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Life is only what you wonder.

Friday, December 30, 2005

What Have We Learned?

The year is coming to a close, and now it's time to look back and see what this year has taught us.
It's not the time for making resoloutions or promises to ourselves that we just can't keep. Life is about experiences, and everything we do (or don't do) teaches us something -- whether we want it to, or not.

In this year I've learned . . .

. . .to watch what comes out of my mouth, although I will probably slip up again somewhere, somehow.
. . .people are evil. Well, not everyone, but there are alot of them.
. . . to cherish the people I love while they're still here.
. . . sleep deprivation is nothing to fool around with.
. . . everything would go much smoother if people would just let me do my job!
. . . Red Bull, for me, is just not a good idea.
. . . sometimes life can be like a scene from a movie.
. . . there are still some things I haven't done! Amazing!
. . . Rico looks exactly like Triumph, the insult comedy dog.
. . . the streets aren't safe so watch your back!
. . . breaking up is hard to do.
. . . Jury Duty blows.
. . . I would make a damn fine Super-Hero.
. . . Big Brother is here.
. . . Alternate Universes really do exist.
And I know I have yet to learn even more.

P.S. Just in case I don't get a chance to post before the new year, have a good one!

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Possibly One Of The Best Gay Elf Porn Stories I Have Ever Read

Of course, it's the only gay elf porn story I ever read, but it's still worth checking out.

Gumdrop Mountain: Part 1, Part 2,and Part 3.

To be continued? I certainly hope so!

Monday, December 26, 2005

Something Happens

It happens every year.
Every year I bitch and grumble and "Hmmph!" and "Bah, humbug!" my way through the month of December like Ebenezer Scrooge with PMS.
"I HATE Christmas!" I say, "I hate Christmas tunes!"
"I hate packages, trees and Christmas baloons!"
(Oops! Going all Dr. Seuss again. Sorry about that!)

Anyway, you know what I mean.
I go from Thanksgiving foreward with nothing good to say about Christmas.
Then, around the 24th, something happens. Something magical.
No, I don't get visited by Jacob Marley and the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future.
But somehow or other (I can't quite explain it) I suddenly get the Christmas Spirit.
It's a wonderful feeling.

Then, while sipping (100 Proof) eggnog with the husband last night, Christmas lights and music all around us, I realized that it's not Christmas itself that I despise so much.
It's all the other stuff: the long lines and the crowds in stores, the indecision and angst that comes from not knowing what to buy people, all the money that's spent makes me worry about the bills that are coming next month, and the hassle of decking the halls (and then having to undeck them afterward).

I don't hate Christmas at all.
I actually believe in the whole "Peace on Earth, Goodwill to men" concept. I want everyone to get along and be friendly to one another and embrace the joy of giving -- even if it's just for one day.

And there's nothing like the smile of joy on my little nephew's face when he opens his presents and Santa Claus brought him everything he asked for.

And Santa Claus was good to me, too. No lump of coal for me this year!
I guess I was a good boy after all.

Saturday, December 24, 2005

Ho Ho HO!

Merry Christmas!

I hope Santa brings you a big surprise!

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Slay Bells

See that glazed expression on my face? That wide-open deer-in-the-headlights look?
That comes from listening to Christmas Carols all day at work, every day since three days before Thanksgiving. And I have to put up with them until after New year's.
Pray for me.

This is why Christmas music is absoloutely forbidden in my house.
Play whatever you like: NWA, Willie Nelson, Sex Pistols, Beethoven or anything else and I'm fine with that. Stick some Yoko Ono in the CD player if that's your cup of tea. Put on anything Christmas-y and watch me transmogrify into a hideous ogre right before your very eyes.

You'd think that they'd give us a break and put something else on once in awhile, but no.
I've heard "Jingle Bells" by Barbra Striesand, Diana Ross, John Denver and those damn barking dogs.
I've heard "Winter Wonderland" by Annie Lennox, Garth Brooks, Lee Ann Womack, Amy Grant, Jewel and Clay Aiken. I've heard "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" by The Jackson 5, Barenaked Ladies, Billy Gilman, and Harry Connick, Jr.
Suffice it to say I've heard every fuggin' version of every fuggin' Christmas Carol by every fuggin' artist since the dawn of time, OK?

And I swear, I swear if I hear "Felis Nativdad" one more time I am going to snap!

People don't actually do that, though, do they? Snap, I mean. I think that only happens in movies.
Like in the movies someone goes through something traumatic and they "snap" and suddenly go all psychotic. (Jason Voorhees sees his mother brutally murdered and "snaps" and goes on a killing spree, like in Friday the 13th, for instance.)
I can see someone going through something horrible and their mind shutting down (catatonia) but I don't think people actually snap like in the movies.

At least I hope not.

I can picture it now.
I'm waiting tables and everything is fine. It's a perfectly normal day. Then "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" comes on for the one-hundreth time and my eyes start buggin' out. Drool starts coming out my mouth.
I get a crazy evil grin on my face, like Private Pyle in that crucial scene halfway through Full Metal Jacket. ("I am . . . in a world . . . of shit!").
I start slowly walking toward the kitchen area. Everyone is wondering what's up with me because I walking so stiffly and I'm all mute and starey-eyed.
I grab the super-sharp and extra-big chef knife from the knife block.
Then "Jingle Bells" comes on for the the five-hundreth time and I snap!
"Jingle bells!" I screech as I start swinging the blade.
"Jingle bells!"
"Jingle jingle jingle all the way!" I cackle as I hack away, blood flying everywhere, spittle flying from my mouth.
Oh, it's just too gruesome to contemplate.

By the way, have you ever wondered why every artist in the world does a Christmas album, but Hip-Hop artists don't? Kenny Rogers, Hanson, Mariah Carey, Jessica Simpson, almost anyone you can think of has a Christmas album, or has done at least one Christmas song, but not any rap or Hip-Hop people.
What's up with that?
Where's "A Snoop Dogg Christmas"? Where's my "Chris'mas N' Da Hood'?

Can you just imagine a hip-hop Christmas song though?
(Smokin' dat blunt on Chris'mas eve, etc.)
Hey, I would probably buy it anyway, just because it was different.

Monday, December 19, 2005

Christmas Comes Early For Rico

We got Rico some new outfits for Christmas, and I just couldn't wait to dress him up in one of them.
Here you see Rico modeling a sporty denim vest, paired with a goose-grey and canary hoodie.
Rico is by far the most stylish hound on the block.
Sometime after Christmas I'll be posting photos of him in his new turtleneck sweater and track suits.

As for me, I've barely scratched the surface when it comes to buying presents.
It's terrible when you go into a store and buy one present for someone else, and three things for yourself!
It'll get done, though.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Molly Ringworm? Never Heard Of Her!

As Wonder Boy, one of my amazing powers is the ability to peer into alternate universes.
Only sporadically mind you, and always when I least expect it, but I possess that power.

Just in case you aren't aware, there are an infinite number of universes, and in them, anything that could possibly happen, did actually in fact happen. And conversely, anything that didn't (couldn't, shouldn't or wouldn't) happen, actually did. (Or didn't, as the case may be.)
My point is, conceive of any scenario you like (within reason) and in one universe or other it actually took place. (Or didn't take place, depending.)

Anyway, once you've grasped that concept (you might want to re-read that last paragraph again) then you can dig (if you will,) on this:

In an alternate universe (specifically universe #99.44-W, just in case you're keeping track), this movie (and subsequent hit soundtrack) came out, and, much to everyone's surprise, it was a total blockbuster smash -- and I was the star.
This movie was my very first film and it paved the way for me becoming internationally famous, launched my hit movie career, and when both of those faded, I eventually (after nearly a decade of obscurity and a jag in the Betty Ford clinic) landed my own sitcom on the WB and my star started to rise once again.
(What an amazing life I had in that universe!
Oh, well!)

Too bad nobody in this universe will get to see this movie, because it was really really great.
Really, it's true!
And I'm not saying that because I was in it -- even the critics liked it, and they don't like much of anything.
(That universe's Siskel and Ebert gave it two thumbs up, so you know it had to be good.)

Anyway . . .
The movie was called Look Good In Blue and here is the general plot outline:

Andy Walsh (played by yours truly) is a poor but extremely attractive and fashion-concious "New Wave boy", plagued with insecurity, who has a crush on one of the rich boys at his school, Blaine McDonnagh (played by Andrew McCarthy).
At first, after Blaine makes his attraction known, Andy can't believe that a wealthy (and terribly cute) boy like Blaine could be interested in him -- it's like a dream come true! He's had his eye on Blaine but thought him "out of his league".
When Andy and Blaine try and get together, the pair encounter resistance from their respective social circles.
Andy is ashamed of his unemployed drunken father and of his shabby home on the "wrong side of the tracks". Blaine grew up wealthy, but he's not a snob and could care less whether Andy has money or not.
Andy gets some very bad treatment from Blaine's circle of friends, especially Steff (played by James Spader). This most likely stems from Steff trying to pick up Andy for a one night stand and being rebuffed because Andy only has eyes for Blaine. Steff is used to getting whatever he wants and Andy's rejection annoys him to no end.
Likewise, Blaine gets some shabby treatment from Andy's friends when he tries to cross to the other side of town.
Andy's friends are the ultra-stylish but slightly-fem Ducky (played by John Cryer), and uber fag-hag Iona (played by Annie Potts). Iona is an eccentric older friend, mentor, and something of a fairy godmother to Andy; she wears vintage clothes and runs the record shop where Andy works after school.
Ducky has a "secret" crush on Andy, but doesn't want to risk losing their friendship, even though he makes his affection toward Andy pretty obvious.
Andy is only somewhat aware that Ducky likes him, but thinks of Ducky only as his best friend.
The film ending has Blaine and Andy overcoming their social obstacles when Andy creates a faaabulous and funky blue suit for the high school senior prom.
He "looks good in blue", and Blaine realises he's truly in love with Andy.
After he makes his feelings known to Andy (during a romantic slow dance at the prom), the couple decide to give their relationship a try -- no matter what anyone else thinks. They finally realize they're a perfect fit.
Roll the credits.
Doesn't that sound great? Wouldn't you go and see that movie?
I know I would.
And not just 'cause I was in it, either.

Monday, December 12, 2005

Your Caption Here

"Damn! You could hang hand towels from these piercings!"
by Spankey

Sunday, December 11, 2005

Ix-Nay On The One-Phay

To: All employess
Re: Cell phones

This matter is out of hand. Effective immediately, cell phones will no longer be tolerated at all in the restaurant for any reason. Cell phones must be left at home, in your car, in your locker, or in the office. Anyone caught with a cell phone --whether they are on the clock or not-- will have it confiscated and placed in the office until after your shift is over. If you must use your cell phone you must be off the clock and you must use it outside and around the side or back of the building, not directly out front. Too many employees are talking, texting, or playing games on their cell phones when there is work they could be doing. There will be no exceptions.

I went into work the other day and saw this memo stapled to the bulletin board.
(Although the original was riddled with misspellings, typos, grammatical errors and run-on scentences. You'd think management would run a spell and grammar check before they post their little bulletins. It would make them look alot less foolish. I swear, every time a memo is posted I just wanna take a red pencil and start making corrections.
And while I'm on the subject, why must every fricken memo be in all caps, bolded, using the Times New Roman font? Is using the shift key too difficult? They think all caps and bold will make us pay more attention? Selecting a different font -- Courier? Arial? Desdemona?-- is too challenging for them? I'm not saying every memo should look like a love letter from P.T. Barnum, but is a little variety too much to ask for?)

I can see them telling us we can't use our phones on the clock. If we're on the clock we're supposed to be working, not chatting or sending text messages. But off the clock is a totally different story. If we're off the clock we should be able to do whatever we want, because we're on our time.

To give you an example how asinine this whole deal is, check this out:
OK, I had gotten to work early. The restaurant opens at 11AM, but it's a little after ten so I make a cup o' joe, grab my newspaper and sink into a booth and start reading. Bear in mind that I'm off the clock at this point. Anyway, my phone rings, so I answer it. I chat for a few minutes and then I hang up. Cathy, the front of the house manager comes up to me and says, "Don't let me see you on your phone again."
And I'm all like, "But I'm off the clock."
Then she says, "Hey, it's not my policy. This came directly from corporate. No cell phones allowed in the building, whether you're on the clock or not. If I see you on your phone again, I'm going to have to take it from you."

What, am I back at school again? Is she going to send a note home to my mom? Make me write on the chalkboard? Send me to the principal's office?
Take it from me? I'd like to see her try it.
The only way you'll take my phone from me is to pry it from my cold, white, dead hands.

And all of this is due to a few misguided individuals who don't know when to hang up and take care of business.
Hostesses who are chatting away when the should be seating guests. Grill cooks (who are in full view of the dining room) chatting when they should be putting steaks on the grill. Servers too busy with their conversations in the Server station that they neglect thier tables.

I will admit to anyone, I love text messaging. The reason I like it so much is because of work. It's much easier to send a text right quick and then tend to my tables than have an actual conversation.

In all my time at this restaurant I don't think I've ever had a complaint about my service.

Well, I have no choice but to comply, even though I think they need to alter this rule so it only applies when you're on the clock. If I can sit in the restaurant, off the clock when it's not even open yet and read my paper and drink my coffee, I should be able to chat on my phone if I like.
One is no different than the others.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

I'm No Slave

I know, I know. No posts in over a week.
Is Jimmy dead? Is he in a mental hospital somewhere on a Thorazine drip? Did he get amnesia and forgot who he is?
No, no, and no.

First, I gome kind of evil bug that knoched me on my ass for a little while.
Being sick sucks.
I just got over a bug (cold? virus?) that made me totally miserable for almost wo days.
Fever, chills, body wracked (racked?) with aches and pains, head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton.
It wasn't pretty.

Let me just tell you, my immune system is fantastic. That, if for no other reason, is why I thank the Gods that be for the genes that I have. I'm usually one of the healthiest people you can come across. The husband get's sick almost three times as much as I do, and a cold that knocks him out for a week will only take me out for two days or so.
But in those two days . . .

I'm a big baby. I'll admit that to anyone. And what sucks most of all about being sick is you have no contol whatsoever over your body. Your nose runs, or gets stopped up. You sneeze, you cough. You cough up phlegm, which is so gross, I'm not going to say another word about it. Your muscles ache, you sweat, you can't get warm even though the heat is turned up full blast and you're lying under five comforters. Your forced to take drugs like Dristan (which clears up your congestion but makes you woozy), or Actifed (which dries you out, but makes you irritable and bitchy).
Anyway, I'm better now.

Sickness counts for a part of it, but the other reason I took a little time away from here is, truth be told, I was feeling rather blah about the whole blogging thing.
What to post next? Gotta finish that entry so I can post it later! Maybe I should change my template!
When you're thinking too much about it and it seems more like fun than work, you need to take a little break.
So that's just what I did.
Slave to the blog? Not me!