It was a lazy, leisurely day that trailed into a lowkey, cozy night, and I just loved every minute of it. Days like this one are the kind that stand out when I think about a beautiful, autumn afternoon. I somehow lucked out and got today off from work WITH pay. WOOT! Two Sundays off in a row (followed by my usual Mondays off) and I got to spend them both with Boy Randall! I could get used to this shit, man.

Spriteboy Speaks

We got him hooked up with this and this. All for only $150! Can I get a what-what for Circuit City? Now Randy can enjoy the wonder that is Netflix, and also experience for himself the exhilerating mp3 bliss of 5hrs of music all on ONE little disc. Happiness is digital, yo.

Ideas for tomorrow:
- get up before 12pm
- take Domino’s Pizza off speed-dial
- catch a rerun of the VH1 Big in 2003 Awards
- send the rent check
- get a haircut

(Yaffa Cafe wasn’t the same without you, Jax.)

Couldn’t sleep tonight, so I took a bunch of personality tests. I don’t really recommend this to anyone.

>Conscious self	Overall self

Take Free Enneagram Personality Test

Been a long week. Work flies by but the nights seem to drag on forever. I’ve been in such a strange mode these days. Thanksgiving seemed like it barely even happened. I left work early that night and went to see Pieces of April, which has left me feeling stoic and strange ever since. My trip to Staten Island Mall the next day left me dissappointed and embarassed that I’d gone (I can’t believe stores like Glamour Shots and Hot Topic are still around). It was a nice time with my friends but I wish somebody would have talked some sense into me before I spent money on a fucking denim jacket, though. Who the hell wears that shit anymore? Our trip to Target redeemed the wasted day. Where else can I get jumbo boxes of Pop-Tarts for $1.79?

By the way, I really really enjoy reading Joop. Seriously, that cuteass blog of hers is just freakin addictive (possibly even more than that shit), I only just found it this past weekend. She’s just the cutest thing alive. Another hella cool blogger I’m digging on lately: the winner over @ AnythingButBasic.com, who’s journal gots the body the rocks the party. Though he neglected to shout me out during his trip to Manhattan this past weekend, I thoroughly enjoy his shit and he is most definately invited to grab a mochafrapp with me and Joop anytime.

Random truth: Longview, TX is a really lucky city right now.

While most of the city is gearing for the big shindig tomorrow, this year’s Thanksgiving for me is pretty much just like last year, which is kind of comforting and depressing at the same time. They’re having some kind of nice Thanksgiving luncheon thing for the Hudson employees, I think, but I just can’t bring myself to go to that shit. All of us losers who had nothing better to do with anyone one the holiday, just sitting around eating from a buffet table of Hudson Cafeteria leftovers. Thanks, but no. Then again, my food cabinets are looking kinda bare these days. Ugh, whatever. It’s just a DAY, dammit. I’m sure if I’d gone home to Texas, I’d probably be itchin’ to get back on the plane by the end of the meal… at least I keep trying to tell myself this so that I don’t get sad.

Oh, I’ve finally gotten out of my Crunch gym membership. Don’t ask me how, it involved some shadyass business and the world is better off not knowing the pitiful truth, but I feel a huge weight lifted off me (no pun intended). That was $80 a month just being DRAINED from my checking, and it was going to no use. so I feel so much better knowing it’s done. Maybe now I can start paying my student loans again. Bills bills bills, man. All this and I wanna go to London too?

I think I’m the only person up in here who saw Love, Actually and hated it, actually. What the hell? They marketed it to look like an ensemble comedy and I walked in there all excited and ready to get sucked in and enchanted… and then nothing happened. I just couldn’t connect with a single storyline or with any of the characters. I thought the music sucked, they stole that “Nobody Ought To Be Alone On Christmas” song from Home Alone 2: Lost In New York. I fucking LOVED that song and it only ONLY works with the big shot of Kevin McCallister popping his head out the cab window as it sails across the Queensborough Bridge into Manhattan. The only part that kind of pulled me in was the Emma Thompson thing, just b/c I really hate infidelity and it broke my heart seeing her open that present and realize her husband was having an affair. The movie just seemed sloppy, like they threw it together so they could have a big british comedy for the holiday box office rush. Don’t get me wrong: I totally love fluffy, romantic, cute comedies… do I have Kate & Leopold on DVD? yes I sure as hell do. And I am fully capable of appreciating a movie that doesn’t have an absolute happy ending (i.e. Donnie Darko, Real Women Have Curves) — but if they’re not written well, or even cast perfectly, then I just can’t get into it. I so wanted to like this movie. What a damn dissappointment. Oh, in all fairness, my moviegoing experience might have been slightly skewered by the fat man snoring in the back of the theater. There’s a serious, semi-emotional scene going on and all I hear is Fat Albert back there just sawing logs like he’s all by himself. Dude, get some Snore No More.

A woman @ work tonight told me I was cute. Then she said my hair looked like her mink coat. I punched her in the mouth. Bet she’ll think twice before getting sassy with me again. Heh. Shut up, Chris. Okay.

In ego-crushing news: I’m convinced that Adam Brody is trying to destroy me. As if rubbing his career in my face wasn’t enough, he’s now apparently moved on to stealing the women in my life too (this is the same woman who from me stole the fleeting affections Daniel Bedingfield, incidentally). My dawg Canyon (little trickster that she is) hooked up with this smug little bastard recently and oh what a sordid tale she tells… Boy, does she move fast or what? Insult to injury: word has it that Mr. Brody is hung like a fucking mule. I hate you, Adam. I hate you so much.

Heading to Staten Island tomorrow. The mall needs me and I must take solace in the Day After Thanksgiving Sale. Dwindling bank account be damned.

A blogger who’s webpage I have a semi-addiction to once posted her cell number in a journal entry. I found this alarming and felt way too much responsibility with the number staring back at me. What was I supposed to DO with this information? Was I to call and say something? It just seemed like all kinds of wrong. How the hell was she going to put this kind of pressure on me and the rest of the world. Also, what kind of person begs total strangers to call her and cross the invisible line of Internet Etiquette? I never called her and never quite forgave her for putting me on the spot like that.

But allow me, for a moment, to break the chains of propriety and be a bigass dork. Hell, i’m straightup embracing hypocrisy, really. See, I just got a bill from the folks @ Smartbeep, letting me know that my contract is up for renewal next month — this is for a pager/voicemail service I quit using about a year ago ever since I joined the cellular nation. Btw, does anyone out there still use a pager? God bless you if you do. I RESPECT you for rocking it oldschool like that. I was 19 when I bought my pager and just couldn’t stop congratulating myself for finding Smartbeep and only paying $1.99 a month. But alas, the digital age has improved with time. And time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I’m getting older too (sing it, Stevie). Out with the old and whatnot. So, I’m saying goodbye to my pager, to voicemail service, and to this number that I’ve had for past 5 years — and I’m inviting all of you to join me in saying so long during these last few days of its life.

Fear no exposure, my friends. It’s a pager, it only takes voicemails and it won’t tell me who you are or how to call you back. I don’t even know where the damn pager is, actually, so it’ll be like a game of Hot-N-Cold! Warm, warm, warm… cold… FREEZING COLD!

His name is Bron. He rules elitist supreme over the sexy Hudson Bar. He makes people-watching @ Hudson a damn social event — working the crowds, working those slacks, working his mojo, and sending the front desk boys&girls into horrifying fits of panting and drooling. Up close, far away, it don’t even matter — boy has got the look. I was talking to him tonight and it turns out he’s actually an ex-gymnast. I’m telling you people, it’s a damn crime to be that good-looking. It just can’t be healthy. Oh, and if this one’s got your mouths watering, just wait till i post pics of Cy, the new Latina temptress @ the Desk. She plays coy better than me. You’ll all see for yourselves. We’ve gotta have something for everyone cuz I know that my readership consists of all types of girls, guys, ho’s, mo’s, plains, trains, and automobiles. Diversity rocks me Amadeus!

(And yes, btw, they BOTH know I’m alive.)

I’m fully aware of the utter stupidity of this here post, but it’s 4am, I can’t get no sleep, and this is how we do it sometimes. Shut up, all of you, and fear no evil: Randyboy is the still my babydaddy. I’m a hustler, baby.

I’m entertaining the idea of going to London in the spring, for like a week. A hotel guest I was really nice with gave me her business card before she left and mentioned that if I ever wanted to see London, she could hook it up. I’ve got some vacation time now and I kind of wanna see someplace new. So I’ve emailed this kind lady and it looks like come next spring, I may just be having tea & crumpets with the Queen and shit. I’ve never been to Europe (and never much wanted to see it), but if it’s anything like it looked in Bend It Like Beckham, Metrosexuality, or UK Matt’s recent posts, I think I’ll it. Gonna be all kinds of Real Word: London up in there, innit. I’ll be sure to take plenty of food with me though, since the UK seems to be deprived of standard junkfood. Matt had never tasted Kool-Aid, Pop-Tarts, iced tea, or Twizzlers — all he knew was Marmite. This worries me. I’ve got no clue how things are over there, I just remember that scene in National Lampoon’s European Vacation where they’re in the car and Chevy Chase keeps circling around and around going, “I can’t get left! I can’t get left!”

In related Limey news: I couldn’t pry myself away from the TV today and got caught up in the Vh1 Behind the Music: Spice Girls. I was just enthralled for some reason, altho I never especially liked them. This special on them just made me annoyed that America loved them so much — they weren’t very good singers or anything, all they did was dance around and BE SASSY BRITS! (I prefer my brits intellectual, clever, and vicious… unless you’re The Osbounres.). Who knew that Sporty Spice was anorexic all those years? Damn, now I feel kinda bad that I ragged on her so much for being the ugly one with bad teeth. I was all about the sultrier, pouty Posh Spice, and we all know she’s got a thing for Metrosexuals.

T-Mobile Megatones has got me looking so crazy right now, them tones got me hoping you’ll page me right now. They’re the shit! I’ve spent the last 20 minutes sampling and downloading ringtones and wallpapers for my Nokia. My cell now rings “Rock Your Body” and it vibrates a few times too. It’s like my own pocket-sized sex-romp with Justin Timberlake. Please, everyone I know? CALL ME A WHOLE LOT. We’re also rolling out with “99 Luftballoons”, “Crazy In Love“, and “Dillemma” (cuz that song just makes me wanna hug total strangers).

I can’t handle this mess. Somebody stop me. I’m going to see a late show of Love, Actually tonight. Cheerio, winners!

* Other geeky internet fun is the Yahoo Pop-Up Blocker, which has made my web-suring such a smoother ride. I highly recommend it.

Alright, there is some shady stuff going on @ H&M. I love this store but dammit, as a fellow employee of a company that often leaves me to clean up all their loose little ends and then doesn’t wanna appreciate me the way I deserve to be appreciated, I gotta say something here. I heard about this business today and I’m a little pissed about it (and I AM already looking at what I can do to help further the cause for the employees). I rarely saunter over to the political side of things, but this is a topic that strikes a chord in my soul.

Bitchass executives from corporate don’t know SHIT about what it’s like to run the floor of a retail store like that one. They’re really good at coming up with IDEAS and POLICIES and talking about the VISION and GOALS of the company… but are they the ones dealing with the rough edges of customer service? Are they the ones staying 3 hours AFTER the store closes to put everything back the way it was —- and then having to come back first thing in the morning to OPEN the store b/c your manager doesn’t want to commit to giving you a steady schedule? Are they the ones actually DOING anything hands-on that doesn’t allow them to pull rank or throw weight around or pass it on to someone else? NO. No, they’re NOT the ones doing actual labor. They’re not the ones getting taken advantage of.

I’m not necessarily pro-(or anti-)union, but I strongly believe that the common, middle-class employee needs to learn how to stick up for themselves better and not let their bosses get away with bullshit. Uber-corporations (like H&M — and I know cuz I used to work there) love to intimidate and take advantage of their naive 19/20yr old employees, making them work erratic schedules and shortchanging their pay. And most of these poor kids allow it to happen b/c they don’t know that there’s any way around it. It’s just not right, man.

I took a marker and scribbled: STAND UP FOR YOURSELVES! across the peitition poster tonight, and I really hope these kids do it. Check out UniteUnion.org more info on how to help these kids out.

She walked across St. Mark’s Place like she owned the district. Like the entire East Village had been created for her. I caught her at a quick glimpse from across the street and snapped this shot right away. In a gentrified East Village, she was a day-glo beacon of neon light, a reminder of what the hood is all about. She could have been 20 years old, or 60 years old — hell, she could have been a he for all I knew. It wasn’t clear, or even important. I liked how defiant she seemed, the way she just put on those uglyass clothes and strutted across the way w/o a damn care, her funky hair swishing over her shoulder. Just in that one moment, she impressed the hell out of me. I called out to her, “Wait! WAIT! I love you!” but she kept on walking, glowing in the distance and making everyone take notice.

Little Miss Badass.

Had the best freakin’ day. It’s actually been a great weekend. Even work, despite the obvious problems, has been somewhat bearable this week. Last night was especially great b/c I got to leave work after only 4hrs, it was just so damn slow. I trekked it downtown and met up with T, who I hadn’t seen in a longass time. The boy just moved into the most INCREDIBLE 2-level duplex apartment in Alphabet City and I had to go and witness that mess for myself. *sigh* It’s all true, man. The apartment is just GORGEOUS and he got such an awesome deal on it too, plus he gets to live in the east village. I’d actually never really been past Avenue B before, so it was cool to see more of the Lower East Side. I’m officially jealous of T’s new surroundings, if for no other reason than the fact that there is an all-night pizzeria down the block from his place called Moon Pies.

This morning I slept in, which was nice cuz I feel like I haven’t gotten to do much of it in awhile, and then Randyboy and I headed downtown for brunch. We were supposed to meet up with BrooklynAaron @ 7A, but halfway across St. Marks Place we spotted God’s newest gift to the East Village: fucking Chipotle! Those of you who already know of it need no explaination, and those of you who don’t? need to march yer asses downtown and get some of this Tex-Mex grub. Yes, I know this is sort of evil b/c St. Mark’s Place used to be sacred and punk-rock and it’s slowly becoming infested with Starbucks, Subway, and Baby Gap… but dammit, I was just so excited when I saw it! I promise to do something really “indie” and “underground” this week to make up for it. Actually, I sort of did already…

Well, I wandered with the boys for awhile after lunch until it was time to head out for work. I was having fun and the weather was really nice today. On a hunch, I called up my manager @ Hudson and sure enough, he said it was gonna be so slow that I wouldn’t really have to come in. Woot! So I spent the rest of the happy afternoon/evening hanging out in Soho with Randy. I stopped in @ Pearl River Mart (which is officially the cleanest and nicest public bathroom in the greater downtown area) and stocked up on some incense. Dude, I got 3 coolass scents: Fantasia, Pixie Dust, and Fizzy Pop. Fizzy Pop is my favorite, it’s like when you poor a glass of coke and you get a whiff of all that fizz and it kind of makes you go cross-eyed for a sec. Yeah… having way too much fun with that.

It was wonderful not going in to work tonight, I felt like a sailor on shore leave. It was just a perfectly nice day. And I have tomorrow off too. Later I stopped uptown to hang with M & J, watched Alias, gave J a cuteass haircut, and came home. Took a hot shower, ordered some pizza, and watched Ever After on DVD. I freaking love that movie: “Breathe, just breathe…” Angelica Huston is so evil, though, the way she treats poor little chunky Drew Barrymore… it just breaks my heart. I have actual hate in my being for that bitch.

Btw, I think these are just so amazing. $1 gets you 4 minutes. Perfect for when I’m stuck waiting for a bus @ 4am and get struck with an urge to do a late-night, last-minute, must-do-imediately website update, or to get movie showtimes w/o having to use up my cellphone minutes caling Moviefone. Or even if i’m just in the mood to see what she, he, or they might be posting about. Do any other cities have these yet or are we the first ones? Too cool.

Oooh, I saw Julia Stiles @ the Ani DiFranco concer the other night, and I’m not only proud but I’m also THRILLED to report that I had way better seats than her and her crew. Row E, center seat, bitch. The concert was actually amazing, I wasn’t expecting to be so impressed with Ani. I’d never really heard any of her music before — I’d only known her “32 Flavors” song but the version I like is actually a cover by Alana Davies — so it was a totally new experience. The show was @ The Beacon Theater, which was just incredible on its own, and that tiny little woman filled the entire space with just her voice and a guitar. Pretty fucking cool. She also spat some poetry, that kind of freeversing, spoken-word style that all the lesbians are into. All in all a really cool experience. Plus, it was just nice to get one over on Julia Stiles. I’ve seen her all over the Upper West Side, she actually used to date a friend of mine, and something about that girl just bugs me (sorry to all the peeps who liked her). I still think she owes me $10 for the crap that was Save the Last Dance but yes, you best be sure that I’m going to see Mona Lisa Smile the day it comes out. I’m a sucker for that kind of shit.

You may have noticed a certain name dropped here and there on this here site for the past few months. A few flippant references, maybe a random comment, or an unexplained picture laced into a drawn-out story. And some of you may have taken a nanosecond in your busy day to wonder, Who the hell is this “Randyboy” he keeps talking about? Maybe none of you have even noticed. Maybe no one even reads this page anymore. Doesn’t matter, really, cuz whatever the case might be, I’d just like to take a quick moment to say something in particular about him. About Randyboy.

The first thing I noticed about him was that huge, killer smile. He has eyes that actually dance and flicker when he laughs. Unassuming. Earnest. Sweet. Gorgeous. Slightly coy. Exciting. Adorable. The boy glows. It’s felt like forever and a day since I’ve gotten this close to someone, and I’m really liking it. I first went out with him one night exactly 6 months ago and I haven’t left him alone since… and I don’t plan on doing so anytime soon, either. I’m just damn goofy for this kid. And while I might later regret writing such a damn sappy post like this, and as foreign as feels to be putting myself out there so openly and honestly, I’m just way too smitten to play it up all cool and shit.

You’re amazing, Randy. Everytime I see you, you make everything fun and exciting and better than it already was. I think about you way too much. I’m constantly impressed by the person you are, all the time. I like your sense of humor and the perspective from which you look at things. I like your style. I like that grand pianos crash together whenever you walk down the street. I like it that you’re willing to come all the way uptown after a long day @ work just to hang out for a few hours. I like it that you tolerate my sordid sexuality and give me full permission to makeout with Jessica Alba if the opportunity presents itself. I like it that you keep me on my toes and keep me from taking everything too seriously. I like that you always have great stories about people you know. I like how you’re always trying to get me to try new things. I like it that you always know what I mean, or at least seem to, even when I don’t. I like it that there’s so much more to you I don’t really know, and that you’re cool with letting me find it all out. I like that you’re having such a blast with me too. I love being your boyfriend. There, I said it. I wanted for you to know. And I wanted everyone else to know too.

Stuff and nonsense, stuff and nonsense… We will now return to our regularly scheduled blatherings.