My So-Called Holiday
November 26th, 2002My webhost recently updated their template layout options. I love all the cool stuff! Doesn’t take much to amuse me, kids. 
I finally got the “My So-Called Life” DVD box set in the mail today! It only took them 6 months but whatever, I can take solace and refuge in the faces of Rayane, Rickie, Angela, and Jordan. My old friends. Whoo-hoo! I was all about this show in high school! Yes, even in my prep-school academy uniform I still found ways to rock in the combat boots, flannel jackets, and bright red hair. I haven’t watched an episode in so long! It’ll be fun to watch them again. I wonder if they cut out all the boring scenes with Angela’s parents. Never watched those anyway.
I still hate my haircut, BTW.
So I’m working the overnight shift again later. I fucking HATED it the last time I did it. Everybody I spoke to about it was all, “Oh my god, it’s such a quiet shift. It’s so boring, just dead and you’ll just have nothing to do.” BULL! SHIT! LIES! ALL LIES! I nearly died @ that front desk! It was everything I was terrified that it would be. Complete chaos. The phones never stop ringing, gsts are constantly trying to get you to “hook them up” with better deals and rooms, and ppl never stop asking you, “Uh… where else can i go to get a drink?” And I’m all, “Bitch, it’s 5am. Go to church.” Thank God I had Dhalimu there with me. Nothing so comforting as having a fabulous, gay black man on standby. Whatever. It’s been really quiet @ the front desk the last couple days… maybe I’ll luck out and get some downtime tonight.
Everybody’s gone home for the holidays, it seems. BJ and his Cute Girlfriend went back to Maine, Shi went back to Japan, M&J went back to Reno, my family went to up to my grandparents place in East Texas. *sigh* I’m just chillin’ this year, I guess. Hudson gave of us free turkeys. I named mine Bart. He’s not cooked yet or anything, and I’m not much of a chef, so we’ll probably just go to Chili’s or something.
** Happy b-day, Dad! **
The Huxtables
November 21st, 2002The Cosby Show reruns late every weekday on Nick-At-Nite and I cannot even begin to explain the exuberant joy it has brought to my existance. I grew up watching this group of people every single week and it’s so much fun to watch these old episodes again. The Huxtables fucking rock. It never annoyed me that they had money and a nice house b/c they seemed to earnest about the things that really mattered to them. Claire was a modern day goddess, that momma could do anything and look HOT while she did it. And Cliff Huxtable? I mean, really, where does the man FIND those amazing sweaters? Denise was my favorite one, she was such a rebel and so trendy. She had all those cool friends. Lisa Bonet is just this huge enigma to me, I love it. She just had this beautiful smile and laugh, her skin always looked so soft and I’ll bet she smelled nice (as you can see, I kind of have a small crush on Lisa Bonet). I watch the show now and just think, Wow, she was so cool and gorgeous. I love it that she quit the show and was basically like, “Fuck you, Bill Cosby! I’m gonna marry Lenny Kravitz! And you know what else? I’m gonna go do this really shitty vampire movie and show the world my boobs—all b/c i fucking can! Oh, and ANOTHER thing— I’ve made up my mind, I’m keeping my baby!” (I’ve watched the E! True Hollywood Story on her once or uh..four times). I also really liked that girl Pam, who came in to live with the Huxtables during the last season when Rudy got all ugly and the Raven Simone kinda stopped being all cute too. I was never that crazy about Vanessa but she was okay — didn’t Tempest Beldsoe have a talk show a few years ago? What the hell happened to her anyway? Theo was anoying as hell though, such a tool. But I didn’t hate him nearly as much as I hated the oldest girl, Sondra. She was so white! What was up with her? I watch these old ep’s and I kind of cringe everytime she speaks. Her diction and pronunciation is just like, too exact and proper. It’s like, Bitch, aren’t you supposed to be from Brooklyn? Toughen up! Let’s see some street, dammit! Ugh, Sondra was hopeless.
All in all, I just love this show. My favorite intro, I think, is the Apollo-themed one.. where they’re all in tuxedos and evening gowns and just getting jiggy with it and Cliff walks off going, “This is the best elevator music I’ve EVER heard!” See, even with all that money and society and class, that family knew how to break it down. God bless these people.
Body Clock Breakdown
November 21st, 2002Jessica “Jolie” Alba checked into Hudson the other night!!! She and her Lips stopped by the desk on her way out for the evening and asked if I could get her suite cleaned. I was like, “Absolutely. Wanna makeout with me?” She didn’t think it was funny. So, lately my job has been hard on me, energy-wise. I work late, get home late, stay up late, sleep in late, and then go back to work. It sounds kind of low-key but it’s actually really grueling. Today I woke up around 3pm just completely trashed and wrecked, I didn’t even know what day it was. It’s so weird. No drinking or drugs here, just plain old exhaustion. I sleep in such sporadic patterns… BJ has begun to check my breath with a mirror every morning on his way out to work. It’s only gonna get weirder, I think, b/c they just put me on the overnight shift. For 2 nights a week, all next month, I’ll be working that bigass front desk all by myself from 11pm – 7am. I’m not too thrilled about it. 
Supposed to only be a temporary thing, and everybody says it’s a really quiet, boring, slow shift so I’m hoping they’re right. I’m praying that there won’t be tons of drunken ppl stumbling up to me @ 4am wanting me to change their foreign currency or anything… ugh. I really want it to just be DEAD so that I can stand around play online and just practice my Christoper Walken “Weapon of Choice” dance in the lobby while nobody’s watching.
Oh, a word to the wise: if you’re ever strolling through Chelsea and decide to get a haircut, find something sharp and stab yourself in the eye with it, then go see a doctor right away and get it treated. Ok, so you probably don’t need to go to such extremes but maybe the overall trama and hassle will keep you from getting your hair cut. I actually did stop by some little w.23rd street salon tonight and soon found that despite what you ask for, they only know how to do ONE hairstyle: the gay sailor. The little Panamanian woman cutting my hair was determined to give me this cut no matter how clearly I expressed not wanting anything resembling that god-awful look. You know the one — super-short sides, tapered in the back, and a little gayflip @ the bangs? I repeatedly had to smack her in the head b/c she kept reaching for those BUZZ CLIPPERS. I was all, “Not the clippers, Blanca! Not the clippers!” So she basically just did with scissors what she would have done with clippers and now I look like a miniature Robbie Williams. Sneaky little vixen. I’m afriad I’m going to have to hunt her down now… poor thing, she sort of reminded me of my mom. So if any of you see me in this very gay, very Chelsea-boy coif, just do me a favor and pretend not to even notice the fact that I look like TinTin.
The Emporer’s Club comes out tomorrow and I can’t wait to see it! The previews look really good, I think. I’m curious to see how much of what I shot actually made it into the final cut. There’s one scene that I’m pretty sure I got really good screentime in, it’s the scene where Kevin Kline is all old and has just been fired from his long-time job @ the school. He’s walking down the hallway with his box of stuff and he passes me, a new young student, and he looks @ me and I look @ him and smile, and he nods @ me, and then we both just pass each other and keep walking. There’s more stuff too but I’m pretty sure they kept that one in. Who knows. My mom, dad, sister, and Godmother back in Texas are all going to see it and they’re going to scream out loud anytime they spot me onscreen. My mom also informed me that if I end up being cut out of the film, she and all 8 of Mexican sisters are going to storm Hollywood and beat Kevin Kline’s ass. Awww!
My room, by the way? Total mess. I have dishes laying around from like, 2 weeks ago that I just have been too lazy to clean. BJ and his Cute Girlfriend piled on my futon tonight to watch TV with me (I was feeling strangely social and kind), so I had to shove everything under my bed and behind the sofa. So my room kind of looks deceptively clean and I’m starting to think maybe if I just leave it all this way it might actually be clean for real. Denial is a game you can play all by yourself, kids. 
** BTW, Jax? I love you too! **
I See Dumb People
November 16th, 2002So, a man came back down to the front desk after checking in the other night, he was complaining about somebody in his room. The girl he was bitching @ was one of our new hires (poor little thing) and she looked completely lost as to what to say to him, so I stepped in to help. That was my first mistake. ”This guy is in my room,” he said, aggrivated. “I know it, I can see him in there!” I immediately apologized for checking him into an occupied room, blaming it on a computer glitch and assured him I’d locate a new room for him right away. ”You don’t understand!” the big, bloated man barked, “The room is fine but he followed me here! I knew this was going to happen, dammit. But he thinks I don’t see him.” Um… okay. Noting the fact that he was clutching a Heineken from the minibar, I tried to just follow along with him. He kept saying something about this man in his room who was hiding or something. The naked, mumbling homeless man I pass every morning on the subway platform was making more sense than this bastard. I was completely LOST @ this point and so I just shut the hell up and listened, sadly unprepared for the shit this fool was about to tell me.
Apparently, Big Bloated Man had a ghost in his room. And not just any ghost, but a Latin ghost from New Jersey who sometimes speaks to him… in Spanish. This man was not joking, he seemed completely sound of mind… yu know, except for the seeing dead ppl thing. BBM told me that he just bought a house in the Garden State and that it turned out to be “fucking haunted” with some spanish family and so he came to Hudson for the night, to get some space and a little peace and quiet. ”Of course, sometimes you just need to get away,” I appeased him, nodding sympathetically.”and I don’t speak Spanish either, so that can be frustrating as well. I completely understand.” BBM asked for me to come up to the room and see for myself if I didn’t believe him. I politely said hell no but offered to send for a preist, or a Ghostbuster, or even a bilingual housekeeper to maybe translate and break the language barrier. We settled for my manager, Brooklyn Boy Paul. I honestly expected him (with his blue-collar roots and “Don’t give me bullshit” attitude) to laugh his ass off, but he took the whole thing completely seriously, to my suprise. What the hell do you SAY to somebody who claims a ghost is in the room? Are there actual words? Do you offer condolences? Paul had security go up to BBM’s room and make sure nobody was hiding under the bed or in any secret passageways, he even stood there and listened to the man’s paranoia. It all seemed to do the trick, until about an hour later when BBM came back to the front desk to let us know that the man was back and this time he brought a little ghost kid with him. “They’re hiding in my drapes, so I tied a knot down @ the bottom to hold them there. God, you have no idea how annoying this is…” At this point, he wasn’t really interested in switching rooms, and we’d already done our part to help, so I just quit caring altogether. Creepy man thinks he’s Haley Joel Osmet. I suggested he try and just accommodate them, that maybe they’d appreciate some room service or something. BBM shook his head and looked @ me like I was the one who’d been talking stupid all night. He left a little while later, the dumb bastard.
I hope he took those ghosts with him, we try to avoid exorcisms @ Hudson (that, and Jersey).
The Trials of A Frontman
November 7th, 2002I dropped so much money @ Circuit City this afternoon… it was just stupid. And I did it in like 15 minutes too. Now i’m suffering from Buyer’s Remorse. I blame the spree of an extreme case of insanity, spawned by the recent destruction of my Sony Minidiscman. The headphone jack quit working properly, I kept having to jiggle the headphone plug to get the sound to come through. When that quit working I just started smacking it against walls until it obeyed me (much like they did to wicked children in Biblical times) Finally, it just gave out on me so I passed the broken peice of shit onto BJ, who swore on the grave of MacGuyver that he could fix it. He lied. He totally broke it and it now it’s no good to me. You have no idea how much music I listen to, I’ve got such a bipolar collection of singles & mp3′s, it’s one of the little things in life that makes me smile. So, you see, it was quite necessary to go buy a new, better MD player today. I’m still searching, however, for a way to justify buying that SONY digital camera. God, I am such a nerd. 
Mini-techie gadgets and shiny e-toys are like, my porn.
So, work pretty much beat me to death tonight. We were completely overbooked this evening, which means we had less rooms than we promised… yeah, it kinda pisses ppl off when that happens. They start slamming their fists down and calling you names (“Ugly little boy! Ugly little boy!”), they threaten to have you killed… it’s a scary little scene. Attempting to reason with irate ppl is just a futile cause, they’re just going to be upset regardless of what you say. It’s just the way it goes. I stood there, politely, hearing this one guest out and trying to explain that I understood how frustrating the situation was and that I most definately was not disagreeing with him but that we simply had NO ROOMS to offer him for the evening. He just kept rephrasing his previous rant and starting all over again, like it was somehow gonna magically unlock a secret portal behind the front desk that led to a world of hidden, deluxe hotel rooms. It’s like they think we’re lying to them about being sold out.
Spriteboy: “Unfortunately, sir, this evening we are @ full occupancy and have no rooms available @ this time. I’d be happy to — “
Mr. Bastard: “I don’t believe that. You’re lying.”
S: “No, sir, actually I’m not. In fact, we’re overbooked by several rooms and —-”
B: “Liar.”
S: (pause) “Pardon me?”
B: “You heard me.”
S:” Um, okay…”
B: “You mean to tell me, with 1,000 rooms in this place you don’t ANYTHING I can have for the night?”
S: “Not @ this time, sir. I can definately book you into a room after to—”
B: “This is BULLSHIT!”
S: “Sir, I comepletey understand and, had we more rooms @ our disposal, we would love to accomdate you this evening. We actually —”
B: “Stop lying, liar! I came here on vacation, dammit!”
S: “I wish there was something I could offer you, but I don’t know what else to suggest.”
B: “Well, I wish you weren’t a liar.”
S: “I apologize, then.”
B: “You snotty little bitch.”
S: (deep, deep breath) “Sir, if you’d like to speak with a manager…”
B: “That’s all I have to say.”
S: “I see. Well, thanks f—”
B: “NO, that’s all I have to say!”
S: “Good night.”
The sad part? I’m not joking. This was a CRAZY night. We were all fucking on edge. Well, not fucking on edge literally, b/c that would be midly inappropriate @ work. Oh, speaking of… I have to say, I was very suprised to see Mr. Clean tonight. Apparently, the whole 90-day probationary period we’re all under must not apply to him that much, so I guess he blew the right person cuz he’s still got a job. I don’t know, I guess I shouldn’t judge… the guy just made a mistake. I’m sure he’s going through a lot right now and just sort of hit a low point. Oh please, who am I kidding? This isn’t Behind the Music! — they should have FIRED his drugged-up, triflin’ ass. Yes, I’m judging. I admit it, and that’s okay b/c that’s what I do. Some ppl rollerblade. Some do yoga. Spriteboy judges. Simple as that. I swear, all evening long, I totally kept expecting to catch him doing a line of coke off the credit card swipe machine, or something. The managers have taken pity on him, I guess. Whatever.
I talked to my mom earlier. She sounded like she’s really happy, or @ least I think she is. It was hard to tell b/c I couldn’t hear her. I don’t know why my parents own cell phones b/c they never can get any recpetion no matter where they are. You know that annoying commercial of that guy on the cellphone walking around going “Can you hear me now? Can you hear me now?” That’s pretty much what a chat with my family is like, only with more static. I miss them though. My dad just got these new John Lennon-esque glasses and he’s just so freakin’ psyched about them, I love it.
Texas Cravings
November 6th, 2002This is some of the best stuff on earth.
Lipton’s Cold Brew Iced Tea. The name pretty much explains it all. It’s ready in like 3 minutes. I go through about a box of this every 2 weeks. I have no idea what kind of damage I’m doing to my digestive system but it sure tastes good.
Also, Frito Pie. This is pracitcally a food group in the House of Spriteboy. You take a can of beanless, spicy Hormel Chili and heat up up. Then you pour it into a bowl and add Frito’s — not the SCOOP-kind, the original shit. Adding melted cheese to the mix is a noble option. This only costs about $2 to make and it was pretty much all I ate in college. Eat with a fork and enjoy.
Chorizo (Mexican breakfast sausage). This is nearly impossible to find in Manhattan, all they have @ the bodegas are Italian sausages and other stuff. I actually have my mom ship this stuff to me. You cook it with scrambled eggs and wrap it up in a tortilla… or, for those of you, like myself, who are feeling a little more in touch with your whiteness, just eat it with a slice of Wonder bread.
I don’t know what’s up with this Rio-Grande kick I’m on lately but I just can’t get enough, I just can’t get enough. Probably just my inner Tex-Mexican ways coming out again, dammit. Either that or the fact that I just got Y Tu Mama Tambien on DVD.
“the debut”
November 2nd, 2002I went to the movies tonight. I like to go to the movies by myself sometimes b/c then I can cry @ all the sappy shit every 10 seconds and nobody is there to see what a big girl I am. Anyway, I went to Empire 25, that bigass theater in Times Sq and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to see. I wasn’t feeling The Transporter love too much, and as urban and soulful as I wish I was, I wasn’t in the mood for Brown Sugar either (although I love me some Queen Latifah — “Living Single” was the shit!). I ended up seeing this really cute indie called the Debut, which was basically like Soul Food but with Filipino’s. It was really, really good. Dante Basco, that kid who played “Rufio” in Hook, was in this and I’ve always like him. Also, I tend to get mistaken for a lost Filipino boy pretty much every single day and have grown to feel somewhat attatched to the community (just in my own selfish mind). While I am proud to be half-Mexican and half-Irish, I don’t pretend to be a person extremely rooted in my culture, but I do have deep respect for an under-represented community choosing to stand up and be recognized. And ultimately? I’m a struggling actor; most of my work has been in independant film. I know how hard it is to get your shit seen by crowds. I wanted to show some support for this film.
… So why is this a RANT?, you ask. Trust me, kids, I’ll get there…
Well, there was this table setup right outside the theater, with like press kits and posters and CD’s and t-shirts and all kinds of promo stuff for the film. Some of the producers were even there to talk to the audience right before the screening, so I really got the sense that they’re trying hard to promote this shit. I left the theater feeling so pleased and eager to support the movie, and I went to the table to look over the merchandise they had and then maybe even flirt a little bit with the Filipina hottie I’d seen there on my way in. I signed up for their movie mailing list and picked up a few postcards to give to some friends, figured maybe I’d talk to somebody and let them know how much I enjoyed the movie. Hah. Fat fucking chance. Turns out, my money sure was green enough to take, but I, on the other hand, apparently wasn’t brown enough to be given the time of day. These ppl barely even LOOKED @ me, much less SPOKE to me — yet they just couldn’t have been more interested to shoot the shit with the, uh more ethnic audience members. It was so fucking dissappointing. Wasn’t the whole point of the movie to bust down cultural elitism and to help ppl recognize the Filipino community as a vital and active part of this country? Don’t you think the courtesy should be returned? They literally snubbed all the white people who came out of the theater and just LEAPED UPON anybody who looked Filipino. There was a culturally-diverse crowd of audience members literally lined up to buy merchandise, all being blatantly ignored while the producers stood around keeping it real with “their peeps.”
It was so highschool clique-ish I was practically waiting for the first period bell to ring.
Damn Scandal
November 2nd, 2002So, word has it that Mr. Clean came back to work from his break the other night completely fucked up and made the biggest ass of himself. They said he was gone for a really long time and then just returned an absolute incoherent wreck, slurring his speech and stumbling around, out of it. At one point, I’m told, he actually climbed up onto the front desk—all 6’5″ and 185lbs of him—and passed out. That’s when our night manager, Dahlimu (his real name, yes), came to the desk and bitchslapped him upside the head. Okay, he didn’t actually do that but in my head he totally did. I really wish I could have seen this shit. It got even more insane: Mr. Clean was so far beyond a simple splash of cold water in the face that they actually called in paramedics. Apparently, Mr. Clean was tweaked out of his mind on crystal meth. Needless to say, I think he’s been disowned from the Hudson family.
I worked 12.5 hours today. B/c I am a trooper. B/c I am a team player. B/c I have no life and no dog @ home and nobody to keep me entertained. It was cool, but I seemed to be a huge magnet for every stodgy, pissed off guest today. This one party of 4 made my entire afternoon such a headache with all their “issues” and “problems” and “special needs.” I missed my lunchbreak b/c of those dumb whores! And then they ended up leaving the hotel anyway, just sickened @ the “miniscule size of those rooms!” Well then get to stepping, losers, and don’t let the door hit yer fat asses on the way out. Wow, my inner bitch kinda shocks me sometimes…
The new season of The Osbournes starts in 3 weeks. Is it kind of sad that I’m anxiously looking forward to this? Is it kind of creepy that I have a mild crush on Sharon Osbourne? Everybody’s giving Ozzy a hard time for having done this whole reality tv show, they say he’s “sold out” and gone all mainstream. Whatever. The man has already immortalized himself as a rock legend, I think he can do anything he wants now… including be as campy as he wants to be. That’s the title of my autobiography, “Campy As I Wanna Be,” did I ever mention that? Well, it’s either that or “Life From My Height.”