Ain’t No Ego High Enough
June 25th, 2003I have something to say to Diana Ross: No one cares that you have all that money. No one is intimidated by the fact that you like to be difficult and demanding. No one feels obligated to expempt you from the rules that the rest of the world has to adhere to, just b/c you sang some good songs about 40 years ago. If you are driving around the desertlands of Arizona drunk off your ass and endangering the well-being of cacti and tumbleweeds, you are gonna get pulled the fuck over, and the cop who busts your ass has every right to speak to you in whatever tone he feels will get your cooperation. Get over yourself.
Two words: Betty Ford.
Affirmation of the Occupation
June 24th, 2003The current state of sunniness has got me all kinds of relaxed. I woke up this morning with sunlight straightup burning thorugh my Urban Outfitters curtains and blaring onto my face. It was awesome. And blinding, which was painful. Weather Pixie is looking mighty happy today, although I don’t know about that t-shirt he’s rocking. What in gay hell?
Had a pretty good night @ work, despite being asked to come in an hour early for yet another bullshit meeting with our executive office ppl. Today’s meeting was with Accounting. They had lots to complain about concerning the front desk staff and all the annoying mistakes we make. Yeah, whatever. Cry me a river, kids. You sit at a desk all day and just add up figures. Talk to me after you’ve spent the evening ON YOUR FEET checking over 400 people into the hotel, dealing with bullshit from every angle possible, trying to make nice with coworkers you can’t stand, and facing-off with managers who refuse to give give you a reasonable work schedule. 
Ugh, I digress… It was actually a very productive meeting. I hear we’re gonna be doing this for the next couple of weeks. It’s meant to bring better communication between all the departments of the hotel, which is a great thing, seeing as how it’s been nothing but chaos and miscommunication since Opening Night. A bright and shiny suprise: my manager Johnson (b/c he’s kind of a dick) totally wowed me this afternoon in the meeting when he basically defended the honor of us kids @ the front desk. He acknowledged how we’re basically our own managers out there and that the only reason things haven’t fallen apart is b/c we just so happen to be smart, savvy thinkers who know how to charm the guests and keep things moving along. I was FLOORED to hear this shit coming from him. It actually made me smile and I went back to the desk feeling completely empowered and appreciated. Couldn’t nobody take my pride, couldn’t nobody hold me down. Oh no. I had to keep on moving…
The COMMENTS feature of my site it up and running again. Sorry for the fuckup. Hey, I warned you that I’d be tinkering with this shit! Don’t look so suprised.
The video for “Miss Independant” is playing on VH1 right now and I do not like Kelly Clarkson’s new bravado. What’s with her new, Just Got Laid hair and the square jawline and cocked eyebrow? It’s a little scary and devious, like she’s all, “You up for some premarital sex? Or how about some armed robbery?” She’s all Faith from Buffy, man. I like my Kelly Clarkson dorky and cute. Change her back, this new one sucks.
It is imperative for each and everyone of you to know that if you’re looking for me? you can find me in da club, bottle full of bub. Look mami, I got the X if you into taking drugs. I’m into having sex, I ain’t into making love so come give me a hug if you into getting rubbed.
Lost Boy
June 24th, 2003
Words cannot even begin to describe how excited this makes me. I seriously get emotional when I think about it. I saw the Broadway production of Peter Pan when I was 7, the tour came to Houston and my 2nd grade class went on a field trip. My parents were havign a tough time swinging my tuition and so my teacher, Ms. Semaneck, paid for me to go see it with the rest of the class. I went, I saw, I was changed forever. The actors were FLYING and sailing over our heads! They’d just leap into the air and WHOOOOOOSH! it was just so fucking amazing. I became obsessed with the story and anything related to flying after that — to this day, I cannot resist laying stomach-down (insert your own gayboy/faerie/sodomy joke here) onto a swingseat and pretending to fly into the air. I seriously will not be able to die happy man until I have been in one of those special-effects harnesses that make you fly around, it’s totally in the top 5 of my Things To Do Before Dying List. I remember getting into a huge argument with my mom over how I wanted to name my son Peter Pan, she kept explaining that it would have to be Peter Pan Alwell (my last name). This would just send me into a FIT — I’m talking tears streaming down my face, my body heaving, my voice screeching and ugh, it was a mess (I was a tad overdramatic as a child, go figure). She still teases me about that.
IMPORTANT: While I shout my Pan-love from the roof tops, I must make it unmistakingly clear that I am nowhere near as deluded or obsessed as this ignorant bitch. He seriously scares me and make me RETHINK the whole Spriteboy moniker altogether. Anyway, yes. Peter Pan. Christmas 2003. Cannot. Fucking. Wait.
Oh, and by the way? that is in fact Coldplay’s “Clocks” playing in the movie trailer (just in case anyone forgot exactly who gots the body that rocks the party) 
Sprite Doggy Dog
June 23rd, 2003Last week I went from red to blond, then added lots of black chunks to the mix, then bleached out some stuff I didn’t like. My hair hates me now. I definately owe these ppl a whole lotta thanks for protecting me from the forever-damning danger of an untressed head.
Randyboy (who was MIA last week) popped into Hudson this evening, totally caught me offgaurd. I was sludging my way through the very hectic evening and WHAM, he was standing at the end of the desk pretending to NOT be looking at me. Damn, what a welcome burst of energy it was. There was a sickeningly giddy reunion — he even waited 20 minutes for me to go on my break. Starbucks was ingested and then I took him up to see the view from the hotel Sky Terrace Bar, the most gorgeous place to be on a beautiful NYC evening. It’s a very happening spot, actually (considering it’s one of the few and rare bars in Manhattan that allow smoking anymore), so I also showed him a few of the (thankfully) lesser-visited, off-limits parts of the hotel, which I think he liked a lot more. 
The rest of my night sailed on by w/o a single hitch. A smitten sprite is a happy sprite.
A heads up to all my bitches and ho’s in Las Vegas: you can currently see Spriteboy on the big screen @ local art houses around town. Check listings for a short called Thursday Night Babysitting, it’s part of the Asian Cinevision Festival National Tour. Just an FYI!
We have a new manager @ work, some guy from our new property in San Fransisco. I think he’s just a temporary fill-in for now, so the jury is still out on him. He’s a young, little guy so I’m gonna give him 5 cool points to start off with. We’ll see how this one works.
I’m not certain of this, but I think that Jax has quite possibly been abducted by aliens. The truth is out there.
That boy from Everwood is in town shooting a movie. Been @ the hotel lots this month but I only recently realized exactly who he is. I have tried to watch that show but it’s just not happening for me, there will simply never be another Dawson’s Creek for my ass. Hell, I still be working my charms for all they’re worth, though. “Hi, Welcome back, Greg! Did you need anything this evening? A drink? Extra towels? My headshot/resume to pass onto your show’s casting director? Just lemme know, ok?” (No shame. None.) Also hanging their hats @ Hudson lately are him, him, and them. Between the three? I think our penthouses will be reeking of the sweet sweet cheeba for about a week. Fo shizzles, my nizzles.
Tonight, Tonight
June 21st, 2003Ran into an old college friend of mine on the A tonight. Kev looked exactly the same since the last time I’d seen him. We’d both just gotten offwork from our jobs so the reunion was somewhat subdued. Still, it was hella cool to run into him. He’s definately one of those ppl who stand out to me when I think about the friends I’ve made in New York. Out of everyone I went to school with, he’s the one who has worked the most consistantly and made the most out of his opportunities since graduation. He always calls me while he’s out on the road with a new show or while he’s working on some new indie, and I always do the same. The gigs we get have gotten gradually better, albeit way too few and sporadic these days. I keep trying to talk him out of going to L.A. (where the stupid ppl live), he keeps trying to convince me to go out there. It’s a viscious cycle but it’s nice just the same. We both have vowed to pull the other out of obscurity as soon as one of us hits it big, Kev and I. We’re also going to buy that big building on Astor Place & Lafayette one day, when the ching-ching is a-flowing, and we’re gonna live in it with all of our struggling actor friends and not make them pay rent.
Hey, I got referenced in a recent weblog article on Metrosexuality! Woo-hoo, yay! We like attention from ppl! Only in cyberia can an opinionated little freakmaster like me get any respect… ain’t it the truth? You can read more on the article and all its related topics here. Very interesting read.
Also, WORD to this entire thing.
So, last night I metup with M & J for dinner in the east village. Ever since the death of our beloved Chili’s in Times Sq., we’ve taken solace in the bright and shinyness that is Johnny Rockets. Did you guys know that @ some random point during the night, all the lights in the diner go into disco effect and the entire waitstaff stop everything and break it down to “Stayin’ Alive”?! No, I’m serious! Full-out choreography. It’s INCREDIBLE! I’m thinking of going EVERY Friday night when I’m bored, you know, cuz I have the time to do shit like that.
Guess who I saw @ the grocery store yesterday? GayJay. I’ve seen him only once (@ his housewarming party) since he got the axe from Hudson, but I’d heard that he was working @ another hotel now. One down in Soho or something. I didn’t say hi or anything, I’m sure the last thing he’d want is somebody all up in his space when he’s just trying to buy some cottage cheese.
Struck by a nostalgic, folksy feeling after watching some infomercial for a 1970′s #1 Chart Toppers compilation, I downloaded “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac. It is currently playing on a loop in my Media Player. It’s annoying me, yet I am transfixed by the melody and cannot summon the will to click the STOP button. It’s like I’m possessed. Damn that Stevie Nicks and her witchy, mountain-woman ways!
The Mexican was on HBO tonight and I’ve decided that I really like this movie. I didn’t like it much when I first saw it. But I do now. Is it just me, or does anyone else ever feel really good about themselves after they’ve given some shit-movie a 2nd chance and end up liking it afterall? Like this Charlie’s Angels thing, with Demi Moore. Suddenly she’s getting all this praise and attention again, it’s like America has forgiven her for shaving her head and that ugly ordeal with Bruce Willis. I love that we’ve embraced Demi again — sorry, D’mee (or however the fuck you say it). I love that we live in a world that would give her a 2nd chance. It’s fucking beautiful.
‘Do
June 20th, 20031. Is your hair naturally curly, wavy, or straight? Long or short?
Short (like me!) and straightish (like me, sometimes!).
2. How has your hair changed over your lifetime?
As an urban mexicanboy growing up poor and friendless in Texas, I either had a flat-top buzzcut or a thick moptop ala Mowgli from The Jungle Book. Dyed it dark red when I was 15, and bleach blond when I was 17, and it has literally been every color combo variation since then. I will probably be bald in 5 years.
3. How do your normally wear your hair?
Short, choppy, and messy.
4. If you could change your hair this minute, what would it look like?
Golden blond highlights with red and black chunks. I actually overslept for an appt with my Hair Sensai Eagle today, dammit, so i’m getting my hair did tomorrow.
5. Ever had a hair disaster? What happened?
I fell asleep with the dye on once and woke up with pinkish-gray hair that would NOT allow itself to be corrected. I told everyone at school that it was for an acting job.
I’ve lost my mp3 player. Last week hell froze over and I actually took a cab home… I actually took a cab home TWICE last week. One night I think I’d been waiting for the A train shuttle @ 168th Street and it was taking way too long (they’re doing weird things up in there), and the other night I totally zoned out and missed my stop. See, I was all caught up in the Goo Goo Dolls “Iris” playing on my mp3 player @ the time and totally wound up in the Bronx before I realized what was going on. During one of those $7 rides home I think I left my mp3 player in the fucking backseat of the cab. You cannot even begin to understand how empty my life has been. I had yesterday off so I went to Circuit City last night and sprung for a new one, which I totally cannot be affording right now but screw it. I’ll just eat NEXT week. Music is more important. E-toys are fun. I got a good one, too! I plan to break it in this weekend.
Happy Friday, people! Enjoy your night.
Hoodies
June 20th, 2003A damn riot nearly broke out on the subway ride home last night. We were all sitting there in silence, like drones, when this trio of schoolkids shuffled into the car @ 125th street. They were those kids selling Snickers and M&M’s for $1, we’ve all seen them — the kids claiming to be raising money for their school basketball team (meanwhile if you ask them what school they go to, or what position they play on the team, they never have an answer for you). Whatever, man. Well, this old woman (who was actually sitting next to me) calls over to the kids that she’ll buy some candy and some random guy in a suit barks, “Don’t buy anything! It’s a scam!” I don’t know what it was, maybe it was how suddenly and out of NOWHERE he came with all this, but everyone sitting around just sort of looked up from their books and paid attention. “It’s a fucking scam!” he repeated, glaring at the kids. “These little punks buy that candy for cheap and they are trying to rip us off! Ask him what school he goes to!” He turned to the smallest, youngest of the boys. “What school do you go to?” Sure enough, the little guy just had this blank look on his face and didn’t answer. “You see?” said the man, who was seriously annoying everyone with this shit. “Ask him for his school ID! Where’s your ID, huh? Show me your ID!” That’s when some random guy in a Kangol hat stood up and looked at the businessman. “Shut the fuck up!” he hollered. “Where’s YOUR ID?!” 
Everybody started clapping. The businessman shut up, indeed, and sat in silence for the rest of the trip.
I still don’t buy shit from those little kids. I don’t feel like enabling their young hoodlum ways. But you gotta give them props for their efforts. I don’t even remember what the hell I did all day long when I was 7 years old, and here they are probably making good money and having boxes and boxes of candy at their disposal. One of those kids had a fucking Motorola cell phone strapped to his belt. It was way nicer than mine. NYC kids are such a trip, man. All that attitude and bravado. They’re like little(r) Joe Pesci‘s.
“Makes Me Want a Hot Dog Reeeeal Baaad…”
June 19th, 2003My newest addiction is that vh1 I Love The 80′s show. Just puts me in such a good mood. While the early-mid 90′s were more my primetime, I totally owned a home BETA video recorder, had a huge crush on Vicki the Robot from Small Wonder, and highly regarded Look Who’s Talking as a turning point in John Travolta’s career — I am totally a child of the 80′s, man. I think my favorite part of the show are the commentators. Dustin Diamond, Kathy Griffin, Mo Rocca, and tag teams Talk Soup babies Hal Sparks & Aisha Tyler, and Debra Wilson & Mo Collins from MAD TV are some of the funniest people in the world. They’re all just like, “Yeah man, I remember. The 80′s stylistically sucked and so did we.”
I need to take a Target trip. Buy a blender. And more off-brand Pop-Tarts (12pack for $1.79, man!).
So this haggard woman came up to me last night @ the desk, really pissed off. I’d had a pretty good night so far, despite the fact that we were sold out and understaffed and had THE MEETING FROM HELL earlier (more on that later…), so I handled her stank attitude with a quick smile and a, “How can I help you this evening?” She’s talking some junk about “some fucking oriental housekeeper” who came in and locked her minibar and took away her shampoos and blahblahblah… I sort of stopped listening once I heard her mutter the words “oriental”.
Ok, FYI? The word oriental refers to OBJECTS like rugs, food, and furniture; people are Asian. This is a major pet peeve of mine. Having been oft-confused with the hip and trendy Asian kids all my life? I have learned a few things along the way. Also, don’t ever use the words “some fucking oriental”, or “some fucking…” ANYTHING (insert your own racial slur here). It makes you sound stupid and makes everybody around you stop and just pity your ignorance and lack of vocabulary.
I looked up her account number and sure enough, there’s a big fat greek flag attatched. She was a recording artist with a major label (they’re ALWAYS a headache) and she’d been an IMPOSSIBLE check-in, refused to leave any form of security deposit. I explained to her that I could have the minibar and bathroom amenities restored immediately, that all I needed was a security deposit to put towards the reservation. “I’m not leaving you guys any fucking money!” she hollered. “I am a singer! My record company is paying for my room!” “Exactly,” I confirmed, smiling. “They’re covering your room and tax, and you are to provide the deposit for incidental charges. Did you want to leave that in cash?” “I just want to get some water!” she hissed. “Can i get some fucking water? Do you let your hotel guests drink water in this place, or do we have to drink from the toilet like DOGS?!” “Ma’am, there are vending machines on each and every floor. We also serve water in the hotel resturant and in all five of the bars.” “Do I need to speak Spanish with you?” she said, glaring. I nearly swallowed my tongue. “Why would you need to speak Spanish? We’re talking in English right now.” She snorted. “Well, you don’t seem to understand a fucking WORD I say, so maybe Spanish would be better. Maybe then you’d understand.” (
OH HELL NO.) “Listen,” I said, staring her squarely in the face. “if you’d like to speak with my manager about the issue, I’ll go get him right now. But just for your own benefit? he’s pretty fluent in English and Spanish, and probably a few other languages too. So if maybe YOU are having some sort of problem being CLEAR or putting things together, I’m sure he’ll be able to help.” Bitch huffed away and I didn’t see her for the rest of the night. I hope she found some water. I hope her racist little ass drowned in a big old tub of it.
Watching some old school Fresh Prince right now. Will Smith used to look hella funny, but those mutli-colored shirts/jams outfits he used to rock were the SHIT! Also, teenage Ashley Banks circa 1995? Mmmm.
I want to see Legally Blonde 2. I admit it. You may now begin throwing your stones and assorted fruits.
I just saw the promo for next week’s episode of Driven: Mary-Kate & Ashley Olsen. There are lots of interview clips with the surviving members of Full House saying things like, “Mary-Kate was always just a little bit… edgy.” Seriously. Somebody kill the TV.