Celebrity sighting for the evening: Jimmy Smits, David Zayas and possibly others from the cast of Anna in the Tropics at McHales, the little dive on 46th St.

Okay, not too much going on. Soon I'll be able to go home. Can't wait.

I'll be out of town this weekend, so there will likely be no updates on Saturday or Sunday. I'll be too busy packing stuff at my mom's house. So instead of my cool trip to Atlanta, I'm going to do more fucking packing.

Well, that's how it goes.

Well, I really should be in bed. I'm not. I'm blogging. Damn.

I don't have anything to say. I should be in bed. I'm not.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Lois: It's like I always tell the kids. Quitters never win and don't trust whitey.

Well, I can't access any of the blogspot sites, so I guess they're all down. Oh, well. I wonder if I'll be able to post this?

Well thank God somebody has finally come up with some technology I can use.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day (even more celebrity bashing)
Jennifer: Meg, you didn't tell me your mother was just like Martha Stewart.
Lois: Oh, no, once you get to know me, I'm really very nice.

Okay, Wayne found this Hero Machine that will create a superhero for you. I am not nearly as technically adept as he is, so if you want to see my cartoon dream-version of me (how I would like to look whenever I stride onto the rugby pitch), do the following.

1. Copy this:

Super-HeroBrickMale*Crash*
Skin:1,10,0,13,25,30,100,50,0,13,25,30,100;
Eyes:6,0,35,0,10,25,100,0,20,30,50,87,100;
Nose:7,50,0,13,25,30,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Mouth:5,0,30,0,50,80,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Eyebrows:5,75,0,0,0,0,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Undershirt:1,0,10,70,90,0,100,0,10,70,90,0,100;
Hair:7,0,0,0,0,75,100,0,20,0,0,0,100;
Mask:1,0,20,30,50,87,0,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Back:1,0,10,70,90,0,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Insignia:1,75,0,0,0,0,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Leggings:5,0,10,70,90,0,100,0,40,70,90,0,100;
Belt:4,0,40,70,90,0,100,0,10,70,90,0,100;
Overshirt:1,0,50,0,80,80,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Beard:1,75,0,0,0,0,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Helmet:1,75,0,0,0,0,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Pants:1,0,30,60,0,90,100,0,30,60,0,90,100;
Foot-left:14,0,60,0,0,100,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Foot-right:14,0,60,0,0,100,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Weapon-lft:1,75,0,0,0,0,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Weapon-rt:1,75,0,0,0,0,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Glove-lft:1,75,0,0,0,0,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Glove-rt:1,75,0,0,0,0,100,75,0,0,0,0,100;
Coat:14,0,20,0,0,0,100,0,50,0,0,0,100;
Background:3,0,40,70,90,0,100,0,0,0,0,75,100;#

2. Go to the Hero Machine.

3. Click the Load Character button (the third from the left under the Restart button).

4. Wonder why the hell you're going to all this trouble.

5. Decide to go ahead and finish since you came this far.

6. Paste the thing you copied into the appropriate space on the Load Character page.

7. Hit Load and see what I dream of looking like.

Riddle me this, Batman. If the show New Boy closed on June 22, then why is it still being advertised in goddamn Time Out New York??????

Fuck.

Well, I guess I'll just have to go to the gym.

Remember that old Monty Python routine with the Gumbies at a hospital, with the line "My brain hurts"?

Well, my brain hurts.

And I know it's not caffeine withdrawal because I've had an XL coffee from Duncan Donuts, a whompass (as we used to say back home) iced tea at lunch, two bottles of Diet Dr. Pepper, and a venti Starbucks latte.

Hmmm. I wonder if it could be too much caffeine?

Anyway, I thought I'd blog a little before my heart bursts. I'm at a loss to decide what to do tonight. I don't want to stay in. I'm sure Mike'nDavid have plans so I don't think I can hang with them. I kind of want to go to this Queer Poetry reading, but that stuff is either really good or mindnumbingly chew-your-leg-off-just-to-get-away bad. Plus it's down on Bowery and who the hell wants to go that far east?

I guess I should go to the gym.

Crap.

I moved to this city so I could experience life in a way that, frankly, is impossible in any of the places I've lived before. And all I find myself doing is the same stuff I did everywhere else. Bollocks.

Okay, I'm just whiny because I feel like there's an ice pick jammed in the back of my head.

Oh wait. There's a play I want to see. Maybe I'll do that instead. I don't know if any of you have read William Suttcliffe's book New Boy, but there is a play based on it over at the Beckett Theater. I think I may head over after work and see how it is.

This is what happens when you let Beavis and Butthead write headlines.

Turns out the Constitution applies even in Alabama and even to fundies.

Now this comes as no surprise.

You are 28% geek

You are a geek liaison, which means you go both ways. You can hang out with normal people or you can hang out with geeks which means you often have geeks as friends and/or have a job where you have to mediate between geeks and normal people. This is an important role and one of which you should be proud. In fact, you can make a good deal of money as a translator. Normal: Tell our geek we need him to work this weekend. You [to Geek]: We need more than that, Scotty. You'll have to stay until you can squeeze more outta them engines! Geek [to You]: I'm givin' her all she's got, Captain, but we need more dilithium crystals! You [to Normal]: He wants to know if he gets overtime.

Take the Polygeek Quiz at Thudfactor.com

The Family Guy Quote of the Day (continuing the celebrity bashing)
Lois Griffin (about Julia Roberts): Have you seen the lips on that woman? It's like a baboon's ass on her face.

Good practice tonight. Well, I didn't practice, but it seemed like a good one. I feel so much better if I just attend. But soon, very soon, I'll be back on that pitch.

Dinner at Dallas BBQ afterwards. Yum.

Okay, time for bed. I have to do laundry in the morning or else I'm going to work naked. Well, not naked. Just no pants. Either way, not a good idea. Even if it were casual Friday.

Today's Haikuesday theme is "Movies." Scott and Jeff, tag . . . you're it.

Snuggled in my seat
Childlike anticipation
Darkness surrounds me

And then, pow, bright light
The flickering images
Transport me from here

To lands of wonder
Only two-dimensional
Yet better than mine

Okay, not my best work, but dammit, I'm tired.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Susan Sarandon (Doing a "Save the Children" type commercial): Hi, I'm Susan Sarandon. A lot of you know me as Tim Robbins' mother. But I'm actually his girlfriend.

Sorry I haven't really blogged today. Not a lot to say. We'll see about tomorrow.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Stewie: How deliciously evil! It's like something out of Stephen King!
[scene change]
Stephen King: Now for my 307th novel, a couple... is attacked... [looks around the office, grabs the desk lamp] by a giant lamp monster! Oooo!!! Grrrrrrrr!!!
Editor: You're not even trying anymore, are you?

I feel the need to clarify something I said earlier. When I mentioned that you shouldn't ever fight large metal inanimate objects, I was not referring to robots bent on the destruction of mankind.

Clearly those should be fought tooth and nail.

Thanks.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Peter Griffin: We love the Bible in this house.
Francis Griffin: Really. What's your favorite book of the Bible?
Peter Griffin: Uhhhhh...the book where Jesus swallows the puzzle piece and the man in the yellow hat has to take him to the hospital.

Friends don't let friends blog drunk.

Sadly, I had no friends to stop me last night. Now I had friends who could have stopped the drinking part, but I suppose they enjoy watching me make an ass out of myself.

My hand is swollen and bruised. Never, ever fight large metal inanimate objects.

Evil hangover.

But on the up side, the youth rugby event this morning was a lot of fun. We had about 10 kids, some of them new, and this time all of the parents participated, too. Great good fun.

I'm trying to decide if I should do all the stuff I need to around the house, or just blow it off and see another movie. So far the movie option is winning.

And I feel it worth noting that while I did fool around with several of my teammates tonight, I did not go down on any of them.

I have standards after all.

And they wouldn't let me.

Bastards.

So, today. First let me say, I'm drunk off my ass. So I'm trying to spell correctly, but not having too much luck.

Okay. Friday night. Went to see Boys Life 4 over at the Quad. Generally sucked.

Saturday. Woke up early and went to Freaky Friday. Fucking brilliant. Loved it. Cried during the big reconciliation scene. Nice. I want to marry Jamie Lee Curtis when I turn straight.

After that . . . went to Farmers' Market and bought food. Then went to the Boot Camp drink up. Seemed to have had a good time since I'm drunk and not overly maudlin. But will point out I neither had anyone to go to the movies with nor did I get laid after the event.

Be that as it may.

After the drink up, Brian and I went to see Freaky Friday again. He loved it. I loved it and I still cried.

So now I'm going to bed and tomorrow I'm going to the Youth Rugby Day.

Oh, and I seem to have hurt my hand during a fight with a mailbox. That will teach me to fight inanimate objects while drunk.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
[Peter has bought an sexy version of a relationship tape]
Lois Griffin: $49.95? Are you sure we can afford this?
Peter Griffin: Lois, our relationship can not be measured in nipples and dimes.....nickels and boobs......money.
[runs off]

So where the hell is everyone today? For the last couple of days, the number of visits to my site has declined precipitously. I'm choosing to believe that this means everyone is on vacation, rather than thinking that you've all caught on to the fact that I'm not much of a writer and have little of interest to say.

Anyway, last night I went to rugby practice for the first time this season. After the usual ribbing from a teammate and from one of the coaches, I settled in to watch. Naturally, I had to get involved a little, since just watching was driving me nuts. So I did some kicking practice with Toby and Rychye. Later while Brian was doing some jogging, I joined him on one lap.

The point is, I did very little practising.

Today when I woke up, my knee was swollen and felt like someone turned the kneecap about a quarter turn. And my heel hurt. And somehow I pulled a muscle in my back.

How I managed to do this while doing next to nothing astounds me.

I got home last night to discover that my The Family Guy DVDs had arrived. I stayed up till one watching them. Brilliant show.

From the Onion's public speaking tips:
Public speaking is a lot like riding your bike: It's tiring, you get sweaty, and sooner or later you take an iron bar to the nuts.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Stewie Griffin: When you least expect it your uppance will come.

Some people have way too much time on their hands. I guess I'm one of them, but I couldn't create something like this.

Man, it's quiet out there. Where is everybody?

Well, my rugby club is having its Boot Camp this Saturday. Good introduction to rugby for those of you who've never played the game. Plus lots of woofy ruggers to ogle.

If you are interested in attending, go to our web page; it has the info.

My favorite part of boot camp is the kangaroo court that we have at the drink up afterwards. Kangaroo court is, as the name implies, a mock trial of some of the team (and the new guys too, sometimes). There is a prosecutor and a defender, who present their arguments. Then the judge, after soliciting the team's opinion, hands down the judgment -- guilty. The guilty party is then made to do some sort of humiliating punishment (sometimes involving nudity).

Fun stuff.

Last Boot Camp, our President was the prosecutor and our secretary (in drag) was the defense attorney. It was a fucking riot.

This year Brian will be playing one of the roles. I'm not sure who'll be doing the other.

One of the nice things about being "of a certain age" is that this technology didn't exist when I was 15. If it did, I would surely have had some of my various adventures wind up on the Internet.

Read this, go to the site, scroll down to "The Original Star Wars Kid," sit back and enjoy (oh, and then go watch this because it's fucking brilliant too):

The Star Wars Kid was just goofing off at school. Now he finds his private performance downloaded by over 12 million Internet users across the world.

The Star Wars Kid is a 15-year-old from Quebec known only as Ghyslain. Back in November 2002, Ghyslain was goofing off at a school video studio and recorded himself fighting a mock battle with a golf ball retriever lightsaber. Over two minutes, the video shows the lone, overweight teenager twirling his mock lightsaber ever faster while making his own accompanying sound effects.

Yes, we've all had our dorky, private moments, but this poor kid is living the nightmare of having his private dorkiness projected across the world to giggling Web users. His friends found the tape, and uploaded it to KaZaA as a joke on April 19. Within two weeks, someone had added full Star Wars special effects and noises to the tape, and the video was linked on gaming, technology, and Star Wars-related sites across the Internet.

If it weren't for Jesus, we wouldn't have a jet-powered fire truck.

Cool Quote
I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.
-Jorge Luis Borges

And speaking of libraries, go here. If anyone wants to buy me this instead of the Bea Arthur t-shirt, that's fine.

This is actually pretty cool, but you must have speakers otherwise it won't make any sense.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Newsanchor Diane (to her co-anchor): Tom, you're so deep in the closet you're finding Christmas presents.

Haikuesday (Wednesday version)
Sad. No Haikuesday.
Jeff and Scott are too lazy.
Up to me, I guess.

Jeff is a sweet guy
And a hell of a writer,
So go read his blog.

Multitalented,
That is Scott in a nutshell
Plus he's in a band.

And me, I'm just Crash.
Wordsmith of banalities
And some cute haikus.

So I'm sitting here eating my Crema Lita half-hazelnut, half-banana pudding ice-cream-like-substance and listening to Kecak - the Balinese Monkey Chant on the radio.

I love this town.

In other news, my future husband will be playing in NYC at the end of September. I'm psyched. Then a week later, Reverend Horton Heat will be playing. I can't wait.

Well, off to bed and dreams of blues and rockabilly.

If the doctor starts touching you down there, for God's sake, say something!!

This is wrong on so many levels. And this is just nasty.

Warning, high cringe factor.

And this is just good business sense.

Okay. I'm not sure how to take this one.


Your medieval name is: Gweneveire. You are
innocent, quiet, beautiful and angelic. You
harbor an inner beauty and you usually keep to
yourself, following the lines of conformity.
You're totally innocent and loyal.


What is your Medieval name?
brought to you by Quizilla

Saw this on Scheherazade's site and had to have my own site analyzed. I must say, I'm a tad disappointed.

An hour on the phone with crazy people. Well, I'm knackered. Can I go home?

One bad thing about my job is that I have to deal with crazy people. I've been stuck on the phone with two of them for half an hour now.

It's not nice to fool with Mother Nature. That bitch fights back.

Buy me one!!!! In the name of all that's holy, someone go out and buy me one!!!!!

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
(Chris Griffin and Glen Quagmire enter a strip joint . . . Quagmire is lead away by his crotch, literally)
Stripper: And how old are you, sweetie?
Chris Griffin: Old enough to know you're a whore.

Tag, You're it

If you want to participate, leave a comment saying "interview me" or send me an e-mail.
I will respond by asking you five questions - each person's will be different.
You will update your journal with the answers to the questions.
You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

I got my questions from Mykull who got his from Jean, who got hers from Trish, who got hers from the Green Fairy, who got hers from Feministe, who got hers from Erica, who got hers from Kathy, who got hers from Cornelia and sadly the trail goes dry after that. Eventually it all goes back to Kevin Bacon . . . but what doesn't?

Anyway, here are my questions:

1) what's your greatest fear? Death. Or more accurately, "the undiscovered country from which no traveler returns" I have a horrible fear of the unknown and that is the ultimate unknown.

2) you have to move to a remote island and you can take only one person with you. who would that person be and why? I can't think of anyone I could take without destroying their lives. Bad enough that I'd be stuck on an island, to do that to someone I love would suck. I guess based on that, I'd take Fred Phelps. Lousy company, but I could eat him when I run out of food and not feel the least bit of guilt.

3) what 5 items can't you live without? I guess food, shelter, water, air and sunlight are too obvious. I don't think there are any material things I couldn't live without. Might not be much of a life, but I could live. I guess if forced to choose, I'd want a journal, pen, mirror, my glasses and a radio. Notice I didn't say clothing. Woo hoo!!!!

4) you can take only one book, one movie, and one CD with you to the remote island. what do you choose? Book - Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Movie - Beautiful Thing, CD - Tasmin Archer's Great Expectations.

5) the nobel prize committee has called on you to invent something. what will your invention be? (note: the invention cannot include a device that will enable you to leave the remote island.) Though it would cause horrible chaos, I would invent a device that gave everyone telepathy. I imagine it would be horrible to be able to know what everyone was thinking, but it would make crime and war a bit more difficult.

So those are my answers. If you want some questions, let me know and I'll e-mail you five for you to answer.

I love Googlisms. Using my Googlism results I have created the following Googlism Poem entitled "Bizarre Enough to be Plausible":

Bizarre Enough to be Plausible

crash is imminent
crash is near
crash is nigh
crash is here

crash is here to stay
crash is so huggable and loveable
crash is one for believe it or not

crash is way too proud of itself
crash is the breaking down of order
crash is no exception
crash is still not known

crash is identified
crash is a scam
crash is suspended
crash is banned

crash is totaled
crash is recovering
crash is poised to break out in mass

crash is on
crash is stylin
crash is stable
crash is back

crash is the portrayal of a future that is bizarre enough to be plausible

crash is a provocative and brilliantly disturbing project

Ain't straight folks great? But remember, if gays were allowed to marry, we'd somehow sully the institution.

There is finally a new entry on the George W. Bush blog. I was beginning to think it was a goner.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Brian Griffin: I'm really enjoying playing golf.
Peter Griffin: You know my great-great-grandfather Angus Griffin invented the game.
[flashback]
Angus Griffin: So, we're all clear on the rules then. No Jews and no blacks.
Scottish men: Aye.

Well this was kind of fun.

According to this site, my blues singer name is Depressed Jefferson and my punk rock band is called Bucolic Thesauri.

I love this kind of nonsense.

Forgot to mention two celebrity sightings from Sunday:

Julianne Moore walking past Arte Pasta. And the drummer from Pansy Division.

Now I have to state for the record, that I didn't see Julianne Moore since Mike didn't point her out until she'd passed by the window. And I don't think the guy he pointed out was the drummer for Pansy Division, but who knows.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Lois Griffin: Peter, what did you promise me?
Peter Griffin: That I wouldn't drink at the stag party.
Lois Griffin: And what did you do?
Peter Griffin: Drank at the stag pa-- ...Whoa! I almost walked into that one.

Much better mood today. Or if not in a better mood, I'm sober so I can put on the happy mask and not have it slip off quite as easily as it did last night.

Well, whatcha gonna do?

Some more lyrics, this time a little Irving Berlin by way of Al Jolson:
Let me sing a funny song, with crazy words that roll along
And if my song can start you laughing, I'm happy, happy
Let me sing a sad refrain, of broken hearts who love in vain
And if my song can start you crying, I'm happy

Anyway, not much to report on the weekend that I haven't already reported. Last night the rugby club had a recruiting party at Splash (sorry, SBNY). I guess it went well. Before that, I went to brunch (hence my brunch reference at the end of the 'Ladies Who Lunch' post) with Mike'nDavid at Arte Pasta. If you've never had Sunday brunch there, I recommend it. Get the steak and eggs; you won't be disappointed. And they have all you can drink champagne and mimosas. Mike's friend Sandra joined us at the end; she and Mike were going to hear a blues singer over at the pier.

Sandra's a kick. About as subtle as a hammer to the head. Says what's on her mind and doesn't seem to give a damn what other people think. And she's a very nice, funny person. Gotta love that.

After that I did some stuff around the house and then went to Splash. Then a drunken post and off to bed. And here we are, all caught up.

Instead of a long diatribe on how I wish I had the balls to finally kill myself, I thought I'd share with you some song lyrics. How about 'Ladies Who Lunch' since I mentioned that recently:

I'd like to propose a toast.

Here's to the ladies who lunch--
Everybody laugh.
Lounging in their caftans and planning a brunch
On their own behalf.
Off to the gym,
Then to a fitting,
Claiming they're fat.
And looking grim
'Cause they've been sitting
Choosing a hat--
Does anyone still wear a hat?
I'll drink to that.

Here's to the girls who stay smart--
Aren't they a gas?
Rushing to their classes in optical art,
Wishing it would pass.
Another long exhausting day,
Another thousand dollars,
A matinee, a Pinter play,
Perhaps a piece of Mahler's--
I'll drink to that,
And one for Mahler.

Here's to the girls who play wife--
Aren't they too much?
Keeping house but clutching a copy of Life
Just to keep in touch.
The ones who follow the rules
And meet themselves at the schools,
Too busy to know that they're fools--
Aren't they a gem?
I'll drink to them.
Let's all drink to them.

And here's to the girls who just watch--
Aren't they the best?
When they get depressed, it's a bottle of Scotch
Plus a little jest.
Another chance to disapprove,
Another brilliant zinger,
Another reason not to move,
Another vodka stinger--
Aaahh--I'll drink to that.

So here's to the girls on the go--
Everybody tries.
Look into their eyes and you'll see what they know:
Everybody dies.
A toast to that invincible bunch---
The dinosaurs surviving the crunch--
Let's hear it for the ladies who lunch--
Everybody rise! Rise!
Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise!


My favorite bit of course is:

And here's to the girls who just watch--
Aren't they the best?
When they get depressed, it's a bottle of Scotch
Plus a little jest.
Another chance to disapprove,
Another brilliant zinger,
Another reason not to move,
Another vodka stinger--

Fuck.

It's funny. I have no reason to hate life. I'm fairly well-off. I have my health. I have intellect, perhaps even charm and looks.

And yet . . . here I am. Wishing it would just fucking end already.

Ah, well. C'est la vie.

And for those of you who might worry, don't. As I mentioned, I don't have the balls to do anything drastic. So I'll just keep on keeping on until this farce is finally over.

Most drastic I'll get is putting on Company and passing out. I should have mentioned that I've been basically drunk since noon-ish.

Here's to the ladies who brunch . . . .

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Lois Griffin [reassuringly]: Peter, I care as much about the size of your penis as you care about the size of my breasts.
Peter Griffin: OH MY GOD!
[runs off crying]

Overheard (well actually, the classy folks involved were shouting drunkenly) on 23rd and 7th:
Skank (trying to get her boyfriend to join her in running for the line of some club on 23rd): Hurry up and come if you're coming.
White Trash Bf: Oh, I'm cumming alright.
Skank: Yeah, but just on my face. Or stomach.

Delightful.

Got to love those bridges and tunnels. What a fascinating cross-section of Americana they provide for our amusement and edification.

Last night I went to the movies because I was tired, hot and lonely. Tonight I went because I was just lonely. Things are looking up!!!!

Yesterday it was catch as catch can. I went to two movie theaters before finding one (the Quad) that had power. I missed the "gay" movie (Boys Shorts?) and wound up watching Spellbound, the documentary about the national spelling bee. Now I had no intention of seeing this movie. No interest whatsoever. That being said, it was fantastic. Interesting, well filmed, thought provoking, funny. I'm just amazed at how good it was.

Tonight I saw Camp. Not the best film in the world, but the kids are so cute and the in-jokes so funny that I forgave a lot of the really, really, really cliched bits. All in all, just what I needed tonight. Something light and frothy. And I finally found a version of 'Ladies Who Lunch' that will forever replace Elaine Stritch's in my mind. Well, okay, not really. But the scene was funny as hell.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day (and now I'm caught up)
Peter Griffin: I'm looking for some toilet training books.
Salesman: We have the popular 'Everybody Poops", or the less popular 'Nobody Poops But You'.
Peter Griffin: Well, you see, we're Catholic. . .
Salesman: Ah, then you'll want 'You're a Naughty, Naughty Boy, and That's Concentrated Evil Coming Out the Back of You.'

The Family Guy Quote of the Day (Friday)
Peter Griffin: Brian, there's a message in my Alpha Bits. It says "OOOOOO"!
Brian Griffin: Peter, those are Cheerios.

ConEd wants us to conserve power. Fuck them. My air-conditioning is on high and will stay there.

I mean, really.

Well I'll be hornswoggled! I truly expected to see on the news that all that was left of Detroit was a smoldering pile of ashes.

Turns out they were pretty well behaved.

The times they are a'changin'.

And two funny things.

Once I finally got through to my dad (who had decided I must have been trapped in a subway), he asked, "So are you watching any of this on the news?" I reminded him that I had neither a TV nor POWER. He was a little sheepish after that.

Mom, did one of those, too. After I spent about 15 minutes bitching about how hot the apartment was and the fact that even with the windows open I got no ventilation, she asked if I could put a fan in the window. I told her that I could, but that it would likely sit idly next to the air conditioner as we have no POWER.

Of course, I kept flipping the light switch every time I walked into the bathroom, so I can't really blame them too much.

It's kind of disheartening when you realize just how close to the tree your particular apple fell.

Oh, I almost forgot, a really hearty "fuck you" to:

AT&T: call me silly, but the phone that I bought so I could get in touch with my family in a crisis, didn't actually function during a crisis, so I'm a little pissed at them

Citibank: no service, no ATMs -- even after all the other fucking banks' ATMs were working. And I just can't wait till they try to hit me with a fee for using a non-Citibank ATM. I am going to rip someone a new one at that point.

And props to:

Chase: I'll probably be moving my accounts over there. They had people working at their branches as soon as the power started coming back on. Customer service isn't a huge priority for them, but they did a damn sight (site?) better than Shitibank.

The Factory: the only place I was able to get caffeine in a non-soda form.

The pizza places in NYC who stayed open as long as they had toppings. Thank God for gas pizza ovens.

Now. I guess I'll go visit the news sites and find out what happened. I haven't had any info for the past two days.

I would like to offer a hearty "fuck you" to the following:

ConEd (it wasn't our fault)
Mayor Bloomberg (it wasn't my fault)
Gov. Pataki (it wasn't my fault)
Pres. George W. Bush (it wasn't my fault . . . even though it was cause I keep cutting funds for improvements to the infrastructure . . . but . . . um . . . look!! California!!!)
The dick from NYPD directing traffic on Thursday afternoon at 14th and 7th (dumbshit . . . the reason the cars weren't zipping along in the direction you were pointing was because there were FUCKING PEDESTRIANS IN THE WAY. This isn't New Jersey . . . we don't run over pedestrians here, even when a cop is yelling at you to do it).
My co-op for not installing any kind of emergency lights in my building forcing me to grope my way up four flights of stairs and along a completely dark hallway.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking miserable two days.

Lights just came back on at my apartment. 29 hours with no electricity. All my food had to be thrown out, except what was in the freezer which should be fine if I eat it tomorrow.

The lights are flickering a bit so I'm going to post this and start a new entry.

Overheard at Starbucks:
Man 1 picks up his grande iced soy latte
Man 2 (scoffing): What hell did you order?
Man 1: A grande go fuck yourself.

That's right, kiddies. We're all about class in NYC.

From Choire's list of great things about abstaining from dating.

Free weekends! . . . Sundays are for voodoo dolls papier mached from the Vows section of the Times.

Holy crap! I thought I was the only one who did that!

Now really. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't take them into a place like that.

Thanks to MAK for pointing out this quiz.

And I must state again, for the record, that I have seen Jude Law's penis. In person. Not onscreen. And so has K., I found out.


You are Bosie, from WILDE.


Which Jude Law movie character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

The Family Guy Quote of the Day (paraphrased courtesy of Mike)
Peter (at the IRS for an audit): This isn't what I expected.
Auditor: Oh yes, we're a kinder gentler IRS.
Peter: It even smells good.
Auditor: Oh, that must be you. I just farted.

Thar she blows!!!!!

I have always been a fan of our neighbors to the north and if I am able to help out in this current crisis, I certainly will.

So if any cute, young Canadians are willing to come down to New York . . . I'm at your service.

Dave Barry muses about the most recent computer virus . . .

...does "The Blaster Worm" sound to you like an affectionate nickname a guy might give to his male unit?

No! Dear God in heaven, no!!!!!

Since I know I beat him home (ha, in your face Jackson Heights boy), I get to be the first to blog about the pleasant evening I just had.

I know several of the people whose blogs I read, Brian, Stebbins, LittleMinx, Dino, even Faustus and King Ginger who probably don't even remember meeting me (don't worry boys, I'm not too offended. You know, Stebbins, do you even remember meeting me?)

But I already knew all of them as people before I'd become aware of their blogs.

Tonight I got to do it the other way around. I'm sure you've all read MAK's blog or are at least aware of him because he is guest-blogging for Faustus. Well, I got to meet him in the flesh tonight. We had drinks over at the St. Andrew's pub (bartenders in kilt . . . my sort of place). Turns out he's just as funny and charming in person as he is on his blog.

There is always that fear . . . what if he's nothing like his online personality? What if I'm not? What if we get together for drinks and just sit there awkwardly until the check comes? All those little neuroses that come from meeting someone for the first time.

Nice to say, I had a great time.

And he has got some great stories to tell about his life, family, dating . . . you name it. Hopefully we'll get to see them in his blog really soon.

Now, for the rest of you. When do I get to meet you face to face, eh?

The turkey was delicious, however.

Oh, and I cooked a turkey breast last night in my crockpot.

Now those of you who read Faustus' blog regularly won't be impressed by my pedestrian fare. "But wait," I hear you cry, "Faustus can make delicious baked goods out of nothing more than moonlight and wishes and all you could do is slow-cook a turkey breast? We should be impressed by this?"

To which I reply, "Fuck you."

Okay, so I may not be as good a cook as Faustus. Or as cute. Or as young. Or as bendy. Or as literate. Um . . . I'm not really sure where I was going with that, but I think I need to go lie down and cry now.

I just saw a fairly professional looking advertisement for the US Open that had "D'ont forget . . ." written on the front.

"D'ont forget." What professional printer doesn't . . . excuse me, "d'oesnt" notice that the apostrophe is in the wrong fucking place?

Oh, well.

A couple of other observations. I saw the Comedy Central Dennis Leary roast on Monday. Fucking hilarious. But that i'snt my observation. Mario Cantone. I never much cared for his stand-up routines. But I did notice this on Monday night. Mario Cantone is the new, younger, slightly more effiminate Phyllis Diller.

I c'ant believe I never noticed it before. Mario Cantone = (Phyllis Diller - wacky hair) + (Nathan Lane - talent) + a good agent. And you thought algebra w'ouldnt ever come in handy again.

Last night I went to see Rick (hot, tattooed, bartending motherfucker) perform some of his songs at the Alphabet Lounge on 7th St. Good times. Liked his music. Loved the bar (cool, funky dive). Not a bad way to spend the evening. If I ever am able to figure out the technical aspects of blogging, I'll try to load an MP3 of his song "Queen of New York City." Very cool and funky in a Lauren Hill/Macy Gray/Desiree sort of way.

For some reason, I've been getting a lot of hits by people looking for Crema Lita (I mentioned it in an earlier entry). So let me put in my two cents worth.

Crema Lita. I go to the one on 8th Ave. and 21st. My review: the faux ice cream is delicious. It is rich and creamy and has a texture that is a lot like good gelato. The staff is a little . . . well, not to be mean, but slow. Really, really slow. Which is why there is often a pretty long line. And the times I've gone, there is usually one person taking the orders and making them and another person in the background not really doing anything. Maybe it's some sort of union thing. My only other complaint is the price. Tasty D-Lite or however one spells that is a better value, but the ice cream isn't quite as good.

I'm a little embarrassed that I did this quiz, but what the hell. I am a geek. Now, what the heck did I do with my +4 Vorpel blade?

I Am A: Lawful Good Elf Ranger Cleric


Alignment:
Lawful Good characters are the epitome of all that is just and good. They believe in order and governments that work for the benefit of all, and generally do not mind doing direct work to further their beliefs.


Race:
Elves are the eldest of all races, although they are generally a bit smaller than humans. They are generally well-cultured, artistic, easy-going, and because of their long lives, unconcerned with day-to-day activities that other races frequently concern themselves with. Elves are, effectively, immortal, although they can be killed. After a thousand years or so, they simply pass on to the next plane of existance.


Primary Class:
Rangers are the defenders of nature and the elements. They are in tune with the Earth, and work to keep it safe and healthy.


Secondary Class:
Clerics are the voices of their God/desses on Earth. They perform the work of their deity, but this doesn't mean that they preach to a congregation all their lives. If their deity needs something done, they will do it, and can call upon that deity's power to accomplish their goals.


Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy of NeppyMan

English - the language of Chaucer, Shakespeare, Blake, Benny Hill and other great minds. But it has hit its zenith in the writing of King Ginger.

I went absolutely mother fecking ape shite!
-Jules a.k.a. King Ginger

FYI, Jules is a friendly, and might I add dead sexy, redheaded rugger from the Village Spartans, the gay rugby team in Manchester. His is one of the blogs (live journal to be accurate) that I read every day. There's a picture of him, too. Go visit it.

And in case you are wondering, 'ginger' is what the English call redheads. Don't bother asking why, they just do. I think it's just to be difficult and to confuse the rest of us. Like when they say 'lift', 'pram', 'lorry', 'petrol' and other clearly made-up words.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
[Peter's at a job interview]
Interviewer: So where do you see yourself in five years?
Peter Griffin: [Thinking to himself "Don't say doing you wife! Don't say doing your wife!"] Doing your, uh, son...

Well, the oracle has spoken. Given the choice between finding a boyfriend and dying alone, I should:

The Oracle Advises...

finding a boyfriend

Ask the Oracle a Question

Okay, it has been pointed out that a sonnet has fourteen lines, not ten as I used in my earlier attempt. (Thank you, Mykull . . . sorry, I haven't figured out how to do umlauts yet). Now, I've been writing sonnets for years. I've always written sonnets with 14 lines. Never a problem. So how the fuck did I wind up missing an entire quatrain in this one? And more importantly, why did no one notice and correct me? I know several of you are writers. Harrumph! Yes, that's right . . . I harrumphed at you.

A Sonnet For a Change (Take Two)
Perhaps the haiku form is not the best
For all the things that one would like to say
The phrases always sound a bit distressed
When squeezed into that rather odd array

What form is there to suit the thoughts I think
To bring them all into the higher realm
The choice of words and thoughts must be in sync
The rhyme must flatter, never overwhelm

A limerick, I guess, sounds immature
An ode's too lofty, few will understand
An epic poem nobody can endure
And elegies require a corpse at hand

But sonnets as a form are pure and bright
Though, Jesus Christ, they take so long to write


Once again, thank you Mykull. The rest of you . . . I'm very, very disappointed.

Oh, and go visit Mykull's website. He's funny and I want to steal Olive and Eli.

I don't want to use the same subject as Jeff did in his elegiac Haikuesday post, but I will pick up the theme.

Loss

A singer silenced
Nevermore bringing passion
To listener's ears.

A dancer made still
Energetic movements locked
Forever away

A poet buried
Concepts swirl in the ether
Never given form

A lover unloved
Never knowing the one who
Could have made him whole

A voice and a dance
A poem and a love, all lost.
We are diminished

Someone from Disney.com has been visiting my blog. I was going to make the usual "it's a small world after all" joke, but why bother?

So, another old joke:

Lawyer: Mr. Mouse, I'm afraid you can't divorce your wife just because you think she's mentally disturbed.
Mickey: I didn't say she was mentally disturbed. I said she was fucking Goofy.

Of course it's much funnier when it's heard, not read.

Ennui. It's such a great word. Leave it to the French to come up with something that is . . . well, le mot juste.

Odd mood. Not bad, not good. Just . . . I don't know.

I have a lot to do today, but I can't seem to focus. I should go to rugby practice tonight, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to bail. I got to work late, so I can't really justify leaving at 5:15 p.m. just to go watch the guys play.

I hate that my knees hurt so much. I hate the general shape that my body is in.

I know, I know . . . boo fucking hoo. Get over it already.

Maybe that's what the whole thing is. I just feel out of joint. Not just physically, mind you. Emotionally. Spiritually. I'm here, but I'm really not. I don't feel like I'm adding anything by being at work. I don't feel like I'm adding anything by being at practice. Or at home. Or anywhere, really.

Unpacking, writing, being with friends . . . again, I can't seem to muster a lot of enthusiasm about any of it.

I really think I need a vacation.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Peter Griffin: I've been watching television so much the shows are starting to run together!
Announcer: And now, Homicide: Life on Sesame Street!
Bert: [Answering phone] Hello? Son of a bitch. I'm on my way.
[Gets out of bed and gets dressed]
Bert: Some poor bastard got his head blown off down at a place called Hooper's.
Ernie: Bert, I wish you wouldn't drink so much, Bert.
Bert: Well, Ernie, I wish you wouldn't eat cookies in the DAMN BED!
Ernie: Bert, you're shouting again, Bert.

Some poetry because . . . well, why not. I don't usually let people read my stuff just because I figure it's self-indulgent crap. But then, who cares?

Photos
In fits of nostalgia I take it down
The box
The pictures
From the scraps of paper corpses look back
Grinning
Eyes flashing
Dead from the moment that the shutter closed
And still
They haunt me
Moments of joy forever lost to me

Flirt
Eyes lock. A smile
Like a physical assault.
I turn, eyes downcast.
Ashamed of myself.
Ashamed of him.
How dare I imagine?
How dare he
Look?

Remember when I mentioned that I'd written a letter to the editor of The Simon about an article some nutless dimwit wrote about the Harvey Milk School (I may not have referred to him as a nutless dimwit, but that was the subtext)? Well, they printed it.

If you are interested, check it out.

Bear in mind I used my grown-up name, not my nickname. I have no doubt you'll figure out which one is me.

FYI, I had a letter to the editor run in the NY Blade two weeks ago, too. Woo hoo! Citizen Crash tilting at windmills!

Your Name: Crash

Past Berkana - Growth, abundance, fertility, Mother Earth, protection, the zenith of an idea or situation.

Present Thurisaz - Beginning new projects, luck-the hand of fate helping you, protection, the hammer of Thor, opening gateways.

Future Ehwaz - Abrupt changes, moving into new home and environment, travel, swift change in situation.

Cast the runes here:
Rune Caster

As my old Scottish ancestors might say, I'm in a wee snit today.

No particular reason, just . . . I don't know, a little pissy, I guess.

A buddy of mine had surgery this morning. I'm sure he's fine, but I'm a little concerned. I found out last week that my dad is going to have some pretty big surgery coming up. Work is busy but boring. Blah, blah, blah.

Perhaps August is simply le mois d'ennui.

I'm sure the weather has something to do with it. I keep hoping one of these days to see that big yellow glowing thing in the sky. You know . . . that warm thing that hurts to look at. What was that called again?

One to piss off the fundies.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Peter Griffin: Wow, is that really the blood of Christ?
Preacher: Yes, it is.
Peter Griffin: Holy crap, that guy must've been wasted 24 hours a day!

Well, this just ruined my day.

I mean, when a person with this much talent dies, the world is diminished. That talent is gone and will only live on in memory.

I know for every Gregory Hines, there is a Savion Glover ready to step up and dance. And when Savion goes, there will be another and another. But they aren't the same. Their talent is unique. There will never be another Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly, nor should there be. But it is still heartbreaking to think of that flame extinguished. To think of the dances left undanced.

Mortality sucks.

Lessons I've learned today:

1) I don't like veal. No taste, nasty texture. I'm sticking to grown-up dead cow.

2) If I don't drink coffee, around 4 p.m. my skull implodes.

3) People should wear deoderant to the gym. And if they don't, they shouldn't get on the cardio machines.

3a) I should put a little cologne on my towel so I can get at least a couple of non-foul breaths of air when seated next to Mr. Stinky-Pits.

4) One of my co-workers is gay. I saw him walking in Chelsea being very chummy with another guy (not straight-chummy either).

5) People who take up entire tables at Starbucks and don't even have the decency to buy a fucking drink or anything ought to have scalding coffee thrown in their faces.

6) Joseph Campbell was an amazing thinker and writer. I'm currently reading The Power of Myth, a book made from the transcripts of his discussions with Bill Moyer. Wow. Amazing stuff.

The Family Guy Very Appropriate Quote of the Day
Lois Griffin: Peter, you're drunk again.
Peter Griffin: No, I'm just exhausted because I've been up all night drinking.

Drunk. Drunk. Drunk. Drunk. Drunk. Drunk.

Did I mention that I'm drunk?

Anyway, after an enjoyable evening out with Stuff, Hugh and some of Stuff's friends (including a woman who is German and grew up in Bavaria close to where I'm from), I am plastered. I was supposed to hang out with Mike today, but he got a late start after partying last night, so by the time he called me, I'd assumed he'd bailed so I made plans with Stuff, who is off to China for two months on Tuesday. Which sucks. Because I'll have no one to go to the bars with.

Probably just as well.

We went to Down the Hatch (I went just to make MAK's day since it played a part in a Sex and the City episode, or would have had it not been voice-overed out, which he mentioned in his blog [was that a major run-on sentence?]). Then off to the Hangar Bar, 'cause my friend Rick works there (i.e. cheap drinks). Not only is Rick a sweetheart, but he's one hot motherfucker. Cool tattoos, and I'm all about the cool tattoos.

Then we went to the Phoenix, Nowhere and finally Urge. So I'm tired and drunk and poor.

And I'm having a bloody hard time keeping my spelling even close to correct.

I put some veal in the crockpot and I'm going to bed.

Laterz.

So today was youth rugby day. And despite the fact that I don't really like kids that much, I had a great time. They were adorable ranged in age from maybe 4-12 years old and all seemed to be having a great time. We had around 18 kids show up. Even one that decided to play while he was skating (sorry, blading) by with his mom.

Hopefully this program will really take off and a lot of kids will get involved. If you know any youngsters who might be interested in playing, pass along some of the info from the website.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day (because unlike certain people, I blog on the weekends)
Peter Griffin [Riding a circus elephant] : Look Lois, the two symbols of the Republican Party: an elephant, and a fat white guy who is threatened by change.

A Sonnet For a Change
Perhaps the haiku form is not the best
For all the things that one would like to say
The phrases always sound a bit distressed
When squeezed into that rather odd array

A limerick, I guess, sounds immature
An ode's too lofty, few will understand
An epic poem nobody can endure
And elegies require a corpse at hand

But sonnets as a form are pure and bright
Though, Jesus Christ, they take so long to write

For those of you who are so inclined, the Eagle will be having a Sports . . . I guess, Fetish Party is probably the best description. Anyway, the rugby boys will be there, dressed to the nines (well, only if he's the scrumhalf . . . sorry, rugby reference). We've been invited to be there and to wear our rugby kit (jersey, shorts, socks . . . scrumcaps, for the pussies who wear them).

The Eagle is one of the bars that sponsors our team, so I hope you'll drop by, buy a drink or two and hang out with us.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Chris Griffin [on the phone]: So, what are you wearing?
[pause]
Chris Griffin: Wow! I bet you can see right through that.
Lois Griffin: Chris, who are you talking to?
Chris Griffin: Grandma.

Okay, I'm totally stealing this from the NY Times site (All the News That's Fit to Print . . . and Some Truly Lousy Movie Reviews). So when I get the angry letters about violating copyright and other nasty intellectual property issues from either them or from Steve Martin, I will remove it, of course.

For now, however . . .

N.B. Discretion being the better part of cowardice, I removed the text of his article and am inserting the link instead. Sure, I'm a pussy. But I know a bunch of IP lawyers . . . they can be ruthless bastards.

http://www.nytimes.com/2003/08/08/opinion/08MART.html

I tell you, Steve Martin is a fucking genius.

Pot roast was a tad dry, but I think I know how to fix that. We'll see. Otherwise not too bad.

Blew the fucking Atkins diet today. Mashed potatoes at lunch (Thursday is mashed potato day and I'm just not strong enough to pass them by . . . it's better when I have meetings outside the office). And I went out with Mike'nDavid and Mike's high school buddy Steve, who's in town for a meeting. He's a very cool guy who teaches theater down at a college in Baltimore. I'd met him once before when Mike and I (Mike'nI) crashed at his place when we went down to the Bay Blues Festival in Annapolis. Point being, there was a wee bit of drinking going on tonight. And last I checked, cider had carbs. Oh, well. Time to redouble the effort. Also, it doesn't help matters that I blew off rugby practice and the gym in order to go out.

When I step on the scale the next time, I have only myself to blame. Well, myself and the damn Republicans. Somehow this has to be their fault too.

Celebrity sighting of the night: I saw Jeff McCarthy of Urinetown (great show . . . bad website) on 43rd and 6th (which is not surprising seeing as the theater is right down the street.

Let me just say, hottie. Cute face, beautiful eyes. And a hell of a singing voice (which he wasn't using on the street . . . he was talking into his cell phone).

And after my haiku, I thought some of you might be interested in seeing one of my dream guys. Not only is he amazingly hot, but he's a brilliant musician as well.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
[in the newsroom after the cable TV transmitter has been knocked out]
Tom Tucker: In other news, an accident caused the Quahog cable television transmitter to be knocked out, which will prevent broadcasting to the entire city. Actually, no can hear this, so it doesn't really matter what I say. I'm the lord Jesus Christ. I think I'm going to get drunk and beat up some midgets. How about you, Diane?
Diane Simmons: Well, Tom, I just plain don't like black people.
Director: Uh, guys, we're still on in Boston.

Power Rangers Movie!


What movie Do you Belong in?(many different outcomes!)
brought to you by Quizilla


Funny, I always did think Blue Ranger Billy was hot.

One other development . . . for the first time in days I actually have my appetite back. And eating didn't make me nauseated. I think my body is finally adjusting to eating a lot of meat.

The only odd thing is that I'm drinking tons of water. No matter how much I drink I still want more.

Oh, and MAK. Please, for God's sake, promise me you'll never, ever keep a gun in your apartment. I have images of a dead "snake," Stitch looking like the kid in the backseat in Pulp Fiction and K. very, very pissed off. But an episode like that might keep your landlady from trying to fix you up.

Nah, she'd just redouble her efforts thinking that a nice young girl would calm you down a little.

Not much to report this evening. Blogged. Downloaded a little porn . . . um, I mean . . . did Internet research. Chatted a bit with Brian. Went to the store. Stopped at Crema Lita on the way home and bought a cup of really decadent Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream (or whatever Crema Lita is . . . plastic of some sort I imagine, but what delicious plastic it is.) Got home, cooked up some franks, and broke out the new Crockpot. Woo hoo!! Virgin no more. Yeah, I filled that thing with a big piece of juicy meat. Ummm. Sorry, got a little carried away. Must have been all the porn . . . RESEARCH!!!! Must have been all the research.

Anyway, with any luck, in 8 hours I'll have a piping hot Red Curry Pot Roast just waiting to be cut up and taken in for lunch. I can't wait. I hope it turns out okay.

Maybe tomorrow or Friday I'll try to cook a chicken in it. In fact, if anyone has a good chicken recipe or any other crockpot recipe, let me know.

I just found this site and I'm in hog heaven (which is much better than hog purgatory).

I wonder if any of the rest of you will share my enthusiasm. I am a major ancient history buff. Love it. This site looks like it will keep me busy for hours.

I hope you'll all forgive me if I once again return to haiku-land. Both Scott and Daddy Peaches have posted their Haikuesday poems on the hirsute species known as "Bears." Okay, boys, here is my response.

Hairy guys are nice
But give me a college jock
Smooth from neck to crotch

What can I tell you?
I am a sucker for pecs
and abs uncluttered.

Cigars and leather
don't do a thing for me but,
mmmm, a rugby kit

on a fit smooth guy
makes me giggle like a school
girl after the prom.

A T-shirt with Greek
letters on it drives me mad.
Show some skin, fratboy!

Abercrombie and
Fitch might as well be porn, all
those hot guys in it.

Ah, but here's the rub.
Those boys ignore me unless
they want a daddy

to buy them pretty
things or fulfill some sort of
daddy/son fetish.

Sorry, not my bag.
I just want someone centered
who likes me for me.

Can a bear like me
find the right young guy? Or am
I doomed to failure?

One more quote of the day just because it's really, really funny. I dedicate this one to . . . well, he knows who he is.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day II
Peter Griffin: If you could be stranded on a desert island with any woman in the world, who would it be?
Glen Quagmire: Taylor Hanson.
Joe Swanson: Taylor Hanson is a guy.
Glen Quagmire: [Laughs] You guys are yankin' me. "Hey, let's put one over on Quagmire."
Peter Griffin: No, he's actually a guy, Quagmire.
Glen Quagmire: What? That's insane. That's impossible.
[Pause]
Glen Quagmire: Oh god! Oh my god! I've got all these magazines! Oh god!

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Peter Griffin: Wow, I'm even better than that dad from Lost In Space!
[Cut to "Lost in Space" Parody]
'Lost in Space' Dad: We need to chart this planet. Greg, you take my 16 year-old daughter out into the woods for the rest of the day. Penny, you stay with me. And Will, you and the robot go out into the uncharted wilderness and take this mincing, boy-hungry pedophile with you.

In other news, Bryant Park is safe. I'm down four and a half pounds after a week of doing Atkins (and doing a somewhat half-assed job at first). Now, I just have to start doing a lot more weight-lifting. My rugby position is all about lower body strength (and heavy drinking), so I need to really work on it.

I'm still not sure if my knees will allow me to play this season, but I want to be prepared just in case.

Well, I hurt today. And no, it's not from last night's rugby practice (though I may use that as an excuse). It's a sad, humiliating story . . . so I thought I'd share it with all of you.

Early this morning Nature called, as it so often does. A few things to know. In the morning, my legs are so tight that it is difficult for me to walk, I do more of this shuffle and lurch thing (I should start doing yoga). Two, I wear glasses. Without them, things are pretty blurry. Three, I live in a studio with a sunken living room. Four, my apartment gets almost no light.

So, after taking care of business, I was shuffle-lurching back to my bed, which is in the sunken living room. Between the lack of light and my lack of glasses, I misjudged the stairs. This has happened before and I've always managed to catch myself before falling. Today I didn't.

I landed on my ass, back and right arm. Which would have been more or less okay had I fallen on a flat surface, but no, I had to fall backwards onto the stairs. Humiliated, but somewhat amused by the situation, I tried to stand up. My body would have none of that; that's when the pain hit. So I crawled back to bed and went back to sleep.

When I woke back up, my arm and back felt better. Unfortunately, my right hip, both knees and my butt are in a hell of a lot of pain. Climbing the stairs at the subway was a major bitch this morning.

On the upside, I'm going to have some really cool bruises. And I'm going to tell people I got them during rugby practice.

One of my coaches remarked tonight, "I'm not saying this to be mean, but you look like you've put on weight."

After five or so days of eating little other than dead animal flesh, I really wanted to knock him down and stomp on him until he was just a little, bloody, greasy stain.

And then I realized, "Oh, yeah. I have put on some weight since he last saw me."

Well, fuck.

Just for shits and giggles (as me sainted mother would say), I'm going to weigh tomorrow to see how I'm doing. And if I haven't lost any weight (I'd gained back two of the fucking four I'd lost), I'm going to go on a Godzilla-esque rampage through midtown. If you don't see any people in Bryant Park at lunch tomorrow, it's because I've eaten or stopmed them all.

Oh, and yes, me sainted mother really does talk like that. That one has a mouth on her that would make Barnacle Bill blush.

Oh, the humanity!!!!!!!!! There is no God. Or maybe he's just a teetotaler.

Forgot to mention two celebrity sightings from yesterday. Frances Sternhagen, one of my favorite actresses. She has had a long distinguished career in theater, movies and TV. I'm pretty sure she's in a show Off-Broadway right now, but I can't remember which one.

Anyway, I saw her waiting at the F and V trains at 42nd.

I also saw Tom Mardirosian walking up Seventh Ave. I guess he lives around here since I've seen him twice.

One quick aside about Frances Sternhagen. Long before ER and Sex and the City, she played Cliff's mom on Cheers. My mom and I do a bit of their dialogue from time to time. In one episode, Sam got locked out of his apartment and was looking for a place to spend the night. He bounced from house to house with something always going wrong. At Cliff's apartment (which he shared with his mom), he had to share a bed with Cliff who first got into a screaming match with his mom and then kept talking and talking while Sam was trying to sleep. At one point, Sam quit answering him. Cliff turned on the light to discover that Sam had snuck out.

From the bedroom Cliff's mom called out "Your little friend left, didn't he, Clifford?" and Cliff shouts back "It's all your fault old woman."

Mom and I do that bit from time to time. It never ceases to make us both collapse in fits of laughter.

I know. We're weird.

Busy day. Work to do. Rugby practice tonight (assuming I can find a ride). I got really pissed off by an Op/Ed piece in The Simon which was complaining about the Harvey Milk School, so I had to write a letter to the editor. I don't mind when people are against the school if they know what they're talking about. The guy that wrote this piece is probably just another middle-class white boy from the California 'burbs who doesn't know jack shit about what it's like to be a gay teenager in the South Bronx.

Not that I know what it's like, but I at least have talked to several of the kids from the school and have gotten their perspective.

I'm also feeling really run down and kind of sick to my stomach. Really nauseous and I don't know what the deal is. I want to blame it on Atkins, but this feels like "sick" sick and I think I've got a bit of a fever. If I don't feel better soon (or if I start puking), I'm off to the doctor's office.

The Family Guy Quote of the Day
Peter (as a kid in a flashback): "Why did the dinosaurs die?"
Museum tour guide: "Because you touch yourself at night."

I am once again properly caffeinated. I am also soaked from the knees down.

So on with my whining.

I am in love with one of my teammates. Well okay, not in love, but seriously in lust. Sadly, as is typical with my infatuations, he is 1) way, way out of my league (but then, I tend to think of John Merrick as being out of my league so that doesn't narrow it down much), 2) doesn't know I exist and 3) is too young (see my "date from hell" story from July 1st).

Sigh.

Anyway, at least he's pretty to look at.

So, this weekend. Friday night . . . don't remember so I guess I didn't do anything. Saturday, went to Starbucks and the Chelsea Market with Mike ('nDavid was at work). Bought all sorts of cool, shiny stuff for the kitchen and some lovely vegetables. Spent the rest of the afternoon online (and all that implies). After wasting the afternoon, I got together with Dino (hey, Dino!) for coffee and conversation. We went down to the Christopher St. Pier which, despite the nasty humidity, was really nice. All in all a very fun evening.

After we got back to my place, Stuff and Old Roomie dropped by. Stuff, because we were going out later; Old Roomie, because he hadn't seen the new place yet.

After everyone took off, Stuff and I went over to Nowhere (I think that was the name), a new bar that was opened by the owner of the Phoenix. We were there for LittleMinx's birthday party. Not only was it a great little bar, but it was a very cool, laid-back crowd.

LittleMinx was looking particularly good, as one has a right to on one's birthday. There was a good mix of rugby guys and his other friends. The Moppet was there, as was Mio who I hadn't seen in a while. Hugh, BJ, 'nDennis, The Wonder Twinks, Lee (hi, Lee!), Turtle, DQ . . . well, lots of the boys. All in all a fun night, despite my general blah mood.

I've never really liked parties. I'm pretty terrible about talking to people, even people I know. I just don't have that gift. I'm better off if I have one person I can talk to. But for those people who are good at working a party, why would they want to be stuck talking to me all night? I'm a little better about chatting with people, etc., if I've had a drink or two (or six). But then I have a hard time walking that fine line between being humorous and being a fucking dickhead.

Yeah, I know. Boo fucking hoo.

Anyway, after the party, I went out with Hugh and Stuff to get some food. Nice thing about going to dinner (or whatever meal one has at 3 a.m.) with two guys who are also doing Atkins, it kept me from cheating.

Sunday, I overslept like a motherfucker. I intended to get up around 10, do laundry, go to the gym, go into the office, all sorts of useful things. Instead I got up at 2 p.m. and played on the internet (and all that implies). Then I went to Yaniv2's party. That was a lot of fun. Great little bar. Turns out it was the bar I went to after the rugby banquet (of course I was more or less blacked out at that point, so none of it looked in the least bit familiar). There weren't too many guys from the team there which was a little disappointing, but otherwise it was fun. Open bar (woo hoo!), good music, cute guys . . . just an all around good time.

I will digress for a brief description. If you use the men's room at the bar (The Slide), you stand at a trough while looking through a line of windows. The windows look out at the bar. So essentially, you are watching people watch you pee. I'll admit to being a little put off by this.

After the bar, 646Guy, Lee and I went to McHales for one of their burgers. I would have enjoyed it more if I weren't so burnt out on meat, but at least the company was good.

Got home at a decent hour, fully intending to do my laundry. About the time that I was loading up my laundry bag, all of my energy just sapped out of me. I decided to go to sleep instead. I did my laundry this morning instead.

Oh, speaking of sleeping, I had a zombie dream this weekend. Not one of the really bad ones, though in my book any dream with the walking dead isn't a particularly good one. But this was a fairly lucid one with some interesting stuff going on. I may have to try to work it up as a screenplay.

So that was the weekend. A lot more fun than my usual.

Dilemma: I really, really need coffee, but it's pouring outside. Do I get coffee and get soaked, or sit here at my desk and get nothing accomplished?

Ah, fuck it. It's just water. And deadly electrical currents zipping through the air. Caffeine always wins in the end.

When I get back, I'll tell you about my fun and exciting weekend . . . which was actually fun, though not exciting.

One of the little "gifts" I've received from playing rugby is the ability to tell what the day's weather will be. If there is going to be rain or snow, I feel as though I have ground glass right under my kneecaps.

My body is a mess.

This is brilliant.

I've decided as a nod to the 646Guy (the blogger, not the drink that's taking the nation by storm), that I will do a theme quote of the week (Remember Brian; stealing is the sincerest form of flattery. Well, stalking is actually the sincerest form of flattery, but stealing is in the top five.). My theme will be quotes from The Family Guy.

Quote of the Day
Lois: What's going on?
Stewie: We're playing house.
Lois: The boy is all tied up.
Stewie: Roman Polanski's house.

I can not even begin to tell you how disturbing the following news story is.

Needless to say, I will never bitch about any of my ailments again.

Freaking hating Atkins. How do people eat like this?

On the upside, I'm sure I'll be losing lots of weight since my almost constant nausea is making me not want to eat.

Downside, I feel like there is a very large rock where my intestines should be.

Upside, I've rediscovered my love of bacon.

Downside, complete and utter lack of energy. Any time I lie down I fall asleep. Which I suppose is good in some respects.

Well, anyway. If anyone would like to give me some sort of encouragement, it would be appreciated. 'Cause if this doesn't get better soon, I think I'm going to go on the Ipecac and ExLax diet. After all, it worked (more or less) for Karen Carpenter.

Not loving Atkins.

Now what do you think about this? I get a monthly prescription from the pharmacist. At the bottom of this month's pills, I find some capsules of Premarin. Is the doctor trying to tell me something? I've never thought of myself as needing hormone replacement therapy, what with being a man and all. But hey, he's the pharmacist.

Okay, I just read this article in the New York Times (All the News That's Fit to Print . . . and Some Shit We Just Made Up) about a new machine capable of making fast and accurate translations. It's interesting; read it.

But let me show you a quote from the article where the scientist is talking about teaching the computer every language, including Klingon:

"If we can learn how to translate even Klingon into English, then most human languages are easy by comparison."

Klingon is a fucking human language!!!!!!! It was made up by Star Trek geeks who, despite their smell and appearance, are actually human.

Holy yodeling Christ. This from a man with a Ph.D.

Brief Atkins update:

Down 4 lbs.
I've gone to the gym 2 out of the last three nights
I can't seem to keep the bread from leaping into my mouth and making me eat it.

Truth is, I'm eating very little bread. Just a bite or two if I go out. And I don't have any left in the house. I guess I'm doing okay.

Soon, I will look like Daniel Cudmore and WeHo Mark will want to keep me locked in his basement.

I was going to do this in the comment box of the previous entry, but I thought I'd just put it here instead.

I have no problem with the stereotypical aspect of Queer Eye. TV is indeed all about stereotypes. Uptight lawyer marries kooky hippie chick. Uptight ad exec. marries kooky witch. Uptight astronaut marries kooky genie. I just don't like the guys on QE. I think they're irritating. Really, really, kick-in-the-tv-screen irritating.

I'm also cool with the sexuality-in-your-face aspect of QAF. I just don't like the characters on the American incarnation. Stuart in the British version was a dick. But he was charming and sexy, so you could understand why Nathan and Vince could fall for him. Brian in the US version is . . . well, just a dick. Justin is wooden and whiny. Emmet and Ted were okay characters, then they started getting outrageous plot lines. Michael . . . well, he's kind of a dick, too.

I guess that's my biggest gripe about QAF. It's just a gay soap opera. Cardboard characters in unrealistic stories. I don't watch regular soap operas (with the exception of Melrose Place . . . but I was ever so much younger then [that was a Broadway show reference . . . can you name the show?]), so I don't like the expectation that I will watch and enjoy QAF simply because it is a "gay" show.

It seems that there are so many books, movies, etc., that are crap, but that I'm supposed to like because they are "gay." I want to spend my time and money on something that is a quality product, not just a niche market item.

Okay, I'm either a very bad homosexual (not an evil homosexual, mind you, just bad at being a homosexual. See the difference? J. Edgar Hoover = Evil Homosexual; Crash = Bad Homosexual) or I just don't have the right sense of humor for these sorts of things . . .

Tonight I was at Mike'nDavid's (though David wasn't there so I guess I was just at Mike'n's). A trip to his apartment means . . . TV!!!!!!! Woo hoo! (for those of you who are confused, I don't have a TV, so watching it is a bit of a treat)

Watched So Graham Norton (which I love), the last half hour of the final episode of M*A*S*H*, The Family Guy (which is the most brilliant thing on TV . . . naturally it was canceled), bits and pieces of Grease (which to Mike's mortification, I sang along with), South Park. All of that was great.

Then I saw that Queer Eye for the Straight Guy was on. Being a good 'mo, I thought I'd check it out. For five minutes I sat staring at the set with my "Springtime for Hitler" face on, before I got so annoyed that I had to change the channel.

All I could think of was smacking the shit out of these guys. Well, not Jai because he's adorable. Now I don't dislike it for the stereotypical behavior or anything like that. There are queeny gay guys, Lord knows, and God bless 'em. It takes all kinds. I have no problem with that. But these guys were so fucking irritating. I mean . . . good God!

Now like I said, maybe it's just that I don't like that sort of show. I mean, I pretty much want to bludgeon Wayne from TLC's "What Not to Wear" too. I'm okay with Stacey 'cause she isn't a complete idiot. I don't like the haircut guy . . . Nick, I think his name is. Look at his hair. Do you trust a hair stylist with hair like his? Not me. In fact the only one on that show I like is the make up woman, Carmindy. She's funny, sexy and knows her stuff. Everyone she touches looks great.

A brief digression . . . I hate, hate, hate that Wayne wears rugby jerseys on that show. First . . . I can't picture him on a rugby pitch. Second, when he wears the red one, he looks like fucking Gilligan. That's fashion??? And don't even get me started on that hair.

Back to QEftSG. Clearly, I just don't get it.

So please, someone explain to me what I'm missing.

And while we're at it, would someone explain why I'm supposed to like the American version of Queer As Folk? The British one was great. And I would happily be Charlie Hunnam's love slave (Daniel, if you're reading this, you're still my first choice . . . Charlie if you're reading this, I only said that to Daniel to throw him off our trail). But the American one? The only characters I like are the dark haired lesbian (Melanie?), Randy Harrison's mom (Mrs. Justin's Mom? Does she even have a name?) and Sharon Gless (Debbie?), who's way over the top, but so what? She was Christine Cagney. Everyone else is pretty much detestable.

Clearly, I'm a bad homosexual. I hope they don't take away my membership and make me start sleeping with girls.

I guess I'm turning into an old grump. Or just more of one. Crash the Curmudgeon. Hmmmm. It ain't exactly Alexander the Great or Richard the Lion-Hearted, but I suppose it will do.