. Damn.

On the bright side, I've found the website of the local Rugby Union down there and will endeavor to see some games while I'm down there. Hopefully, I'll be able to hang out with them and drink, too.

MAK and PatCH, you're both welcome to come with me, but you'll have to buy your own tickets. Hotel is on me, though.

And one funny little story from yesterday.

I take the V, or whatever other trains run on that track, into work every morning. My station is at 23rd and 6th. When it rains, the street floods next to the stairs leading down into the station. As luck, and shitty planning, would have it, that is also a bus stop.

Yesterday, a well-dressed young woman and I were descending into the station when a bus plowed through the flooded street, causing a huge wave of water to soak us both. We were both wearing coats, but our pants were soaked on one side. At the same time we both looked down and said "Son of a bitch." Then we looked at each other, chuckled, and continued downstairs to catch our train.

So what am I doing this weekend, you ask? Well, tomorrow I'm going to clean my house. As this will be my first crack at it since I moved in, I don't expect it to go well. I will then reward myself by going to a housewarming party for one of my teammates.

Sunday, not a fucking thing.

Ah, the exciting life of a single, relatively young man in Manhattan.

Rather than going to either party last night, I went home, had a bite of dinner, and went to bed. Despite two people calling at 8 and 8:30 p.m., I managed to get a little over 11 hours sleep.

Very nice.

That will prepare me for going to see 'nDavid (of Mike'nDavid) in an opera tonight. I repeat: I wish the fucking week would end already.

I should point out that I recognize the irony of my complaining about so few rugby guys coming to my birthday party when I skipped one last night. Fine, I'm a hypocrite. So sue me.

Decided to blow off my office party (even though that's probably the closest I'm coming to a year-end bonus this year). I'll probably still go to the birthday party, though. Mostly I just want a drink.

Jesus, I wish this fucking day would end already. Scratch that. I wish this fucking week would end already.

I just sent an e-mail resigning from most of the administrative stuff that I've been doing for the rugby team. I thought it would freak me out a little more than this, but I actually feel okay.

I resigned from all of the projects and committees that have been giving me fits (or worse, in which I have to do all the work because no one else wants to do it). I've offered to continue working on the projects that I actually enjoy doing, which is still four or five things. This will keep me busy without making me crazy.

If nothing else, next year will be a little less stressful.

Pity I can't do the same with work and my family.

Last night was the rugby banquet and it was a blast, due in no small part to the hard work of this man. The food was good, the company was great, the awards were fun and touching, and the kangaroo court went really, really well. All in all, one of the best events this week.

Down side is that it was also the team elections for next year's officers and board. I wasn't elected for either of the positions I was running for. I'll admit to being a little down about this. I feel like I bust my ass for this team, but it seems that all the stuff I do is behind the scenes. I guess I was just hoping for a little overt validation. Of course, the fact that I was elected vice president and board member for this past year was nothing to sneeze at.

Looking at the bright side of all this, I'm going to have a lot more free time next year. Since I won't be taking care of all the little administrative nightmares and being the go-to man for the jobs that no one else on the team wants to do, I can focus my energy into the two committees that I'm in charge of. Well, one committee. The second one I agreed to help out on until they find someone to take care of it. But since I will have more time, I may go ahead and take it over, too. We'll see.

I will admit that losing wouldn't have stung quite so badly if more than four of the rugby guys had shown up at my birthday party. I guess I'm getting a high-school sized dose of insecurity about my place in the team.

On the lighter side, I'm being taken out for a belated birthday lunch by some of my coworkers today. Getting some noodle soup at Ollie's. Just what I need on a day like this. The tonight is my firm's holiday party and Groundskeeper Willie's birthday party. I'll probably make a brief appearance at the former then head to the latter.

Yea!!!! I can finally update. I've been having some serious Blogger issues recently, but they seem to be resolved. At least for now.

So here was the list of fabulous things I've been up to.

Saturday: Toby (our rugby club president) turned . . . I don't know, 50 or so . . . and to celebrate, had his birthday party at a karaoke bar in the East Village. Despite the fact that there was a bachelorette party and that most of the people had voices similar to Yoko Ono, a good time was had by all. After hearing more of my teammates sing than I ever want to again, we retired to the Phoenix for drinks.

Sunday: Birthday eve. Marie's Crisis. Drank a rum and coke or two. Sang a few (dozen) show tunes. Drooled all over myself when a beautiful boy (currently in the cast of Movin' Out) showed up and started singing. Tried to get to beautiful boy by inviting his female friend (hate the term 'fag hag') to come join the rugby boys and sing and drink. She did. He followed. *sigh* Later I began to realize that I was asking the pianist to play songs that he'd already played a few minutes before. I also noticed that my speech was beginning to sound less like slight Texas drawl and more like a stroke victim. I decided that it was probably time to head home. By the grace of God (and thanks to my friend Dino who saw me safely home) I made it to my apartment where I managed to strip off most of my clothing before passing out.

Monday: Woke up. Called in sick. Puked. Repeatedly. Slept. Met David O. for coffee at Rita's. Went to my Steak Frites dinner with Stuff, David, and his boyfriend, Rob. Ate way too much (mussels, steak, and fries). Wanted a port, but my stomach gave me an unequivocal no. The waitress brought me a scoop of ice cream with a candle in it and, fortunately, no one sang me 'Happy Birthday'.

In fact, my mom was the only one who sang me 'Happy Birthday' this year. She sang it on a message on my office voicemail, on my cell phone, and on my home answering machine. She also sang it today when she finally reached me (we played phone tag for days).

Tuesday: Work. David O.'s holiday party. Lovely time surrounded by my rugby friends and lots of the 'beautiful people'. Horribly intimidating. Eventually, only the ruggers remained. We're always the last to leave a party.

Today: Work.

Tonight: Rugby end-of-season banquet, featuring officer elections (I'm running for president), Thai food (we have the whole restaurant to ourselves), a gazillion awards, and the world-famous Kangaroo Court. I'll be serving as the defense attorney for this one. Can't wait.

Well, that's it for now. Let's see if this entry actually posts.

Soon I'll be off to my traditional birthday dinner, Steak Frites near Union Square. Yum.

Despite my passing out and only waking to throw up overindulgence, I had a great time last night. Rugby players, show tunes, bloggers, rum and cute twinks. Really, what else does one need?

Happy birthday to me.
Happy birthday to me.
Happy birthday dear Crash
Happy birthday to me.

Sadly, I'm sick. I think most of it is just from a little overindulgence last night. But I think I might have a little bug, too. Blech.

Fun weekend. I'll write about it later.

Welcome to Crash's Birthday Rockin' Eve. As a reminder, I'll be over at Marie's Crisis Cafe tonight at 7:30 p.m. to drink/sing in my birthday. Marie's is on Grove St., just west of 7th Ave.

You know that feeling where you reach your mid-thirties and you realize that you're in a dead-end job, you're ass-deep in debt, you haven't put pen to paper for months and months and you are all alone with no one to love?

Anyone . . . ?

Bueller . . . ? Bueller . . . ? Bueller . . . ?

To quote the Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons (episode: Treehouse of Terror VIII 'Homega Man'): Oh, I've wasted my life.

Granted, he said it while looking at a missile with a nuclear warhead barreling down on him, but really, isn't a missile with a nuclear warhead just another metaphor for middle age?

Last night's insomnia special was The Night We Met by fellow blogger Rob Byrnes. I'll write more about it tomorrow, so I'll just give a quick teaser.

I thought it was great. Laugh out loud funny in several parts. Romantic (which is always a hugely important thing for me). And there were lots of great characters. Given that so much gay fiction today uses nothing but cardboard cut-out characters because the focus is on the sex, it was nice to see a little depth.

I suggest running out and buying a copy. Or get online and do it . . . it's cold outside.

I'll write a little more about it tomorrow. Assuming I don't get lost in a snow drift.

Right now, I'm all about the pretty, pretty snowflakes.

In about an hour and a half when I head home, I'm going to be hating it.

To quote one of the great philosophers: Isn't it ironic . . . don't you think?

Yet more proof that everything King George does is more choreographed than the Bolshoi Ballet.

So last night instead of sleeping (still with the insomnia), I read A Density of Souls by Christopher Rice. I said I never would, but I did.

For years, I've hated Christopher Rice. In fact, hatred doesn't even begin to cover the depth of feelings I had for him. He was too young. He was too pretty (the fact that he is physically my 'dream type' was particularly galling). He had rich parents (well, mostly his mom) and would never have to work a day in his life. He could use her contacts to get published. He could churn out reams of shit and still sell millions of books because his mom is an icon. He hadn't even published his first book and he was a darling of the gay and straight press.

When I thought of him, I could taste blood.

I went to his book signing for A Density of Souls in Manhattan. I wanted to see him in person. To look for flaws. The voice that was a little too high-pitched. The sibilant ess that escaped every now and again. The effeminate hand gestures. I gloried in all of it. Surely I wasn't the only one who could see he was a fraud.

I trashed his book. Complained about the whole Southern Gothic thing. Said that he was just ripping off his mom's style. That there was no story. That he was a hack.

Thing is, I'd never read it.

Because I was afraid. Afraid that he might actually be a good writer. Afraid that my hatred wasn't really aimed at Christopher Rice but at myself. That I was merely jealous of something that I was too scared to pursue.

So last night I finally read his book.

And it was good.

Not great, it was a first novel after all. But good. And full of promise. He is a good storyteller with an ear for dialogue and an eye for detail.

I'm going to go out and get his second book this weekend.

And I can't hate him anymore. That facade was knocked away and all I have left is my jealousy and envy. Hopefully it will motivate me instead of just eating me up inside.

Just read this entry on LMGTS and had to run out and buy the book. Didn't have it on the US Amazon, so I bought it on the UK site.

Then since I was throwing money at Europe, I hopped onto the French Amazon and bought the new French Rugby Calendar, Dieux du Stade (Stadium Gods). If you run a search for this phrase on google (the phrase in French, not English) you will find dozens of sites with photos from this calendar. It is the most homoerotic straight sports calendar you will ever see.

Woof. Or as they say in French, woof.

Take a look at this picture and ask yourself if Dick Gephardt was wearing pants.

Fucking Blogger lost my fucking post. Fuck them. Fuck.

Note: I'm having to recreate this post since Blogger lost my original. And that pisses me off because it was clever. Clever, I tell you. And funny as hell.

Christmas in New York

Even looking at the words makes my guts knot up. Why, you ask? Well, if you're asking then you don't live or work in Manhattan.

The reason is simple: tourists. And by tourists, I mean anyone who doesn't live or work in the borough of Manhattan, who comes into the city for any reason. You see them everywhere. Blocking traffic in Times Square so they can take a picture of Toys R Us (I mean, it's just another fucking store. Get over it.). Or speaking some sort of moon-man language at each other (usually German) while slowly strolling five abreast down Madison Avenue. They crowd around little card tables on the sidewalk to buy knock-off Fendi purses, while asking, in all earnestness, "Are these real?"

No, you stupid cow, they are not real. And you no longer deserve to live.

This time of year tends to sneak up on you. First, there are a few more people than normal around Thanksgiving. More people seem not to know where they are supposed to be on the sidewalk. Simple rule: Keep to your right and you'll never go wrong. Corollary to Simple Rule: If you scream that at someone and throw half a bagel at them, they will run away from you in terror. But they will also have a cool story to tell their friends.

But the real turning point is when they light that damn Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.

I try to avoid that area, generally. But during the Christmas season . . . I'd rather gnaw off my leg than go there. Sadly, because of work I often have to (go there, not gnaw off my leg). Slaloming through a sea of tourists encumbered with boxes and children . . . perhaps even boxes of children, who knows . . . is enough to turn any Kris Kringle into a Scrooge. And I'm more Scrooge than Kris Kringle to begin with.

I knew I was in trouble when I started walking to my focus group (Money, money, money, money . . . MOOOOONEY) and the streets were gridlocked. So were the sidewalks. There were parents with more kids than the Von Trapps. Jersey girls with hair taller than a Christmas tree (and equally decorated) dragging their drunken, leather jacket wearing boyfriends. And on that note, who gets drunk to go to a family-oriented event. I mean, they're Guidos so I don't expect a Vulcan-like sense of decorum and logic, but come on. You don't have to get drunk for every event. Or is it just to drown the embarrassment caused by their girlfriends' hair. I managed to dodge them all and my five-minute walk to the focus group (Money, money, money, money . . . MOOOOONEY) only took fifteen minutes.

After the focus group (Money, money, money, money . . . MOOOOONEY) was over, the streets were once again gridlocked and the sidewalks full.

Arrgh.

This time the crowd was from that other level of hell, Brooklyn. Sneering girls and white hip hoppers and poseurs, oh my. The fellow who stood next to me on the train, wearing his baby blue velour Sean John tracksuit, gold chains and knit cap (oy vey), had eyes so dilated that I could see his brain. Waitress, I'll have what he's having.

I guess there's nothing to do but hunker down and wait for New Year's Day. By the time I've finished my hoppin' john, with any luck the out-of-town freaks and weirdos will have left and we local freaks and weirdos can get back to our normal routines.

Riddle me this, Batman. How is it that I've only had two fucking Dr. Peppers in the last three fucking days and I still have fucking insomnia?????

I went to bed at 11 last night. Stared at the ceiling until 1:30 a.m. when I got up and had some water and a bite of hummus. I think I fell asleep around 2 or so.

This blows.

Needless to say I slept through my alarm again. Just one day I'd like to get to work on time.

Luckily I have a bunch of books and DVDs that just came in this week so when the insomnia hits tonight (which it better not if it knows what's good for it), I'll have some pleasant diversions.

Speaking of books and DVDs, why is it that going to Amazon to buy a Christmas present for a friend usually seems to involve me buying at least 5 things for myself as well? I think there's some sort of subliminal shit going on at their website.

And speaking of Amazon, I've decided to make my wishlist searchable. I'll add a link to it when it's been activated. Anyone wanting to buy me a birthday gift will be more than welcome to. But when you're going through the list and you notice all the various photography books, remember, they're art, not porn. Art, do you hear me? I swear.

I started writing about my trip to the beach. Oddly enough, the more I wrote, the more it sounded like 'A Very Special Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolfe Thanksgiving'. So rather than expose you to that sturm und drang, let this suffice. I got to spend more time with my dad than I have in years. I read five novels over the week, generally not too good, but only two of them sucked. I didn't kill any of my stepmom's family (Thank God for my steely resolve. And I should point out that I don't include my stepmom in that group. Love her, but her family makes me crazy). Bought two pairs of Sketchers. I ate enough food to play the entire front row next season (got to hit the gym). Listened to the ocean and the wind every night. Enjoyed myself a great deal. And really, isn't that what a holiday is all about.

That being said, when I go to Trinidad, I hope to come back with tales of wild island debauchery.

Last night, instead of sleeping, I read the new Mark Richard Zubro mystery, Dead Egotistical Morons. I tend to like this guy's books. Sure, he's no Lawrence Block, but I still enjoy the stories and the characters (he has two series: the Paul Turner Series about a gay cop and the Tom and Scott Series about a gay school teacher and his pro baseball player boyfriend.) As I said, I like the characters so I read the books.

But he must have phoned this one in. Not only was it a pretty boring read (which most of his others haven't been), it didn't add anything to the development of the principle characters. The new characters (the murder victims, suspects, etc.) were two-dimensional cut outs. Frankly I'm surprised he even bothered naming them. We had Evil Record Executive, Slimy Reporter, Horny Choreographer, Asshole Agent, and the members of the boy band (Dead Guy, Fragile Guy, Joker Guy, Dead Guy 2 and Other). Then there was the guy who had no motive whatsoever to be the killer, so you had to be pretty sure he was. But the reason he was the killer . . . ? Well, let's just say, you don't see it coming. Why? Because it's stupid.

I still recommend checking out his books. But I think his earlier ones are better.

I had a Dr. Pepper at lunch so I'm feeling slightly more civil. Add to that the cup of tea I'm about to have and the $150 I'm going to earn at a focus group tonight and I may actually turn out to be somewhat merry by tonight. ($150 for an hour and a half's work. I feel like Julia Roberts in 'Pretty Woman'. Only that's a lot less than her character made, I'm not that skinny and my lips don't look like a baboon's ass. Otherwise, I'm just like her.)

Well, okay. I may not wind up feeling merry. But I won't feel homicidal either, and that's a step above this morning.

This makes me feel like some sort of vengeful god. I love it.

Thanks to this guy for pointing it out.

After a rather interesting cardiac episode on Monday, I've decided to cut way back on my caffeine consumption.

This is my second day. I've had one cup of tea since Monday afternoon.

My normal caffeine intake was: one XL Duncan Donuts coffee, a couple of sodas, one Venti Starbucks coffee and then a couple more sodas.

I repeat: I've had one cup of tea.

I'm torn between wanting to crawl under my desk and hit my head against the floor until I'm unconscious and wanting to rip the head off of someone who is irritating me then drink the blood straight from their still-beating heart.

Sadly, neither of these is an option where I work.

I'm really, really ready for my head to stop pounding.

This is disturbing, yet amusing.

However, it is not as disturbing and amusing as the new Seattle Quake Calendar (featuring nekkid ruggers). All I'm saying is it must get mighty cold in Seattle.

In case any of you Quakers are reading this, I kid because I care.

You should run out and buy one. Assuming, of course, you've already bought one of our calendars. Remember, Gotham Knight Calendars are the perfect holiday gift.

I know I promised Zenchick that I would write about my complete lack of adventures in Delaware . . . but, to misquote the Kenny Rogers/Sheena Easton song:

I know it's late
I know I'm weary
I know my plans
Don't include blogging

So I'm going to bed.

I promise, promise, promise that I will write a little about my Thanksgiving tomorrow, even if it means blowing off all the work I need to do. Really, that's the sort of sacrifice I'm willing to make for my friends.

Next week, I'll be turning 35. In honor of the occasion, I will be going out Sunday night and drinking myself blind.

I'd love for you all to join me. (Free drinks for TX Mark, WeHo Mark, Jalal, Scott, Jeff, Sherry and everyone else not in the NYC area who actually show up)

For those of you in the city who care to join me, I will be going to Marie's Crisis Cafe on Grove and Seventh Ave. to drink and sing and drink a little more. This will be Sunday, December 7th at 7:30 p.m.

I hope to see you there.

Snow, snow, snow.

It didn't last very long, but for a while it was snowing.

Ah, I love this time of year.

Instead of coming home and blogging, I went out and ate guacamole and drank pomegranate margaritas.

Blog tonight? I don't think so.

Bitch of a day at work. I'll try to blog about my complete lack of vacation adventures later this evening.

2113.

Any guesses as to what that number signifies?

That's how many e-mails were waiting for me when I got back into town.

Maybe 100 of them were real e-mails that I needed/wanted to read.

That vacation feeling has completely disappeared now.

I've toyed with the idea of asking someone to guest blog for me, but the only people who I can think of who would do it are fellow bloggers, and it wouldn't be fair for me to impose.

So I'm afraid you'll simply have to do without me for a week.

Yesterday, as I mentioned was rather sweet. In addition to all the fun things from the awards ceremony, I read a couple of books; both of them were gay coming of age novels. The first was 'Peter' by Kate Walker, an Australian. I enjoyed it. It wasn't great, but it was a little better than 'Geography Club'.

The next book was 'The World of Normal Boys' by K.M. Soehnlein. This was one I started before I went to bed. The next thing I knew it was four in the morning and I'd just finished. It was an amazing book. Go buy it and read it. I can't really do justice to the book by my lame description.

So, on to today. I had breakfast with Mike'nDavid. That was fine. Then I went to the office for a few hours. Got a haircut. Met up with David for coffee and conversation. Went back to his place and watched a Bette Davis movie (oh, yeah, we're gay). Had several wrestling matches with Goblin; a word of warning, she fights dirty. All in all a very, very pleasant afternoon.

This evening I went out with another David (my third of the day) to a bar called Park on the west side. Very nice lounge. The music was too loud but the crowd was very hot so that was okay.

Ran into one of my co-workers there.

Now I'm tired and I have to get up early to pack and clean and all that fun stuff. Oh, well. At least I don't have to work this week.

I should also point out that MAK and I were both wearing suits and, if I may be so bold as to say, we looked fucking fierce.

At least that's what all the hot boys at the Web thought when we went there for drinks after the ceremony.

Well, okay, there were only a couple of hot boys there and they didn't really look at us, but we still looked fierce.

Great, great time tonight. MAK is a perfect companion for these kinds of events. Snarky, but not overly so. Emotional, but not overly so. And best of all, we weren't cruising the same men (our tastes are divergent). Not that MAK was cruising men; don't worry, K.

As I said, tonight was great. The event was a bit of a cluster fuck organizationally speaking, but who cares? The food was good, the entertainment was great (and cute, cute, cute) and I had a lovely time.

Odd story. I was accepting an award on behalf of my firm. But they made the award out to me. That sucker's going right on my resume, believe me.

Other funny note, I won the raffle. I have remarkably good luck with raffles. Tend to win something. I've won plane tickets, concert tickets, t-shirts, uniforms, cash . . . all sorts of cool stuff.

Tonight's prize was a trip to Trinidad.

How cool is that? I don't know if it's tickets for two, but if it is I'm inviting MAK since he was my date for the evening.

Now I just need PatCH to tell me everything about Trinidad since he is from there.

Too much to do. So I'm just not going to do any of it.

I'm going to get a haircut. Then go to this awards ceremony with MAK. I will drink and have fun. I will not think of all the things I have to do. I will not be pissed off that the plans I had for today fell apart as they always do. What's the point?

Fuck it all.

England won the rugby world cup. Will wonders never cease?

I'm very disappointed that I chose to sleep last night instead of watching the game. From what I hear, it was a real nail-biter. Can't wait to watch the replay.

I'm feeling a little better today. In fact, as long as I don't move, breathe or swallow, I feel just peachy.

Thank God for cold medecine. At least I can kind of function.

Kind of.

Tonight is the final match of the rugby world cup. One of the guys on our team is hosting a party to watch it. I really want to go. But I really need to sleep. Choices, choices.

I also have to pack. And clean out the fridge. And do all the crap I've been putting off around the house and at work.

Too much to do, too little time.

Tonight's awards ceremony was the best one of the week (so far). It was for a great program that helps at-risk kids in the Bronx. Best of all, Ossie Davis was the emcee. He was amazing.

Okay, time to go home.

I made soup last night. I always feel better when I make soup. This was a veggie soup with red new potatoes, red chard, spinach, chickpeas, tomatoes, fennel and celery. And a heaping helping of garlic to help with the cold.

I wish I had some right now, but I guess I'll just have to wait till I get home.

When I get sick, my brain gets fuzzy.

Today I got off the subway and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out how to get to my exit. That was because I'd gotten off a stop early.

At work I was getting ready to add Equal to my coffee. Which I'd already done. That would have been some super sweet coffee. Nasty.

It didn't help that when I got into the office I walked past the receptionist, said hi, then proceeded to walk back to my office. There were no secretaries. No attorneys. Nobody. I had almost decided that the rapture had come and only the receptionist and I were evil sinners, when I realized that they were probably running a fire drill. Sure enough.

I hope this cold medecine kicks in soon.

Now, I'm off to read the continuing Faustus drama . . . already in progress.

Sneezy, Runny, Achy, Phlegmy.

Not the lost Dwarves (Dwarfs?) from Snow White, they are my symptoms that have been sneaking up on me this afternoon.

Bollocks.

It's like my body understands that I'm about to go on a well-needed vacation and is attempting to ruin it.

Ah, well. As long as I feel better by Monday.

I just got an e-mail offering me a chance to purchase a "My Twinn Doll." This doll is manufactured to look like "that special child in your life."

Insert Michael Jackson joke here.

Anyway, with all due respect to what I'm sure is a wonderful product, am I the only one who would have been massively creeped out getting one of these? I would have lain awake nights worried that as soon as I dozed off, the doll would come to life, grow to human size, take my place and turn me into a doll.

Surely I'm not the only one who would have thought that.

Massachusetts Governor Speaks Out
"I agree with 3,000 years of recorded history," Mass. Gov. Mitt Romney said. "Slavery is an institution endorsed by the Bible and our constitution and laws should reflect that."


Okay, it's not exactly what he said, but I hope you see my point. As the old song goes, "The things that you're liable to read in the Bible, it ain't necessarily so." And just because it's always been done that way, doesn't make it right.

Quiet day, it seems. Few comments. Few updates on the other blogs.

Am I the only one not doing jack shit at work?

Sigh.

I guess this means I have to tackle that huge fucking pile of paper on my desk.

I've also got a bunch of friends to call. Lots of people leaving me messages over the last week. Nothing pressing; just wanting to catch up. Funny thing is, when I'm down like I have been, the last thing I want to do is talk to anyone. It's just too much of a chore to act like I'm happy when I'm not and I don't want to burden my friends with my problems.

So now they just think I'm a dick for not calling them back.

Eh bien, what can you do?

Well, time to make the donuts . . . so to speak.

I imagine this is what Purgatory will be like.

This is my week to read books. Or rather, this is my week to avoid doing laundry and going to the gym. Monday I read 'Geography Club' by Brent Hartinger. Last night it was 'Everybody Dies' by Lawrence Block (one of my heroes).

'Geography Club' was a light read. Very obviously written for teenagers using lots of cultural references (it seems that many of the guys at this particular high school looked like Abercrombie and Fitch models or like they just stepped out of an Old Navy ad). Luckily, this book will likely be forgotten before it's too dated. I mean, it was a good little read, but it didn't cover any new territory at all. Boy meets boy (one of them a school nobody and the other the jock hero). They fall in love, nearly get outed and jock boy decides he can't deal with the pressure.

Kind of a 'What's Wrong With Angry'/'Get Real' thing. Like I said, no new territory covered.

But then, it's written for high school kids. How many of them have read 'What's Wrong With Angry' or seen 'Get Real'?

And if it helps any kid deal with being gay, then I'm all for it.

'Everybody Dies' was good. Comfortable, I suppose, is a better word. I've read all the other books in the Matthew Scudder series. I like the characters. I feel like I know them and enjoy reading about their lives. And this was a great book for that. It really dealt with some characters in the series that don't have much in the way of back story and it fleshed them out a lot. And it killed off a couple that had been in there for a while (kind of an Ed McBain sort of thing).

The problem was the story. Someone is trying to set up one of Matt's friends. The rest of the story involves Matt trying to figure out who's doing it and why. The 'who's doing it and why' is revealed late in the book, and while it doesn't get explained enough to make it very believable, the motive is revenge and it at least holds together. The problem for me was that the book sets out fairly early that one of the people in Matt's friend's inner circle is betraying him and setting him up to be killed. And although it isn't revealed until right before the end, it is painfully obvious who it is. And while I suppose it's okay to read a book in order to see when the characters will finally put everything together, it wasn't what I wanted from this book. Matt Scudder is a detective. He'd been a police officer. In short, he was too smart not to have seen this coming.

And that bothered me.

Now like I said, I'm glad I read the book if for no other reason than some of the character development. That and the fact that Lawrence Block is an amazing writer no matter how you slice it. When you read one of his books, you are transported into it. It's also pretty cool that the series is set in New York and that he uses real places (one scene in the book took place in the church next door to where I used to live).

But I still felt a little cheated.

So tonight I guess I'll finish 'Dorian' by Will Self or that Timberlake Wertenbaker play I've been picking up and putting down.

Oh, baby, baby, Oops, I did it again--damn it! Get that song out of my fucking head!

So David scooped my blog entry for today. Well, fine. I'll teach him. I'll just blog about something else.

Um.

Okay.

'Cause to lose all my senses that is just so typically me. Oh baby, baby--crap!

Okay, fine. Someone stole all my pens from my desk at work. Now this wouldn't piss me off if it were just the crappy little pens that the firm gives out to everyone. No, these were nice pens that I purchased from Staples. Granted, it's not like someone came in here and stole a Mont Blanc, but still. It's the principle of the thing.

Got that out of my system.

I'm not that innocent--Aargh!!!

As David mentioned, I was thinking of writing about what's been bothering me lately. Some of it is rugby stuff. Some of it has to do with some of my friends.

Deleted

Okay, I edited what I'd just written. Sorry about that. I just don't want to get into everything right now. I'll write about it when I'm not at work. But oddly enough, the last verse of the song that refuses to leave my fucking head kind of captures some of how I'm feeling.

You see my problem is this
I'm dreaming away
Wishing that heroes, they truly exist
I cry, watching the days
Can't you see I'm a fool in so many ways
But to lose all my senses
That is just so typically me

Anyway, I'll get into all that later.

Since Sherry recently pointed out that weblog entries aren't copyrighted, I'll leave you with this:

Dan is sitting here making rude comments about my last blog - to be expected I guess, but he ought to be careful considering all he has on are a towel and his glasses!

When you work for Satan, bad things happen to you.

The point of the previous post is that I've had 'Oops, I Did It Again' stuck in my head for two days. Or rather, just the chorus since I don't know any of the other lyrics.

Yesterday morning, NPR had an interview with Richard Thompson about his new album (sorry, CD) '1000 Years of Popular Music'. The genesis of this project was a survey by Entertainment Weekly where various musicians were asked to list their top 10 songs of the millenium (with the understanding that by "millenium" they meant the last 20 years).

Well, he called their bluff and sent in songs plucked from the last 1000 years.

They didn't print his list.

So now he has a CD with some of his choices on it. He sang a few of the songs on the air and they were amazing. The songs he chose to sing were 'Shenandoah', 'Blackleg Miner' and, believe it or not, 'Oops, I Did It Again'. He did Britney's song a little slower and with an acoustic guitar. Made it sound a little bit like Clapton.

But one of the more amusing things from the album is the final track, 'Marry, Ageyn Hic Hev Donne Yt'. It's a Renaissance style version of 'Oops, I Did It Again'. He calls it a traditional melody from Brittany (clever little pun).

Check out his website for info on this album (sorry, CD) since I don't think it's on Amazon or B&N just yet.

Odd thing at the Expo yesterday. One of the guys on our team bought a Utilikilt (non-traditional urban kilt . . . whatever). Then another. Then another. I think 5 or 6 guys in all bought them.

This was our team president's thoughts on his purchase from an e-mail he sent out this morning.

"Today i'm suffering some kilt regret, or as the French say, 'l'ennui du kilt de yesterjour.'"

Brilliant.

I'm planning to get a kilt, but I'm getting it in my family tartan with all the traditional accessories.

Something I forgot to mention. Back in July I wrote about my date from hell with a freak, freak, freak who hit on me at the Pride Pier Dance.

Well, I saw him today. Walked up to the table where we were working. Right up to me. Looked at me and said, "So what's this group about?"

He didn't recognize me.

I knew I'd grown the beard for a reason.

I just did my 'MmmBop Dance' and feel most merry. All it takes is a few long-haired Oklahoma boys . . . um, I think I'll stop that sentence right there.

Anyway, I'll now share a brief, but amusing (at least to me), Hanson story. My friend Mike (of Mike'nDavid) loves music. And Mike is an amazing fellow when it comes to music. Loves the blues; has an extensive collection. His boyfriend is an opera singer. Together they have hundreds of CDs. He loves old-school punk and classic guitar rock. The Ramones, the Stones, Clapton, Iggy Pop, Ry Cooder, Lightning Hopkins, Pinetop Perkins, Robert Johnson.

And Hanson.

I tease him no end about this fact. This music-loving guy . . . the one who is even upon occasion a music snob . . . has a weakness for bubble-gum pop.

He attempts to justify it. Hanson write their own songs. They play their own instruments. They are real musicians, not just well-miked dancers. They just happen to be young and their music somewhat pop-sounding.

Valid arguments to be sure. Usually after he makes them, I bring up the fact that he also likes Britney Spears.

Normally at this point he tells me to fuck off and starts getting grumpy.

Tee hee.

Needless to say, whenever we go out to a bar or restaurant, he goes straight to the jukebox. He always chooses some great classic rock or old country or punk. If we're at a good Irish bar, it might be some good Gaelic music or Irish protest rock.

All of which I enjoy as well.

After he comes back to the table/bar/whatever, I go over. I always choose music I'll enjoy, not unlike Mike's choices, but maybe a little more top 40s pop. Invariably, I also manage to find the two or three songs that will annoy Mike.

In a few of the bars it's 'My Heart Will Go On' by Celine Dion. To Mike (and many guys I know) listening to Celine ranks up there with chewing on glass on the list of fun things to do. Me, I love her. And I know that song lasts just short of forever.

Tee hee, again.

There are also several bars that have compilation CDs. In two of the bars we frequent, those compilation CDs have Hanson's 'MmmBop'. Mike never seems to remember this and never bothers to read what's on the compilation CDs.

So it always comes as a surprise.

We'll be sitting there, engrossed in a conversation, when the opening chords play. He usually doesn't catch it, but I do. I start moving my shoulders in time with the music. By the time the lyrics start, I'm doing a seated version of my 'MmmBop Dance'.

This is the point that Mike seems to be shrinking into himself.

Because people are instantly able to tell which table chose Hanson. The table with the weird dancing guy and the obviously humiliated one.

Considering how grotesquely self-conscious I usually am, I'm amazed that I do that. But fuck it, I'm having fun. And despite his protests, I know Mike does, too.

Since today has done little to improve my mood, I'm fighting it using the hard stuff. Bubble-gum pop music.

Right now it's S Club 7. Next is Hanson. And Savage Garden. If I'm still awake, it'll be Barenaked Ladies.

But the truth is that I feel much better after just a couple of S Club 7 songs, so that is a good sign.

Today was okay. I worked at the Gay Expo manning the Out of Bounds table. This group serves as an umbrella group for over 30 of the GLBT sports teams in NYC. There were probably about 16 of the rugby guys there over the course of the day.

After the event a bunch of people went over to McHale's for dinner. This means I'm really, really full.

Best part of the day was finally getting to see Faustus do his thing . . . um, cheerleading, I mean.

I don't think I can do justice by describing the cheerleading squad. It's not the kind of stuff you see on ESPN in the tournaments, etc. I mean, these are folks who have jobs and lives and do this in their free time. That being said . . . they are so much fun to watch. They clearly are having a great time when they're doing their routines and they pull you right in with them. I had a great time. This was the first time I'd seen them do any of their big stuff (all the really cool acrobatics and dance). They performed at our bachelor auction in the spring, but it was at SBNY and it was packed so they didn't have room to do too much of the big stuff.

So as I said, I got to see Faustus perform. Now I've seen Faustus before; we met once at another Expo. He's cute; I've thought that since I met him. And I knew he was athletic having seen his pictures on the Cheer New York website. But when you see him perform . . . well, he's just amazing. He literally beams. He seems to be having the time of his life.

It's so fucking awesome to see.

I hope I look like that when I'm having a really good rugby match.

So despite the petty annoyances that I let get to me this weekend, I got to meet two of my blog heroes. I'll call that a good weekend.

Sounds about right:

Which Founding Father Are You?

Right now, I'm pissed off and feeling whiny and full of self-pity. And while I'm sure indulging these feelings would make for interesting reading, I'm going to try something new. Rather than bitching about it right now, I'm going to sleep on it and see how I feel in the morning.

So let's focus on the good things from the last couple of days. Pooh's party - The pool was awesome and for once I didn't obsess about how I looked walking around in a swimsuit (or less). I just got in the water and swam and enjoyed myself. More than half the guys got in the pool. Maybe three of them wore bathing suits. I love pool parties. I did the polar bear club thing of hanging out in the pool, going into the sauna for a while, then going outside and sitting on the patio (it was around 33 degrees or so) until I couldn't stand it anymore (probably five minutes or so). I'm one of those odd people who really likes the cold. I just hate the cold when it's humid or raining.

Today's matches - We won the first match (Our A-side vs. Philly's A-side). We lost the second one (Our B-side vs. Boston). The third match (Atlanta v. Philly B) was great. It was one of those matches where the outcome was uncertain until the end. Philly started off with a couple of scores and Atlanta just started whittling away at it. It looked like Atlanta would score in the final seconds, but it wasn't to be. The final match was a harlot match. Anyone who wanted to play. It was a pretty good match, but I don't know how the scoring went.

I'm not going to blog about tonight's party yet, but I will mention that I got a very pleasant surprise. At one point fairly early in the evening (about an hour or so into the party) one of my teammates brought someone over to me and said "This is him." Turns out that the person who had been looking for me was Bob. So I've met another of my blog heroes. We didn't get to spend a lot of time hanging out (sadly, he was looking for me by asking for Crash . . . only about 10 or so teammates know about the blog . . . so he spent a lot of time not knowing who I was), but I have a couple of Bobservations based on the time we hung out.

1) Bob is a very nice, friendly guy.
2) Bob is even cuter in person than he is in his pictures on his site.
3) He was willing to pay $20 to hang out with me despite only getting to have a couple of beers (he dropped by on his way to another event) and having to put up with about 150 drunk ruggers in a very confined space (upstairs at the Eagle). That earns major points in my book.
4) Meeting him absolutely made my night.

One other thing that made my night, there were three zulus. As I have explained, it's a rugby tradition that when a player scores his first-ever try (like a touchdown in football) he performs what is called a 'zulu'. I don't know why it's called that; it just is. In most matches (college and above . . . I don't know if they do this in high school . . . I might have to drop by Xavier and find out), the player strips naked once the game is over and runs once around the entire pitch (a rugby pitch is a little bigger than a football field). Last year at this event, one of the Boston guys was in the middle of performing his zulu, when a couple of Park Rangerettes came over and read us the riot act. Fine. Sure. Whatever.

So we do our zulus at the bar now. Tonight there were three; two of the guys from Atlanta (or Philly . . . I've forgotten) and one of our boys. Our boy swore up and down that he didn't want to, wasn't going to, and couldn't be forced to do a zulu.

Yeah. He did it.

Sadly, from my vantage point, I missed seeing . . . um, the goods. Pity, too, cause he is very, very cute (and also a great guy). The fellow who is filming the documentary about the club got the zulu on tape, but I'm sure he'll be discreet.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to skip Adam's after-party due to my general mood . . . which I'll blog about later. I'm going to read a few chapters in my latest quick read ('Geography Club' by Brent Hartinger). Maybe once I've done that, I'll feel like heading over.

I didn't get much further than the headline of this article, but I am so going to visit Cincinnati soon.

Tonight is the first event in what will be a weekend of wild debauchery. Pool party at Pooh's house. While most of the guys will keep it fairly tame (they have to if they want to play tomorrow), those of us who are fat lazy injured will be partying for the rest of them.

While the drinking will be kept under control, as soon as people start getting into the pool, it will turn into a skinny-dipping fest. And from what I've seen of the Atlanta boys, this could be a lot of fun.

Can't wait, but I wish I had time to grab a quick nap.

Windy, windy night. Because of the way my apartment is situated, it is not a pleasant place to be on a night like tonight. Drafty, for one thing. The wind moans and screams in the stairwell next door to me. My window, which is on an airshaft makes it sound like a hurricane outside. And something is scratching on my window. Very creepy.

Tonight's awards ceremony was nice. It was at the Museum of the City of New York, which I'd never been to. It was very good time. Beautiful building and very nice exhibits. I only saw a couple of the exhibits. I hope to go back soon to see some of the other ones. The first exhibit was all about Harlem and the architecture up there (Harlem Lost and Found). It was amazing. Beautiful photos and drawings. Very cool.

The second exhibit made me think of Mark . . . especially because of today's entry. The exhibit was all about Steuben glass (Glass and Glamour, Steuben's Modern Moment). It was amazing. I'd never really seen any Stueben glass, especially not pieces as old as these. Beautiful hand-blown glass, subtle etching . . . it was stunning.

I need to spend a lot more time hitting the museums around the city.

As I've mentioned before, my rugby club is sponsoring a tournament this weekend. I hope you'll all attend. Well, those of you in this area; I suppose it would be unreasonable to expect those of you in distant locations to fly in for one weekend.

The info about the tournament can be found on our website. There will be four games, the first starting at 11 a.m. The pitch (field) is a bit of a pain to get to. Anyway, check out our site for driving/public transportation directions.

If you aren't up for the games, but you want to party with 150 hot rugby players from New York, Boston, Philly and Atlanta, you can come to the after-party at the Eagle (27th between 10th and 11th . . . closer to 11th). For a mere $20 you'll get food, beer and lots of gratuitous nudity. What a deal!!!

The drink up is supposed to begin at 5 p.m. (we're starting it early because we'll be partying at Adam's/bar hopping in the evening [after 9 or so]). So drop by the Eagle and party with us.

I just saw this post on Gawker.

I will admit that I'm thrilled at the thought of Simon Rex doing more porn (I really, really liked his early pre-MTV work with Brad Posey). But the mere thought of having to see Paris Hilton's scrawny little body just kind of ruins it for me.

Plus, I'm still hoping that someone will release a Simon Rex/Carson Daly video.

Last night I baked.

I suppose it was a fairly boring evening, especially compared to Tuesday. I did laundry and baked bread. I also watched 'And Then Came Summer' . . . I don't recommend it, although it had some good moments and could have been a pretty good film with more of a budget. And better actors. And a better written script.

But other than that, it was okay.

Well, at least the bread turned out well. And my laundry did, too.

Things I learned last night:

1) MAK is a fun drunk.
2) MAK is a cheap drunk.
3) MAK's mom is a sweetheart and remarkably tolerant of drunken highjinks.
4) MAK spills all sorts of spicy secrets when he's drunk.
5) I talk about sex . . . a lot . . . when I'm drunk.
6) Um, lots of stuff I'm not going to blog about for fear of retribution.
7) Friends don't let friends use their cellphones drunk.

The point is, I had a fantastic time last night. It seems I needed a night out to blow off a little steam.

Plan: one or two drinks in a couple of hours.
Reality: four or five drinks in a couple of hours.

Drunk.

But it was fun. Got MAK to spill some Faustus dish. Got to talk to MAK's mom. Got to hang with MAK's friends. All in all, great damn evening.

So without further ado:

Hot Drunken Quote of the Day
(to MAK, who just bought some Ben and Jerry's)
Deli guy: Do you want a spoon?
MAK (drunkity, drunk, drunk, drunk): No thanks, I'm just going to take it home and lick it with my tongue.

Rugby practice or drinks with MAK? Stand outside in the cold watching my teammates play? Stay inside with alcohol? Choices.

Well, alcohol always wins in the end.

Coach, feel free to write something nasty in the comments section (but bear in mind I'm taking care of the raffle this weekend and my happy ass will be on Randall's lining the field early Saturday morning).

This is really funny. And horrifyingly accurate.

Quick favor to ask. I'm trying to come up with some items to raffle at our post-game drink up. If any of you work at businesses that might be willing to donate things or could get your hands on some free movie or theater tickets, could you let me know?

I had my 10,000th hit today!!! You like me! Right now you really like me!!!

Okay, truth be told, it's probably the same 10 or so people obsessively checking to see if I've blogged about them, but what the hell.

So yesterday . . . not much happened. Went to the gym (yea me) and watched '9 to 5' on DVD. I'd forgotten how much I liked that movie. And damn, Dolly Parton had some big ole titties on her.

I'm going to try to hit the gym on a regular basis in order to get into shape for the Bingham Cup Tournament in May. Come hell or high water, I'm going to be playing. Now I just need to start back with the physical therapist.

My parents are coming up in February. That gives me approximately three months to hide my porn. Living in a studio has certain disadvantages.

On the plus side, they've gotten tickets to 'Wicked' and 'The Producers' (with Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick). That's right, be jealous.

Went to Mike's to celebrate his new job. Took a bottle of port. We drank it. I now have an evil headache.

I'm going to bed.

One other thing. My birthday is in a month. I think I'm going to throw myself a party on Saturday the 6th or Sunday 7th. What I did last year was get everyone together at the Phoenix, let them all buy me shots . . . um, then I guess someone poured me into a cab and sent me home. My last memory of the evening was leaning against the pinball machine and sliding slowly to the floor. I wonder if it turned into a Jody Foster moment? I hope so.

The plan will likely be the same. Either the Phoenix or the Web. Actually, any bar where the patrons aren't hairy and wearing leather would be fine with me. Hmm . . . maybe we'll have to have it at Heaven. Mmmmm . . . smooth college boys.

Point being, mark your calendars. I'll post more info closer to the date.

Last night's party was fun. It was a little under-attended and mellower than I would have expected considering it was Turtle's b-day party and he's one of the guys who is universally loved by the team. Literally and figuratively.

Anyway, I spent most of the night staring at the door . . . waiting for MAK who promised to come by . . . sadly, he never showed. Turns out he was blowing me off like the skank he is at home sick with the flu. If you get a chance, drop by his site and wish him well. This is supposed to be a nasty flu season.

The party was fun, as I said. The theme was "white trash." I just wore the same clothes I wear back home (in Texas) and everyone assumed I'd dressed up. Ah, well. In keeping with the theme, the food ran toward the "hot dogs in biscuits," "Wonder Bread" and Pringles variety. Drinks were Schlitz, etc. I brought Bacardi. Not very white trash, but delicious. If I'd wanted to be really authentic, I'd have brought Captain Morgans.

For our viewing pleasure, we had "South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut," Jerry Springer's uncensored tape, "Bum Fights" (which is truly disturbing . . . I'm glad those guys got arrested for making it), and of course, cheesy porn.

Truth be told, if we'd all been pretending to be straight, it would have been like any weeknight in my old college dorm. Except I would have gotten laid at the end of the evening. (Side note, why is it that I was getting laid so much more when I was hanging out with straight guys?)

All in all a good party. And I got home before 3 a.m. which was nice.

There is another party tonight. The guy who's throwing it is nice and all, but we're not particularly tight or anything, so I may blow it off. Don't know. I may be going out with Mike tonight to celebrate his new job. Anyway, the party is in Williamsburg and God knows I'm not hip enough to hang with that crowd.

So last night's party . . . um. Well, truth be told, I got home around 7:45 p.m. so I decided not to change; I figured I'd wear my work clothes and go with that "rich daddy" look. I decided to sit down in my comfy chair for a minute before heading over to xl. Next thing I knew, it was well after 9 p.m.

Yep, slept through the party.

Damn, I'm getting old.

Anyway, I still managed to do laundry, so the evening wasn't a complete waste. And tonight is Turtle's party so there will be much debauchery.

I just went to Starbucks for my afternoon coffee; Cute Asian Boy 2 pretty much blew me off. But Cute Asian Boy 1 was being very flirty yesterday.

Let's see . . . what else? Oh, I heard from my friend Stuff. He's still in China, working hard. Managed to get himself a boyfriend. A bell boy in the hotel where he's staying. Cute fella, too.

And Mike got the job. Vice President of something. Big raise. Company car. Other cool things. I'm very psyched for him, but part of me wishes he'd just continued to write. But I understand his need for security. And it's not like he won't still be writing, he'll just be doing less of it.

I got my flu shot today and my arm is hurting. Plus I'm feeling a little sick.

I guess that's it for now.

Since rugby is canceled and I can't get anyone to go to the Web with me, I'm going to mosey down to XL for Boards, Balls and Blades. This is a party hosted by the fabulous Jeff Kagan (of the gay hockey league, among other things). Each monthly (?) party spotlights a different gay sports team. Great recruiting tool.

Heh heh . . . I said tool.

Anyway, lots of cute guys, most of them jocks of one type or another. Tonight it's spotlighting the pool league. Not the speedo type of pool. The long sticks and big balls type of pool.

Should be fun.

Tomorrow night is Turtle's birthday party. That means I should get plenty of sleep tonight. That and get on the liver transplant list. The party has a great theme (involving costumes and props) but since the theme is a surprise and I don't know if Turtle reads the blog, I can't talk about it. I will on Saturday, though.

I just saw some pictures from Adam's Halloween party. I think I'm going to start dressing as a monk on a daily basis. I looked pretty good as one. Other than in the picture that Brian took . . . I was doing something, well, not very monkish.

Tomorrow's party is sure to be a blast.

Tonight I'm going to go home, download porn do laundry, eat a whole pizza cook some vegetables and stay up till two go to bed early.

One other cool story. Mike (of Mike'nDavid) has been looking for a job. He got a call this week regarding an interview. Not only did the phone interview go well, but they wanted to fly him out to California for a face-to-face. He's there now. I really hope this goes well. I know he is excited about it.

Okay, David is off the hook.

Scott and Mark . . . I'm waiting.

Hey!! Palochi!!!! Update your damn blog!!!!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're sick. Boo hoo!! Blog, damn it, blog!!!

You too, Mark!!!

And I can't help but notice that Faustus is back and updating, but David hasn't updated his blog yet.

Just because all of you guys have lives doesn't mean that you aren't still obligated to amuse and distract me with your witty entries. Come on, cut me a break here. I'm bored.

You'd think that if you'd *invited* 50 some-odd people to a mandatory meeting, you'd have gotten a room with enough chairs. You'd think that you'd have prepared enough materials. You'd think if you'd scheduled it when most people take their lunch breaks you'd have at least had a little food, even just cookies or something.

Nope.

At the end of the meeting, after sitting through all this technical crap about folder management and naming documents and all that other bullshit, I went up to talk to the trainer. I told her that although I deal with litigation matters and I'm in the litigation department, my matters are technically considered administration.

She told me that this seminar really didn't apply to me then.

Fuck.

I want my hour and a half back.

I'm very, very tired. I was up entirely too late watching porn Family Guy episodes.

Feel like death warmed over. Whatever the hell that means.

Anyway, I'm hungry, I haven't had any coffee, I have an upset stomach and I've been *invited* to attend a mandatory meeting at noon. I bet they won't even feed us.

At least I had a good night. Before watching the porn Family Guy episodes, I went over to Mike's and got almost caught up on 'Carnivale'. I'm really digging that show. Plus, Nick Stahl is hot.

Okay, time to start pulling myself together for my bloody, fucking, waste-of-time meeting.

My latest cool thing from a gift bag is Aretha Franklin's new album. Haven't listened to it yet.

My blog is looking all fucked up. It's cutting off in the middle of a post. Don't know what's wrong. Hopefully, it's just something on my computer, but who knows. Damn my lack of technical expertise.

Maybe it's just the blog god's way of saying that I should go to bed.

I'll blog more about this later, but mark your calendars. The Gotham Knights are hosting a rugby tournament on Saturday, Nov. 15th. It'll only be four teams: us, Boston, Philly and Atlanta (plus any other IGRAB players who decide they want to show up). There will be at least three games of rugby, so it will be a pretty full day. We'll be out on Randall's Island. If you're interested in finding out more, go to our website (see link at right).

Of course the important thing is that we will be having parties galore that weekend. If you've ever wanted to hang out with the team, this is the weekend for it. Details will follow.

Damn, Bravo has a lot of friends. I've gotten over a hundred hits from his site over the course of the day. Ah, to be young, pretty, intelligent, well-spoken, etc. At least I'm . . . um, well . . . ah, hell, I've got nice furniture. I guess that counts for something. And I've been told that I'm mildly amusing.

Anyway, welcome to all of Bravo's acolytes. I hope this blog doesn't bore you to death as it has so many others.

Time for a recap of the weekend's activities.

Friday: Adam's party. I've more or less blogged about it. The highlight of the event was getting hit on by two teammates' boyfriends. Yes, they were both totally wasted. One of them told me, while rubbing my thigh, that it would really turn him on to watch me blow a certain other guy on my team. Then he went over to that other guy and told him the same thing.

Mmm'kay. I probably won't be able to face the other guy anytime in the near future because I'm sure he thought I'd put the drunk boyfriend up to it.

Not surprisingly, it was not long after this that my teammate dragged his drunk boyfriend home.

Good times. Nothing like an evening of being cock-teased to really start a weekend off right.

Saturday: Youth Conference at the Center. It's funny, we did a lot less outreach than I expected. Most of the kids just went outside to enjoy the weather instead of visiting with all the organizations that were set up inside. In fact, it turned into more of a networking opportunity for all the various groups that were there. We spoke with a couple of guys from GLSEN about outreach to high school kids and we met with several representatives of various colleges. With any luck, we'll be able to get our youth rugby team going in the spring. As always, the hardest part is to convince kids that it's okay to be gay and play sports. So many gay kids have had horrible experiences in sports; I know I did when I was a kid. And there aren't a lot of gay sports figures as role models. Usually it's only the players whose careers have ended that can come out. What kind of role model is that? Keep closeted until it doesn't matter? Not the right message.

Enough soapbox talk. Coming back from the conference I had my Bravo sighting. Then coffee with David who has chronicled the event in somewhat embarrassing detail on Faustus' blog where he is guest-blogging. In case my teammates are worried that the naked rugby pictures he refers to were pictures of them . . . well, yeah, they were. Deal with it. Just be glad I didn't post them on this site (or rather, didn't figure out how to post them).

Saturday night was Lee's housewarming. His apartment is great. It was a fun, if somewhat subdued, party. Most of us were nursing wicked hangovers. Didn't stop us (well, me) from drinking though. Fun time. After the party, some of the guys went out to Slide where Yaniv works. I was too tired.

Sunday: didn't do a damn thing. Slept until early afternoon. Spent way too much money on art books on eBay and Alibris. I'm turning into a bit of an eBay junkie. Need to keep an eye on that. In the evening I watched 'I'm Gonna Git You Sucka'; pretty funny movie. I'd only seen bits and pieces of it before this. Great blaxploitation parody. I'm surprised I only got around to seeing it now.

Anyway, I'm now well-rested and ready to face the week. Which is a damn good thing because there is a rugby board of directors meeting tonight and I have the feeling there is going to be drama.

Man, I'm getting too old for that kind of shit.

Okay, I made it home and my liver is . . . um, shaken, not stirred. We'll just call it more or less intact. Next big party is in six days; Turtle's birthday party. I hope my liver has time to detox at least a little by then.

One of my more exciting happenings today was a Bravo sighting. I don't know if any of you read his blog, but you should. At first, I started reading it because, frankly, he's adorable. Then once I started reading it, I realized that he's smart and funny and pretty clever as well. I always enjoy finding someone who makes me think that there is actually hope for this world. Bravo certainly makes me feel this way.

Just a suggestion, if you visit his site, start at the beginning. The coming out stuff is pretty powerful.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure I saw Bravo and friends walking down 7th Ave. today. I really wanted to say something . . . how junior high is that? . . . but I felt like I'd be intruding. He doesn't know me from Adam, and as a matter of fact, I don't know him at all, either. It's odd how reading someone's blog makes you feel as if you know them, despite there being no human connection.

So I think I saw Bravo. And oddly enough, it made my day.

Coffee with David was delightful. Now I'm off to the rugby party du jour (du nuit? de la nuit? Whatever.)

Should be fun, though I already can feel my liver trying to escape.

Youth Conference was cool. Just amazing how different gay high school kids are today.

Still hungover, but slightly better. More of the gossipy stories from last night are filtering back into my consciousness.

I'm off to grab some coffee with David. Should be fun.

Brief Rundown of Halloween (and today)

Paul comes over to change into costume.
Have some port.
Watch 'Young Frankenstein'.
Mike comes over.
Have some port.
Start changing for party.
Watch some porn.
Stop changing for party.
Watch more porn.
David comes over.
Watch more porn.
Mike takes off.
Eventually tear ourselves away from porn and go to party.
Tequila.
Tequila.
MAK.
Tequila.
Rum and coke.
Hang out with MAK for an hour or two till he has to take off.
Rum and coke.
Vodka and coke.
Tequila.
Wrestler boy.
Angel wings.
Santi as Lorne from 'Angel'.
Time Warp.
John and Mike.
Um . . . Mike?
Doug.
Ted.
Doug and Ted.
Um.
Little Shop of Horrors.
Home.
Sleep.
Wake up.
Sleep.
Wake up.
Sleep.
Wake up.
Head hurts.
No, really, head hurts!
Blog.

Time to get ready for the youth conference.

And Stark Sands was on 'Lost at Home'; a good little TV show that has likely been canceled. I was trying to figure out why he looked familiar in the movie. That was it.

Okay, I saw 'Die, Mommie, Die'

Good. Not great. Good. I think if the audience had been a little . . . well, queenier, it would have been better. There were lots of funny bits and it often seemed like I was the only one laughing. Wait . . . did I just call myself queeny?

And I have found the man who is destined to be my soulmate . . . whether he wants to or not. His name is Stark Sands; he plays Lance, the gay son. Very funny guy. And a great character to play.

I would imagine, since I find him attractive, that he must be straight.

Ah, well.

Oh, and you see him nude in the movie (well, just from the back).

Anyway. I think the movie is worth seeing, especially if you are a fan of those old '50s and '60s movies. Every cliche from those movies is used in this one . . . some of the scenes seem completely lifted from them. Charles Busch is pretty much what you would expect. Jason Priestly was a fucking hoot. Picture a bisexual, rough trade William Shatner. Eew, on second thought, don't.

I loved Natasha Lyonne, too. But she's great in everything.

One other bit to note . . . there is a scene with two moving men, played by Chris McDaniel and Tom Hughes. Woof.

So to sum it all up . . . Daniel Cudmore, out. Stark Sands, in. I mean, unless they're both cool with a three-way in which case, bring it on boys.

I just read this on CNN. It made my day.

I imagine that there are lots of men who would pay to have 20 girls in Catholic schoolgirl uniforms chasing them down the street. But good for the girls. I don't tend to endorse vigilante justice (unless someone wants to stomp the shit out of Fred Phelps), but this guy certainly had it coming and conventional punishment obviously hadn't worked.

Not to sound too much like Michael Musto, but one of the things that I really enjoy about having to go to all these award ceremonies and cocktail parties for work is the gift bags.

The one I went to the other night at Sotheby's netted me a new messenger bag and Dido's latest CD, 'Life for Rent'. I'm listening to it now and I really like it.

Of course, the messenger bag is nice, but I have probably 10 of them at this point from various groups. More than I need, I should think.

The furniture people said they'd be here between 9:15 and 12:15. The fuckers were here right at 9:15. Now clearly I wasn't expecting them to arrive that early. I was standing around in my underwear (go ahead, picture it . . . you know you want to) trying to decide which pile of junk I was going to tackle first when the intercom buzzed saying the delivery guys were here.

Well, shit.

So I shoved everything toward my bed and made room for the furniture. Then I did a quick Swiffering and all was good.

The furniture looks lovely, though darker and larger than I remember it. I have very little room left in my apartment now. But who cares? I have furniture. A loveseat that I can finally cuddle on (now all I need is someone to cuddle) and my big, comfy chair and ottoman. I'm very excited.

To celebrate, I'm going to go see 'Elephant' or 'Die, Mommie, Die'; I just haven't decided which yet. Probably 'Die' since I'm in the mood for a comedy and I think Charles Busch is just about the best thing since Wonder Bread. And I'm a man who loves his Wonder Bread.

Woo hoo!!!!! Very excited. Bad mood has evaporated in the face of comfy furniture with a new leather smell.

This is painfully cool. Brightened my whole day.

The earliest Halloween photo of me has me in a costume like the ones on that page. It was . . . well, kind of like an evil Casper. Don't know what the hell it was supposed to be.

If someone would tell me how in the hell to load pictures on my blog, I'd post it.

And while we're at it, could someone explain Blogrolling to me. I set up an account, then got confused and had to lie down. I am not technically adept.

As is usually the case when I start to get depressed, I've been looking backwards. I visited the web page for my old university theater group. Looked up a couple of friends on Classmates.com. Pining for the days when I had a ready group of friends and companions.

Of course, it's all crap. I was more miserable then than I am now. But nostalgia paints a pretty picture and it's easy to delude myself into believing that my impressions of that time are real.

I was toying with the idea of going back to visit my old campus for my vacation. See some of my old professors. Hang out at the old haunts.

But there have been 13 new classes of students since I left. 52 plays produced. Each dorm that I lived in has been gutted and renovated. Would I recognize the place? Would any of my professors remember me (I guess what I'm asking is did I make any impression on them.)? Is there anything left there that has an imprint of the person I used to be? The person who, for some reason, I'm missing right now.

It's kind of funny, because I didn't much care for him at the time.

I guess what I really want is to take a temporal vacation. Not so much to a "there" but to a "then."

I've got to snap out of this.

In order to remind myself which way to face (temporally speaking), here is a list of things I'm looking forward to:

1) Not working tomorrow
2) Getting my furniture delivered in the morning
3) Getting absolutely ripped at Adam's costume party tomorrow night
4) The naughty shenanigans to be had at Adam's party
5) Seeing everyone's costumes
6) Going to the youth conference at the Center Saturday (except I'll likely have a wicked hangover)
7) Going to Lee's party Saturday

Okay, I feel a little better.