I've been a bad blogger lately. I'd love to say that it's because I've been busy living my fun-filled fabulous life, but the truth is, I've been tired and down and not wanting to do anything.

But I've been forcing myself to do things (pro-active depression Flip called it), so I can at least blog about all the stuff I've been zombie-walking through.

I've been hanging out with Mike a lot. After not having seen him more than once every couple of months, I'm seeing him a few times a week. It's been nice. But it's going to suck when David gets back and we stop spending time together again. See how I always manage to find the cloud lurking inside the silver lining.

I won tickets to My Big Gay Italian Wedding, with special guest star James from Boy Meets Boy. Suffice it to say that you know you're in trouble when the pretty boy from TV is the best "actor" in the show. The sad thing is, it wasn't a horrible show. Or at least, it wouldn't have been with a little work. The script needed some editing. And the fellow who wrote it needed some coaching on how to write group scenes. He had a good ear for dialogue, but he couldn't handle having more than two or three characters interacting at any given time. So while those three actors were speaking, the rest of the cast either silently ad-libbed (usually very over-the-top focus-stealing stuff) or just stood there with their thumbs up their asses, looking blank. All of that could have been taken care of with a good director, someone who could even out the business. And a couple of the actors were so completely over the top that they weren't even funny.

Ah well. I suppose I shouldn't bitch about it too much. After all, this guy's play is being produced. None of mine are.

Sigh.

And we're moving on.

Saturday I watched the USA v. France rugby match in beautiful East Hartford, CT. Very hot. Very sunny. Good time. I remembered to wear sunscreen so I didn't wind up looking like some sort of lobster boy. The only semi-annoying part about the game was the drunk idiot behind us who kept yelling 'fuck you, France' and 'your queen's a whore'. I'm assuming he went to public school. Probably in New Jersey.

The best part about the game was the eye candy. Loads and loads of hot college ruggers in various states of undress. One or two looked like they'd stepped from the pages of the Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue. Bastards.

Didn't do much Sunday or Monday. Watched the fireworks from my roof. Went to Mike's and watched movies. That's it. Kind of boring.

Watched Spider-Man on Tuesday. I thought it was great. Well worth the price of admission (which is how I judge movies these days). Great special effects. Good villain. Gorgeous James Franco. And Bruce Campbell (who can do no wrong in my book . . . well, his role on Xena notwithstanding) has a very funny cameo.

Now all I have to do is see Fahrenheit 9/11 and De-Lovely and I'm pretty much caught up on movies. Actually, I'll probably just rent De-Lovely.