A rather large woman (350lbs + ) sat next to me on the T today. I now know what it would smell like if I let some onions, shrimp, and sea scallops sit out in the sun for a week then dumped a whole bottle of Georgio Armani perfume on it.
For any of you who can't imagine what that would smell like; I can sum it up in one word:
Terrible.
Thanks lady. I know this recession has hit everyone hard, but soap is still pretty cheap. So is water. Hell, you don't even need the water! Just wedge a bar of Ivory soap in between that cavernous hell you call an ass crack, and the violent slapping / grinding / vibrations of your ass from walking 3 feet, combined with the buckets of sweat you obviously produce, should create enough lather and scent to at least minimize the smell of rotting carcass. You malodorous hag. You are the type of beast that gives fat people a bad rap about smelling bad. My god, it's rainy out: Go stand under a damn drain pipe and hose off.
Thankfully she got off a few stops before me, but unfortunately the stain and ass reek on the seat was left for everyone to enjoy. Some one call the HAZMAT team, the stain is starting to foam up!
God I love commuting!
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
The stuff I over hear
While I was showering at the gym this morning, what did I over hear someone say to another man?
"Hey man, how's it going?"
"I'm good, what's new?"
"Not much... oh, hey, you wear your hat to the table, huh?"
"Yeah, never had it done. The wife loves it."
"That's cool. Hey, listen, I gotta go, I'll see you tomorrow!"
"Bye Mike"
What? Wait, What?! Huh?! WHAT DID HE SAY?!
When did it become Kosher to talk about a man's circumcision while showering at the gym?!! Normally you are just supposed to stare from afar and act like you aren't looking. These two fellows just up and change the rule. What's next?
"Hey Steve, how's life?"
"Good! Hey, I never knew you had 3 testicles! That's groovy!"
"Yeah, the wife loves it."
Or how about
"Hey Jim, what's shakin'"
"Oh hey Roy. Say Roy, you are awfully stretched down there. You ok?"
"Oh yeah I'm fine. Just had me a really deep anal fisting from a guy in the steam room"
Then what's after that?
"Hey Tom... let me help you with that...(nom nom gag)
"Oh, thanks Mark, little to the left, that's it. Thanks a bunch."
"Did you eat pineapple and asparagus?"
What the fuck?! Come on people, show a little dignity! Talk about the weather or sports, don't ogle each other's wedding tackle! Jeese... I'm gay and I'm complaining!
"Hey man, how's it going?"
"I'm good, what's new?"
"Not much... oh, hey, you wear your hat to the table, huh?"
"Yeah, never had it done. The wife loves it."
"That's cool. Hey, listen, I gotta go, I'll see you tomorrow!"
"Bye Mike"
What? Wait, What?! Huh?! WHAT DID HE SAY?!
When did it become Kosher to talk about a man's circumcision while showering at the gym?!! Normally you are just supposed to stare from afar and act like you aren't looking. These two fellows just up and change the rule. What's next?
"Hey Steve, how's life?"
"Good! Hey, I never knew you had 3 testicles! That's groovy!"
"Yeah, the wife loves it."
Or how about
"Hey Jim, what's shakin'"
"Oh hey Roy. Say Roy, you are awfully stretched down there. You ok?"
"Oh yeah I'm fine. Just had me a really deep anal fisting from a guy in the steam room"
Then what's after that?
"Hey Tom... let me help you with that...(nom nom gag)
"Oh, thanks Mark, little to the left, that's it. Thanks a bunch."
"Did you eat pineapple and asparagus?"
What the fuck?! Come on people, show a little dignity! Talk about the weather or sports, don't ogle each other's wedding tackle! Jeese... I'm gay and I'm complaining!
Friday, June 19, 2009
Pride Weekend Part II (SURPRISE!!!!)
So after all that stuff happened on Saturday, June 13th, I had planned on having lunch with my buddies on Sunday the 14th at Dbar. I love Dbar, a really nicely decorated restaurant with great food and tons of the gays. It's an upscale restaurant that caters to the gays!
After getting home at around 2:30am and finally crashing into bed around 2:45am, I am awakened by an alarm. I can't remember if it was Tim's alarm or mine. Needless to say I didn't want to get out of Bed. Tim kept saying "It's 10am, get up and get ready! We have to meet your friends for 11 at Dbar!" Never before had he cared about me being on time for my friends, but needless to say I didn't think anything of it.
I showered and got dressed, and then Tim started to say that he was feeling a bit under the weather (he was holding his stomach and he said that he had the runs). I felt bad and was going to stay home, but he said that I should go and not worry about him. He also reminded me that it was now 10:45am and I was going to be late getting to my friends.
So I give him a peck on the cheek (I don't want what he caught) and I rush outside to my car. I turn the engine on and the time on the digital display reads "10:25". I just thought that Tim had been inching the clock forward so he won't ever be late for his class.
I get down into Cambridge, pick of Chris Erdo, and then we make our way over into Charlestown to pick up Patrick LeRoy. Unlucky for us, Charlestown was having it's "Bunker Hill Memorial Parade". The already freakishly confusing one way streets of Charlestown were now being converted into a veritable kamikaze mission. I felt like a mouse in a maze, only there was no cheese for a reward and the soundtrack was Cher and Madonna.
We finally make it to Dbar. We sit down with Chris, his friend, John Cesanick, Victor and Peter (the handsome married couple) Matt Brooks, Chris Erdo, Patrick LeRoy, and myself. The usual jovial banter about gayness ensues, and I smile because this is the only time I can let my caddy self out of the closet and do some bitchin' gossip. Sort of like gay therapy. After a few moments of sitting, I realized that I had forgotten my wallet in my car. In Dorchester. So I excuse myself and rush out, thinking that for sure I was going to see some crack-whore blowing a Chinese business man while he was doing lines off a mirror, using my credit cards to cut up the blow in the back of my car. Thankfully I had locked my doors, and that didn't happen.
I head on back inside, and we sit and have some nice Brunch. I got the Eggs Benedict ( a rich and filling dish). The meal being finished, we were all going to go out separate ways, when Matty says "Oh, we have some time to kill before we are all going to the Block party tonight. Let's head up to Reading so I can buy some comic books at that cool comic book store". Matty had come up previously and had brunch with us before, and we stopped in and looked at a really cool comic book store in Reading.
I was a little put off, mostly because it was doom and gloom outside, what with the lovely June rains and all. I didn't mind Matty coming up, but I didn't want to go to the damn block party if God was going to be pissing on us the whole time. I just wanted to go home and sleep the shit out of my bed. I was tired!
I acquiesced (of course) and Matty, Patrick, Chris, and I piled into my car and started to drive up to Reading. Poor Patrick had some surgery on his jaw and was in a lot of pain, so he asked if I could drop him off in Charlestown. Thankfully the parade was over by now.
As we were driving along, Matty was in the backseat yacking up a storm to one of his friends. He was actually being kind of loud, but that's Mat :). I decided to call Tim and ask him what the hours were of the comic book store in Reading, that way if it was closed we could all just stay in the city. I called, he answered, I asked, and in the middle of chatting with him he hung up. I just figured there was a problem with his phone. He called back a few minutes later, and he told me the hours, and that he'll see us when we get there.
As we were driving up, somewhere around the Malden exits, Matty is sitting in the back seat saying "Oh boy, do you think we could go to your house first? I ate something bad!". I started to pick it up, not looking forward to having him drop ass in my bathroom. Why was he going to punish my toilet? It never did anything bad to him. Oh well, I guess better the toilet than my back seat.
So I pull into my driveway, and I start showing off my place from the outside to my friends. It was just Matty, Chris and I, so I was explaining the yard (yah, we can play on the grass!) and the laundry (we have our own! No coin-op for us!). Ahhh the benefits of living outside the city.
I open the door, and walk upstairs and I hear Tim call out "Kevin?"
and this is where I will post a video. You can see Anthony trying not to ruin the surprise by holding his mouth to suppress the laughter!
I said "Are you decent?!" and when he came around the bend, I said "Oh God, put some clothes on, my friends are here!" Trying to be cheeky funny.
Tim says "Don't be angry, I rearranged the furniture"
Me - "AGAIN??!! But I liked it the way it was!"
He told me to close my eyes so he could lead me in and show me.
So I do, I close my eyes, he leads me into the living room, and says to open them.
When I do, I am surrounded by a bunch of my friends ans family, and they all yell
"SURPRISE!!!" There is a big banner that says "Happy Birthday, Kevin!"
It was a big surprise birthday party! For me! I didn't know what to say so I smiled and said thank you and kind of walked around like I was hopped up from huffing paint fumes for a few minutes. I was very happy!
It turns out that my innocent boyfriend had been plotting and scheming behind my back for the past few months! Everyone was in on it! That is why he wanted me to stay out drinking the night before with Joe, that way he could clean the apartment and hide all the food! Also why he was so damn anxious to get me out of the house Sunday morning, and why he "fell ill" with the trots and couldn't come! He was planning it all!
Matty was also in on it, and when I left to get my wallet from the car, he told everyone that I was eating with that he had to keep me there for at least 1 hour while Tim got everything ready, and people were showing up!
Apparently Matty was also on the phone with Tim in the car, telling him where we were going, and when we would get there. When I called Tim, he was still on the line with Matty, and quickly hung up on him, then me to talk to him, then he called me back! I suspected nothing!
It was really a fun time! A lot of my friends and family showed up too!
For presents, I got a bread machine (which makes wonderful loaves of bread!) from Julie, Chris, and Adam. I got a Coleman portable grill from my parents, $40 from our neighbors downstairs, which is a lot considering we never really talk to them, a nice cake platter and some sphincter shrinker (I shit you not, that's the name of it) hot sauce from Anthony and Michelle. The awesomest gift that I got was a Nintendo Wii from Timothy! That son of a gun bought me a Wii console. So much for the $30 limit we set for each other!
Now I'm no longer going to the gym, and I'm going to be sinking all my money into buying games for this console. Thanks a bunch hun! I love it!
My brother and sister-in-law bought me some rechargeable batteries and a docking station for the wii remotes, that way we won't run out of batteries, and also a game called "Wario's Dance Moves" which I think is wicked fun. You do all sorts of different moves with the Wii remote to accomplish tasks. Pretty fun!
So we wined and dined the night away, then I pulled out the Wii and opened it up, and we all took turns bowling on it. It was a lot of fun.
My friend Adam and his girlfriend Erica came early and manned the grill out in the rain for Tim and I, and then they stayed a while later and we chatted after the party and smoked out of my hookah. It was a fun time had by all!
Thanks so much guys! It was a wicked blast!
After getting home at around 2:30am and finally crashing into bed around 2:45am, I am awakened by an alarm. I can't remember if it was Tim's alarm or mine. Needless to say I didn't want to get out of Bed. Tim kept saying "It's 10am, get up and get ready! We have to meet your friends for 11 at Dbar!" Never before had he cared about me being on time for my friends, but needless to say I didn't think anything of it.
I showered and got dressed, and then Tim started to say that he was feeling a bit under the weather (he was holding his stomach and he said that he had the runs). I felt bad and was going to stay home, but he said that I should go and not worry about him. He also reminded me that it was now 10:45am and I was going to be late getting to my friends.
So I give him a peck on the cheek (I don't want what he caught) and I rush outside to my car. I turn the engine on and the time on the digital display reads "10:25". I just thought that Tim had been inching the clock forward so he won't ever be late for his class.
I get down into Cambridge, pick of Chris Erdo, and then we make our way over into Charlestown to pick up Patrick LeRoy. Unlucky for us, Charlestown was having it's "Bunker Hill Memorial Parade". The already freakishly confusing one way streets of Charlestown were now being converted into a veritable kamikaze mission. I felt like a mouse in a maze, only there was no cheese for a reward and the soundtrack was Cher and Madonna.
We finally make it to Dbar. We sit down with Chris, his friend, John Cesanick, Victor and Peter (the handsome married couple) Matt Brooks, Chris Erdo, Patrick LeRoy, and myself. The usual jovial banter about gayness ensues, and I smile because this is the only time I can let my caddy self out of the closet and do some bitchin' gossip. Sort of like gay therapy. After a few moments of sitting, I realized that I had forgotten my wallet in my car. In Dorchester. So I excuse myself and rush out, thinking that for sure I was going to see some crack-whore blowing a Chinese business man while he was doing lines off a mirror, using my credit cards to cut up the blow in the back of my car. Thankfully I had locked my doors, and that didn't happen.
I head on back inside, and we sit and have some nice Brunch. I got the Eggs Benedict ( a rich and filling dish). The meal being finished, we were all going to go out separate ways, when Matty says "Oh, we have some time to kill before we are all going to the Block party tonight. Let's head up to Reading so I can buy some comic books at that cool comic book store". Matty had come up previously and had brunch with us before, and we stopped in and looked at a really cool comic book store in Reading.
I was a little put off, mostly because it was doom and gloom outside, what with the lovely June rains and all. I didn't mind Matty coming up, but I didn't want to go to the damn block party if God was going to be pissing on us the whole time. I just wanted to go home and sleep the shit out of my bed. I was tired!
I acquiesced (of course) and Matty, Patrick, Chris, and I piled into my car and started to drive up to Reading. Poor Patrick had some surgery on his jaw and was in a lot of pain, so he asked if I could drop him off in Charlestown. Thankfully the parade was over by now.
As we were driving along, Matty was in the backseat yacking up a storm to one of his friends. He was actually being kind of loud, but that's Mat :). I decided to call Tim and ask him what the hours were of the comic book store in Reading, that way if it was closed we could all just stay in the city. I called, he answered, I asked, and in the middle of chatting with him he hung up. I just figured there was a problem with his phone. He called back a few minutes later, and he told me the hours, and that he'll see us when we get there.
As we were driving up, somewhere around the Malden exits, Matty is sitting in the back seat saying "Oh boy, do you think we could go to your house first? I ate something bad!". I started to pick it up, not looking forward to having him drop ass in my bathroom. Why was he going to punish my toilet? It never did anything bad to him. Oh well, I guess better the toilet than my back seat.
So I pull into my driveway, and I start showing off my place from the outside to my friends. It was just Matty, Chris and I, so I was explaining the yard (yah, we can play on the grass!) and the laundry (we have our own! No coin-op for us!). Ahhh the benefits of living outside the city.
I open the door, and walk upstairs and I hear Tim call out "Kevin?"
and this is where I will post a video. You can see Anthony trying not to ruin the surprise by holding his mouth to suppress the laughter!
I said "Are you decent?!" and when he came around the bend, I said "Oh God, put some clothes on, my friends are here!" Trying to be cheeky funny.
Tim says "Don't be angry, I rearranged the furniture"
Me - "AGAIN??!! But I liked it the way it was!"
He told me to close my eyes so he could lead me in and show me.
So I do, I close my eyes, he leads me into the living room, and says to open them.
When I do, I am surrounded by a bunch of my friends ans family, and they all yell
"SURPRISE!!!" There is a big banner that says "Happy Birthday, Kevin!"
It was a big surprise birthday party! For me! I didn't know what to say so I smiled and said thank you and kind of walked around like I was hopped up from huffing paint fumes for a few minutes. I was very happy!
It turns out that my innocent boyfriend had been plotting and scheming behind my back for the past few months! Everyone was in on it! That is why he wanted me to stay out drinking the night before with Joe, that way he could clean the apartment and hide all the food! Also why he was so damn anxious to get me out of the house Sunday morning, and why he "fell ill" with the trots and couldn't come! He was planning it all!
Matty was also in on it, and when I left to get my wallet from the car, he told everyone that I was eating with that he had to keep me there for at least 1 hour while Tim got everything ready, and people were showing up!
Apparently Matty was also on the phone with Tim in the car, telling him where we were going, and when we would get there. When I called Tim, he was still on the line with Matty, and quickly hung up on him, then me to talk to him, then he called me back! I suspected nothing!
It was really a fun time! A lot of my friends and family showed up too!
For presents, I got a bread machine (which makes wonderful loaves of bread!) from Julie, Chris, and Adam. I got a Coleman portable grill from my parents, $40 from our neighbors downstairs, which is a lot considering we never really talk to them, a nice cake platter and some sphincter shrinker (I shit you not, that's the name of it) hot sauce from Anthony and Michelle. The awesomest gift that I got was a Nintendo Wii from Timothy! That son of a gun bought me a Wii console. So much for the $30 limit we set for each other!
Now I'm no longer going to the gym, and I'm going to be sinking all my money into buying games for this console. Thanks a bunch hun! I love it!
My brother and sister-in-law bought me some rechargeable batteries and a docking station for the wii remotes, that way we won't run out of batteries, and also a game called "Wario's Dance Moves" which I think is wicked fun. You do all sorts of different moves with the Wii remote to accomplish tasks. Pretty fun!
So we wined and dined the night away, then I pulled out the Wii and opened it up, and we all took turns bowling on it. It was a lot of fun.
My friend Adam and his girlfriend Erica came early and manned the grill out in the rain for Tim and I, and then they stayed a while later and we chatted after the party and smoked out of my hookah. It was a fun time had by all!
Thanks so much guys! It was a wicked blast!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Pride Weekend Part 1
This past weekend was very busy. I'll go over the first part, and then in a later post delve into the juicier second half.
Friday night, the little man, myself, and Tim's lesbianic friend / classmate Jen (she's a hoot!) decided to go to "Queer Guerrilla Bar Take Over". Basically this is a Facebook group that gathers all the gays in the city and goes to a straight bar and makes it a "gay bar" for the night. There is usually a lot of a gay people and confused straight people. We've gone many times before, and usually it is wicked fun. Last Friday it was a bit of a bummer, mostly because the DJ was so horrific. He'd mix 4 songs together, play a snippet of each song, then move on to another abomination to the ears. You could dance fast for 30 seconds to one song, then there would be an infusion of Meatloaf (the singer, not the food) "And I would do anything for love..."
HOW IN THE HELL DO YOU DANCE TO THAT?!
Eventually we crapped out around 1am and went home. I promptly let my head hit the pillow before I had to get up and finish a cake for my friend Joe. His mother had passed away one year ago, and the funeral was held on my birthday (June 23). So it stands to reason that his memorial party was going to be held on the 23rd of June, but of course fate likes to laugh at me and the party was decided to be held on the weekend of pride. The one weekend where all the gays converge on Boston and basically rule the city, I was going to be forced to miss a major chunk of it to go to this Memorial party.
Sigh. I can't really complain, because it is a memorial service, and a friendship is more important than seeing go-go boys wave their bulging speedos in our faces on Boston Common.
So here I am, 8:30 am, frosting a cake with a sweet chocolate grenache (most of which I ate out of the pot) then decorating the cake with pink and white stars. I've done this before, and it makes the cake look like a sea anemone. Sorry I didn't take pictures, I was kind of tired and didn't think of it. Thank God for Coffee.
I finish the cake just in time to jump in the shower, then rush off with Tim to Oak Grove to catch the orange line down to Downtown crossing so we could watch the parade outside of the state house. We like watching it there because it is usually shaded and not that crowded.
Tim's friends eventually met up with us as we witnessed the parade. Free condoms were passed out, as well as various articles on how to keep yourself STD free. Also information on how to help someone in an abusive relationship, as well as (my favorite) free comics from sexy men dressed up in super hero garb. There was the Flash, and Nightcrawler, and Batman. I am so going to Comicopia from now on for all my comic needs! I was also handed a cotton black thong from the Jaggermister float. It was a good time had by all!
Unfortunately, Tim was beaned pretty hard by a flying medallion from the Jaggermister float. As it struck, everyone (including myself) went "Oooohhh!....SfSfSfSfSfSf!!! (that sucking noise you make through your teeth when you witness something painful happening, or when you just got kicked in the shin). He was ok though, and we immediately went back to gawking at the Jagger hotties.
The parade over, the throng of Tim's friends and I made our way through the flamboyant press to Government Center, where the "Festival of Gayness" (as I call it) was taking place. Government center is basically taken over by tons of gay vendors and gay activities. Two years ago I signed up with my gay bowling league there. This year there wasn't much there except more free condoms and other freebees.
I also saw my favorite porn star walking through the crowd. Trevor Knight was just hanging out without his shirt on. I should have gotten a picture.
From here Tim and I went over and had lunch at Whole Foods. They have a really bitchin' salad bar there. You can go and load your plate up with completely un-salad like things like falafel and grilled chicken. After dinning, we decided to go home since we were pretty beat. When we got home, my head hit the pillow and I was lost to oblivion. I woke thinking I hadn't even rested.
I had to rush to get ready to go down to Easton for Carolyn Witt's memorial service hosted by Easton's best: The VFW. Last time I was there it was like walking into the exhaust pipe of a really big Mac truck. Since it is a private club, smoking is still legal there.
I arrived at around 7:30pm, and much to my pleasant surprise, the VFW had become smoke free! Though that didn't stop the old time crusties from lighting up 3 feet from the door and walking outside with a lite cigarette, or actually exhaling their last lungful of black, slightly blue smoke as they came in and sat down next to you. Oh well, can't teach all the old dogs new tricks.
We at hors d'euvers and everyone liked my cake. There was a DJ and dancing, and we watched a movie on the life of Carolyn Witt. Mostly just a montage of pictures, but it was moving and very nice.
I was all set to go home around 9 o'clock so I could meet Tim in the city and go to the Roxie. I wasn't too thrilled about the idea, it was going to be $30 to get in! That's a lot, considering there would probably be crappy music, but you would definitely get to see some sexy men scantily clad and bumping and grinding up against everyone. A few of my friends were going, and I figured that Tim and I would join them considering it only comes around once a year (meaning Pride only happens once a year, and all the gay clubs think "Why not charge the pickle puffers an arm and a leg to get in?! They have extra income!").
I called Tim, and he said "Well, we can go" and I was kind of dragging my feet. I said "I don't really want to, I have the Internet, I can always see naked men there". He said he would pay for me and it would be his present to me, for an early birthday present.
I said that I didn't actually want to go (truth be told) and he said that he didn't either, and I should stay down in Easton with Joe and hang out. So I did.
Joe Witt has the amazing power to make you do things you do NOT want to do. I'd thought I'd developed a certain resistance to him, but in fact I still am a weak willed bastard that acquiesces to everything.
"So we going to RCC?!" - Joe
"I don't really want too... it is late and I have a long drive home. Let's just drink here" - I say
We argue for a bit, and Joe finally agrees to have just one more drink at the VFW before I leave.
Well, that's all it took. That extra 3 oz of Grey Goose got me lubed up, so when he asked "So, we going to RCC?!" I said yes. But only for one drink ;).
RCC or Randolph Country Club is, as you would call it, a gay dive bar. It exists, and it is found in Randolph Massachusetts. On any typical night, you will find a collection of low lives, old people, and confused twenty somethings that haven't realized that there is are better gay bars just half an hour North AND South in Boston and Providence. This place caters to the lazy queer that doesn't want to travel that far from home.
Don't get me wrong, I love RCC. You can drink outside by a pool (Yes, they have a greasy, slimy pool) on nice nights, and I in general have a good time. On a side note, the only people that hit on me there are the very old (65+) or very socially awkward (something ain't right with Billy...). Sometimes the two merge together to create a socially awkward senior who wants me to be his trophy boyfriend.
Thanks, I'm honored. Let me just break up with my hot 27 year old spinner I have at home so I can wipe your ass after I change your diaper, you infirm bastard. How the hell did you get out of the nursing home anyway? Are you lost? I know you are confused...
So here I am, Saturday night at Pride, having a drink with Tabitha, Miss Karen Azulay, and Joe (all men). Exactly where I didn't want to wind up on the night of pride. Fantastic. After being served a revolting vodka tonic (I had forgotten that you DO NOT order the house vodka, gin, tequila, bourbon, scotch, or, in general, house anything) we wandered outside by the pool. I had put down my drink on the bar, and one of Joe and Tabitha's barber friends drunkenly staggered over to us. He was a short little thing, 4 foot nothing and full of groping 40 year old charm. He slurredly tried to sex us up and engage in conversation, but didn't realize that all his sentences were coming out sounding like one long word. "heyaboiswhatssexin?" I think is what he said.
I actually like him, because he drunkenly put down his drink, promptly forgot which one was his, and grabbed mine and downed it. Thanks a bunch! You saved me a hangover of terribleness.
So it is 1 am, and I'm running off very little sleep, so I say goodbye to my friends, and drive the hour home. I have brunch in the morning at 11 am at Dbar in Dorchester the next morning. I'll post about that later on. Phew! That's a long post and it isn't even done!
Friday night, the little man, myself, and Tim's lesbianic friend / classmate Jen (she's a hoot!) decided to go to "Queer Guerrilla Bar Take Over". Basically this is a Facebook group that gathers all the gays in the city and goes to a straight bar and makes it a "gay bar" for the night. There is usually a lot of a gay people and confused straight people. We've gone many times before, and usually it is wicked fun. Last Friday it was a bit of a bummer, mostly because the DJ was so horrific. He'd mix 4 songs together, play a snippet of each song, then move on to another abomination to the ears. You could dance fast for 30 seconds to one song, then there would be an infusion of Meatloaf (the singer, not the food) "And I would do anything for love..."
HOW IN THE HELL DO YOU DANCE TO THAT?!
Eventually we crapped out around 1am and went home. I promptly let my head hit the pillow before I had to get up and finish a cake for my friend Joe. His mother had passed away one year ago, and the funeral was held on my birthday (June 23). So it stands to reason that his memorial party was going to be held on the 23rd of June, but of course fate likes to laugh at me and the party was decided to be held on the weekend of pride. The one weekend where all the gays converge on Boston and basically rule the city, I was going to be forced to miss a major chunk of it to go to this Memorial party.
Sigh. I can't really complain, because it is a memorial service, and a friendship is more important than seeing go-go boys wave their bulging speedos in our faces on Boston Common.
So here I am, 8:30 am, frosting a cake with a sweet chocolate grenache (most of which I ate out of the pot) then decorating the cake with pink and white stars. I've done this before, and it makes the cake look like a sea anemone. Sorry I didn't take pictures, I was kind of tired and didn't think of it. Thank God for Coffee.
I finish the cake just in time to jump in the shower, then rush off with Tim to Oak Grove to catch the orange line down to Downtown crossing so we could watch the parade outside of the state house. We like watching it there because it is usually shaded and not that crowded.
Tim's friends eventually met up with us as we witnessed the parade. Free condoms were passed out, as well as various articles on how to keep yourself STD free. Also information on how to help someone in an abusive relationship, as well as (my favorite) free comics from sexy men dressed up in super hero garb. There was the Flash, and Nightcrawler, and Batman. I am so going to Comicopia from now on for all my comic needs! I was also handed a cotton black thong from the Jaggermister float. It was a good time had by all!
Unfortunately, Tim was beaned pretty hard by a flying medallion from the Jaggermister float. As it struck, everyone (including myself) went "Oooohhh!....SfSfSfSfSfSf!!! (that sucking noise you make through your teeth when you witness something painful happening, or when you just got kicked in the shin). He was ok though, and we immediately went back to gawking at the Jagger hotties.
The parade over, the throng of Tim's friends and I made our way through the flamboyant press to Government Center, where the "Festival of Gayness" (as I call it) was taking place. Government center is basically taken over by tons of gay vendors and gay activities. Two years ago I signed up with my gay bowling league there. This year there wasn't much there except more free condoms and other freebees.
I also saw my favorite porn star walking through the crowd. Trevor Knight was just hanging out without his shirt on. I should have gotten a picture.
From here Tim and I went over and had lunch at Whole Foods. They have a really bitchin' salad bar there. You can go and load your plate up with completely un-salad like things like falafel and grilled chicken. After dinning, we decided to go home since we were pretty beat. When we got home, my head hit the pillow and I was lost to oblivion. I woke thinking I hadn't even rested.
I had to rush to get ready to go down to Easton for Carolyn Witt's memorial service hosted by Easton's best: The VFW. Last time I was there it was like walking into the exhaust pipe of a really big Mac truck. Since it is a private club, smoking is still legal there.
I arrived at around 7:30pm, and much to my pleasant surprise, the VFW had become smoke free! Though that didn't stop the old time crusties from lighting up 3 feet from the door and walking outside with a lite cigarette, or actually exhaling their last lungful of black, slightly blue smoke as they came in and sat down next to you. Oh well, can't teach all the old dogs new tricks.
We at hors d'euvers and everyone liked my cake. There was a DJ and dancing, and we watched a movie on the life of Carolyn Witt. Mostly just a montage of pictures, but it was moving and very nice.
I was all set to go home around 9 o'clock so I could meet Tim in the city and go to the Roxie. I wasn't too thrilled about the idea, it was going to be $30 to get in! That's a lot, considering there would probably be crappy music, but you would definitely get to see some sexy men scantily clad and bumping and grinding up against everyone. A few of my friends were going, and I figured that Tim and I would join them considering it only comes around once a year (meaning Pride only happens once a year, and all the gay clubs think "Why not charge the pickle puffers an arm and a leg to get in?! They have extra income!").
I called Tim, and he said "Well, we can go" and I was kind of dragging my feet. I said "I don't really want to, I have the Internet, I can always see naked men there". He said he would pay for me and it would be his present to me, for an early birthday present.
I said that I didn't actually want to go (truth be told) and he said that he didn't either, and I should stay down in Easton with Joe and hang out. So I did.
Joe Witt has the amazing power to make you do things you do NOT want to do. I'd thought I'd developed a certain resistance to him, but in fact I still am a weak willed bastard that acquiesces to everything.
"So we going to RCC?!" - Joe
"I don't really want too... it is late and I have a long drive home. Let's just drink here" - I say
We argue for a bit, and Joe finally agrees to have just one more drink at the VFW before I leave.
Well, that's all it took. That extra 3 oz of Grey Goose got me lubed up, so when he asked "So, we going to RCC?!" I said yes. But only for one drink ;).
RCC or Randolph Country Club is, as you would call it, a gay dive bar. It exists, and it is found in Randolph Massachusetts. On any typical night, you will find a collection of low lives, old people, and confused twenty somethings that haven't realized that there is are better gay bars just half an hour North AND South in Boston and Providence. This place caters to the lazy queer that doesn't want to travel that far from home.
Don't get me wrong, I love RCC. You can drink outside by a pool (Yes, they have a greasy, slimy pool) on nice nights, and I in general have a good time. On a side note, the only people that hit on me there are the very old (65+) or very socially awkward (something ain't right with Billy...). Sometimes the two merge together to create a socially awkward senior who wants me to be his trophy boyfriend.
Thanks, I'm honored. Let me just break up with my hot 27 year old spinner I have at home so I can wipe your ass after I change your diaper, you infirm bastard. How the hell did you get out of the nursing home anyway? Are you lost? I know you are confused...
So here I am, Saturday night at Pride, having a drink with Tabitha, Miss Karen Azulay, and Joe (all men). Exactly where I didn't want to wind up on the night of pride. Fantastic. After being served a revolting vodka tonic (I had forgotten that you DO NOT order the house vodka, gin, tequila, bourbon, scotch, or, in general, house anything) we wandered outside by the pool. I had put down my drink on the bar, and one of Joe and Tabitha's barber friends drunkenly staggered over to us. He was a short little thing, 4 foot nothing and full of groping 40 year old charm. He slurredly tried to sex us up and engage in conversation, but didn't realize that all his sentences were coming out sounding like one long word. "heyaboiswhatssexin?" I think is what he said.
I actually like him, because he drunkenly put down his drink, promptly forgot which one was his, and grabbed mine and downed it. Thanks a bunch! You saved me a hangover of terribleness.
So it is 1 am, and I'm running off very little sleep, so I say goodbye to my friends, and drive the hour home. I have brunch in the morning at 11 am at Dbar in Dorchester the next morning. I'll post about that later on. Phew! That's a long post and it isn't even done!
Sunday, May 31, 2009
BagelWorld
Tim and I first noticed BagelWorld in Reading the very first weekend we moved up in August of 2008. The kitchen was in shambles, so Tim decided to go out and buy breakfast for us. He was gone for about an hour. BagelWorld is literally a 10 minute walk, or a 2 minute drive.
"This isn't Soviet Russia; you don't need to sit and wait in the breadline, Babushka!" I said to Tim when he got back. Apparently, BagelWorld is THE place to be in Reading. You'd think there was fantastic bagels there. True, they are good, but good enough to warrant being in line for 1 hour!
As we munched on our bagels, we silently vowed that we would pass BagelWorld up for Dunkin Donuts. This is saying a lot, we typically try and support the local business man every single time. We will happily pay 20 cents more for everything if we know that the money helps out the local economy.
Listening to one of my favorite radio programs "Polka Time!" on Sunday (one of my previous posts) the man that puts on the show always says:
I hope you are enjoying Polka Time! Once again it is brought to you this week by our great family of sponsors: Tire World and Bagel World! If you go there, let 'em know that you heard it here on Polka Time!
Well, anything to help my Polka Time buddy! Bob Litwin and his wife Judy Litwin, the Polka Queen!
So one morning after the gym, I decided I would give BagelWorld another change, and I decided to go. In and out. No one there at 7am on a Thursday morning. So far so good.
Saturday morning, 9:30 am is completely a different story. I pulled in, and there was no place to park, the drive thru was packed, and there was a goddamn line out the damn door! I love Polka, but I love coffee more, so I went to Dunkin Donuts.
For some reason, this morning I decided that I would be a glutton for punishment. I went to bagel world at 11am, on a Sunday morning. The line was mega long, but luckily I am lazy, and once I stood in line, I didn't want to go anywhere.
Ahead of me in line is a woman in her mid 30's, a there was a very large congregation of young (18 - 19 year olds) of Doodguys. Everyone knows a doodguy when they see one. Always wearing some athletic material, they drag their knuckles when they walk, talk about some of their sexual conquests the night before, scratch themselves then touch everything, and finish every sentence with "DOOOOODGUY!". They are boreder line meat heads, excepting the fact that they say "DOOODGUY!" at the end of every sentence.
So as I'm standing there in a Mental Fog (No coffee yet) a doodguy and his skank stand behind me. Instantly there is a calling of "DOOOOOOOOOOOOODGUY!!!" from his friends standing in font of me and the lady.
I am not one to confront. Seriously, I'll tough out any situation, and just wait for it to be over. I was suffering being a sexy man sandwiched between these Dumbass DOODGUY's as the bread.
As I sit there staring off into space thinking of how cool it would be if I could lift cars with my mind, I feel DOODguy and his slut edge past me to join the Dongle of Dumb ahead of me.
Instantly I felt rage. How dare you cut me! INSOLENT BASTARD!! I was not the only one who was pissed! The women (remember her, scroll up and see when I mentioned her) that was ahead of me turned brilliant red; the sky's darkened, snakes burst from her skull dripping venom, her very body became immolated with rage and fire, and she was about to destroy the mindless mouth breather who just cut us in line when I leaned over to her and said "I'm actually happy he cut us, that way we won't have DOOOODGUY!!! being shouted behind as well as in front of us.
This calmed her down to the point where hell closed up, sorry that it had not been unleashed, and she shot me a smile of understanding and comprehension.
Armageddon averted, I went back in to my mental discussion of how it would be better to be able to lift heavy objects with your mind than to start fires with your mind for a few minutes. BagelWorld was incredibly slow. I mean that, entire empires had risen and fallen in the time I stood in that line. I actually had to take a step back because there was a birth in the line ahead of me, but then there was a death, so we got to move forward a space again. Pretty soon we will have turned over into a new generation by the time I got my mediocre bagels.
Finally I got within site of the counter. The Doodguys had placed their order, and were congregating around a female who had separated from her pack. She was doomed. Soon she will have been cracked over the skull with a club and drug back to a cave, all the while sweet croons of "DOODGUY" will alert her to the immanent fate that awaits her.
DOODGUY that cut the woman and I placed his order, and it happened to be an iced coffee. This some how impressed the other walking cauliflower brains.
"Whoa, you drink iced coffee? I can't drink that, it gives me the shakes" Apparently the cutter is now a badass.
"Yeah, I gotta have it" is his reply.
How does he take his iced coffee? You are dying to ask me I can tell.
Extra Extra Cream, Extra Extra Sugar. He gets his iced coffee and there is, no lie, about 1.5 inches of sugar on the bottom with a whole container of white cream on top of it. This little pompous shit just likes coffee milk. You "gotta have it?!" FUCK YOU.
I HAVE to have it, or else I will start killing people.
He gathers up his order, and joins his friends out in the parking lot where a newly acquired, semi-conscious, clubbed, dragged by her hair female is in tow. I thought about helping her, but then I realized it was nature, and as an Eagle Scout, one does not interfere with nature.
Finally I got up, ordered my iced coffee with milk only, an onion bagel, and then I was on my way. Unfortunately I needed a cane to walk because I was so old, and my car had rusted away because I was in there for so long. That's OK, luckily i was able to take hover bus home because I was now a senior citizen.
"This isn't Soviet Russia; you don't need to sit and wait in the breadline, Babushka!" I said to Tim when he got back. Apparently, BagelWorld is THE place to be in Reading. You'd think there was fantastic bagels there. True, they are good, but good enough to warrant being in line for 1 hour!
As we munched on our bagels, we silently vowed that we would pass BagelWorld up for Dunkin Donuts. This is saying a lot, we typically try and support the local business man every single time. We will happily pay 20 cents more for everything if we know that the money helps out the local economy.
Listening to one of my favorite radio programs "Polka Time!" on Sunday (one of my previous posts) the man that puts on the show always says:
I hope you are enjoying Polka Time! Once again it is brought to you this week by our great family of sponsors: Tire World and Bagel World! If you go there, let 'em know that you heard it here on Polka Time!
Well, anything to help my Polka Time buddy! Bob Litwin and his wife Judy Litwin, the Polka Queen!
So one morning after the gym, I decided I would give BagelWorld another change, and I decided to go. In and out. No one there at 7am on a Thursday morning. So far so good.
Saturday morning, 9:30 am is completely a different story. I pulled in, and there was no place to park, the drive thru was packed, and there was a goddamn line out the damn door! I love Polka, but I love coffee more, so I went to Dunkin Donuts.
For some reason, this morning I decided that I would be a glutton for punishment. I went to bagel world at 11am, on a Sunday morning. The line was mega long, but luckily I am lazy, and once I stood in line, I didn't want to go anywhere.
Ahead of me in line is a woman in her mid 30's, a there was a very large congregation of young (18 - 19 year olds) of Doodguys. Everyone knows a doodguy when they see one. Always wearing some athletic material, they drag their knuckles when they walk, talk about some of their sexual conquests the night before, scratch themselves then touch everything, and finish every sentence with "DOOOOODGUY!". They are boreder line meat heads, excepting the fact that they say "DOOODGUY!" at the end of every sentence.
So as I'm standing there in a Mental Fog (No coffee yet) a doodguy and his skank stand behind me. Instantly there is a calling of "DOOOOOOOOOOOOODGUY!!!" from his friends standing in font of me and the lady.
I am not one to confront. Seriously, I'll tough out any situation, and just wait for it to be over. I was suffering being a sexy man sandwiched between these Dumbass DOODGUY's as the bread.
As I sit there staring off into space thinking of how cool it would be if I could lift cars with my mind, I feel DOODguy and his slut edge past me to join the Dongle of Dumb ahead of me.
Instantly I felt rage. How dare you cut me! INSOLENT BASTARD!! I was not the only one who was pissed! The women (remember her, scroll up and see when I mentioned her) that was ahead of me turned brilliant red; the sky's darkened, snakes burst from her skull dripping venom, her very body became immolated with rage and fire, and she was about to destroy the mindless mouth breather who just cut us in line when I leaned over to her and said "I'm actually happy he cut us, that way we won't have DOOOODGUY!!! being shouted behind as well as in front of us.
This calmed her down to the point where hell closed up, sorry that it had not been unleashed, and she shot me a smile of understanding and comprehension.
Armageddon averted, I went back in to my mental discussion of how it would be better to be able to lift heavy objects with your mind than to start fires with your mind for a few minutes. BagelWorld was incredibly slow. I mean that, entire empires had risen and fallen in the time I stood in that line. I actually had to take a step back because there was a birth in the line ahead of me, but then there was a death, so we got to move forward a space again. Pretty soon we will have turned over into a new generation by the time I got my mediocre bagels.
Finally I got within site of the counter. The Doodguys had placed their order, and were congregating around a female who had separated from her pack. She was doomed. Soon she will have been cracked over the skull with a club and drug back to a cave, all the while sweet croons of "DOODGUY" will alert her to the immanent fate that awaits her.
DOODGUY that cut the woman and I placed his order, and it happened to be an iced coffee. This some how impressed the other walking cauliflower brains.
"Whoa, you drink iced coffee? I can't drink that, it gives me the shakes" Apparently the cutter is now a badass.
"Yeah, I gotta have it" is his reply.
How does he take his iced coffee? You are dying to ask me I can tell.
Extra Extra Cream, Extra Extra Sugar. He gets his iced coffee and there is, no lie, about 1.5 inches of sugar on the bottom with a whole container of white cream on top of it. This little pompous shit just likes coffee milk. You "gotta have it?!" FUCK YOU.
I HAVE to have it, or else I will start killing people.
He gathers up his order, and joins his friends out in the parking lot where a newly acquired, semi-conscious, clubbed, dragged by her hair female is in tow. I thought about helping her, but then I realized it was nature, and as an Eagle Scout, one does not interfere with nature.
Finally I got up, ordered my iced coffee with milk only, an onion bagel, and then I was on my way. Unfortunately I needed a cane to walk because I was so old, and my car had rusted away because I was in there for so long. That's OK, luckily i was able to take hover bus home because I was now a senior citizen.
It Begins.
Picture this: it is now October, 2008 Sunday morning, around 11am. I'm doing my typical "I'm gonna bake a cake!" when for some reason I was reminded of when I was a boyscout collecting dead Christmas trees in February as part of a fund raiser.
People would pay $5 to have their old Christmas tree taken from their lawn ($1 for wreaths!) and disposed of so they wouldn't have too. I had stopped by this old lady's house, she was probably in her 70's, and she opened the door and ordered me inside because it was so cold out (in retrospect, this was a bad idea. This is how you wind up in a chest freezer, or as a lamp shade of skin. But she was an old woman, and I was a spry, chubby 13 year old. I had my bets that I could take her).
I heard in her kitchen some lively, jaunty music playing. Tubas and Trombones and an Accordions Oh My!! She came back, handed me a ten and said keep the change (What a nice lady!) and I asked her what that music was. "Oh that? That's Polka! I luvadaPolka!" and she did a quick skip-hop dance in front of me. I loved it! I said thank you and I left. This woman, this saintly, generous woman, had instilled in me a lasting love of fine Norwegian dance music that should only be described as "deeply disturbing".
Polka. It's fun, and you can actually dance to it. This is true white guy music! To dance to it, all you do is hop from one foot to the other! Sometimes you hop in a circle! No rhythm, or style, just hopping!
So back to October, I'm baking a cake, and I'm remembering this old woman in her kitchen, and I think "I wonder if Reading has any polka stations?" So I turn on the Wave Radio (I love that thing!) flip the dial over to the AM stations, and I listen for the familiar diddy of Tubas and Trombones and Squeeze boxes all chiming together with some (obviously) white guy singing (usually badly) about his love of beer, or women, or sausages. Sometimes all three at once.
1020 - "Praise be to JESUS!!!" - Good bye
1030 - WBZ Accuweather forcast of the boston area... - Fuck off, I can look outside.
1230 - "Hastabliando Caliente!!!!" - No Megusto
1390 - Berusnakov Doshvedonya ... - The cold war is over, no need to broadcast missile plans on AM frequency anymore.
God damn it... nothing. All forgien languages and bible thumpers. Oh well. For some reason, I figured "Go through each frequency, one at a time". So I did. What the hell, I had 30 minutes whilst the cake baked.
1210 - nothing
1220 - nothing
1230 - You're listening to 1230 on your AM dial, POLKA TIME!!!!
No. Fucking. WAY!!!!!!
I think I had just evacuated in my pants from the sheer excitement. Polka Time! READING! This little piss ant town of Reading, has POLKA TIME!!!!!! AWESOME!!!!
"TIM, GET IN HERE! ENJOY THIS WITH ME!!!" I bellowed.
Tim can running, heard it was polka, then turned around and said "Whatever" - He woke up from the coma 2 weeks later, luckily with no real lasting damage.
So now I can hear some old fat white guy every Sunday morning from the hours of 11am to 1pm play such classics as "My heart of Polka" or "My Beer Queen" or "I Love You Almost as Much as Polka!". How can you not love this?!
Even as I type this, I'm listening to the diddy about the Squeeze Box being broken (gasp)!
Praise be to God, Maker of Beer and Polka, Ruler of the music of Polka, give us this day our Daily
Sausage, and forgive us our Dance, techno, and pop, and lead us not into temptation of good music, for thine is the Kingdom of Polish American Halls, The Power of Tuba, and the Glory of Polka Forever, Amen.
People would pay $5 to have their old Christmas tree taken from their lawn ($1 for wreaths!) and disposed of so they wouldn't have too. I had stopped by this old lady's house, she was probably in her 70's, and she opened the door and ordered me inside because it was so cold out (in retrospect, this was a bad idea. This is how you wind up in a chest freezer, or as a lamp shade of skin. But she was an old woman, and I was a spry, chubby 13 year old. I had my bets that I could take her).
I heard in her kitchen some lively, jaunty music playing. Tubas and Trombones and an Accordions Oh My!! She came back, handed me a ten and said keep the change (What a nice lady!) and I asked her what that music was. "Oh that? That's Polka! I luvadaPolka!" and she did a quick skip-hop dance in front of me. I loved it! I said thank you and I left. This woman, this saintly, generous woman, had instilled in me a lasting love of fine Norwegian dance music that should only be described as "deeply disturbing".
Polka. It's fun, and you can actually dance to it. This is true white guy music! To dance to it, all you do is hop from one foot to the other! Sometimes you hop in a circle! No rhythm, or style, just hopping!
So back to October, I'm baking a cake, and I'm remembering this old woman in her kitchen, and I think "I wonder if Reading has any polka stations?" So I turn on the Wave Radio (I love that thing!) flip the dial over to the AM stations, and I listen for the familiar diddy of Tubas and Trombones and Squeeze boxes all chiming together with some (obviously) white guy singing (usually badly) about his love of beer, or women, or sausages. Sometimes all three at once.
1020 - "Praise be to JESUS!!!" - Good bye
1030 - WBZ Accuweather forcast of the boston area... - Fuck off, I can look outside.
1230 - "Hastabliando Caliente!!!!" - No Megusto
1390 - Berusnakov Doshvedonya ... - The cold war is over, no need to broadcast missile plans on AM frequency anymore.
God damn it... nothing. All forgien languages and bible thumpers. Oh well. For some reason, I figured "Go through each frequency, one at a time". So I did. What the hell, I had 30 minutes whilst the cake baked.
1210 - nothing
1220 - nothing
1230 - You're listening to 1230 on your AM dial, POLKA TIME!!!!
No. Fucking. WAY!!!!!!
I think I had just evacuated in my pants from the sheer excitement. Polka Time! READING! This little piss ant town of Reading, has POLKA TIME!!!!!! AWESOME!!!!
"TIM, GET IN HERE! ENJOY THIS WITH ME!!!" I bellowed.
Tim can running, heard it was polka, then turned around and said "Whatever" - He woke up from the coma 2 weeks later, luckily with no real lasting damage.
So now I can hear some old fat white guy every Sunday morning from the hours of 11am to 1pm play such classics as "My heart of Polka" or "My Beer Queen" or "I Love You Almost as Much as Polka!". How can you not love this?!
Even as I type this, I'm listening to the diddy about the Squeeze Box being broken (gasp)!
Praise be to God, Maker of Beer and Polka, Ruler of the music of Polka, give us this day our Daily
Sausage, and forgive us our Dance, techno, and pop, and lead us not into temptation of good music, for thine is the Kingdom of Polish American Halls, The Power of Tuba, and the Glory of Polka Forever, Amen.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Best of Times / Worst of Times
Last night we had a "going away" party for some of my coworkers in the office conference room. Pretty nice, there was sushi and well wishes. Also there was alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. We had a good time looking up music videos and singing along to them. They were projected up on big screen. The conference room has a bitchin' sound system and a pretty cool multimedia center.
Needless to say, I imbibed a bit too much, stumbled onto the train (thankfully the right one!) and got off at Reading! I've missed my stop before and had to call Tim to come and save me. As I was walking the 40 yards from the train to my apartment, I got that good 'ol "your stomach and your brain are in battle. This will not be pretty, find somewhere to duck and cover" feeling come on. It was pretty sudden too.
Normally, I'd run off to the side or hide behind a dumpster like a foreigner evading INS when I get this feeling, but there was no place to go! A wave of panic and anxiety swept over me... I have to vom, and I know I won't make it the 30 feet to my place so look for a trashcan, the back of a car, anything!
I began looking, desperately trying to find a place to hide my shame, to no avail! Usually there are cars and trashcans on my street, but at 11:30pm, there was nothing! Not even a small wall where I could hurl my guts.
I saw my neighbors covered porch, and I thought "That's a pretty good place to do it! Out of the way... no one would see me!!" - Thank god a small part of my brains said "You fool! I think you can get arrested for that! I'm not too sure right now, but that seems like a bad idea!"
Well, at this point, I was out of options, because the war of Angels and Demons was taking place in middle of my digestive track, and I'd rather it come up and out than down and out.
I bent over, one leg on my neighbors lawn, one leg on the sidewalk, and released a powerful evil. It came out in two strangely solid splats. To be honest, it looked like some crazy chef decided to kneed orangey-pink pizza dough and sushi together.
I would have marvelled at my creation; hell I probably would have taken it up and tried to cook it in a tandoori but at that moment my conscience was fading fast, and in it's death throws it said "get inside before they see you!" -Who "they" are I have no idea, but I know it to be a good idea to get inside.
I made it inside, said hello to Tim, and then showered and went to bed.
This morning, 7am came real quick. I crawled out of bed, gathered up some clothes (can you believe this... I actually folded my clothes and put them away!) from my drawers, and step out to get dressed. I really felt ok, and I was happy thinking I'd escaped a hang over.
I drank some coffee, brushed my teeth, got dressed and ready to go. As soon as I stepped out the door, the good Lord in Heaven thought it would be funny to make the sky incredibly bright (even though it was overcast) and every noise sound like a herd of buffalo was tramping on the street. The train was so loud it hurt. I almost wept.
I got to work, and by that time I'd gotten over most of the awful feelings, and the inexplicable rage I felt at humanity every time someone would bump into me. I walked like a Zombie when I changed over at North Station, and I was still pretty stiff legged by the time I'd gotten to work. I'm better now, but I feel like my head is in a fog.
Note to self: keep the drinking down at work. You really shouldn't do that more than once, maybe twice Ever but now you are at twice in one year (previous time was congratulating my boss on being cancer free for a year). Shameful!
Needless to say, I imbibed a bit too much, stumbled onto the train (thankfully the right one!) and got off at Reading! I've missed my stop before and had to call Tim to come and save me. As I was walking the 40 yards from the train to my apartment, I got that good 'ol "your stomach and your brain are in battle. This will not be pretty, find somewhere to duck and cover" feeling come on. It was pretty sudden too.
Normally, I'd run off to the side or hide behind a dumpster like a foreigner evading INS when I get this feeling, but there was no place to go! A wave of panic and anxiety swept over me... I have to vom, and I know I won't make it the 30 feet to my place so look for a trashcan, the back of a car, anything!
I began looking, desperately trying to find a place to hide my shame, to no avail! Usually there are cars and trashcans on my street, but at 11:30pm, there was nothing! Not even a small wall where I could hurl my guts.
I saw my neighbors covered porch, and I thought "That's a pretty good place to do it! Out of the way... no one would see me!!" - Thank god a small part of my brains said "You fool! I think you can get arrested for that! I'm not too sure right now, but that seems like a bad idea!"
Well, at this point, I was out of options, because the war of Angels and Demons was taking place in middle of my digestive track, and I'd rather it come up and out than down and out.
I bent over, one leg on my neighbors lawn, one leg on the sidewalk, and released a powerful evil. It came out in two strangely solid splats. To be honest, it looked like some crazy chef decided to kneed orangey-pink pizza dough and sushi together.
I would have marvelled at my creation; hell I probably would have taken it up and tried to cook it in a tandoori but at that moment my conscience was fading fast, and in it's death throws it said "get inside before they see you!" -Who "they" are I have no idea, but I know it to be a good idea to get inside.
I made it inside, said hello to Tim, and then showered and went to bed.
This morning, 7am came real quick. I crawled out of bed, gathered up some clothes (can you believe this... I actually folded my clothes and put them away!) from my drawers, and step out to get dressed. I really felt ok, and I was happy thinking I'd escaped a hang over.
I drank some coffee, brushed my teeth, got dressed and ready to go. As soon as I stepped out the door, the good Lord in Heaven thought it would be funny to make the sky incredibly bright (even though it was overcast) and every noise sound like a herd of buffalo was tramping on the street. The train was so loud it hurt. I almost wept.
I got to work, and by that time I'd gotten over most of the awful feelings, and the inexplicable rage I felt at humanity every time someone would bump into me. I walked like a Zombie when I changed over at North Station, and I was still pretty stiff legged by the time I'd gotten to work. I'm better now, but I feel like my head is in a fog.
Note to self: keep the drinking down at work. You really shouldn't do that more than once, maybe twice Ever but now you are at twice in one year (previous time was congratulating my boss on being cancer free for a year). Shameful!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
NNNNGGAAHHH!!! Guy Part 2
Haha, so today, NNNNGGAAAHHHh!!! Guy (from a previous post) was showering and debating when the days start getting longer and shorter. He was saying that 3 weeks before and following June 21st were the longest of the year. Another man (we'll call him naked guy 2) in the shower area was stating that no, in fact June 21st is the summer solstice and is the longest day of the year. The weeks prior to the 21st are getting longer, and the weeks after start getting shorter.
I wanted to chime in and side with naked guy 2, but I didn't feel like arguing time and date with two men wearing their birthday suit best and me in a towel. There are times when it is just ok to let people be.
I wanted to chime in and side with naked guy 2, but I didn't feel like arguing time and date with two men wearing their birthday suit best and me in a towel. There are times when it is just ok to let people be.
So I decide to let these men argue about the details of the Earth's tilt and when we are closest to the sun (which is in June BTW). I towel off, and go get dressed in the changing room. NNNNGGGAH!! guy and Naked guy 2 continue their discussion on out into the changing room. They talk for several minutes about the sun and how it is awesome: the giver of all life and tanner of all skin.
Pretty soon, another man (now he shall be called Naked guy 3... incidentally I didn't mind him talking and chatting in the buff, he was a looker) started talking about how the sun tans the skin. I didn't really pay attention to what he was saying, but I was paying attention to the general situation: Here are three men, all standing within 5 feet of each other. NNNgggahh! is delousing his body with some acrid and sharp smelling powder (Maybe he's worried about bed bugs?) and he was paying special attention to where the sun doesn't shine. Naked guy 2 was just standing there, enjoying a healthy breeze about his privates, listening to a lecture from Naked guy 3 on how to get a good old fashioned "Puerto Rican" tan. I forgot to mention, Naked guy 3 has a deep tan, except a milky white area of his crotch that looks like he was wearing a speedo whilst tanning.
So I get all dressed up, and then I hear from NNNNGGaah! guy, "I don't have to worry about getting a good tan, I'm a stupid Guinea and have a wonderful tan all year round!"
So there you have it folks, your NNNNGGGaahh! guy moment of the week. Until next time, stay fresh my friends.
Friday, May 22, 2009
"What about now"
So, today is kind of a slow day at work. Not much going on, all the plates are scanned and counted, supplies are put away, and we are kind of just waiting for the end of the day. So as I'm sitting reading about how a soldier ran out of doors with just his pink boxers on and some flip flops to defend against the Taliban ( Here is the link to that story. Pretty funny http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2009/05/gates_defends_soldiers_pink_un.html ) when a message from the emergency systems at work started up.
"Please be advised the we will be testing the fire alarm systems. Please ignore all lights and sounds in your area"
Whatever. This means that our work station is turned into a Belgian techno-disco for a few minutes. Strobe lights flash and were it to be dark, I'd be up taking my shirt off dancing to some Britney Spears. Thankfully it is day time. And I'm at work so I wouldn't actually do that :).
The intercom system clicks on again after a few minutes, and we here a garbled word and then the smooth music of Daughtry, "What about now" playing. Someone left the mic on next to the radio.
The song ends, then we hear "Magic, 106.7!" Awesome. It would be good if they played something good, or as my co-worker Adam said "They should play some techno, so that it goes with the lights".
Eventually the music stops, and so do the lights. It was nice being in an adult contemporary disco for a few minutes. Certainly breaks up the day!
"Please be advised the we will be testing the fire alarm systems. Please ignore all lights and sounds in your area"
Whatever. This means that our work station is turned into a Belgian techno-disco for a few minutes. Strobe lights flash and were it to be dark, I'd be up taking my shirt off dancing to some Britney Spears. Thankfully it is day time. And I'm at work so I wouldn't actually do that :).
The intercom system clicks on again after a few minutes, and we here a garbled word and then the smooth music of Daughtry, "What about now" playing. Someone left the mic on next to the radio.
The song ends, then we hear "Magic, 106.7!" Awesome. It would be good if they played something good, or as my co-worker Adam said "They should play some techno, so that it goes with the lights".
Eventually the music stops, and so do the lights. It was nice being in an adult contemporary disco for a few minutes. Certainly breaks up the day!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
BBBVVVRRRip!
This morning I woke up, rolled over and gave Tim the nicest snuggle. He is so sweet and nice to me. I then got up, out of bed and started rummaging through my clothes pile (yes...pile. I am very lazy when it comes to folding clothes. I DON'T KNOW WHY!!! I am just dumb like that). I found my clothes, and Tim turns to me sleepily and says "Have a good day sweetie, love you!"
My response?
"BBBBBBBVVVVVVRRRRRIP!!!!" I lifted my leg and let out possibly the loudest fart I had ever done in my life. The damn windows rattled. Picture frames fell off the wall. Car alarms in the distance were set off. The neighbors probably thought a gas main had exploded (and in a way, one did!).
I was beaming with pride, and I had to contain my mirth because I didn't want to wake Tim any more than he was already awake. Which, considering how cacophonic and voluminous that anal expulsion was, he was probably not at all asleep.
He pulled the cover over his head (undoubtedly because he probably thought that the world was coming to an end) and said "Get out of the room" in might I add a very rude tone.
Here I had done something great, something so awesome that only occurs once, maybe twice a month, and he shuns me out of the room. The nerve.
I immediately ran to the radio and turned it on to see if they were reporting on any geologic movement because that fart would have definitely ticked the Richter scale off.
Nothing. Oh well, I'm off to go eat some onions and beans to see if I can mimic that awesomeness again.
My response?
"BBBBBBBVVVVVVRRRRRIP!!!!" I lifted my leg and let out possibly the loudest fart I had ever done in my life. The damn windows rattled. Picture frames fell off the wall. Car alarms in the distance were set off. The neighbors probably thought a gas main had exploded (and in a way, one did!).
I was beaming with pride, and I had to contain my mirth because I didn't want to wake Tim any more than he was already awake. Which, considering how cacophonic and voluminous that anal expulsion was, he was probably not at all asleep.
He pulled the cover over his head (undoubtedly because he probably thought that the world was coming to an end) and said "Get out of the room" in might I add a very rude tone.
Here I had done something great, something so awesome that only occurs once, maybe twice a month, and he shuns me out of the room. The nerve.
I immediately ran to the radio and turned it on to see if they were reporting on any geologic movement because that fart would have definitely ticked the Richter scale off.
Nothing. Oh well, I'm off to go eat some onions and beans to see if I can mimic that awesomeness again.
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