Taste the Imagery
September 22nd, 2002These Skittles “Taste the Rainbow” commercials are just too cool. The overcast skies and the rolling green fields and the ethnic-peppered community… it’s just insanely gorgeous. I love it, I want it as a print on my mousepad. Can I be in one? I’d like to play a forrest sprite or something that lives in a rock. Yeah, like the ever-youthful keeper of the skittles. And I want that ambigious asian voice that goes, “Skeeetles, t-t-t-t-taaayyyyste tha rrrrainbow.”
I wanna know where exactly are these mystic realms of the world, where goregeous women and rugged men walk around with unicorns and climb oak trees all day. Must be somewhere in Montana.
Witches & Ho’s
September 22nd, 2002I just saw a preview for the new season premiere of Charmed. Tonight, Alyssa Milano (who has been dead to me ever since that Tony Danza show went off the air) becomes a mermaid. She becomes a fucking mermaid, with a tail and fins and glittery pasties. No, I’m serious. What the hell has happened to the WB? Somebody explain this mess to me. I freaking loved this network for about 2 years and then it all went to shit. The beginning of the end, I think, was when they cancelled Popular (the funniest show on TV). Also, Felicty started to suck, Dawson left the creek and it became The Joey Potter Show, and then they hung themselves by dropping Buffy from the network. It’s a cruel world, or @ least it is when you’re like me and have no life and watch way too much TV.
Though I have never watched a full episode of Charmed, I can already see that the cast sucks. You know Shannon Dougherty was the only one of these fools with any damn sense b/c after a couple of seasons she dropped that shit like it was covered in Anthrax. She was like, “You know what? Hells no. I still have a few good years left in this body until the mothership comes for me, I’m getting out. Fuck you, Aaron Spelling, and stay the hell away from my family.” Hi, Rose McGowan? The fact that they cast you to replace Shannon Dougherty should tell you this is a ship sinking fast. They just turned your buddy Alyssa, there, into a damn mermaid. Are you gonna argue with me about this? Run. Run fast and don’t look behind you.
However, hope floats in the form of two fresh-faced hotties, b/c it weren’t for my deep and disturbing crushes on both Kristen Kreuk and Tom Welling, I would not watch this network @ all. Salvation, thy name is Smallville.
Mikey Likes IT!
September 22nd, 2002So my friends and I are becoming regulars @ that Chilli’s in Times Sq. We seem to wind up there every weekend @ some point and i wonder if it’s a bit sad actually. Like, I wonder if the waiters stand around behind the counter and watch us and go, “There’s that fucked-up crew again, that weird guy that looks like Eddie Munster and that Angela Chase/RickieVasquez-looking couple he always hangs out with. Don’t they have lives?” It probably doesn’t help much that we get the same thing to eat every time we’re there, huh? Although, I noticed a really yummy-looking bowl of (suprise) chilli being taken to another table the other night so I think I may break my dedication to the Country-Fried Steak and sample something new next time. I’ll show those smart-ass little waiters! Why am I even talking about this? I’m sorry, let’s move on.
Nice weekend. Both days, I slept in till 4pm. Yes. Yes I sure as hell did and don’t you dare judge me for it. I work 8 – 6pm everyday during the week and usually operate on only about 4 or 5 hrs sleep each night. I like to catchup on my sleep on the weekends, ok? Although I do vow to get up and do my laundry next weekend. The towels in the hamper are beginning to reek their scent and even I, pig of all pigs, am beginning to get offended. Another cool thing, all of my magazine subsciptions came this weekend for some reason. The folks @ DETAILS don’t know it but they’ve been sending me a extra issue for the past 3 months, so have the people @ PREMIERE. hee. It’s the little things in life, winners.
BJ emailed me. He’s cutting his trip short and coming back home a little early. I don’t think he had a lot of fun… poor guy. Who can stay away from NYC for 3 months anyway, right? I’m sure he’ll be happy to be back next month, @ least until I start driving him crazy again. Hee. Just messing with you, BJ. 
Me love you long time — I’ve kind of missed you, actually… there’s been nobody to ignore. You better have some really hot stories about all the german barmaids you hooked up with… or @ least start making some up. Hurry home, you fucking loser.
New York City is really beginning its “fall season shift” and the weather is getting to be nice again. This is my favorite time of the year and it’s usually when I’m in my best shape b/c I’m walking everywhere. Like today I met up with Jess around 4pm and we wandered the Upper West Side, there was a kickass street fair on Columbus Ave that went on for about 20 blocks. I could not stop buying $1 cups of lemonade, they were just too good a deal to pass up. I downed three of those suckers. I also had this bigass strawberry-banaana crepe with powdered sugar, which was such a gooey mess — are crepe’s supposed to be gooey? I’ve never had one before so I have no frame of reference; I’ll just pretend that they’re meant to be sloppily eaten. Ignorance is bliss.
** Oh hey, I wanna send a Big Big Smile to an awesome new kid I met this weekend. Michael, you’re cool as hell — Ditmars Blvd was definately worth the trip off the island! Thanks! “How ’bout those Mets?” **
The Vegas Slut Machine
September 20th, 2002The Real World: Las Vegas. It’s only been one episode into the season and I already know I’m going to eat this shit up. What a group of horndogs! Also, these kids are the hottest cast ever, and coming from me that says a lot b/c in my book it was damn near impossible to top the utter beauty of the New Orleans cast (except for David, ew). Where do they find these ppl? I guess when you think about it, every circle of friends has That One Kid who’s just way cuter than the rest of the group and so much more charismatic, the one everyone says things to like, “You have the best clothes, you’re so funny, you should so be on TV!” That’s who usually gets cast.
This season just looks so good! Stephen and Trishelle are already mugging down— all over each other in the club, in the confessional, in the bed, on top of Frank… and poor little Creepy Frank. What a loser, I can’t wait to see him go off and beat Stephen’s ass. Alton, on the season previews he’s getting freaky with somebody in the hot tub, so i kind of already like him. I don’t know about the two pretty black girls yet b/c I can’t really tell them apart (no that is not a racist comment) so the jury is still out on those two. The one with the sometimes nose ring? She’s gorgeous. Oh and Brynn (anybody else thinks she looks kinda like “American Idol” Nikki?), the fork-flinging ninja, looks like she’s gonna bring some serious issue-oozing drama to the scene. She’s a mess. I love her.
My favorite one right now, if I had to choose, is Stephen. The boy is a flirt, a tease, a bigass slut, and I just applaud that kind of blatant disregard for pleasantries. Also, there are some damn scandalous rumors zipping through cyberland that he’s not as “terminally straight” as he implies. Heh. Metrosexuality. I’m telling you kids, it’s the new black.
Threesomes, gambling, pregnancy scares, flying forks… *sigh* I love this shit. These bitches are beyond our help, so let’s just sit back and judge ok?.
The Concert
September 20th, 2002GorgeousRoommate went to the COLDPLAY concert @ Jones Beach last night. She’d mentioned it to me a week or so ago and I barely registered any of the conversation b/c I was @ work, probably doing something useless like taking a phone message or signing for something. So yeah, she went and experienced the spiritual majesty that is Coldplay… and I went to Queens Mall. She stood there, immersed in the glorious echoes of “Yellow” and “Trouble”… and I stood in line @ a kiesk, way too excited about finding cheap cell phone acessories… It just seems so wrong.
Suddenly, my new, hip, sleek Motorola faceplate no longer seems so special. 
Groggy
September 19th, 2002My insomnia is getting worse and worse. Last night I was up until the obscene hour of 4am, just wide awake sitting in my room, alert as can be. I actually called a wake-up service and set a call for this morning just b/c I was positive that I would sleep through my own 3 alarms. This is getting out of hand, it’s never been this bad before. I’ve tried taking showers, I’ve tried stretching out, I’ve even tried Enya. NO LUCK. There must be something on my mind that’s keeping me up like this, something that’s just eating me up inside… I’m pretty sure I know what it is too. Lance Bass. Poor guy, are they going to let this kid up into space or not? NASA needs to quit jerking this poor dancing queen around and either let him have his dream or send him back to popstar hell so that the rest of us can get some sleep. Make up your minds, ye cruel temptors of fate!
“This is the true story…”
September 18th, 2002Guess what? A borrowed video camera is sitting on my dresser with a disturbing peice of footage on the tape inside. No, not kiddie porn, you dirty bastards. It’s my audition tape for The Real World. Shut up. We ALL watch that show and you know it. I love it, I fucking love it. My obsession with this god-awful, crap TV show (and its casts) is extreme and borderline psychotic. The idea of a drama-fueled existance, surrounded by gorgeous young people in a ridiculously cool house, and backed by bad pop songs? It’s too amazing, I can’t even deal. I’ve thought about trying out a few times actually, I almost did it for the NEW ORLEANS season (you know I’m still kicking my own ass for not doing it, too — Melissa is my walking wet dream. *sigh* Also? Danny? Damn). I turn 24 next year and have always had a deep feeling that it’s going to be a big age for me, so I’d like to do it with a bang. What better way than on National TV? Plus, If I was on the show I’d officially be a part of pop-culture history, which is my only real goal in life. Heh. No, really. The deadline for the audition tapes is this Saturday. Truth: I am not expecting to get cast. But if they don’t call me in for @ least the first round then there is officially no hope for pop-culture as we know it.
BJ tried buzzing me on Yahoo last night @ 4am but I was asleep. It’s shocking, I’m usually awake @ random hours like that He left a message though and even signed my guestbook (yayy). BTW, he hates it that I’m calling him BJ b/c “it sounds so fucking gay!” I guess “Bobbie” would be a less swishy tag for a 22 year old guy? *sigh* My clueless buddy… well, at least he’s consistant. His cute girlfriend might be moving into our bldg. next month, moving in with my ex-girlfriend actually (who lives on the first floor). Melrose Place, much? I know. It was kind of my suggestion. I’m sure one of these days they’ll all regret it and hate me to death for it for it, but for now it seems like a good idea. as long as everyone’s happy and I’m the reason for it, that’s all that matters. Curse this damn need for attention! It’s always getting me in trouble.
I’m listening to the new Nelly CD @ work right now. It’s so urban and angry, I love it. Somebody came up to my desk to borrow a FED EX envelope and I almost punched them in the face. I get too into this shit. Any black man who goes by the name “Nelly” and still manages to seem cool? I’m sorry but I think we all should just stop what we’re doing right now and give him his props.
So I didn’t see Marissa today. I was looking forward to it way too much anyway, it was obscene. I even took off my glasses, popped in my contacts, and wore a blue shirt and tie today (trying to work that whole Gattaca, monochromatic thing). It’s a bit much, I know, so I’m semi-glad we didn’t run into each other. Ugh whatever. I am doing my best not to be too excited about it. I mean, I meet girls all the time but it never really turns into much… I mean, other then them walking away muttering, “Fag.” under their breath, I’m not really sure how I come off. Whatever.
My new roommate, who is gorgeous BTW, got in this weird cleaning mode the other night and scrubbed the kitchen clean. It’s incredible. Suddenly it’s absolutely spotless and STARK WHITE in there, it shines and smells nice… you’d never know anyone even uses it. I’m doing my best not to mess it up. Yesterday I spilled some iced tea on the counter and nearly shit myself in horror — but I didn’t (it would have made a stain on the floor). I don’t know about this uber cleanliness thing, it might begin to drive me crazy if I have to start being considerate of other people who live with me. 
No worries, Jen, I promise not to make a mess, and if I do please don’t beat my ass before I get a chance to clean i tup. I’m bringing home flowers for your pretty kitchen.
Girl
September 17th, 2002I met a girl!!! I met a girl!!! Whoo-hoo! There is hope afterall!
So I’m on my way out of a client space today and waiting for the elevator that never comes. It’s insanity. There are 40 floors, they have 8 elevator banks and only one or two is ever active. Somebody explain that mess. Anyway, I normally stuff my headphones in and ignore whoever I’m riding down with. But today I looked over first, and i saw this GIRL standing there too. Young. Pretty. Medium-tall, slender body. Her hair was pulled back (a look I hate on a girl) but she looked real nice. I’ve seen her around the office before, she works with those assholes who called my supervisor to complain that I didn’t smile @ them enough. I never caught her name before though, she always kind of just zips in and out.
Without even thinking, I looked right at her and smiled. She caught my glance and smiled back. Yayy! I think I asked her if she was heading out early and she said something back, and then I don’t know what else we talked about b/c I was just so psyched she was talking to me. We mentioned our jobs. She’s noticed me hopping all over the place, from office to office. I said I’d noticed she did the same thing. Turns out, she’s sort of a research advisor who goes out to conferences all day and scouts business and something something networking something something deal. So yeah, she’s like way better than me and also like, pretty. Something about her voice, the way she speaks… I liked listening. Anyway, we got outside and walked a little slower, continuing to talk more and finally had to leave or risk looking stupid. I told her I’d definately see her around. “I’m Chris.” She smiled @ me, all cute. “I’m Marissa.”
Yes, cutie. Yes you are. And I’m a SLAP-HAPPY BOY. 