That was not me who wasted a perfectly good and beautiful Monday night sitting @ Lowes E-Walk on 42nd St. @ the 9:50pm show of the trainwreck that was The Fighting Temptations. That was not me who was fooled by the upbeat and spirited movie trailers and up and wasted 2 crisp, coveted movie vouchers on this peice of shit movie. You did not see me spending 119 painful minutes watching Cuba Gooding Jr suck the life out of the footage, or Beyonce Knowles trying to be the opposite of a glamourpuss showoff. It was also not I who forced the innocent and blameless Randyboy to sit through this, too. And furthermore, that was also not me searching the Internet over for an mp3 download of the toe-tapping “I Ain’t No Superstar” gospel ballad that they sing at the end of the movie… (I was not crying one little bit during the song either).

You’re all confused. It was not me. I was never there.

OH MY GOD!!! I just watched the video for that Fountains of Wayne song “Stacey’s Mom” (which I love) and I am scandalized! The little boy is jerking off at the end of the video! He’s like, 12 yrs old! The little boy is jerking off! The little boy is jerking off! What the FUCK is MTV doing?! Isn’t that like borderline kiddieporn or something?! When they were making the video, how exactly did they direct the little boy in that scene? Were they like, “Yeah so just close your eyes and smile a little bit and pretend that you just got a big boner. Riiiight, good. So now, start….” Oh my God! That fucking kills me.

I had a great weekend, man. Work was pretty easy for the most part. I finally got that pesky payroll-issue cleared up — bitches tried to skimp me on it! Trust that my Southern roots sure as hell took hold of my senses when I barged into the Payroll Manager’s office and got shit taken care of, and now my next paycheck will include my hard-earned 10hrs of overtime. Damn right. That kind of shit just annoys me to no end. I have rent to pay, dammit. But anyway… yes, my weekend was nice. I metup with BoyRandall on Friday night for dinner in Union Sq., a coolass neighborhood that I don’t at all spend enough time in. The B&Noble there is GLORIOUS, just huuuuuuge and vast and all kinds of other synonyms for cool space. I wanna buy it when I become rich and gut it all out and make it a crashpad for all my poor friends. Randy and I caught a late-show of De La Guarda, which he had never seen before. I’d seen it once already, took my mom and little sister when they visited me last New Year. The 3 tickets were actually generous gifts from my ex-girlfriend (a passive-agressive jab in my ribs, if you ask me), but I didn’t let that taint the experience. The show is just unlike any other thing in New York and I am truly fucking jealous of all the kids in the cast, cuz they get to dance and scream and fly through the air every single night. Probably the happiest people in this damn city.

Bend It Like Beckham comes out on DVD tomorrow! I fucking loved this movie! If any one of you haven’t seen it yet, I no longer what you reading this website. We obviously just don’t see eye-to-eye. (Insert short-jokes here). I think Parminder Nagra is really amazing in it, (innit!), and I heard she just joined the cast of ER. Dear Lord, is that show still on? Who’s even on it anymore? Is it still set in a hospital? Clue me in, please.

So, imagine my joy when BrooklynAaron stopped in @ Hudson this weekend for some dinner and pretentious atmosphere. I made sure to get him and his uber-cool crew on the lists for our bars, just b/c everybody really needs to (at least once) experience the rush and joy of swooping past a crowd of poseurs and just slipping past the velvet rope… though I’m sure he’s used to the feeling. Woot! It was cool to meet him in person. We like him (and we appreciate all the daily traffic that his kind link generates to this here site)! Come play more often, Aaron!

I have a feeling that I’m really going to love this new season of Fraternity Life. They seem to have a fun, fucked up mix of guys pledging this year and is it just me (and Tom), or does Robbie look like he’s 9 years old? He’s an elf! He’s a member of the Lollipop Guild! Not that I’m hating on him, I actually realy liked how his 5′1″ ass stood up and ordered “Shut the fuck up!” to that fat kid in the group. Work it, little man, even if you do look like Q.T.*

In other MTVness, I had this wild dream last night that I was part of the next RealWorld/RoadRules Challenge. We were all about to have to this wilderness obstical course that entailed sawing logs and parasailing and deep sea diving. The cameras were rolling, everybody was screaming at me, and I was just a mess b/c I couldn’t find my contact lenses and I was fucking up and I just knew America was going to be watching the show and hating me — b/c they’d hated me during my season on The Real World: Japan and this was my only chance to redeem myself. Oh god, it was awful. But I did makeout with Veronica in my dream, we were in a pool and she was wearing a bike helmet for some reason. I overlooked all the obvious shit (like the fact that the bitch has done about 800 of those damn challenges in 2 years, and you know, has that whole klepto problem) and just went with it. I keep falling asleep on my futon with the TV on while it rains outside. It’s been kinda nice.

Oh, I have reinstated my Netflix membership. I’ve thought about it and it’s just too good a luxury to give up. Shut up! No, you know what? It’s really BETTER that I do this, b/c I’ll honestly use it all the time now that I can’t afford real movies anymore. Just to help, you all should email me once every week with your top 3 rental recommendations, ok? and only include movies that you think are worth your time. Or anything with gratitious sex.

Kelly Rowland checked into the hotel the other day and I really wanted to climb over the desk, race across the lobby, and just embrace her… that, and maybe give her a lesson or two in basic grammar. Instead, I withheld and just offered a little smile and nod. I think she appreciated it.

Alright, it’s official: Ellen DeGeneres makes me wanna shoop shoop shoop. I must admit, she was a bit much to take right after she came out. Her show became really Look-at-me-I’m-a-lesbian and less Look-at-at-me-i’m-a-loser, which sucks, b/c that’s why so many ppl had liked it to begin with. Seems like she got really beatup by the public for awhile, then that horrible way she got dumped by that fucking lunatic she was dating. I think in the end tho, it was all probably the best thing to have happened b/c it gave everyone a chance to NOTICE her again. Now she’s like, back on top of the world or something and I am so on the Ellen Love Train. I record her show everynight and watch it when I come home from work, and I just caught re-aring of her latest HBO comedy special tonight. The woman has such an ear for tone and comedy and the art of phrasing and punching what’s funny, you’ve just gotta give it up and laugh your ass off when she’s talking about toilet paper rolls and why she loves Salt-n-Pepa so much.

I heard Coldplay’s “Clocks” blasting from the radio in the Rooms Service kitchen @ work tonight, and it fucking transported me from my state of stress to a land of melancholy glee. Everytime I hear that song, the whole world becomes okay.

So, last week I was denied my Friday Five, and sadly so were you. *sigh* It’s an ugly world out there, man. But here is a moment of night-time narcissism to tide us over till next week. Ok, one more for the road.

* may he rest in peace. “Calculus (U + Me = Us)” was the damn anthem.

Happy day, it was, winners. I slept in, played online, and mozied on downtown to meetup with Randyboy for the 10:30 performance of De La Guarda. Fun fun fun! It’s incredible, it’s like a jump-start to your senses! The show is performed in this huge space that was once the safety vault of an old New York bank. The audience stands the whole time, dancing, raving, getting soaked, and just having a funass time. The cast members — one of which happens to be my buddy Adam Lobado!!! —- all are in these sort of weather-beaten business outfits, which just made their behavior so much cooler b/c they’re like this cackling tribe of Lost Boys & Girls. They scream some weird jibberish language the entire time and just soar over our heads from one end of the room to the other, they occassionally swoop down to grab random people and pull them along for the adventure. Ugh, what a GREAT time. Whilst Randifer’s wallet was fingered and picked clean by a babbling, sweat-soaked Asain woman, a total stranger pulled up my shirt and planted a zerbert upon my abs… then he flew away. I fucking love it.

FYI, $20 rush tickets are the bombdiggety.

A few things that I’m currently just a little bit OVER:

- 99 cent items actually adding up to $1.08
- everyone acting like they were die-hard fans of Johnny Cash (pre-Nirvana cover) and sat around listening to him 24-7 (it doesn’t count if you own a Greatest Hits album or Various Artists compilation)
- inaccurate paychecks
- devil-may-care mice inhabiting my kitchen counters
- whiteboys saying “son”, “kid”, or “nigga” to other whiteboys during an actual, serious conversation
- RIAA lawsuits against 12yr olds
- The Real World
- ppl who describe themselves as old souls
- the phrase “9/11″
- Domino’s closing @ midnight during the week
- my leaky dishwasher
- the media’s obsession with Ben & J.Lo’s breakup (we should all just thank the Lord it’s over and be glad that she won’t be procreating)
- not enough Burger Kings in Manhattan
- the fact that my new haircut makes me look 10 yrs old
- SPAM mail with subject titles like “re: I called you the other day!”
- being so money-conscious lately
- prodical friends playing the “I called you!” game (if you think I’m talking about you, i’m probably not. and if you think i’m NOT talking about you, i probably AM)
- David Blaine’s fucking shenanigans
- windy weather but humid subways
- the hype over the final season of Friends (yeah, we got it already)
- ex-playthings who try to act like ex-datethings
- ppl who use that earbud/microphone attatchment (on their cell) when they’re just sitting down not doing anything
- “So are you still bi? Or are you full-out gay now?”
- the Shuttle Bus transfer @ 168th St. after midnight, dammit

Forgive the randomness. It’s just been one of those nights.

Today marks my 5th year in New York!

ROCK.

I feel like I’m a native now. I’ve been through terrorism, rent wars, SARS outbreaks, brushes with homelessness, subway fare hikes, blackouts, anthrax-scares, unemployment, roommmate drama, and more shit than I care to recall. Though I’m nowhere near close to being done with paying off my dues, I do feel that my ongoing quest (to sever all ties with my Southern roots and become a hip&trendy New Yorker) just got a little bit shorter. Now if I could only figure out how to be cool…

I feel like buying myself a present or something. Something that says, “Hey, congrats on making it this far, you little runt. Keep going and keep having fun!” Alas, the state of my poorness prevents me from anything fun like this, and I’ve been really good lately about saving my moolah — no more Starbucks, only Supercuts haircuts, bringing leftovers to work for lunch, getting rid of my cyber-happies, and whatnot. So I’ll just have sex with myself instead. That’s always fun… and free.

Ok, so I lied. Bonzai isn’t missing. He died. The circumstances surrounding his death have been greatly exaggerated and I refuse to disgrace his existance by addressing the rumors that I killed him. I will only close my eyes and pray these words in his memory:

And so we welcome a new face into Spriteboy World: Bonzai 2.0!!!

(shut up. all of you.)

Ok, so I was totally wrong about The Gauntlet. I watched the Sneak Preview the other night and now I can’t fucking wait. That shit looks GOOD. Coral! Montana! Veronica! I love these fools, man. Expect more feedback and commentary on this show from me during the next few months, cuz I sure as hell will be watching. All this and they just redid the forums @ TWoP, so now I have a reason to go back and start posting! TV has been boring for me ever since the end of Battle of the Sexes and the season finale of Smallville. Altho, Carnivale is really pulling me in. It’s just so freakin’ weird… Oh, and out of sheer curiousity, I tuned in to One Tree Hill tonight, and I was suprisngly impressed. I was hoping it would be good b/c I sort of need some Dawson-y fluff to fill the void in my life since I straightup refuse to watch the blatant offense that is The O.C. Um, also? it’s really good to see that Chad Michael Murray is eating his Wheaties.

Well, I spent about 2hrs this morning dueling to the death with a splinter that was nestled deep into the thickness of my big toe. Alas, I stand victorious! I walk with a little bit of limp, yes, but NO MORE PAIN! Ugh, it was like a little shard of metal or something. Funny how something so tiny can completely peirce your sense of balance.

Speaking of things being off-center, it appears that (yet) another one of my actor bretheren from back in the day is kicking his way up to mainstream success. I was @ a going away party for Miss K last weekend and ended up mixing with a few of my old college classmates, ppl whom (for the most part) I’ve made it a point to avoid since graduation. It only made cruel and perfect sense to find out that my old classmate (and — let’s just be honest — straightup RIVAL) Adam has been cast in the John Cameron Mitchell’s newest movie, The Sex Film Project. The movie is basically a comedy about the polysexual underworld of New York… with lots of actual, hardcore sex. I remember when the casting process for this began, b/c everyone (including myself) was so damn scandalized by what all it entailed. I flirted for awhile the idea of submitting a tape for it, but I decided it wasn’t really the kind of movie I’d want to be in. Anyway, Adam was a little bit liqioured up and let me in on a few secret details about the rehearsal process… and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to listening whole-heartedly and being a little bit jealous of him. This kid was always just a few steps ahead of me in school, he operated in quick bursts while I was always more of a slow-burn energy. Both of us always did good work and there definate competition between us, I think, but I always felt that he just a few degrees ahead, his instincts a bit quicker, a little more free than my own. Remember how, on Seinfeld, Jerry would get foiled by Newman and he’d clench his fist and hiss, “Newman!” That was me: “Adam!” He’s in freakin’ John Cameron Mitchell’s new movie, man! That’s HUGE! I won’t even FRONT with any “Why can’t that be ME?!” bullshit b/c the truth is that I’ve kind of stepped back from the whole scene. It’s just what I needed to do. But for Adam… I honestly wish him the best — he’s worked hard and stayed busy since we graduated, writing screenplays and doing workshops for them, starting up a theater company, making contacts and whatnot. So good for him. Dammit.

Does everyone remember my ex-roommate BJ? His Cute Girlfriend is away for a few months, being famous and actress-y, and suddenly he won’t stop begging me to hangout. It’s a bit much, really. I guess I could sacrafice a few moments of my sacred solitude and actually pay him a quick visit, just to make sure he’s still breathing… but then I think, “Hey, what’s on cable tonite?” and the momentary concern no longer seems important. I do hope his woman gets back to him soon, though. Last I heard? he was looking into alternate means of happiness.

I caught a late show of that indie Casa De Los Babys the other night. It made me feel all mexican, ese. However, I also just saw the new video for Lil Bow-Wow. Um, is he supposed to be all grown and shit? I guess he’s just Bow-Wow… now? He was driving around L.A. in some convertable, cruising the strip and macking on the ladies. Dude, he’s like 13. Am I the only one who finds any of this weird?

And when I woke up in the strange bed this morning, naked and exhausted, I saw that I was all by myself. My eyes were bloodshod and my hair was a mess. I searched the pillow and comforter over for a note thanking me for the freakfest but found nothing, nothing scrawled in lipstick on the dresser mirror either. I threw on my clothes, grabbed my jacket, and slipped out of the apartment as quietly as I could, careful not to waken the sleeping roommates who I’d been sneaked past the night before. My night of sin and debauchery had not only worn me out and robbed me of my dignity in the morning, but brought a heavy rainfall too, and I realized that my walk of shame would be a wet one. Dripping from head to toe and soaking wet, I began my way back across Manhattan, back to my side of town, back to my trains, back to the safety of my apartment where I could shower off the sin and change before it was time to head into work.

“Slut! Harlot! Filth!” the townspeople screamed at me, as I hurried past the righteous mob. They threw stones and rotten fruit. “Whore of Babylon! Whore of Babylon! Run from your shame, you harlot! Run to your hiding place! SINNER!”

But they were wrong. A whore gets paid, and I? had not a dime in my pocket.

Once upon a summer, I worked in a salon. That one there, actually. I got the job completely by random, my roommate at the time bought a shitty at-home highlight kit and ordered me to help her do it. When she went there to the salon to get a trim, the master stylist loved her hair and blahblahblah, I got a phone call and a job offer to come work as his assistant. I was currently on my summer break from college and working part-time @ Alphabets, and a salon sounded like fun, so I figured why not? and took the position. I got to work in this sleek creative atmosphere located in and of the oldest department stores in Manhattan, and I was working as an assistant to Myke Savage (pronounce that Sa-VAHGE). He was the youngest stylist on staff and pretty much fit into all the regular Hairstylist Stereotypes (flaming, fabulous, coke-addict), which kept him in constant collision with the Lord&Taylor Department Heads. But he was really good so they pretty much left him alone, even when he insisted that I come work for him regardless of the fact that I was inexperienced and unlicensed. Still one of the coolest jobs I ever had! Basically all I did was shampoo some heads, entertain the clients while they were being worked on, run to the deli to get Myke’s cigarettes, and stroll around the salon wearing black and looking pretty. Can I just say that I fucking CLEANED HOUSE on those tips, man! I turned on every southern charm I could muster. It was all about, “Did you need another coffee, Miss Rockerfeller? No? Ok. Ohhh is that $20 for ME? Thanks!” and “Here’s a new magazine for you, Mrs. Sloane. $50, really? Wow, thanks. Lemme get your coat!” Heh. Old Upper East Side crotchety women might be a boreass bitch, but they sure do tip well.

The only downside to my brief stint in the Grooming Industry was the dreaded task of having to get my eyebrows tweezed every week. It was in my hiring agreement that, as an employee on the salon’s main floor, I was to get regular haircuts/color, facial treatments, and eyebrow maintenance (all free of course). As a budding Metrosexual, this seemed fucking cool… I had no idea what kind of pain my poor little mug was in store for. I begat a bizaare, love/hate, S&M-type relationship with Marta, the big burly eyebrow specialist from the Ukriane. Every week I’d sit in her chair, head back, my fingers digging into the armchair pads as I’d scream out in pain. “SHUT UP, BOY!” she’d laugh, in her big scary man-voice as I writhed around squirming and trying hard not to cry. “Beauty is pain! And you’re eyebrows look like pussy!” Then she’d attack, jabbing those tweezers into my brow-ridge until I looked like a fucking drag queen. To this day, I cannot look at a pair of tweezers w/o rubbing my brow frantically and getting a little bit misty… and turned-on.

I ended up leaving that job after a few months. I got kinda bored and moved into the fun fun world of club promoting. It was all about moving onto the cooler, hipper scene at the time. Heh, glad I got over that pretentious little phase… (this is what sarcasm tastes like). But yeah. I’m not sure what made me think about all of that. Probably b/c I’ve been watching the Roseanne Marathon on Nick-At-Nite this weekend, and all of tonight’s eps are from that season when she worked in the salon sweeping floors. Damn, I loved that show.

I’m getting my hair did this week. Alas, it’s all about them (and not them) since my cashflow is mighty low these days. Ugh, poverty is a humbling little bitch.

I snagged a copy of Gotham Magazine from the concierge desk to flip through while I chowed down on my spagehtti during my lunchbreak: imagine my suprise when I spotted a little article on my buddy Pawel Szajda! I met Pawel a couple years ago @ NYSC, where I was working weekends @ the front desk, and we just started talking about stuff. He’d been some sort of National Ballroom Dance Champion in Poland or something and had just moved to NYC to break into acting. Anyway, we both ended up getting cast in The Emporer’s Club later that spring and so the friendship was forged. And I can’t tell you how much I relished being able to stroll up to him @ the gym and be all:

“So hey, what time is calltime tomorrow?”
“I don’t know, I think it’s 8am. I’ll find out and call you.”
“Cool. Which scene is it?”
“The Assembly. Either that or the paperfight again.”
“Ugh, that’s gonna be a long day, dude.”
“I know right?”
“Yeah…”

Heh. Oh yes, I was soaking it all up.

He was actually in the movie a lot more than I was (you can see him in a lot of the classrooms scenes) but it was nice to have somebody around my age to hang around and grab some Starbucks with during the downtime. I sort of lost touch with him after awhile… Apparently, he’s become a star-on-the-verge, what with playing a major role in the upcoming Diane Lane movie Under Tuscan Sun and all. Not that I’m one bit suprised. Rock on, Pawel! Spread some of that spotlight this way ok?