Boy, do I have some Tales to Tell...
Just some advice: under no circumstance, and I do mean
NO, should one eat a half pint of prunes!!!!!
Unless you plan on spending the rest of the night at home. Then, go ahead and indulge.
Thanks. Later.
I've been trying to learn how to just go to work and do my job. That is, go to work and not get involved with some leadership drama at work. In the past, it's been hard but I think I may have taken a big step last week.
You see, I like where I work. Unfortunately, my team has had a couple of not-so-good things happen to it. We still function as a team but only because the team members seem to have good heads on their shoulders. Our Team Leader has taken a "leave of absence" due to personal issues. Her drama has not really affected a lot of us emotionally; more work-wise. Let's just say that there are way too many loose strings.
Now, back to the big step last week: normally, I would be all upset about the leave. Normally, I would be all in a tizzy. But today, on my day off, all I could think about was doing my own stuff. My co-worker IM'd me earlier to tell me of some drama going down at work. I didn't even react to it. It may not sound like much but to me, it's huge.
Later.
Enter you.Voila, it's showtime.You brought the house down with aDance and a Dum-diddy...I think I've watched large parts of
Trick at least three times in the past week. I remember thinking about how cute that movie was BUT how unrealistic it was too. Yeah, like some exceptionally hot go-go boy is going to fall for some twink of a songwriter.
And, yeah, as if gay men would be nervous about getting it on.
And, yeah, as if gay men get picked up on the subway.
And, by the way, how did they get from Hell's Kitchen to the West Village in mere seconds?
But that was then. This is now. I find it very endearing. Very cute. Maybe I still believe in romance. I find it very touching that they didn't end up having sex. That they kissed before he got on the subway. That the phone number actually was his. That hot go-go boys may just fall for some twink of a songwriter.
I'm not sure what it says about me.
Later.
A recent post on a blog that I like talked about how a co-worker had used the term "fag" within his earshot. The blogger went on to say that although it made him uncomfortable, he did not say anything to the co-worker. He even told another co-worker, who apologized to him and said she would say something, to not. Part of his thinking was that this straight man who uttered "fag" didn't really mean to but, because he was straight, he spoke before thinking.
When I read this, I was enraged. I still am. At work, whenever someone says something uneducated about gays, I make a point of telling them how offensive it is. No matter what they say to "smooth" things over, I always make sure they leave knowing how offensive any derogatory remark is and how unacceptable it is.
I used to be like the the aforementioned blogger. To some degree, I still am. Do I make a point of correcting people off the street? Not always. I know what my limits are. But at work, I always make sure that my co-workers are aware of their words. Because, if straight men can think before saying the words "nigger", "kike", "jew", "spic", or "cunt", they can make sure they think before they use the word "faggot". Later.
Woo hoo! Blizzard of 2006! It's here. It's now. It's forever.
Blizzard conditions always bring out the worst in New York City residents. I thought we were supposed to be some of the toughest people. Wasn't that mantra thrown around after 9/11? Dude, we get so panicked over a simple blizzard. Um, people... you'll survive. You don't need 3 cases of water. Nothing shuts down in NYC. NOTHING. The Korean bodega on the corner will be open. Yeah, you'll spend a bit more for your food but, hey, if it is the end of the world, what the fuck are you going to do with that money? I say, spend it.
The store was a mad house last night. We actually had to shut it down at one point because we were so full. There was a line outside the store from the moment we opened until we closed.
Here's what I would like to know: why the hell would you stock up on so much food for a blizzard that will maybe keep you at home for two days, maximum? I mean, the City has never been shut down. Sure, certain things will run out (milk, eggs, bread) but there is still going to be food to be had. Calm the fuck down! Remember, you are supposed to be some of the toughest people around. You're acting like a bunch of pussies.
And, by the way, when stocking up on necessities, $21.99 Raw Honey is not part of the list. Later.
My latest obsession is Project Runway.
I am so crushing on Daniel Vosovic.
And then, to top it all off, I think I am in love with Tim Gunn.
I never thought I would ever be attracted to someone who shares the same first name as me.
Later.
MORE: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!!!!! You got rid of Zulema for an unfinished dress BUT you keep that monkey, Santino!!!!! I am devastated. DEVASTED, I tell you!!!!! Is he fucking Michael Kors?!?!?!? Or is it Nina Garcia?!?!?!??!! Un-fucking-believable!
I hate it. I hate that when I see you, I go through so many emotions. We laughed. We cried. We smiled. A lot. I want it back. But I know that it won't be the same. I see you and I remember. Remember too much. Remember too well.
I remember all the places we went for drinks. All the places we had great meals. The fun times we had dancing. The fun we had getting dressed up. You always made me smile. You always did. I hate that to this day you always will. But even if you come back, it will never be the same. It can't.
I remember when M.'s mom died so suddenly. I held it together until the funeral. Then, I lost it when you asked C. to walk M. out of the church. I sobbed for hours. I remember when we ran into A. With his newborn. I cried all night after that. You brought on so many tears and, yet, I want you back. Why?
I want you back because of the laughs. When S. fell in love with someone, who's shortcomings went totally against her beliefs. You made me laugh so hard when you told me that story. I laughed even harder when you brought me to your beachhouse for a great weekend. C. got crabs from the boy. Thank god, I never got crabs. We had fun. Too much.
I see you around and I often think of what more fun we would have had. But you had to go. Sometimes, things just have to end. Lots of pain but I think we both knew that it was okay. Okay to stop before it became more painful.
But here's the thing: I love you. I still do. My heart breaks when I think of you. When I think of what could have been. I miss you. I've moved on and it's been great. But sometimes, I think you could have been more. I hate you for not being there with me to find out if it could have. You left. You left me.
But, I can't blame you. I miss you. I really miss you,
Sex and the City. Love, tim.
Later.
As much as I try to not be, I am a product of my parent's upbringing. For better or worse, I am massively influenced by their actions, traits, and habits.
For example, my mother always worries about money. Regardless of how much they make or have, my mother always worried that we would never have food on the table. Now, mind you, as a child, I used to get irritated by this because, well... we always had food on the table. And, on top of it all, we weren't picky about our food. Yes, we liked having good food. Yes, we had the privelege of having good food. But, if you ever hear my mother talk about our financial situation, you would think we were on the verge of bankruptcy and all but using food stamps to purchase our groceries. It used to bother me that everytime we did something, it would always come back to money.
After college, when my sister and I had gotten jobs to support ourselves, we would go home to visit and, sure enough, at some point, the discussion would be about their financial woes. For the record, my parents have no financial woes. They aren't financially wealthy by any means but they do have enough money to live out their lives. Anyway, after college, my sister and I would go home for a visit and, to avoid hearing about my Mom's "woes", would just pay for everything.
So, cut to the other day, I'm shopping for jeans. I have decided to pay more than $20 for jeans. I am treating myself to a nice pair for my birthday. I set a limit of $60 (some of you know that I hate paying a lot of money for something like denim, which costs like... nothing). I search some higher-end stores but no luck (apparently, skinny is the new thing). I check some outlet-type stores (I find some good ones but again nothing is rocking my world). I decide to stop by the Old Navy. And guess what, I find a pair of cords for $6.97!!!!! I try them on and they fit great. Got myself a new pair of cords.
I head home and show Mike. His reaction: "Frugal to the core." Jeez, I've become exactly what my parents raised me to be. Well, except for the gay thing. Later.
