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.

Rainy Days and Sunspots Always Get Me Down

I don't know if it was the last couple of days of rainy weather or the masses of solar gasses that are beating down on us, but I've been in a funky mood for the last few days.

Overall, I'm cool with that because it's the first time in weeks that depression has reared its ugly little head. Hopefully, it'll just look around a little and go back to sleep.

I haven't been getting enough sleep; I think that plays into it. And my feet have been hurting (not as bad as a few weeks ago, but still painful to walk). I've also been feeling a little sick. Maybe it's the weather. Or the fact that I've been having to clean up my apartment to make room for the furniture which will arrive tomorrow. Lots of dust getting kicked up (I'm a lousy housekeeper).

I'm also feeling a little sorry for myself because some of my friends have been too busy to hang out. Stupid reason to feel sorry for myself, but there you are.

There is also some rugby stuff going on, but I won't bore you with that.

I think maybe I just need a vacation. I'm thinking of taking off the week before Thanksgiving and going to Chicago. I love the city and I have a bunch of friends who live there now. Plus, there are a ton of blues clubs to explore.

We'll see.

I'm going down to Delaware to hang out with the family over Thanksgiving week, so a trip beforehand, while it would help me cope with the whole family thing, might also be a bad idea money-wise.

I just need . . . something different.

I should be very happy when my friends fall in love. When they find that person that inspires them and makes their lives worth living.

Yep.

I really should.

Why is it whenever I go to an event like tonight's, an event with many well-educated, artistic, handsome, professional men, I always wind up cruising the cater-waiters and musicians?

I have been so busy at work.

But right now I'm not, so I'm blogging. In point of fact, I'm actually killing time now before a cocktail party/awards ceremony. It should be fun, but I'm ready for it to be over.

I have so much shit to do this week that I don't even know where to begin.

I can't get the song 'Uncle Fucker' out of my head. I've caught myself twice singing it out loud. At the office.

Rugby Post

Today the USA Rugby team broke its 16-year losing streak and beat Japan 39-26. I'm so fucking psyched!!!!

If you go to the World Cup site (the link is to the right under Rugby Links), you'll see some amazing pictures from the match. There is one of Mike Hercus and Phillip Eloff that I'm probably going to print off. And laminate.

Highlights from Saturday's post-game drink up (and after-party) in no particular order since my memory is a little . . . um, hazy.

Patrick's zulu (for non-ruggers, when a player scores his first ever try, he is made to get completely naked . . . usually on the pitch, but after we nearly got ticketed for doing that, we've done it in the bar). Balls out on the pitch, balls out at the bar. Good man, Patrick. Good man.

The hot, hot, hot players from the other team (not including, of course, the hobbit that someone had his eye on). Sadly, no nudity on their part, not even the hobbit.

Tequila shots.

Toby bringing down the house with his rendition of 'I'm a Wanker.' Not as inspiring as 'Jerusalem,' but much more appropriate.

A couple of my teammates with their cocks out, despite the fact that the straight boys were still in the bar. And, um, something that I may or may not have been involved with.

Passing out in Adam's bed.

Tequila shots.

Waking up in Adam's bed with six other guys.

Group cuddle.

A cop with his hand down my underpants.

Tequila shots.

Singing (slurring) 'Uncle Fucker' and 'Kyle's Mom is a Bitch' at the top of my lungs.

Winston shooting the boot, like, a dozen times. Dude, know when to stop singing.

Adam's homemade chili. If I were the marrying kind, which thank the Lord I'm not, sir, the kind of rugger I would wed would be . . . someone who makes chili like that. (That's a reference to a rugby song, won't make much sense otherwise). I'm praying he'll make it for our Halloween party.

Jokes at my expense. Yeah, really, jokes about the chicken get funnier and funnier . . . no really, really, they do. That's why I want us to go back to pizza. Or for Stuff to get back so people will make fun of him, too.

Well, I'm sure more of the evening will come back to me. Usually the really humiliating things take a couple of days to resurface. If anyone who was at the drink up or party knows anyone I should apologize to, let me know.

One little post script. I know I give him a hard time (fairly, some might argue), it needs to be pointed out that this season ran a lot smoother because of all his hard work. Brian, I'm glad to call you a teammate and a friend.

That won't, however, stop me from being the Blue side tight-head prop next year. Bring it!

Anybody want to come over and give me a back rub?

Very drunk. The team scored its first tries ever in union play. Very cool. Partied and drank. Went to Adam's and drank. Watched the South Park movie. Cuddled with a cutie.

Sleep now.

Off to rugby. Last game of the union season. After that, we have a tournament with the teams from Boston, Philly and Atlanta. That's going to be fun. And hot. It's in November, I'll post details later.

Another dream about a blogger. Why is it I never have dreams about the boys from Bel Ami?

I mean, not that there's anything wrong with bloggers, but Johan and Lukas are stunning.

I made up for yesterday's dia del libertinaje by meeting with human rights activists today.

I ask this: how many of you would actually go to prison for 20 years for something you believe in? One of the men I met did that in an effort to bring democracy to China. It's a pretty amazing story.

Had a really, really weird dream about a fellow blogger last night.

TV is here. DVD and VCR are hooked up. First time I've had a TV in a year or so. Anyone want to guess what I'm watching?

Busy day. Long day. Meeting after meeting day.

Blech.

On the happy side, my TV will be here tomorrow!!!! I guess I won't be getting much sleep Wednesday night.

Well, today's been a quiet day. Few visitors. Very few calls at work.

Cool.

Since my trip to Marie's, I've been in a singing mood. Mostly old Broadway. Porter, Gershwin, that crowd. Bad part about that is that I tend to sing out loud when I'm not thinking about it. Kind of the way some people whistle. So if you see some big, bearded guy walking down 6th Ave. singing the Merman part from 'You're Just in Love' to himself, that, sadly, would be me.

Scotland v. USA game was this morning. Not good. Final score was 39-15.

I imagine the game against Japan won't be pretty. And I don't even want to think about the match against France.

I spent so much money today. I finally bought a TV and VCR. Spent more than I normally would have, but Best Buy was having a "no interest for 18 months" deal if you opened a credit card with them. Same type thing I got with my sofa.

Then I spent way too much money buying art books from an online estate sale. Things I wanted. Most of them signed, which is cool. But lots of money.

Ah, well. If I didn't spend it I'd just do something wasteful with it like save for retirement.

This is so damn cool.

I know some of you will probably think it's cheesy, but . . . hell, most of us who've spent any time in theater, especially musical theater, have at one point or another wished our lives could be like that. A song, a dance, something pretty and funny (clearly I'm not thinking about Les Miserable or a show like that).

And this couple got it. What a great way to start a life together.

Sorry, you've just witnessed my sappy, romantic side.

Odd evening. Very . . . odd.

Word to the wise: When you start noticing that the cocktails are getting weaker to the point that you can pretty much gulp them down, they aren't getting weaker. You are fucked up.

Friday!!!!!! Some of us are going to Marie's Crisis tonight to get drunk and sing show tunes.

Yes, I know. But I'm going to do it anyway.

So if any of you want a laugh (i.e. watching a bunch of drunken ruggers slurring show tunes in a piano bar), you know where to go.

Normally I wouldn't post links to sites with gratuitous violence, but what the hell. If you want to see Roy getting mauled by a tiger in his Vegas show, click here.

Celebrity sighting from last night: Jamie Oliver. Clearly, since I was going to his book signing. He is cuter in person than he is on TV. He is also a big, goofy kid. It's hard to believe he's married with a kid of his own.

Despite the long, long wait to get my book signed, it was well worth it. Plus, the recipes in the new book are amazing. I can't wait to try them out.

Only other thing to say about yesterday's book signing adventure is that by the time I got home, my foot felt as though it had been in a blender.

Mmmm, footaritas.

Well, I iced the hell out of it before I went to bed. While icing, I read some more of Jamie's new book.

Oddly enough, I had a Jamie dream last night. He was making a scallop and mango salad for me. It was delightful.

I mentioned earlier that I had been asked to be a guest commentator on a World Cup Rugby website. Scary thought, that.

Anyway, here is my first submission. Hopefully the moderators will find it worthy to publish.

American Perspective
I'd rather hoped to have my first post be about the amazing USA defeat of Fiji. But I have to say, if I can't post about that, I'll be happy with the game the boys played and the bonus point they earned by losing by less than 7.

I think the Eagles played fairly well, certainly above what everyone seemed to expect. I thought Fiji would still be reeling from their loss to France, and although they did seem a little sluggish at first, they woke up in the second half. I had also hoped that the local crowd might be a little more pro-Eagles than it was (didn't Nick say Aussies love the underdog?) since the Eagles always seem to play better for a good crowd. Ah, well. No matter.

I have to say my favorite moment was Van Zyl's try coming off Hercus' cross-field kick. While I was pleased with the score up to that point (6-3) and I certainly think penalty goals have their place, there is nothing like a well-executed try to make your blood sing, especially when it's your team. Of course, the bar erupted on the USA's second try by Kort Schubert (in his first World Cup match). Clearly our bar was as pro-USA as the Suncorp Stadium crowd was pro-Fiji. If only Hercus had been able to get that conversion . . . .

Perhaps one of the other commentators could let me know, were the Eagles doing really well with lineouts, or was Fiji just doing poorly?

Now to respond to something Christopher said in his previous post. They are drowning in Rugby bullshit in Oz. Wish I had your problem, mate. There is nothing in the news here about rugby. Some of the US web sites (CNN, NY Times, etc.) ran the AP article about the match, but that's it. I live in New York and I'm finding it hard to find bars that are showing the matches. Fox Sports Channel is showing them on a three-day delay. That's killing me. Since all the bars have a $20 cover to watch a game, I have to be very choosy about which matches I watch. And in order to watch the games live via satellite, I have to get up at ungodly hours of the morning.

Of course, I'll gladly do it if it means I get to see the matches before the lazier guys in my club. Nice to be able to rub their noses in the games I've seen and they haven't. Plus there's the whole drinking before going into the office thing. I'm getting to like that.

Still, I'd love a little taste of the rugby coverage that other countries are getting right now.

I guess that's it for me until the Eagles' stunning come-from-behind victory over Scotland next week. What can I say? I'm an optimist.

Forgot to mention that I'm planning to hobble down to the B&N in Union Square to attend a book signing by The Naked Chef, Jamie Oliver.

If I'm drooling, it won't have anything to do with his recipes.

Foot. Foot. Foot. Foot. Foot.

Arrrggghhh!!!

I wish I knew what the hell is wrong with it. This totally sucks.

In other news, Fiji defeated the USA in today's World Cup match. I didn't expect the Eagles to win, but they very nearly did. Lost by one point.

Ah well. I don't hold much hope for them in the game against Scotland, but then I didn't expect the Fiji game to be as close as it was.

Would somebody just cut my goddamn foot off?

Well, it's getting a little better, doesn't feel like I'm stepping into a meat grinder when I put weight on it. Still swollen, though. Can barely get it in my sneaker. I have to go to work tomorrow or I'll go crazy from sitting around the house all day (I took yesterday and today off and have been sitting in bed popping Tylenol). Problem is, I don't think my foot will fit into any of my dress shoes.

Not a good day. When I woke up my right foot was hurting. It had been hurting since Thursday, but this was more pain than I'd had yet. It was also swollen. I could barely walk so I bailed on youth rugby.

After sitting around the house while the pain grew worse, I decided to hobble down to St. Vincent's to visit the emergency room. I thought I'd better find out if I'd broken anything. Two and a half hours later, I found out I hadn't. So I'm supposed to stay off it, ice and elevate it and take Tylenol.

Great.

I live in New York. I don't have a car. How the fuck am I supposed to stay off my feet?

Good reading weekend. I read 'Slaughterhouse Five' yesterday and 'Einstein's Dreams' today. I'd never read any Vonnegut; I was surprised how much I enjoyed the book. 'Einstein's Dreams' was an odd little book, but I really liked it. I've always found the concept of time and our perception of it to be rather interesting. I'd like to read some of Lightman's non-fiction and see how that is.

So, Saturday. Slept through the SA v. Uruguay match. Tant pis. I'm not terribly upset.

Went to the Gotham match in the Bronx. The park was beautiful. Very crowded, too. There was a huge track and field match going on with high school teams from all over the nation.

People kept walking across our pitch, oblivious to the fact that a game was going on.

The other team played dirty. We lost, no huge surprise, but it was our closest match so far. The party afterwards was okay (best food that any of the other teams have provided). At the end of the evening I found myself at a naked hot tub party wondering why the hell I was there. Actually, I know why I was there; I have a bit of a crush on one of the guys. But really, it was so not my scene. Especially when my foot was hurting.

Ah, well. I hung out for a while, feeling like a fifth wheel (which considering there were four naked guys in the hot tub and I was dressed sitting at the side, I suppose I actually was). Eventually I took off and hobbled home.

Well, I sobered up, but there isn't enough coffee to keep me from being tired. Still, it was a good time.

I hope to see the Uruguay v. South Africa game tomorrow morning. 8 a.m. at Fiona's if any of you would like to join me.

Yeah, I thought not.

Oh, one other bit of rugby news. David Giffin, whom I mentioned in the earlier post, is doing better. Didn't break his neck, but he does have a bad concussion and is expected to be out for the next few weeks.

The alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. Two hours early. I realized I had to be dreaming, so I ignored it.

Then I remembered: Today is the first game of the World Cup!!

After rushing through the normal morning routine, I realized that there was no way I'd be able to get to the bar by 6:00 a.m. if I took the subway. Decided to spring for a cab.

Despite the fact that this is a global event, America is participating, and that this is going to be the best watched sporting event all year, we only managed to find two or three bars in Manhattan that were going to show the matches. Of those, we chose the Kinsale Tavern. They weren't going to show the opening ceremonies, but they were going to show the first game. Doors would open at 6 a.m.

My cab pulled up in front of Kinsale's at 5:55 a.m. Plenty of time since the game was to start around 6:30. A little sign on the door read "We will not be showing the 6 a.m. Rugby World Cup match. Go to Fiona's on 87th and 1st."

As me dear Father would say "Well, fuck me Agnes!"

Luckily, rather than having to hobble down to Fiona's, I was offered a ride by a group of the boys from Union (who we played in our first match this year) who had also come down to watch the game.

Toby arrived at the bar not long after I did and well before the game. Paul S. joined us in the middle of the first half.

It was a good game. I thought the Wallabies would pretty much rule the pitch, but Argentina really made them work. Only one really huge injury, David Giffin of the Wallabies was dropped during a lift and landed on his head and neck. They took him out on a stretcher; no word on his injuries. It looked pretty bad though.

Sadly, I find that I'm too damn tired to really write much of a commentary on the game. Or maybe it's those ciders. Either way, I'll try to write a little more once I've sobered up and the caffeine takes hold.

Forgot to mention that the game is Australia v. Argentina.

Hot Aussies.

Hot Latinos.

All in tight shorts.

Excited much?

Good news: Some of the guys from the team are gathering at a bar tomorrow to watch the first match of the Rugby World Cup.

Bad news: The match is being shown at 6 a.m.

Good news: Early morning drinking.

Bad news: Trying to work after early morning drinking.

Overall, I can't fucking wait!

Kinsale Tavern, 94th and Third, 6 a.m. Be there, or I'll blog nasty things about you.

I just got the worst cup of coffee from Starbucks. I'm sure it's because the cute Asian guy wasn't there; someone else made it.

Yes, that's how little I have to blog about.

Arnie - couldn't care less.
Rummy getting eased out of the inner circle - mildly amusing, but not really blog-worthy.
Marriage Week or whatever it's being called - have to cool down a little before I talk about how this is nothing more than a kick in the face to gays and has nothing to do with the "sanctity of marriage" or any of that other jingoistic crap.

God.

Just for fun, go to Jeff's site and read his novel. It's really, really good. Maybe if enough of you go read it, he'll post more.

Sports Forum, 20 more things about me, the sturm und drang that I'm currently dealing with on my rugby team, the deal about my stuff at my mom's house and my missing furniture will simply have to be blogged about later.

I need to win the Mega Millions soon. I'm tired of having to work.

Any rich guys out there want a kept boy (or kept bear, I suppose, is more accurate)?

Wow. Didn't blog today. Busy, I'm afraid. Lots of work. Then I attended a Sports Forum for gay athletes. Good stuff. I'll blog about it tomorrow.

The Gotham Knights Rugby merchandise is for sale at the new Gotham Maul (a rugby pun for those of you not in the know). You can buy t-shirts, stickers, caps, and other cool things. Most importantly, you can buy calendars full of hot, hot gay ruggers (or straight ruggers, if you're a girl and want to live the fantasy). Yum.

If you decide to buy one, let me know. I'd like to know what people think of them. Plus I'm in a few of the pictures on the Collage calendar.

So how was my weekend, you ask? And what did that missing post contain?

Well, I'll answer the first question. It was lovely.

After work Friday I went over to Mike'nDavid's house to watch the first three episodes of Carnivale. I would almost consider getting cable (and a tv) to watch this show. After they kicked me out (early morning for 'nDavid who is in an opera), I went home and went to bed because the bus to Princeton was leaving early in the morning (well, 10 a.m. which is early on a weekend).

The trip to Princeton was uneventful. The game was . . . well, disheartening. We lost 0-166. We had a chance to put points on the board but it was, in my opinion, wasted. No matter, there's always next week.

Part of the reason for the hideously lopsided score was that we had a good 15-20 people who were out with injuries or other commitments. Many of them were the guys on our team who have actual rugby experience. That means that many of the new guys were playing on the Blue side (the official union team). And frankly, not many of them were ready to play that level just yet. That being said, they did a good job. There were some nice tackles and some good runs. They just didn't quite have what they needed. I have a feeling the game this Saturday will be much better. And if nothing else, it was really good experience for the new guys.

The drinkup with the Princeton boys wasn't much to write home about. Good drinkup, mind you, just not terribly eventful. Boat races were a hoot as always. And the bartender bought back a couple of rounds which is always appreciated. Since I don't drink beer and I like to drink, I tend to run up a bit of a tab at these events.

The bus ride back was a drunken bacchanalia. Alcohol was consumed. A birthday boy was paraded around in the nude. Others were paraded around in the nude, presumably in sympathy. Much groping and like behavior. All in all rather typical.

After what I can only describe as a complete and utter betrayal by my teammates who completely let me down as I was attempting to lead them in a rousing chorus of "I Used To Work in Chicago," I was forced to shoot the boot for the first, and hopefully last, time. For the uninitiated, shooting the boot involves taking a boot from one of the players, filling it with beer and forcing some poor sap to drink it, usually because of an infraction of some sort (missing a verse of a song, singing the same verse twice, inserting a line about hockey in the middle of "Jesus Can't Play Rugby" like a certain someone did, etc.). In this case, I was the poor sap.

Luckily, I was so drunk at this point I would have drunk anything out of just about anything. So shooting the boot wasn't a problem.

Of course when I woke up on Sunday morning, I spent about ten minutes gargling with hydrogen peroxide. (Question to my teammates: any idea whose boot that was?).

Well, other silliness occurred, some of which I've previously blogged and deleted. You missed it? Too bad. Suffice to say, I had a great time. What I remember, that is.

Sunday, woke up repeatedly in the a.m. as my brain slowly sobered up and decided to punish me for abusing it with rum, kamikazes, tequila (house and premium brands), some sort of sweet shot with Bailey's and butterscotch schnapps, and cider. Felt like Zeus about to give birth to Athena, I did.

Woke up, deleted the somewhat incriminating entry, and made plans to go out to lunch with David, after attempting to diagnose Shamu Butterpot, P.I.

Arrived at the Upper West Side apartment of David, Goblin and the host of other living things, around 2:30 p.m. If I had known what a good time I was going to have, I would have insisted that he let me come over even earlier. As it was, I felt like I was hanging out with an old friend rather than someone I was meeting for the first time. I guess blogs will do that.

The apartment was lovely. Shamu was healthy, though I'm not certain he is really bamboo. He has pinnately compound leaves, which I don't think bamboo does. My guess is that it's a bamboo palm (which is a type of palm that has stalks that look like bamboo). Either way, he's healthy and happy.

So is Goblin. She is also adorable. And she loves squirrels. We should all ask David to let Goblin guest blog again. She doesn't do it nearly enough.

David and I went to lunch after that. Not great food (I picked the restaurant), but marvelous conversation and company.

I'm now officially two for two. Both MAK and David have turned out to be even nicer, funnier, more talented, etc., than I could have hoped. Great guys that I'm glad to know. Plus it makes it nicer to read their blogs being able to picture them and imagine them speaking the words.

Can't wait to meet the Jeffs, Ben, Mark, Bob, Scott, Faustus (who I've met briefly but we didn't do more than exchange hellos), Wayne, Sherry and all the other bloggers I've come to think of as friends. (Jalal, I include you in that, but imagine that circumstances will likely prevent me from traveling to Pakistan any time soon).

Back to the story. After hanging out with David, I went back home to work out, do my laundry and cook dinner. Instead I ordered a pizza and reread 'Lend Me a Tenor.' Best laid plans of mice and men oft gang aglee.

Went to bed. Fell asleep about 3 hours later. Damned insomnia.

After waking up at an ungodly hour this morning because I had to do laundry or go to work naked, I decided to put the time to good use. Did my laundry, cooked breakfast, made a pot of hazelnut coffee (which I brought to work and have been sipping on all day), did a couple of odd jobs around the apartment and generally was very handy and efficient.

Needless to say, I've been half asleep ever since.

Tonight is a rugby board meeting; shouldn't be too bad (he says hopefully). At this point, though, I just want some food.

Because I feel the need to somehow make up for the post that I deleted (and because I really don't want to do the next 20 items in the "about me" list that I'm doing), I've decided to share a humiliating story with you.

I've always been a curious person. Most everything would elicit a "why?" from me. I wanted to know exactly why and how things happened. And I was a skeptic. I wanted proof for anything I heard. "Just because I say it's true" was never enough for me. I imagine my teachers hated me. Or maybe they liked me because I wasn't some sort of dead-eyed pubescent zombie.

This somewhat sets the stage for the story. Here is the next piece.

I watched a lot of cartoons. One of the well-used comic devices in cartoons is the inhalation of pepper or snuff to cause sneezing.

I assume you see where this is going.

The final piece in this puzzle is the fact that I was a latchkey kid. My parents were divorced and my mother, with whom I lived, worked downtown. This left me to my own devices after school for the better part of three hours a day.

One day, having finished my homework like the good little overachiever I was, I found myself with nothing to do. And nothing to watch on tv. And no friends to hang out with. And, most importantly, no supervision.

Sitting at the kitchen table, where I had done my homework, I found myself idly wondering if snorting pepper would indeed make me sneeze. One would assume that in the back of my mind there was a little voice warning me not to do it. Nope. The little voice was saying what a capital idea it was and I should give it a shot posthaste. Sadly, I failed to realize that my little voice was giggling as it said this. Bastard.

I poured a little ground black pepper in my hand, took a fairly large pinch between my thumb and forefinger, held it to my nose and snorted for all I was worth.

It took maybe a millisecond before my head exploded in a flash of blinding pain.

In the cartoons, when a character snorts pepper, often after being tricked into doing so, he normally sneezes with a theatrical "Ah . . . ah . . . ah . . . CHOO!!!!!" and blows himself a step or two backwards. Sometimes, he will blow himself entirely out of the frame of the cartoon. But the important thing is, he sneezes once and only once.

I didn't sneeze once and only once. I'm not sure that what I did even qualifies as sneezing. It was more like my body, realizing that my sinuses were a lost cause, simply decided to expel them en masse from my head. This resulted in something that resembled an epileptic fit more than an episode of sneezing. As if this weren't bad enough, every orifice on my face that could secrete or otherwise leak fluid, did so with abandon. I imagine the effect looked eerily like something out of the scene in 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' where the Ark is opened and the Nazis melt, explode or some combination of the two.

It took about a minute for the sneezing fits to pass. A minute that seemed like an eternity. Once it settled down somewhat, I tried to wipe the combination of drool, snot and tears off my face so I could see well enough to find my glasses which I had somehow managed to fling across the room. I started wiping at my eyes, which were watering profusely. I wiped them with my thumb and forefinger. My pepper-coated thumb and forefinger.

Pepper. Eyes. I can't even begin to explain what it feels like. Suffice to say, it wasn't pleasant and didn't aid in the search for my glasses.

Eventually the pain and secretions subsided to the point where I could wash my hands and face, find my glasses and change my shirt. And while I wound up a little puffy around the eyes and with a healthy aversion for black pepper, I was not really the worse for wear.

Though I hope never to go through something like that again, I must say that I've gotten a great deal of mileage out of the story. And of course my friends are laughing with me, not at me. At least that's what they all tell me.

As you can see, I've deleted the Squawkbox commenting system from my blog. It seems that the free service is only free if you aren't a "heavy user." It seems that I qualify as a heavy user. This is somewhat odd considering I've only had it for a month or so and that very few people used it for comments.

Go figure.

So fuck you, Squawkbox.

Well, I said I wasn't going to censor my blog. And generally I haven't. I believe I'm going to amend that rule and say I won't censor my blog unless I've written something very stupid while drunk off my ass.

Fair compromise I believe.

Drunk, drunk, drunkity drunk. I've had any number of rum and cokes and shots of various types. Drunk. Woo hoo!!!

Was supposed to get together with David (and meet the fabulous Goblin) but I got into the city too late and he'd already made plans. Damn. Well, anticipation is cool, too.

[Removed]

Okay, sleepy now. Time to go to bed.

And just of ro fun I'm going to try to spell this lat parapgraph without doing my usulall spelal checkng and double readings to make sure that id' used the poroeper spelling eltc. This is anit idn9icationj of just ohw drunk I relaly am right nwo.I'm gonig to go pass out now.

Woo hoo!! Rugby!! Drinking!!

Since Jeff and Scott are doing it, it must be cool. So for your viewing pleasure (as if), here are 100 things about me -- or 20 things per day over the course of 5 days.

1. I was born in Germany
2. I've been through one major hurricane.
3. I've been through one major earthquake.
4. Mine was a difficult birth, the doctors told my mom I might not make it.
5. Some times I wish I hadn't . . . but not as often as I used to.
6. I love the early morning but I rarely wake up to enjoy it.
7. I love pizza.
8. I love vodka tonics.
9. Space cakes rock my world.
10. My best friend in high school was Todd. We reconnected recently and it's like we were never apart.
11. A guy named Lee shattered my heart in college; I still haven't recovered.
12. I own a mandolin that I don't know how to play.
13. I used to play contra-bass clarinet.
14. My best friend now is Mike. He knows more about me than anyone else on earth.
15. When I was a baby, I had seizures and had to be hospitalized. That was the only time I've ever had to stay in a hospital.
16. I've straddled the Equator and have a picture to prove it.
17. I've had a beard off and on since I was 17.
18. I have a weakness for fratboys.
19. I like playing rugby, but I love hanging out with my teammates.
20. I hate going to parties.

Okay, it's a start.

I just had a spam e-mail pop up in my Inbox. The sender was "Love & Romance" and the subject line read "[none]".

And that, my friends, is my love life in a nutshell.

Not sure if I believe this, but it would be very cool if it's true.

In a wee snit.

It is my own fault; I did something a little stupid. I sent an e-mail complaining about some things on the team to one of my teammates. I was just bringing up some issues that I think need to be addressed, but I was also venting. I fully expected the person to whom I sent it to tell me either to get over it or to talk to the people responsible because I'd made a valid point. Which I was more than willing to do.

However, he forwarded the e-mail to the people involved. Now mind you, I stand by the points I made. But my concern is that the guys will take it personally.

Can opened. Worms everywhere.

Shite.

I've been having the most fascinating chest pains for the last few days. The bad one I had on Monday felt the way I imagine getting stabbed would. Luckily after about two or three minutes of taking very shallow breaths and offering God all manner of bribes and appeasements just to let the pain end, it did.

I'm not sure, but I think I may have obligated myself to join the priesthood. On the upside, I'll probably get laid more often and black is slimming.

I suppose I should go to the doctor. Most of the chest pain, I think, will turn out to be related to allergies and congestion. Or to my tachycardia. Or maybe even to excessive caffeine intake.

But just in case . . .