I had Ethiopian food last night for the first time.
I'm paying for it this morning.
Or it could be the copious amount of cosmos.
Given the 'method of payment', I'm going to say it was the food.
I had Ethiopian food last night for the first time.
I'm paying for it this morning.
Or it could be the copious amount of cosmos.
Given the 'method of payment', I'm going to say it was the food.
The NY Daily News prints a follow up story about the 'standing' ticket debacle and media circus. We were 'let off the hook shortly after Mayor Bloomberg scoffed at the silly summonses'.
"Even if I went to court, I expected the judge to throw it out and be like, 'What the hell is this?'" [Jason] said.I'd still like that apology though.
Stay tuned for more of my thoughts! (and if you have any questions, kindly drop them in the comments section.)
The media was notified. Phone numbers were exchanged. Papers were faxed. Interviews were given. Pictures were taken. A WYSIWYG Talent Show was attended. A crif dog was eaten.
It's only a matter of time now. Promise you'll look out for me in the news?
If you're asking yourself, "For what?" read my last post.
Update: They actually published it! Fire zone tix for 2 on foot [via NY Daily News]
Update 2: Online news sources picked it up too!
Update 3 (7/21/2005 3:18am): And the tune changes! I love it! I saw myself on three local news programs (Fox 5, UPN 9, and WB 11)! Did you?!
So my weekend wasn't that interesting.
Met some friends. Went to some bars, clubs, and a cruise up the Hudson.
Did a little drinking, a little dancing, a little flirting.
And a little standing. Okay, a lot of standing. Maybe too much. So much that it could even be considered in violation of some vague park rule or regulation illegal.
(By the way, I was on foot. I was not in a car, on a bike, moped, skateboard, vespa, or a segway.)
In Chinatown, I saw this: Read more [+/-]
In Soho, I saw this: Read more [+/-]
A spokesmodel for Jose Cuervo, sponsors for something at the Puck Building.
In Chelsea, I saw this: Read more [+/-]
Jason Ritter at the Happy Endings premiere at the Clearview Chelsea. I want to know who the cute photographer is. Woof!
So Jess has replied with the correct version of the misquoted phrase I used in my previous post:
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
And his prize? A picture of some cute guy! Congratulations!
Thinking about it, I shouldn't have used that phrase in the first place. The reason why she was acting a bitch wasn't because I 'scorned' her. Actually, I don't know why she did it. Maybe she had a chemical imbalance due to the Rickshaw dumplings we had. Maybe she was jealous of my one-legged flamingo yoga stance. Maybe it was her time of the month (that's right, gay men can, and will, use that against you too!).
I hope you found the post funny (as it was meant to be). I'll admit that I felt bad for a few minutes hours, but then came to the conscious-clearing realization: I am better than her; at least I know when to shut up (most of the time). Plus, I don't have to live in her crappy neighborhood.
I thought about burning that post. But I won't because (a) I learn from my mistakes, (b) I think it's kinda funny, and (c) trying to burn the post would probably involve me being arrested for arson while trying to explain to the cops the reason why I set a Blogger building on fire was because I was trying to burn a post.
Instead, you get a picture of me acting like a lemur.
In other news, within a week, I'll be moving to an apartment closer to Manhattan. Instead of being an hour late to work, I'll only be fifteen minutes late; and in the end, isn't that worth the thousands of dollars spent on rent?
How does it go? 'Hell have no fury like a woman's scorn'? Those expert vixen of the surreptitious mind games. How I envy them.
Normally, I can see these games coming from a mile away, and I do admit I've been known to start them once or twice before; but one recently crept up behind me and swallowed me whole before I could let out a gasp of surprise.
It went something like this: Read more [+/-]
She: "You should totally live [where I live]."
Me: "Nah. I don't want to get mugged."
She: "Excuse me? Are you implying you can't get mugged right here in the city? Because that's exactly what you're implying."
I was stunned. I hadn't realized that was what I was implying. But I wasn't going to let up. I was determined to set her straight. Okay, I was just foolish.
Me: "No. It's just.. uhm.. so little street lamps and therefore darker where you live at night. And I feel safer where there's more light."
She: "I can't believe what you're saying. You just don't know, do you? I don't believe that. I want to see statistics."
And I dig myself a little deeper.
Me: "Plus, there doesn't seem to be any convenient stores around there anyway."
She: "Yes there is. There's one on the other cross street, not the one you took from the subway."
Me: "Oh.."
She: "Just because you didn't walk around, you're implying that there's no stores. You haven't even walked around [the area] 10 minutes! How could you make that assumption? Do you know how stupid you sound, right now?"
And STILL I continued.
Me: "Well, I just wouldn't want to live there anyway."
She: "Why? What, you think you're too good to live [where I live]?"
Me: "Uhm.."
She: "You think you're better than us?"
Me: "U.."
She: "You think you're better than ME?! DON'T YOU?! You ...[blah blah blah]"
Everything else she said after was a blur. I was speechless. My face flushed. She was a tornado and I was the mobile home being tossed around while my brain looked through the windows of my eyes, helpless to do anything in the situation.
The ball-buster, she got me good. Bravo. I'll definitely have to practice this technique of turn-everything-you-say-into-a-personal-attack insinuation.
Do you know this one? "Tell me who your friends are, and I'll tell you who you are." I think there's some truth behind this. So what does that mean if I find the friends of the person I'm dating annoying?
In an unplanned third date, Waspy McWasp invited me to a celebratory dinner with friends. At first I was hesitant, not knowing if two dates was sufficient time to start meeting 'the friends'. It's a critical step, think about it. First you meet 'the friends', then word gets out you're now 'seriously dating', then suddenly no one wants to date you because everyone knows you're 'taken'; or a whore. Maybe I'm overreacting, but I digress. Read more [+/-]
What was I saying? Right, I went to dinner with his friends. As I entered the restaurant, I found Waspy McWasp standing near the bar with his friends and my initial reaction was 'Please don't let these be your friends. Are you sure? You told me you were semi-color blind, so maybe you made a mistake.' (I know what you're thinking, I'm a bitch. Tell me something I don't know.)
My opinion wasn't solely made on the horrendous outfits they wore, it was influenced by one person I recognized: dumb-ass lawyer - let's call him Dale. I first met Dale at a networking event where I met 'Daddy': Dale kept up a conversation with me while it was obvious he was interested in my friend, at one point asking if me if we were a couple. And if that wasn't bad enough, he came back later to ask me about 'Daddy'! The second time I met Dale was at Folsom East where U. told me that they dated and thought he was annoying.
I was about to leave, but thought it wouldn't be fair to judge Waspy on the basis of one annoying person in the group, so I stayed. Luckily, Dale sat at the other end of the table and I didn't have to say a word to him all night. But was there another annoying person in the group? Unfortunately, there was, because I sat next to him.
Let's call him annoying JoE Woe. Joe was tipsy. Joe spoke too loud. Joe made generalizations and if it wasn't about jews, he made it about jews. Joe was sarcastic, but if someone replied sarcastically, he would take it seriously and argue. Joe was always right.
I couldn't completely write Waspy off though. During the dinner, Waspy told me his relationship with the group: He didn't know them long, and actually found some of them annoying. He was there to celebrate with an friend he liked, and admitted to inviting me so there would be someone he can talk to.
In the end, he apologized for subjecting me to the group (the other half were nice and normal-ish), and even paid for my dinner. As we parted ways, he told me his other friends were nicer; I hope he's right.
And now, my Independence Weekend pictures.
Quickly:
And the weekend's almost here! I have a lot of events scheduled including a visiting out-of-towner, birthday celebrations, and (dare I say?) more dating.
Pictures posted when I get to them. In the meantime, please accept my apology and take a gander at this [more here, thanks to him]. Forgive me now?
There's a growing epidemic that's affecting everyone and needs to be brought to the daylight. If I don't prepare you for this, you'll spend the rest of your life wondering why people are staring at you in the coffee shop, on the subway (or Tube), and even at the bar with your friends having your favorite cocktail. Read more [+/-]
I'm talking about cruising. Not the leisurely travel by boat, although it can happen while you're vacationing on a cruise ship. Cruising as in when someone is looking in public places for sexual partners. Be aware of your surroundings. It can happen anytime, anywhere, with or without underwear; I know this because it happened to me this morning.
I had stayed over a friends' place and was on my way home to 'clean up'. Since I wasn't prepared for the impromptu sleep-over, I was on the subway wearing the same clothes I had the day before, foul morning breath, eye crusties, and on my skin a layer of sunblock, a layer of sun-induced sweat, a layer of Central Park grass and dirt, another layer of dance-induced sweat sealed in with cigarette smoke, and dusted with grime of the city.
In other words, I was looking (and feeling) like crap.
But then I noticed this 6.5 (out of 10) glance my way a couple of times. I thought, "Is that smell coming from me?" No, of course not. AXE is the bomb. 'Accidentally', I met his blue eyes, and he winked at me!
I was shocked; stunned. I've never been cruised in the subway before (or have I just never noticed?). Secondly, doesn't he see that I'm a mess?! "Some of us like dirty boys", a friend said later when I told him about the incident. While that may be true, I didn't know how to react at the time, so I instinctively flashed him a cautious smile (morning breath, remember?) and a raised eyebrow. He seemed to like this because he continued on his visual campaign as I exited the subway car.
And that was it! I didn't say 'Hi', he didn't exit the subway car, we didn't go into a bathroom to have freaky-deaky sex live happily ever after with our dogs and 2.5 natural children (conceived with the help of stem cell research of course).
Don't let this happen to you! Learn from my example! I'm giving advice because it wasn't given to me and I'm just looking out for your best interest:
If you're being cruised by someone you find attractive, say 'Hi' no matter how horrid your morning breath is; if he likes dirty boys, he would just be even more turned on. Or play demure by covering your mouth while you speak and fluttering your eyelashes - don't forget the timid 'tee hee'.
If you're the cruiser, continue your conquest when you have made first contact, then stalk your target out of the subway car! You can catch the next one; and seriously, isn't that wait worth a little booty happiness?
(6.5, if you're reading this, meet me at our platform tonight. I'll be there at 6 pm. and then at 8. and at 10 also.)
Happy Independence Day everyone!
I hope everyone is enjoying their weekend so far. Take a moment today to remind yourself what our forefathers fought for that makes this country great. And perhaps realize there are still people in this country still fighting for the same ideals.
And now, your patriotic eye candy.
It started early Sunday morning, June 26. I woke up late, a bit past 10am. I took a quick shower, prettied myself up, and flew out the door to my first Pride ever. Read more [+/-]
My first stop was a Pride Brunch at a friends' apartment. He had invited many guests and told them I could invite some friends. When I got there, L., who arrived on time at 10, had already made some friends. In the short time I was there, I was introduced to many people, including Waspy McWasp (more on him later, hehe).
The Pride parade started at 12pm, and I gave it 2 hours to reach 21st street, where the brunch was. L. and I left at a quarter past 2 and headed over the Fifth ave. We walked down to 14th st where I was to meet Crash.
A few weeks ago, I had signed up as a volunteer for the Pier Dance with Out of Bounds. It was a free way to get into the dance; and secondly, I wanted to see what it was like to be a bartender.
The Pier Dance was something else. 8000+ people, mostly shirtless, jumping, grinding, sweating, sometimes prancing, muscular gay men (probably high off their asses). Add in soda, sports drinks, beer, hard liquor, with a splash of water and you got one freaky-deaky cocktail. Which is why after my volunteer shift ended at 8pm, I stayed behind the bar to work the second shift.
Volunteering behind the bar was fun, not because really hot, shirtless men came up to talk to me (though that was definitely a plus), but because they tipped me. One even started slipping dollar bills in my shorts. I know what you're thinking, but if all the tips were going to benefit Out of Bounds, I'm entitled to have some fun receiving them!
The other volunteers were great, too! Besides being cute and friendly, they provided hours of entertainment, dancing and pointing out guys to applaud. At one point I think one guy walked pass our bar and back just so we'd continue to applaud his half-nude body.
Nearing the end of the party, the Pussycat Dolls performed their hit song, "Don't Cha". After the few repetitions of the chorus 'Dont cha wish your boyfriend was hot like me' did someone realize this and said aloud, "Like a girl? No thanks."
After the performance, fireworks lit up the night sky while Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow' played. I felt misty eyed as I looked over the pier at thousands of diverse, happy homosexuals, realizing how much effort it was to put into such an event, and really felt a sense community. At that moment, I realize exactly what I was proud of: being a part of something so much larger than myself, while being myself.