Woe Is Me

I know, I know, I haven't posted anything lately.
Sorry, sorrier, sorriest!
Does anyone else feel guilty if they don't post for awhile, or is it just me?

Working tomorrow which kind of sucks. They gave all the people with "families" off on Thanksgiving. It's only 6 hours (or so), but still! I gotta be there at 10 AM so ther'e wi'll be no sleeping in and watching the parade on TV which is one of my favorite things. I guess I could tape the parade, but it wouldn't be the same.

Doing my best not to get all depressed like I sometimes can get around the holidays.
I'm really good at keeping myself in a good mood, though, so I should be a'ight.

If I Could Turn Back Time

"Sherman, set the dial on the Wayback Machine to nineteen-seventy-something-or-other."
"Sure thing, Mr. Peabody!"

I "came of age" (as the old saying goes) in the mid-80s when AIDS loomed before us as a bitter reality and safe-sex was taught in my high school health class with the stern warning: sex can kill you!
Kind of depressing when you're a teenager and ready to do the "dirty deed", you know?

It must've been great coming of age in the 70s. No AIDS. No safe-sex. Condoms were something straight people used to prevent pregnancy! The most you had to worry about was Herpes Simplex (and possibly Herpes Not-So-Simplex) which was--what?--a cold sore or something. It certainly wasn't fatal! Anything else and a shot of pennicillin had you good to go, ready for further punishment.

I keep hearing all these stories about the 70s. About sex in back rooms of bars, bathhouses that were basically one big orgy, and so forth.
*sigh*
Not that I wanna go out and have an orgy or anything, but it was probably nice to know that you could "just to it" and the only thing you really had to worry about was that he wouldn't respect you in the morning.

Actually, it's best I came of age when I did.
I probably would've been a slut.

Things Are Going

As if I needed another reason to dread going to work, they gave us a new uniform shirt to wear at work and it's totally vugly!
(very + ugly = vugly)
It's this really bright aqua/turquoise hue that makes my complexion look like a batch of Bisquick batter!
Ugh!
I have to walk around waiting tables looking like a tube of toothpaste or a box of menthol cigarettes! Disgusting! Some color-blind person must've come up with this idea. I know I gotta change jobs now--they're forcing me to wear aqua!!!
There oughta be a law!

Everything else is going OK. I've been putting feelers out about new jobs, and looking at the help wanted ads. I was thinking about serving at a "fine dining" restaraunt. The only thing I'm worried about is I don't really know much about wines or wine service. It can't be that hard to learn, though, can it?

I haven't done anything for Christmas yet. I haven't bought cards, presents, decorations--anything! I still have a little time left. I just don't want to be rushing around at the last minute like I usually do.

The Worst Is Over

I'm feeling much better today. (Thank goodness!) I spent all last night sweating and woke up weak and soaking wet. I took a shower and drank some juice and now I'm feeling almost back to normal.
It's amazing how quickly it happened.
Wednesday afternoon my stomach was kind of gurgly, but I didn't think anything of it. I just figured I need to eat something and it would settle. So I got to work early to eat something and after my first few swallows I started feeling really nauseated. Right before I was due to punch in I knew I was going to be sick. I could feel the contents of my stomach start to rise. So I got sick in the restroom (and the worst part of that was I didn't have a toothbrush with me, so I couldn't brush my teeth afterwards--yuck!), washed my face, popped a mint in my mouth and came on the floor to wait tables.
Right after I came on the floor I started feeling really weak, I got a terrible headache, and I started to get feverish. Jessica came dashing across the floor towards me saying "Jimmy, what's wrong? You're all pasty-looking!" Before I could reply, I had to rush into the bathroom to get sick again.
They sent me home where I spent the entire night wishing I was dead.
No foolin'.
My head was pounding like something was banging on my skull with a mallet, my bones felt like they were made of frozen stone, anything I tried to eat or drink came right back up again.
I was miserable.
I spent all day yesterday in bed (except for the 15 minutes or so that I blogged) trying to recouperate.

As I said, I'm feeling almost back to normal. Maybe it was one of those "24 hour" viruses that I've been hearing about.

Who's That Guy?

Is Justin Timberlake a hottie, or what?

Forget 'NSYNC, his solo carreer, his breakup with Britney Spears, or the rumor that he's got some "sugar in his tank", the man is hot, OK?

Woof!
Break me off a peice of that!

Last Rites, Please

Oh, God, I'm SO sick!
I spent all day yesterday throwing up, and I'm achey, feverish and feel like death warmed over.
I'm taking some NyQuil and going to bed.

I'll try to blog soon unless I die before then.

Flamingos Forever

Interior of trailer, Edie is in her playpen still dressed in girdle and bra. Babs enters with the steaks.

Babs: (Looking toward cottons bedroom) Cotton! Dinner's on! (She rings a cowbell and yells out the window) Crackers, dinners ready!

Shot of Crackers, lying nude in his bed, surrounded by chicken corpses.

Back inside trailer, Babs is seated next to Edie's playpen.

Babs: Well, you're looking pretty chipper, Mama. How was that Eggman today?
Edie: Oh, Babs! He's gonna come to my party as my date, and Cotton bought me so many eggs today. Look at these! (She holds up bowl of eggs) So many little eggies and I'm still starvee and I'm gonna eat them all before I go to sleepee. (Laughs)

Enter Cotton in full skirt, black jeweled leotard top, and cowboy boots.

Cotton: Mmmm--smells delicious, Babs.
Babs: (Serving steak) Thank you, Cotton. It should, I warmed it up when I was downtown today in my own little oven.
Edie: Babs, where do eggs come from?
Babs: From little chickens, Mama. They lay them and we eat them.
Edie: But suppose someday there weren't any chickens. Would that mean there wouldn't be any eggs?
Babs:I don't think you have to worry about that, Mama.
Edie: But . . .but is it true, Babs? If there weren't any chickens, there wouldn't be any eggs? Is that true?
Babs: I suppose so, Mama, but there will always be chickens. You can be sure of that.
Edie:But suppose someday it happens. Suoppose someday there weren't any chickens. Oh, Babs! What could I possibly do? The eggman wouldn't have a job . . .what could I possibly do?
Babs: Now Mama, that's just egg paranoia. I think you're being very silly. There will always be chickens. Why, there are so many chickens now that we can eat some and let some live to supply us with eggs. Chickens are plentiful, Mama. The world will never be without chickens, you can be sure of that.

[It's been awhile since I saw John Waters' Pink Flamingos. A trip to the video rental store is due sometime soon, I think.]

What's Playin'?

I was at work yesterday, and on the sound-system they played Hall & Oates, then some Phil Collins song, and after that I was subjected to "Africa" by Toto.
Melissa (another server) saw the sour expression on my face and asked me what was wrong.

"I'm in Hell's waiting room."

"Huh?"

"OK," I replied, "Just for a minute imagine that Hell is real. A place where all the sinners go to be punished for all their dirty deeds. Once you've got that, imagine that before you actually get into Hell, you have to wait in Hell's waiting room. I'm sure there are lots of dammned souls and alot of paperwork to do for each one to make sure they go to the right place."

"I got it, I think." Melissa said.

"Well, in Hell's waiting room there aren't any magazines to look at, the chairs are probably as uncomforatble as Hell (pun intended) and everyone in Hell's waiting room hears the music that they despise the most. I just got a sample of what it must be like."

"I get it!" Melissa said. "If I ever get there, they'll be playing ABBA!"

"What the Hell Is Feng Shui?!"

That was the question running through my head yesterday as I was reading a magazine on how to make your website more attractive.
I've encountered that word several times lately and was completely clueless on what exactly it was.
It sounds like it should be on a menu at a Chinese restaraunt.
--"Uh, yeah, I'll have the Fing Shooey, an eggroll, and an order of shrimp toast, please. No MSG."
My Webster's dictionary was absoloutley no help at all, so I did a little research on the net and came up with this:

Feng Shui (pronounced--more or less--"fong shoy") means "wind, water" and traditionally symbolizes the space between heaven and earth - the environment where we live.
The underlying philosophy recognises that we and our environment are sustained by an invisible, yet tangible, energy called "chi". It moves like wind, but can eddy and become trapped like water and stagnate.
The skill of Feng Shui lies in recognising where chi is flowing freely, where it may be trapped and stagnant, or where it may be excessive. The work of an occupier is to create space for chi to flow and activate the opportunities that may be frustrated by obstacles.
These skills and work are applied together with a harmonious re-balancing of yin and yang, the dark and light of all situations. The principles may be applied geo-physically as well as superficially to placement, design and decoration. House and garden should work together relative to life, health, wealth and happiness. Every aspect of home, life, career and relationships is open to enhancement.
Feng Shui facilitates holistic development of the individual, his family or business by enhancing the immediate environment and it is natural that good fortune and increased energy should accompany proper implementation.
Recommendations for change and placement are based on nine traditional cures, adapted for modern western use, involving light, sound, life, movement, stability, electricity, symbolism, colour and transcendental solutions, all as required or appropriate.

Hmmm. Sounds like furniture arrangement for the soul--doesn't it?

You Are Unique--Just Like Everyone Else!

My friend Adrianna is biracial and she was telling me how people she meets are always asking her "What are you?" By that they mean "What race are you?"
How rude!
Like it's any of their business, right?
I asked her how she responds to that and she said "Well, it used to make me really angry, but now I don't let it get to me. I just tell them."

People are so poroccupied with putting labels on people that sometimes they fail to see people as individuals.
I try to be as color-blind as I can. Actually I try to be as gender-blind and age-blind as I can also.
It's not that I'm not trying to see things as they are. I'm just trying not to get all hung up on the labels: young, old, elderly, child, girl, man, black, white, asian--whatever.
Try it yourself someday.
It's one of the hardest things you'll ever do.

You're probably thinking I'm looking at the world through rose-colored glasses---and you'd be right.
The people who only see the negative (The "Eeyore" people) are very seldom happy or content.

If you look at the world through dung-colored glasses, what do you think the world looks like?
(Hint: Four letters, starts with "S", ends with "T", and it stinks.)

"Uh, You Think You Could Help Me Out Here?"

I rented The Fluffer last night.
A very good movie.

The only thing that I was bothered by is that--yet again--gay men are portrayed as people who are somehow messed-up mentally.
For once I would really love to see a movie with gay people who are masculine, not perpetual drug users or drunks, who are not promiscuous, who are not drag queens or hustlers, who don't have some kind of "mental problem", who are in a long-term relationship that's not dysfunctional in some way, or who don't have AIDS.

And a happy ending wouldn't hurt either.

But the movie did feature an appearance by my all-time favorite diva, so that definitelymade it Worth Seeing.

Update On The Conterfeit Money Crisis

(OK, OK, it wasn't a "crisis", but I needed a nifty title--deal with it!)
Marco took the counterfeit bill to Bank of America. They asked him where and when he got it, and to describe the person he got it from. He did and they said they would notify the Secret Service and they replaced his bill with a genuine $5 bill.
That was awfully nice of them, don't you think?
If I ever get slipped some "funny money", now I know what to do with it.

Ballin'

• Went out last night for the first time in about 2 weeks and had a ball.
  I went to the Hippo for Happy Hour and saw Bert (who tends bar at Leon's) and he bought me a shot of peppermint schnaaps.
  I played pool for a liitle while and I was terrible. I am so out of practice.
  

  After that I went over to Central Station.

• After that I went to Blockbuster and got The Broken Hearts Club. It was actually pretty good.
  I was kind of disappointed that Dennis (played by Timothy Olyphant) and Kevin didn't end up together at the end, but that's how life happens.

  Things don't always turn out happy.

• Got an application to the City Cafe, but I haven't filled it out yet. I know I'm off Monday, so I'll fill it out by then and turn it in.

If you interested in anagrams (a word or phrase formed by rearranging the letters of another word or phrase) check out The Internet Anagram Server. Type in anything and it will give you all the possible combinations of anagrams for whatever you type.
Pretty cool, huh?

Serendipity

• Well, I got my hair done. Cheryl did an excellent job. This wind kind of mussed it up a bit, but that's OK, I'll fix it up when I get home.

• At this very moment I'm at this new coffee shop called Serendipity on the 600 block of West Lexington street.
  I was heading home and I saw the sign "Internet Cafe--Grand Opening!" and I was compelled to come here.
  I'm currently munching on some pumpkin bread and drinking a large iced hazelnut coffee and staring out the window as I type, watching all the people walk by.
  I love these moments!

• I'm probably going to happy hour at the Central Station pub later, so I'll bop over to the City Cafe and pick up an application.
  

  No, I haven't forgotten.

Might As Well Face It

• I recently became aware that I am addicted to coffee. They say say admitting you have a problem is the first step, right?
  There was a time when I never drank coffee. I had never even heard of Juan Valdez and my Mr. Coffee was the lonliest appliance in the house. The blender saw more action than him. Once in awhile I'd use it to make hot water for tea, but that's about it.
  Now years later, I find myself brewing a pot almost every single morning. I realized I had a problem when I had a fit yesterday when I discovered I was out of creamer and I made a special trip to the store around the corner to buy milk.
  I guess it could be worse. I could be addicted to crack!
  

• I'm getting very dissatisfied with working at my restaraunt. I've been working there over 3 years and I think I need a change. When I start dreading going to work, there's a problem there.
  The thing of it is, I'm very good at what I do. I'm just getting so tired of it, you know?
  I really want a job at the City Cafe in Mount Vernon. So tomorrow, while I'm out and about running errands I'm gonna pop in there for a hazelnut coffee and pick up an application.
  No putting it off. No procrastination.
  I'm determined.
  

• Got an appointment to get my hair done tomorrow.
  YAY!
  That's my ultimate thing to do when I feel out of sorts: get my hair done. When I have a good hair-do, all may not be right with the world, but I feel much better.
  I say to myself "Well, things might not be going the way you'd like them, Jimmy, but at least your hair is under control!"

Talkin' Trash

As a rule, I don't litter. Trash along the street can make a city look downright ugly.

When I was in Montreal, Canada, the one thing that really struck me was how clean the streets were. There were no pop bottles, empty cigarette packs, candy wrappers (and so forth) lying around everywhere.

Baltimore is so trashy. Before you blame the citizens of this fair city, let me tell you what happened to me just yesterday. I was walking past the One Stop Shop on Howard street and I decided to pop in there to get a Starbucks Vanilla Frappaccino, and I'm just walking downtown drinking it and when I'm done I look for a trash can to throw the empty bottle in. No can. So I decide to carry it along until I came to a trash can. I carried this bottle around for eight blocks until I found a can, which was almost overflowing with garbage. No trash can in eight blocks! It's a shame. Anyone else would have left that bottle by the curb or sat it on a newspaper machine or something. I was tempted to do the same thing myself.

There once was a billboard at the corner of Charles and Pratt streets that said "Did you make Baltimore dirty today?" Well, with the lack of garbage recepticles--how can we help it?
(Baltimore makes me dirty every single day--but that's another story entirely.)

Funny Money

Marco, a server in my restaraunt, showed me a tip he got from his last table, a 5 dollar bill. He was thinking he was going to get stiffed--servers have a sixth sense about these things.
"It's counterfeit", I told him.
"WHAT!?! Are you sure? How can you tell?" he asked.
"Well, even from a distance it doesn't look right to me. Can I see it?"
He hands it to me. I feel it and hand it back. "Feel it. It's paper."
"So?"
"US currency is 75% cotton, 25% linen--it's not really paper--it's cloth. They used to make money from old clothing. That's why you can leave money in a pocket when you do your laundry and it's not destroyed. Look at your bill closer. The US Treasury seal should be bright green, but on your bill it's the same color as the rest of the printing. US currency also has tiny red and blue threads in it. It's mixed in with the fabric in it's pulpy state before the money is rolled, pressed, and dried. Now hold it up to the light."
Marco held it up and looked.
"The new US currency has a tiny strip imbedded in it with the denomination of the bill on the left side running up and down. Look at this five." I said, handing him a bill from my apron. "You can see the strip right there. It says 'five' over and over."
By this point Marco is looking at me like the money guru.
"How do you know all that?" he asked.
"When I worked at Nordstrom I attended a seminar on how to detect counterfeit money. It's never come in handy until now. Of course, if you don't believe me, take it to the register and mark it with the pen that's there. If the mark is light tan, it's the real thing. If it's black, it's as phoney as a brass transistor."
He takes it to the register and comes back a minute later.
"You were right!" he said, putting the bill in his apron pocket.
"I'm gonna call the FBI!"

Really?

Several people I know, when I tell them something they say to me "Really?" and it's really starting to annoy me.
It's not like I'm making up outlandish stories.
As a matter of fact, everything I say is (more or less) true.
It's not like I'm telling people I saw an elephant walking down Baltimore Street, or that I'm actually 300 years old and I keep my youthful appearance by bathing in the blood of young virgins, or something.
If I told stories like that, I could see people questioning it.
For example, at work yesterday I told a server about the mouse I saw and she said "Really?" and my first instinct was to tell her
"No. Not really. I lied. Everything I ever utter is a total lie. Including what I just said."
Is it because they don't know what to say, or how to respond that they ask "Really?"
I need to come up with something to say to these people when they say that to me that's signifies my annoyance without making me sound like a total prick.
It's getting on my nerves.
Really.

There's A Mouse In The House!

(Sounds like a book by Dr. Seuss, doesn't it?)
I thought that little rodent did the smart thing and left, but the little grey mouse I saw a little while ago I saw again just last night!
Of course, you realize, this means war!
It's times like this I wish I still had my cat, Miss Thing. I used to have an apartment on Charles Street right above Buddies Pub and Jazz Club and Buddies had a terrible mouse problem, and since I lived right above, so did I.
Miss Thing to the rescue!
She would go hunting for mice all the time and bring me the lifeless bodies of all the mice she'd kill--sometimes 2 or 3 a day. I don't know if she killed them all, they found a way to avoid her, or they left to find a safer enviornment, but after 2 or 3 months, she stopped bringing them and I never saw another mouse the rest of the time I was there.
Now I have to go out and buy traps. I'm getting the SNAP! kind this time.
I wonder what you bait them with. Cheese? Peanut Butter?
I need to do some research on this.
I'll let you know how it goes.

This Blog Has Absoloutely Nothing To Do With Wonder Bread

I recieve alot of "junk mail" in my email inbox. Most of it is spam and advertisements for porn sites. I don't know where they get my email address, but the number of junk mail increases geometrically every singe day.
It isn't often I recieve strange mail, however. So it was a little bizarre when I found this in my inbox this morning:

From: mclacie@xxxxxx.com
To: wonderboy@writeme.com
Cc:
Subject: Rye, pumpernickel, and whole wheat
Date: Mon, 4 Nov 2002 08:28:58 EST

Dear Sir:
I love all your fine products but maybe you should think about having rye pumernickel or whole wheat varieties. Just a suggestion.
Sincerely,
Marion

This HAS to be a joke of some kind!

Dancing Fool

Ever since I went out dancing a little while ago I've been itching to get out on the dance floor.
I've said it before, and it's perfectly true: I can't dance my way out of a wet paper bag.
If you want a general idea of how I dance, picture a marionette controlled by a mad puppeteer.
Can't picture it yet? All right, think of how Snoopy dances when Schroeder plays the Peanuts theme during A Charlie Brown Christmas. That's me.
Still at sea? OK, it's like equal parts Flashdance and vogueing, with a little Jane Fonda Workout thrown in to make things interesting.
I'm all over the place, spinning around, hopping, and probably looking like I'm having some kind of fit.
But if you could be there to see my face, you'd notice the big grin from ear to ear and you'd realize I'm having the time of my life.
That's what matters most anyway, right?

Haven't had much time lately for a serious BlogFest. (It's my word. The copyright is Coming Soon.)
Sometimes life just catches up with you, you know?

Sometimes Things Go Crazy!

I believe in a higher power, I do, I do, I do!
Just when you think everything is normal (and maybe even slightly boring) and you're walking along living your life almost effortlessly without even thinking about it, that's when The Great Equalizer sends something along to shake things up a bit, just as a reminder: Things can change Without Warning.

OK, here's the story (morning glory):

Wednesday:

I worked and after work (which went fine) Sam (a server at my restaurant) offered to give me a ride home. I was in a rush to get outta there because Sam was ready to leave. I dashed to my locker and grabbed by jacket and backpack and then Zoom! we were on our way. Sam didn't know about driving downtown so I was the navigator. Sam didn't hear me when I said to make a right and we were headed left and I said "No! We need to go right! Right!" so we swerve to the other lane where we needed to be and there was a cop behind us.
The cop thought Sam had been drinking and was asking all kinds of questions: Where were we coming from, where were we going, why were you driving so crazy, and so forth. After explaing it at least 3 times, eventually he let us go.
Sam let's me out at the front gate in front of my building and I use my code to get in, and I wave goodbye to Sam as the car drives away and I get to my front door and then I suddenly realize with a sense of utter dread that put icicles in my stomach and made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, that I left my house keys in my locker!
"F*** a duck!" I exclaimed in frustration.
So I'm wondering what to do. The retaraunt was closed at that point, no way to get my keys until they opened the next day. I decided to knock on Thomas' door to ask to use his phone. He's my upstairs nighbor.
I really hated to do it. It was nearly midnight, much too late for uninvited guests. We've had maybe two dozen conversations and I think I was at his apartment once in the year and a half I've been living at my building.*sigh*
I knocked on Thomas' door, explained what happened and he said I could crash on his sofa.
I was way grateful. He suggested a "key exchange" so in case this happens again to either one of us, we wouldn't get locked out. A really good idea! I told him I'd think about it.

Thursday: Halloween

So the next day I get up, thank Thomas again, and head to work. I had to be there by 12PM anyway so I just stayed there. No sense in going home just to turn around and go back to work anyway. Work was so slow they let me go home early. I was a little tired, but I decided to go out anyway. I went to the Allegro and it was really fun. I had a ball! I was just sitting there, drinking my cocktail, when I felt these hairy monkey paws grab me from behind and I'm thinking "Who in the hell is this!", but it turned out to be Jason dressed as a gorilla!
That man is sexy even in an ape suit!
Shawn was there dressed as Sir Elton. Anyone can be Elton John with a gaudy and funky pair of sunglasses.
There was also alot of tacky drag! Why is it on Halloween every other queen decides to put on a dress?

Today:

Not a bit hung over, even though I drank a little more than usual.
It's Friday, so you just know I'm working.
That's OK. My next day off is Monday --only 3 days away.
I can dig it.