The bits I remember:

1. Talking about MAK's mom's boobs with MAK's mom.
2. Seeing two of my drinking companions' penises. To protect the innocent, I won't name names. And no, it wasn't in the bathroom; it was right in the middle of the bar. And, if I may say so, wow!
3. Turning klepto, which happens when I'm really drunk, and stealing MAK's undies, PatCH's wallet, and Bob's Blackberry. All were eventually returned.
4. Taking off my pants in a vain attempt to get the bartender to take off his.
5. MAK recognizing one of the bartenders from a party he attended over a year ago.
6. Drinking six shots (lemondrop, lemondrop, lemondrop, something nasty that Luis the bartender recommended, some fruity shot, some fruity shot) on top of the mixed drinks I was having.
7. Not puking. Yea me!!!

The bits I don't:

1. Most of the cab ride home.
2. Getting into my building, apartment, and bed.
3. Where all my money went.

Very, very hungover.

I am such a good boy!!! I went to the gym last night. 45 minutes on the bike. Felt great, too. Now if I can just keep doing this until next Tuesday, there is a slim possibility that my heart won't actually explode when I go to rugby practice and have to haul my fat ass all over the pitch.

My only other goal for last night was to do my laundry. Of course, some asshole(s) had left their laundry sitting in the washing machines and all the people who were waiting to use them were being polite and not flinging the offending garments around the room. I wish I could say this doesn't happen often, but it does. I live in a building with approximately 200 apartments in it. We share 5 washing machines and 5 dryers. And despite this, some assholes will leave their laundry sitting in the machines for hours after they are washed/dried. Drives me nuts. Normally, I just dump the clothes (in a hamper, not on the floor) and put my clothes in. Last night, I was frustrated by the people who were waiting patiently, so I just decided to do my laundry this morning.

I went upstairs and watched the first episode of Gormenghast. I just recently completed the first two novels (amazing books . . . originally was going to be a series of books that traced the life of one of the characters from birth to death but Mervyn Peake, the writer, died at a relatively young age, 57, after battling Parkinson's disease). The books were amazing, kind of a Dickens tale as told by Tolkein, and I couldn't wait to see the BBC series. It was all I could do not to stay up all night and watch the whole thing. Marvelous. Especially, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers. I can't wait to see the rest of it.

My inner child is ten years old!

The adult world is pretty irrelevant to me. Whether
I'm off on my bicycle (or pony) exploring, lost
in a good book, or giggling with my best
friend, I live in a world apart, one full of
adventure and wonder and other stuff adults
don't understand.


How Old is Your Inner Child?
brought to you by Quizilla


I don't know. I think this implies a certain whimsy that seems to be lacking in my life right now. But maybe I'm wrong. Anyway, thanks MzOuiser.

Despite my lingering sense of loneliness and ennui, this was a pretty good weekend. Friday night I went to Barrage with MAK, Bob, and Bob's adorable friend from Atlanta, Andrew. We were joined by my friend, Stuff. A fun evening of drinking, hectoring Andrew into talking to a cute boy, and finding Bob's boyfriend's doppelganger. They say that we each have a twin out there somewhere, a thought that has always been particularly disturbing to me. I hate the idea of there being two of me, lumbering around, complaining about having no life. Quel sort horrible!!

Anyway, Bob and MAK went off to dinner, leading Stuff and me to go to Posh, hoping for a Famous Author Rob Byrnes sighting. Alas, Rob had started his evening a little early, so he was no longer at the bar. Alas and alack.

By the way, did you know that there are several people who resemble Famous Author Rob Byrnes that hang out at Posh? Or rather, there are several people who look enough like his book jacket photo for me to wander over and say "Um . . . are you Rob Byrnes?" only to have them look at me as if I'm some lunatic until I sheepishly walk back to where my friends are sitting.

Yep.

Luckily, it occurred to me to ask the bartender. He let me know that Rob had left the building.

I didn't even get a Ron Pallilo sighting.

After this crushing disappointment, Stuff, one of his friends whose name escapes me, and I went to this . . . um, interesting little bar called La Fleur. It was full of very, very friendly people. And by friendly people, I mean hustlers.

We didn't stay very long, none of us being the type that rent gentlemen (and I use the term loosely) for the evening.

After that, I had hoped to join Bob and MAK in their further debaucheries, but I was unable to reach them in whatever circle of hell they had reached by that point. Did Dante mention a circle of hell that involved underwear swapping? Probably. He was Italian, after all.

Saturday was unremarkable. I had planned on spending my day with Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, but due to my doorman not bothering to tell me that Mike'nDavid had dropped off my DVD of Gormenghast, I had to settle for a day with Father Ted. Not that it was really settling, since this is one grand series. Best of all, the DVD I rented (the third season) was full of episodes I'd never seen before. Brilliant stuff.

As for the rest of the day, I believe Father Jack said it best, "Feck! Arse! Drink!"

Faith, but the Irish are a lyrical people.

Well, my evening didn't actually involve fecking any arses, but the drink portion was nice. I generally don't like to drink alone, but sometimes, it just doesn't matter.

Sunday I got to spend a little quality time with David, and although we didn't write, we did get to catch up.

After that, Stuff and I went over to a teammate's birthday party at a bar in the East Village. Good time. Great turnout. One celeb sighting, Geoffrey Nauffts (who I recognized, but didn't remember his name), a character actor who is all over the place on TV. If you've seen any episodes of Law & Order in its various incarnations, you've probably seen him in an episode or two. He's a friend of the birthday boy.

I was feeling a little down at the party. I've been feeling disconnected from things recently, like I'm just an observer. Not exactly the kind of thing that leads to a party mood. I really need to snap the fuck out of this.

After the party, Stuff and I went to the Phoenix, had a couple of drinks, and played a little pool. Add that to the list of stuff I suck at; I was handily beaten by Stuff and by a couple of other guys we played. And oddly, it turns out the guys we played are friends of a guy who just joined the team. See, everything leads back to rugby.

They were fun guys, so the evening ended on an up note.

Now some miscellaneous bits from the weekend. I didn't do laundry (bad). I didn't clean the apartment (bad). I went to the market and bought all sorts of food so I don't have to buy any of my meals this week and can save money (good). My mom has guilted me into giving up my next couple of weekends to help her pack (bad). Stuff has kind of talked me into getting a tattoo with him in the near future (we'll see). I've convinced myself to go to practice on Tuesday (bad/good). I missed Faustus' musical (very bad, since I was looking forward to it and heard from others that it was really inspiring). I didn't go see Ralph Stanley (good because it saved me money, bad because I really wanted to see him).

So that's pretty much it. I guess I'll do a little work now.

I'm lonely.

That's all I've got for today.

Truly, truly, I tell you, spring is in the air here in NYC. The temperature broke 60. The Naked Cowboy is frolicking in Times Square, socks full of tourist booty (booty as in what pirates steal, not as in J-Lo has a big). And most telling, the Times Square subway station has gone from smelling like stale farts to smelling like stale urine. That, more than any robin or green sprout, is the true sign of spring in the city.

To celebrate the many rites of spring, I will be joining some bloggers at Barrage this evening. After that, I'm off to Pieces to hang with the soccer boys. They are sponsoring a tournament this weekend, so there are loads of hot little soccer guys just longing to shout "Goooooooooooooooal" with someone.

No doubt, SoccerBoy will be there, but I have no hopes of that going anywhere this evening. Who knows, with any luck MAK, PatCH and UncleBob will get me so trashed that I won't even make it to the soccer party.

This is pretty cool.

Headline from the New York Times.

Crash Closes I - 95 Boston - New York Route

Yes. I AM that powerful. Now dance for me, puppets.

Ain't internal monologues grand?

"What I thought: Has anyone ever told you that you look like Lulu from Hee Haw?"

This is why I love reading Cyberkenny.

A rebuttal of sorts to this man.

When You're in New York:

1. Don't tell us you just ate at the Olive Garden, Red Lobster, or any of the other middle-America McRestaurants that have invaded our city. We have every kind of food from every corner of the world and you choose to eat the same crap you eat at home?!? If you tell us that, we'll cut you.

2. Don't make fun of our names. You may not have any Roccos, Moishes, Padraigs, Esperanzas and LaKweeshas in whatever backwoods pig farm you come from, but to us those names don't even sound exotic. Laugh at our names and we'll cut you.

3. Don't waste our time arguing about whether it's a coke, a pop, or a soda. Just pay for the fucking thing and get the hell out of line or we'll cut you.

4. We know we aren't all natives. Most of us are from the Midwest or South or Europe or Africa or wherever. But we live here now and if you say we aren't New Yorkers, we'll cut you.

5. We're fiercely loyal to our politicians and we don't give a fuck what you think about them if you don't live here. Bitch about Hillary or Rudy and we'll cut you.

6. Don't try to appropriate a sacred place for your own gain or political aspirations. The WTC may merely be a symbol to you, but to us it's deadly serious. Democrat or Republican, we'll make you pay. And if you wear one of those horrible t-shirts or caps or other crap that vendors down there sell that treat it like Disneyland or any other tourist destination, you will deserve what you get. [Sorry to put a serious one in there, but this really galls me]

7. Yes the summers are hot and the winters are cold. Quit whining or we'll cut you.

8. Don't order a cheeseburger or a ham sandwich at the 2nd Avenue Deli. If you do, we'll frogmarch you back to the Olive Garden then cut you.

9. Don't talk about how much nicer it is back home. Most of us fled from "back home" as soon as humanly possible. We know you're lying and it makes us want to cut you.

10. We don't care if you can't understand our accents or our many languages. Why are you speaking to us in the first place. Back the fuck off or we'll cut you.

11. Don't complain that New York is dirty and unsafe. Our streets are cleaner than any other major metropolis (except Singapore and who the hell wants to be them?). Our water is cleaner. We're the safest major city on earth. Besides, we remember what the city was like in the '70s and '80s. You think it's bad now. Feh! Now get the hell back to Mayberry before we cut you.

12. Do not call us rude. We live here. We work here. We have places to go. We don't have time to wait while you block the whole fucking sidewalk so you can get a picture of your ugly kids in front of the Times Square Toys 'R' Us. It's just a fucking toy store, for God's sake. Now move before we knock you down, stomp you a couple of times, then cut you.

13. Don't call me and expect me to regale you with tales of my fabulous New York life. I live in a rathole studio that eats up my paycheck. I live on peanut butter and happy hour buffets. I'm wearing the same clothes as when I moved here. And I'm still happier here than I was back home. So quit using up my anytime minutes or I'll cut you.

Finally, the gift that keeps on giving. Naturally, this has been added to my wish list.

Totally got distracted talking about the movie. I forgot to say that I went out after the watching it. Hooked up with Stuff and Hugh at Gstaad (not as pretentious at it sounds) for the party that Jeff Kagan throws there on Wednesdays called Gstuud (okay, the name is a little twee, but Jeff's a sweetie so forgive him). It was a chance for the skiing/snowboarding group (the Ski Bums) to do a little recruiting. And for the rest of us, it was an open bar and free pizza (I had 6 cocktails and 2 pieces of pizza . . . not bad for one hour). A bunch of guys from the rugby team showed up, which was pretty cool. Most of the guys on our team tend to frequent the Eagle and Dugout, so it was pretty cool seeing some of them branch out a little.

Jeff said this was his best crowd yet, so I was pretty psyched for him. There were, I'd guess, 70 or so people there. Pretty good for a Wednesday. And most of them stayed after the open bar ended.

Good time. Good crowd. Good bar. I may make this a weekly event. Lord knows it's close enough to my house to make it pretty damn convenient.

Those of you who missed your opportunity to create your very own Bush/Cheney sign should click here to see what you missed. These are brilliant.

Sadly, there were no takers on the Ralph Stanley concert. Ah, well. I may just go by myself anyway.

Pretty good time last night. I watched His Secret Life which was amazing. It was directed by Ferzan Ozpetek and hits on some of the same themes as his earlier movie, Steam. In this movie, Antonia loses her husband, Massimo. Among his possessions, she discovers a painting that was given to him by a longtime lover. She tracks down the lover only to find out that it is a man, Michele. Drawn together by their mutual loss, they form a tentative friendship.

It was a beautiful movie. I don't know why American writers and directors seem incapable of writing this sort of thing.

I guess I should also point out that the eye-candy quotient of the movie is particularly high. And I should point out for MAK's sake that Ozpetek's latest movie has Raoul Bova in it. I haven't found a video store that has it, so it may not be out yet.

By the way, any of you Manhattanites know of good video stores? Places that have lots of foreign titles? I go to World of Video on Greenwich.

Admittedly, this is a long shot. But if anyone out there wants to see Ralph Stanley this Saturday at B.B. King's Club, let me know.

I love bluegrass and Stanley is one of the few oldtimers left. I missed seeing Bill Monroe right before he died; I've always regretted that.

Anyway, let me know if you want to meet me there.

(UPDATE: Yes, I know I said I wasn't going to spend money. I also said I have no willpower. Get over it.)

The point of the previous story was to mention that despite all that, I managed to spend about $150 today on an art book, three new cookbooks, a rugby jersey, and a copy of a play I've been meaning to read.

No willpower whatsoever.

Anyway, if anyone is interested in joining me for free cocktails and pizza, I'm going to Gstaad tonight from 9-10 p.m. Open bar, free pizza, cute boys (it's a Jeff Kagan party so there are always lots of sexy hockey players). Gstaad is on 26th between Broadway and 6th. $5 cover.

Recently, in a fit of unbridled masocism, I decided to call all of my credit cards, get the balances, and find out just how deep in the hole I am.

Shortly thereafter, I decided that I should probably start eating nothing but peanut butter sandwiches and drinking the free coffee and tea they give us at my office.

I want to go to London with my team. But in order to do that, I'm going to have to live a hermit's life between now and then. No movies or plays, no new clothes, no nights out with the boys, none of the simple pleasures that keep me from mixing up a shaker of Drano martinis.

Lovely.

The only saving grace would be a really big tax return. Keep your fingers crossed. With any luck, I'll figure out a way to deduct porn and alcohol.

Pretty much what I expected. (Thanks Mickey)

You are 35% 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

I decided on Iron Ladies and His Secret Life. Iron Ladies was fun. Secret Life is for tomorrow.

Since it's cold and I'm lazy, I'll be skipping rugby practice tonight. I've decided I'm more of a fall rugger.

Instead, I'll be heading to the video store to rent a couple of movies (it's 2 for 1 night). Don't really know which ones yet, probably comedies.

Any suggestions?

I had a zombie dream this weekend. Not good. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep that night.

Strange thing, though. It was unlike most of the zombie dreams I've had. Usually, as I've mentioned before, I'm being chased by zombies through some sort of old house. Classic George Romero.

This time, I was in an office building. Not my building, mind you. Very open, lots of window. In fact, I think it was probably based on the observation deck at the World Trade Center.

As usual, I was being chased by zombies. I was telling Stuff about the dream and he asked me if I recognized any of them. Fortunately, the zombies have never been anyone I know, though now that he planted this horrible seed, I'm sure my next zombie dream will feature undead versions of my friends and family. Oh, goody. Something to look forward to.

Anyway, since my dreams are often fairly lucid, I was able to reason that the last place one wants to be during a fire or zombie infestation is on an elevator. So I was running around on stairs, through offices, etc., always with the zombies right behind me. Fortunately, the very fact that this was one of my more lucid dreams, I was able to wake myself.

Just a note, when I wake myself from dreams, it is usually because something happens that jars me awake. This can be something physical like falling or getting shot or something like that. Or something emotional . . . if I start crying in my dream, that usually wakes me up. Or something logical like having something happen in my dream that so offends reason that I wake up.

Logic broke me out of my zombie dream this time. At one point, I had closed a glass door and was leaning against it when the zombies started beating on it and trying to open it. Somehow I was able to keep it closed (I guess living muscles are stronger than reanimated ones), so one of the zombies started pushing the bottom of the door and it started to bend and curl like a sheet of metal.

I was so outraged by the fact that a glass door was bending instead of breaking or shattering or whatever that I woke up.

The curious thing is that my logical mind had a problem with glass behaving like metal, but no problem whatsoever with flesh-eating reanimated corpses chasing me through a high-rise office building. Somehow, that passed right through the old logic filters.

God, I hate zombies.

'Holes' was a decent movie. Geared toward a much younger audience, but I still enjoyed it. And let's face it, watching Jon Voight and Sigourney Weaver is always a lot of fun. Well, I guess you can't call 'Midnight Cowboy' or 'Alien: Resurrection' fun (for completely different reasons), but they're still mighty good actors.

Surprisingly good end of the week.

Two celebrity sightings this weekend: Mo Rocca from The Daily Show and one of the Queer Eye guys. No, I don't know which one. It wasn't the cute young one or the really nelly one. One of the dark-haired ones.

(UPDATE: It was Kyan . . . thanks, Zenchick)

So here's the quick breakdown.

Thursday: Dinner with Will from my rugby team and also from Out of Bounds (an umbrella organization for all the glbt sports teams in the city). We ate at a place called Wild Ginger on Grove St. Amazing food. Beautiful restaurant. If I can ever get a date, I'll be using Wild Ginger as my date place.

After dinner we went to see Good Bye, Lenin, which I've been meaning to see for a couple of months and finally got around to. Very good movie. It's set in the late '80s. An East German woman falls intp a coma and misses the collapse of East Germany and the fall of the Berlin Wall. When she awakens, her doctor tells her son that any shock could kill her. Rather than tell her about the radical changes, he does everything in his power to convince her that nothing happened while she was unconscious.

Well, it doesn't sound funny when I describe it, but it was. And very touching. While it did spend a lot of time pointing out the problems of reunification and the trouble that people had adjusting, it is still very much a movie about the relationship between a young man and his mother.

I liked it. It didn't hurt that this guy is really cute (his picture doesn't do him justice, he was way cuter in the movie).

So, good dinner, good movie, good company. Just what I needed.

Friday: dinner with Toby, Joe, Turtle, and Doug. Red Lobster. Tacky, expensive, bad service; pretty much what you'd expect from middle-American dining. Company was good, though. After dinner, I was forced into the Hello Kitty store in Times Square. I have seen Hell and it is Japanese.

After that, I got together with Stuff and Will at the Web. I have seen Heaven and, ironically, it seems to be Japanese, too. Go figure. The place wasn't too crowded for a Friday night and Bruce the Bartender was mixing strong drinks, so a good time was had by all. They were also playing good music. The Web tends to be a little hit or miss in that department.

Saturday: worked the Out of Bounds table at the Gay Expo. Had dinner with Stuff at Spice on 8th Ave. Very good, fairly inexpensive Thai food. I'm definately going back there. Especially since it's only a block from my place.

Sunday: saw the Edward Hall production of A Midsummer Night's Dream at BAM. First of all, I love this play. Second, this was probably the best production of it I've seen. If you have time to get out there and see it, I highly recommend it.

The thing that really amazed me about the production is that the actors came downstairs during the intermission and sang a bunch of songs. Usually this is the only time the actors have to rest, especially in a play that runs nearly 3 hours long, but there they were performing some more. It was great. Plus they sang one of my favorite Irish songs, so I was in a grand mood by the time the intermission was over. And the play just kept getting better.

A couple of things about the show. The actor playing Bottom was the best I've ever seen play the role. It was an all male cast, which led to some giggling at first, then everyone seemed to settle down. In addition to the giant ass' ears, they gave Bottom a gigantic, um . . . endowment. Puck was awesome. The set design kind of put me off at first . . . it's kind of like lifeguard stands connected by rows of chairs (hard to describe) but it kind of worked. Interesting use of costumes; the general costume was white long-john looking things. The actors would add clothing as needed for their roles.

Again, well worth watching if you get a chance.

Sunday night, my plans fell through so I rented movies instead. I saw A Mighty Wind, which I've got to say was a bit of a disappointment. So many people were talking it up, but I thought Guffman and Best in Show were much better. Though I did like the 'Kiss at the End of the Rainbow' song. And I love Catherine O'Hara, so I'm pretty sure to like anything she does (except those insipid Home Alone movies).

The next one was Down With Love. Great movie. Very funny, especially if you're a fan of the old Rock Hudson/Doris Day movies. Just a cute, fun, silly, happy movie. Exactly what I needed. Plus, it had a terrific blooper real. And Ewan McGregor who is really hot, though I never really noticed how skinny he is. Legs like toothpicks.

I also rented Holes (which is not a porn movie). Normally this wouldn't be high on my list, but it looked cute and it got pretty good reviews when it came out. I'll be watching that tonight.

So that's it. Good entertainment weekend. Good hanging out with friends weekend. Hopefully, it will be a good week, too.

By the way, sponsor me. You know you want to.

If I've done this correctly, you can now sponsor me for the NYC AIDS Walk on May 16th. I'll be walking with my fellow Gotham Knights and would sure like to make an impressive donation. Anything you can spare would be appreciated.

Unlike Faustus, I'm not willing to offer sex for donations (see his Bloggerthon posts), since I would feel bad taking money for something I haven't been able to give away.

Anyway, click the link and make my day.

Last night I ordered Chinese (at least the broccoli was green) and watched Donnie Darko. It was absolutely amazing. I missed it when it came out in the theaters (right after 9/11, which frankly is kind of a blur to me) and I'm really glad I did. I would have had to think too much and I wasn't capable of it then.

But I've got to say, I really wish I hadn't waited until now to see it. I've had the DVD for over a year (don't even remember where I got it, probably a sale) but didn't really know anything about it, so I was in no hurry to see it.

Man, what a fool I was.

I can't even begin to describe it, even though I'd really like to.

Which leads to the second part of this post. I'm sick of being alone for things like this. I want to experience movies, art, music, all the things I love, with someone at my side. I want to see their reaction. I want to discuss things. I'm so tired of this solitude.

Anyway, that's where I am today. At least I'm getting together with one of the guys on the team for dinner. That should help. Of course, I'm going to go see the production of A Midsummer Night's Dream at BAM on Sunday by myself, so I'll be plunged right back into my icebath of lonliness right in time for the work week to start.

Woo fucking hoo.

Well, my St. P's day plans seem to have completely fallen through. I find myself with nothing to do and no one with whom to do it.

Fuck.

Since I'm not the type to go to a bar, restaurant, or indeed out in public by myself, I think I'm kind of screwed.

I guess I'll go rent a movie.

In honor of St. Padraig's Day, I'm posting the lyrics to one of my favorite songs. It should also give you a hint as to what I'll be drinking this evening.

Johnny Jump Up

I'll tell you a story that happened to me
One day as I went down to Youghal by the Sea
The sun it was bright and the day it was warm,
Says I, "A quiet pint wouldn't do me no harm"
I went in to the barman, and says "Give me a stout"
Says the barman, "I'm sorry, all the beer is sold out.
Try whiskey or paddy, ten years in the wood"
Says I, "I'll try cider, I've heard it was good."

Oh never, Oh never, Oh never again
If I live to a hundred or a hundred and ten
I fell to the ground and I couldn't get up
After drinking a pint of the Johnny Jump Up

After lowering the third I headed straight to the yard
Where I bumped into Brophy, the big civic guard
"Come here to me boy, don't you know I'm the law?"
Well, I up with me fist and I shattered his jaw
He fell to the ground with his knees doubled up
But it wasn't I hit him, 'twas the Johnny Jump Up

The next thing I remember down in Youghal by the Sea
Was a cripple on crutches and says he to me,
"I'm afraid of me life I'll be hit by a car
Won't you help me across to the Railwayman's Bar?"
After drinking three pints of that cider so sweet
He threw down his crutches and danced at his feet

Oh never, Oh never, Oh never again
If I live to a hundred or a hundred and ten
I fell to the ground and I couldn't get up
After drinking a pint of the Johnny Jump Up

Now I went up the lee road, a friend for to see
They call it the Madhouse in Youghal by the Lee
Well when I got there, the truth I do tell,
They had this poor bugger locked up in a cell
Said the guard, testing him, say these words if you can
"Around the ragged rock the ragged rascal ran"
"Tell him I'm not crazy, tell him I'm not mad
It was six pints of that cider I had!"

Oh never, Oh never, Oh never again
If I live to a hundred or a hundred and ten
I fell to the ground and I couldn't get up
After drinking a pint of the Johnny Jump Up

Now a man died in the Union by the name of McNabb
They washed him and laid him outside on the slab
And after the coroner his measurements did take
His wife brought him home to a bloody fine wake
Twas about 12 o'clock and the beer it was high
The corpse he sits up and says he with a sigh
"I can't get to heaven, they won't let me up
Till I bring them a pint of the Johnny Jump Up!"

Oh never, Oh never, Oh never again
If I live to a hundred or a hundred and ten
I fell to the ground and I couldn't get up
After drinking a pint of the Johnny Jump Up

HOT COP ALERT!!!

Hot cop directing traffic at 44th and 6th Ave. Baby face, stocky, probably in his mid-twenties.

I love St. Paddy's Day.

Sorry, Palochi.


YOU'RE MOST LIKE MICKEY!!!!!! (GUITAR)


Which member of my band are you most like?
brought to you by Quizilla

Slightly better mood. Went out with some of the rugby guys to celebrate Coach Bob's b-day. Got to sit around and bullshit with Turtle, HoseA, Lee, Alex, Bearitone, and Bob, of course.

Just what I needed.

Either that or it was the margarita.

Either way, I'm in a better mood.

Lousy mood continues. I'd write more, but I'd just get all whiny.

Good weekend. Went to Mom's house to see the new place. Liked it. Like the old place better, but Mom can't handle the stairs anymore. But it seems she's finally reconciled with the idea of having a hip replacement, so with any luck her mobility will be getting better.

I really hate watching my parents get old. Of course, it's better than the alternative.

One of the wonderful things about not watching TV is not having to watch commercials. Now at Mom's house, I watch TV. In fact, it seems I try to make up for all the TV I haven't seen by sitting slackjawed in front of the TV for hours after my folks have gone to bed.

It was during one of those slackjawed nights this weekend that I first saw the commercial for the new Dawn of the Dead. Barely slept that night. God, I hate zombies.

Anyway, after a very nice, relaxing weekend, I came home because I was planning to go to a teammate's birthday party. Turns out the party is next week. Instead I went out with Stuff and some of his friends. Went to the Hangar and Splash. Stuff managed to hook up with a couple of little twink boys. I just started feeling sorry for myself (and more than a little bit drunk), so I went home and ate pizza while watching Logan's Run. Which, by the way, is being remade. Why won't they leave old movies alone? Especially movies with zombies.

Anywho, pizza was good. Michael York was cute. I was depressed. Just another Sunday night at Casa de Crash.

Deleted.

37.5 %

My weblog owns 37.5 % of me.
Does your weblog own you?

Thanks to her for this quiz.

So I went to see Starsky and Hutch tonight. Shut up . . . don't judge me. Monkey Boy was chewing up the scenery as usual. The Other One gave adequate line readings.

I've decided to turn straight and marry this girl, who was amusing and was able to kiss Monkey Boy without retching. You're a better man than I, Amy Smart.

The surpise of the evening was watching this man's portrayal of Huggy Bear. Not because he was good. Oh, dear God, no . . . not because he was good. But because I've just realized that he is the African-American version of my friend Mike's (of Mike'nDavid) old boyfriend. Same facial expressions. Same, uh, interesting grasp on the English language. Just darker-complected.

Despite how horrible I expected it to be, it wasn't too bad. It certainly wasn't worth $10.25. Sadly, few movies are. But it was okay. I laughed a little. I got to see some good homo context between Starsky and Hutch. And, frankly, I'd pay to watch Vince Vaughn read the phone book.

One thing that I struck me about watching a movie set in the '70s; tight pants look really good on guys with nice bodies. With all due respect to all the skater boys (no, I won't use the word bois . . . that's French for 'woods' and misspelling shit just for the hell of it is stoopid [see]), I want that trend to come back. Soon.

Best. Marinara. Ever.

Got this from Spyke. Interesting. Now I have to look into some of these first few choices.

1. Unitarian Universalism (100%)
2. Liberal Quakers (93%)
3. Reform Judaism (87%)
4. Mahayana Buddhism (84%)
5. Mainline to Liberal Christian Protestants (83%)
6. Neo-Pagan (80%)
7. New Age (80%)
8. Sikhism (77%)
9. Hinduism (76%)
10. Bahá'í Faith (75%)
11. New Thought (73%)
12. Jainism (70%)
13. Theravada Buddhism (68%)
14. Orthodox Quaker (66%)
15. Scientology (65%)
16. Taoism (64%)
17. Christian Science (Church of Christ, Scientist) (63%)
18. Orthodox Judaism (60%)
19. Secular Humanism (54%)
20. Islam (53%)
21. Mainline to Conservative Christian/Protestant (44%)
22. Seventh Day Adventist (41%)
23. Eastern Orthodox (35%)
24. Roman Catholic (35%)
25. Nontheist (28%)
26. Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormons) (20%)
27. Jehovah's Witness (10%)

This is the most fun ever!

So far, I've created posters that say "Anybody but . . . ". "Vote for us or gays will abort your children", and "Reaching out to the world, one war at a time".

God, I hope the other candidates do this, too. I've got some wicked good ones for Nader.

*Update* The cunning runts at the RNC have figured out that people are using the custom poster generator to create anti-Bush slogans. Golly, who would have imagined that people would do that? Sadly, the folks over at Bush/Cheney '04 have disabled the 'custom' part of the feature. If you haven't created your own spoof poster, you're too late.

Yep. It don't get better than this.

SoccerBoy showed up tonight.

Fuck.

I just wish he would tell me if this is going anywhere because, for the life of me, I can't tell. And frankly, I'm feeling sick of this.

I'm used to having crushes on guys. Then having those guys tell me they just want to be friends. Then pining away for them until they meet someone they fall in love with and quit hanging out with me. Then I move on to a new crush. Rinse. Repeat.

That is the natural order of things in Crashland.

What I can't deal with is a guy who seems to be into me. And whom I'm into. Who then never calls and is never able to get together with me one on one. WTF?

I have to admit, it was a hell of a lot easier in high school when it was all about the sex and none of the emotions that went along with it.

Well, okay, that still kind of sucked.

Fuck it, I'm going to bed. This day blew.

Another quick reminder:

Come drink with me and my rugby team!!!!!

When: Wednesday, March 10th from 7:00 PM until whenever they throw us out!
Where: Who's on First, 1683 First Ave. @ East 87th St., NY, NY 10028

Jello shots!!!! Raffle!!!! Hot rugby players!!!! Strong possibility of nudity!!!!! Lots and lots of liquor!!!!

All we need is you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Did I come on a little strong there? Regardless, you should come. It'll be fun and the proceeds are going to two good causes: our team's efforts to get to the Mark Bingham Cup Tournament (the gay Rugby World's Cup) in London in May, and the family of Police Officer Tom Fantry of the Mt. Vernon Police Department who is in the last stages of terminal brain cancer.

I hope to see you there.

Holy crap. The Log Cabin Republicans finally grew a pair. Not a big pair, mind you, but a pair nonetheless.

I'm a little down today. Not exactly sure why. Sort of a nostalgia/regret/loneliness/hopeless sort of thing.

On the flip side of that, one of the items I retrieved from my mother's house before her move was my Bill the Cat Doll (Bloom County) from college. He's sitting on my dresser staring at me while I type. I look at him from time to time and can't help but chuckle.

Then I think about the fact that I've had him for 17 years. And I get all nostalgic again.

So I'm depressed and chuckling.

Odd.

Fundie Don Wildmon wants to know who you're planning to vote for in the next election (he's trying to take the pulse of straight, white, Protestant, Republican America).

Why don't you click here and tell him?

Yep.


Your wings are BROKEN and tattered. You are
an angelic spirit who has fallen from grace for
one reason or another - possibly, you made one
tragic mistake that cost you everything. Or
maybe you were blamed for a crime you didn't
commit. In any case, you are faithless and
joyless. You find no happiness, love, or
acceptance in your love or in yourself. Most
days are a burden and you wonder when the
hurting will end. Sweet, beautiful and
sorrowful, you paint a tragic and touching
picture. You are the one that few understand.
Those that do know you are likely to love you
deeply and wish that they could do something to
ease your pain. You are constantly living in
memories of better times and a better world.
You are hard on yourself and self-critical or
self-loathing. Feeling rejected and unloved,
you are sensitive, caring, deep, and despite
your tainted nature, your soul is
breathtakingly beautiful.


*~*~*Claim Your Wings - Pics and Long Answers*~*~*
brought to you by Quizilla

Hallelujah!!!!!!!!!!

A brief announcement on behalf of the Gotham Knights RFC (I expect those of you who are in town to be there . . . those of you who live out of town, just send money):

Hear ye, hear ye... An open call to all New Yorkers to join the Gotham Knights Rugby Football Club for a night of drunken revelry and merriment (a.k.a. a bar night) at our new favorite pub (and newest sponsor) on the Upper East Side, Who's on First. The ale will be flowing, with Gotham Knights serving as guest bartenders (and they have Guinness on tap!). Rugby matches will be featured on the televisions along with good music blaring through the speakers. You can test your skills at billiards or darts... just don't try dancing... it is strictly prohibited. There will be a variety Jell-o shots for sale and a raffle with great prizes. Donations will also be accepted at the door. The proceeds from this event not only go to help the team make its way to London to compete in the Bingham Cup but will also go to the family of Patrol Officer Tom Fantry of the Mt. Vernon Police Department. PO Fantry is currently in the final stages of terminal cancer and will leave behind young twins upon his death. We will be taking up a special collection to help this family during this difficult time.

Hope to see you there!

When: Wednesday, March 10th from 7:00 PM until whenever they throw us out!
Where: Who's on First, 1683 First Ave. @ East 87th St., NY, NY 10028

So a little follow up to last night's entry.

I came home last night very eager to read my e-mail and check everyone's blogs. So eager in fact that I didn't investigate the odd, unpleasant smell that was lingering in the apartment when I arrived. I decided that it must be a piece of fruit or something that I had thrown out that had rotted while I was out of town. Even though I had taken out the garbage before I'd left.

Well, no matter.

So I checked my e-mails. And blogged. And read all your blogs. And visited a couple of my favorite web sites. I read CNN, BBCNews, and the New York Times. Then I made some phone calls.

Around 10 p.m. I decided to go grab a sandwich. But first I thought I'd go to the bathroom.

Wish I'd done that earlier.

It seems the pipes in the apartment above mine developed a leak while I was on vacation. Water leaked through my ceiling. And my walls. And an electrical outlet.

Fortunately, none of my stuff was damaged (though my rug looks like it has plaster dried into it), but the walls and ceiling in the bathroom and dressing room look as though someone smeared them with pizza. And there is plaster all over the place. That lovely smell was the mildew which has taken up residence all over my walls and ceilings.

Bitch of a thing to come home to.

Taken from Stebbins.

You're Sweden!

After years of trying to rule the world around you, you've
finally put aside violence in favor of advocating peaceful resolution.  There's
still a little Viking in you, but mostly you like Nobel Prize winners and long
nights by the fire.  And safe cars.  You always read the safety manual
in airplanes, and you're just a little cold.

Take the Country
Quiz at the Blue Pyramid

4500 and change e-mails waiting for me when I got back. Only a couple of hundred weren't spam.

Well, I'm exhausted. The flights back were unremarkable. I arrived in one piece. I'm ready for bed.

I'll talk about my cross-country trip and time in LA tomorrow.

Maybe.