I’ve recently been jamming to the Canadian serenades of Hawksley Workman (think a less-posuerish Rufus Wainwright). I just started listening to him this morning, uploaded some of his songs onto my iPod and damn, and it’s been smooth sailing all day long. This guy’s melodies are gorgeous. I guess Canada has a few good things to offer us, other than Little Rob and Degrassi.

Took some sleeping pills tonite. Still not kicking in, yet.

I think I’ve secured myself three consecutive days off from work for the holidays — Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and the Day After Christmas. Now only if I had somewhere to go. Part of me is actually considering working the damn days just for something to do. At least it’d be extra money. Nah, I don’t think I hate myself that much…

Once again, the kids @ BlackTable.com have me dying. That Sloshing In a Winter Wonderland post is dead-on. I have deep respect for all ppl who understand my hatred of wet socks but also recognize the wonder and blessing that is Digital Cable. Oh and Joop still fucking steals my heart. If that banner graphic of her red shoes isn’t the most adorable thing in the world then I think we should all just give up now. Her

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cracked me up. The web is just to amazing, I love getting to glimpse into a small part of a total strangers life.

I went to a christmas party the other night. It started at this apartment in Chelsea where they had 5 different drink stations respresenting for the 5 boroughs of New York City. I mostly stuck to Staten Island, the only juice-based, non-alcohaulic hood — but some Smirnoff made it a hard lemonade, b/c even at my most free? that’s about as wild as it gets. We later migrated uptown for dinner and dessert at this really gorgeous apartment on the Upper West Side (god i so wanna live there). The entire party was populated by people in publishing and editing. I had no idea that middleaged, bookwarm society was so full of potheads and lushes. A fun crowd, man.

Got outta work early tonight, caught a 10pm show of Lost In Translation with the Randy. I’d seen it before but I think this 2nd time around was even better. I swear, that movie just struck a chord in me. Makes me never wanna go to Tokyo though, cuz I can feel just as lost and sleepless in my own damn city.

It’s not the official Friday Five, but I like this one better so here we go:

1. Do you like to shop? Why or why not?
I LOVE to shop… but the act of it doesn’t always translate over to actually purchasing anything. As for why, I hate to dig up a word we’ve all grown to despise but… “metrosexuality” is a theme up in here.

2. What was the last thing you purchased?
Two advance tickets to the 2:20pm Lord of the Rings show on 12/17/03. Thank you, Fandango.

3. Do you prefer shopping online or at an actual store? Why?
B/c what I usually buy are clothes and e-toys, I cannot sit and WAIT for something to be shipped out to me. I need things RIGHT AWAY or I’ll implode. But if it’s not urgent, and if I can find what I want @ Half.com for $3? then I’m as patient as a lady in waiting.

4. Did you get an allowance as a child? How much was it?
I inherited this impulse-buying habit from my parents. We ALL got what we wanted. Why wait for the next paycheck when you can swipe some plastic and go home with it TODAY?!

5. What was the last thing you regret purchasing?
My 3yr membership contract with Crunch Gym. However…

I’ve fanangled my way OUT of paying $80 a month for a limited membership to Crunch Gym and have actually secured a fully-loaded, all-access, COMPLIMENTARY Crunch Passort Premiere Plus membership in its place. Oh, and one for Randyboy too. This gets me into all Crunch Fitness Gyms, Gorilla Sports, Bally Total Fitness, Bally Sports, Sports Clubs of Canada and Pinnacle Fitness throughout the United States and Canada. I’m still REELING from this information but they’ve already emailed me the account numbers so all I need to do is trek down to a location and get hooked up. It appears that the road to free fitness is just one VIP comp upgrade away! Woo-hoo!

So, word has it that my manager Johnson (b/c he’s kind of a dick) has been booted from the Hudson crew. Lots of talk about why, most all gossip leads back to him not showing up @ work during the blizzard last weekend… plus, I think he’s done this before. I don’t know, man. It’s not that I was especially fond of him or anything, but he was sort of okay (by default) and always seemed proactive and whatnot. If he got fired that’d suck. They’ve been all kinds of termination-crazed and suspension-happy lately. People getting dropped like it doesn’t even matter, right in the middle of Christmas. Sucks. Not that I’m worried, I make sure to hold my own and keep my nose clean. As a matter of fact, I got paid a nice little visit last night @ work. Last winter, a very pro-Spriteboy rave floated its way through the Hudson offices and got me some serious props. Well the guest who wrote that letter showed up last night to check-in and actually remembered me, asked for me by name. Even though we were sold out and he hadn’t booked a reservation? I hooked him up anyway. “Welcome back, man!” I told him, handing him his keys. “Chris, you’ve already made me thrilled to be back. you rock.” Hells yeah. I made sure to get that on tape, just in case I need it to save my ass later on.

Did anyone ever see that old old 1950’s Danny Kaye movie called The Court Jester? For those of you who haven’t, I’m really sorry that you’ve missed out on the classic genius that this film is. For those of you who have, I know you know I’m serious as cancer when I saw that rhythm is a dancer… and also when i say that “the pellet with the poison’s in the vessel with the pestle.” My Dad freaking loved this movie and he and I used to watch that shit on loop! Thanks to the miracle of Netflix, I just got it on DVD. Can’t WAIT to watch it. Oh, and everyone should go check out that MTV’s The Real World: Hookups DVD b/c it’s fucking hysterical. Dan and Coral host it and they do running commentary throughout all the clips, including

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“Whore! WHORE! WHOOOOORE!” during Montana’s breakup with her boyfriend over the phone. I love it. There’s also interviews with Melissa and Danny from New Orleans, and if that’s not reason enough for a spank-session then I don’t know what the hell is.

We had a lot of the Z100 JingleBall ppl staying with us this week. They gave out a bunch of extra tickets to us @ the desk but I couldn’t go. Woulda loved to though, I desperately want for Michelle Branch to look me in the eye and ask me if I’m happy now. Oooh-oooh-oooh.

I’m HATING that new Xtina ballad, btw. And the fucking video. Yeah, you have a whole lotta hair and you like to gesture big — we got it, already. The um, boobs are looking might mighty, tho. Where’d those come from? I didn’t know girls could gain a bunch of weight, slim back down, but keep the big boobs.

Allow me to take a second to holler back @ The Superstar over there. Bradford, being the flashy fag that he is, recently revamped his shit and kindly added this here site to his much-coveted list of linkage. I always take note of my referrals b/c it’s one of the highest compliments a blogger can offer. You’re an uberstar, YB, and I glady tip my hat back. I won’t even waste webspace pretending like I don’t check your damn blog every week (who the hell in this twisted little blogging community of ours DOESN’T?), I just hope you realize that linking to me is dragging your sophistication level down to like, worrisome degrees.

Alright winners, it’s Friday and it’s my damn day off so I should bust outta here. Randyboy dropped in and brought with him a plateful of home-baked, jelly-filled tea cakes with homeade orange icing glaze so I need to get on top of that shit immediately! (Pervs, I’m talking about the pastries, not the Boy. Although…)

Ever have one of those nights where you’re sitting around your place, zoning out, and you can just FEEL yourself just losing touch with everything outside of you? I’ve been in the strangest mode for the past few days, it feels like it’s been for the past few years or something. I can’t sleep lately. I’ll get home from work just after midnight and stay helplessly wide-awake till like, 6 or 7am. I feel like a zombie, or like I’m just going insane. Agitated and aimless, just stricken with insomnia and depraved of any conclusive thoughts…. just zoning in and out, sitting in silence, and comprehending random things that do me no good and only make me feel bad: Twenty-four going on twenty-five. Lease Renewal/Rent Increase in 2004. “You have no messages”. Student loans. Dirty dishes. Out of milk. No trip to London. I don’t look like my headshots anymore. No clue what’s going on in my little sister’s life. Non-actor. Mastercard bill. Alone on Christmas. Why are you still awake???

I watched some reruns of that Bravo reality show “The It Factor“, where they follow 12 up-and-coming, struggling actors in NY and LA. Fucking depressed the hell out of me. The only one of them who ever got anywhere was that one guy Godfrey (who I actually know from around the way). I think about how much it would suck to be chosen to be on the TV show b/c they feel you have the “It” Factor… yet you STILL didn’t manage to get anywhere. Am I wasting my time? Is it better to just fall into obscurity and avoid being just another “could’ve been”? WHAT THE HELL DO I REALLY WANT? and why do I feel like I stopped looking for it.

I don’t like thinking this way. And I don’t like posts like this one.

In lighter news: Kyle made me a present and it fucking warmed my heart. See for yourselves. No, you are not imagining things: YES! He went there… and I love it. Good times.

December 25, 2003. Christmas Day. Gloomy London windowsills, flying children, a spunky pixiesprite, Tiger Lily, Coldplay’s “Clocks” playing in the background, rowdy little orphaned bastards, eternal youth, human limb amputation, a magical/pedophile-free Never-Neverland (unless you count the dirty pirates chasing the innocent little boys), mermaids, swordfights, a mischevious boy wonder.

Work flew by this evening. A hotel guest who I’d helped out last month checked back in tonight, and she brought me chocolates! I was on my break when she came in, but on the box was a ribbon and a cuteass note thanking me for everything and wishing me happy holidays. As small and simple a thing as it was for her to do, it about had tears welling up in my eyes. God bless you, Miss V, not only did you make me the envy of all the kids @ the desk this evening but you also just plain made my night. Consider yourself upgraded to our best deluxe room for life.

I’m getting slightly annoyed with everyone asking me what I’m doing for Christmas. Money’s not flowing as abundantly as I’d like, not on my end or my parents’ end, so I’m gonna be doing the holidays on my own this year. It’s not a huge deal, but everyone acts so horrified and sympathetic when I tell them. “Oh my God! Chris! You have to do SOMETHING! You can’t be by yourself on Christmas!” Like it’s awful and sad and dangerous or something. I guess I don’t see it that way at all, it’s just a day. Least that’s what I tell myself so it won’t bug me. Yes, I’d love it if I was spending it with my family in Texas, or with a huge bunch of friends in somebody’s apartment uptown, or with anybody other than coworkers and random strangers. And I’ll probably be the only person walking around outside on Christmas, just hanging and not doing anything in particular. It’s all kizza. I don’t have to be sitting in a room with my loved ones to feel them with me, and it’s just a day. Just a day, you know?

So, I know we haven’t seen the worst of the snow yet and by no means am I asking for more anytime soon — dudes, I remember last February all too well — but I’m kind of enjoying the snowy weather. Puts me in a festive mood. No one was much around when I came out of the train station tonight and so I had myself a merry little jaunt — picture me doing my little whiteboy shuffle and singing myself all the way home. Picture me SPARKLING. Heh. Musical theater geeks, holla if ya hear me. (I know all ya’ll bitches do the same thing!) Mock me and be doomed, dammit.

Spriteboy Sings

Thank God for fleece blankets and for the My So-Called Life DVD box set — both of which are have been keeping me safe and warm during the past week. It’s all about Rickie, Angela, Jordan, Sharon, Brian, and Rayanne up in here. They’re so beautiful it hurts to look at them.

“How did you die?”
“I froze.”

Tom: “White Christmas”
Sprite: Is it on???
Tom: On tape. Liking this musical… making me gay?
Sprite: No, it makes you American.
Tom:
Sprite: By the way, my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.
Tom: damn right, its betta than yours. i could teach you. but i’d have to charge
Sprite: hee!
Tom: that is the song. my friends almost crashed the car in the ice to that song last nite
Tom: it was beautiful and did you walk in it?
Sprite: yes last night! i had a carefree snowball moment.
Tom: awwww
Sprite: yeah.
Tom: stop hitting those crippled kids thou
Sprite: no it’s fun b/c they can’t run away too fast.
Sprite: they just kinda keel over and take it like a bitch.
Tom: “Tiny Tim don’t come around here no mo! This is my house, Dickensian Beyotch!”
Sprite: crippled kids are lame.
Tom: hahaha. nice pun
Sprite: i try
Tom: …and usually fail
Sprite:

Is the circus missing a scary clown? I think I spotted her tonight @ City Diner.

The scariest thing? is that I think I’ve had my hair and makeup done just like that on a club night before.

I crept my way into the booth just next to hers and snapped these shots. The entire time she was talking on her phone, I never once saw her dial a number first. I’ve seen this woman all along the Upper West Side for the past few years and I’m just dying to know what her story is. I want to know what makes her tick and what it is about lettuce that she loves so much, what it was like working with Barnum&Bailey for all those years, or whether or not she knows that her daughter has become famous. I’d love to tell her how wonderful my life is now that she’s in the world, but she’d probably just cuss me out and shove another wad of foliage into her mouth. And knowing that this kind of eccentric woman is running around the streets of Manhattan all loose and unmedicated? kind of makes me love New York City even more.

As awful as the previews forwarned, I braved the obvious odds and went to see “Honey” tonight (just b/c Jessica Alba and her lips mean a great deal to me). I dragged M & J along with me. The movie was so awful it actually crossed the line of Campy, surpassed Shitty, and somehow circled its way back to Hilariously Bad. Jessica Alba is an uberhottie and has the coy, flirty, sexy-but-not-slutty thing working for her like I can’t even handle — she does a really good job of emulating J.Lo in her Fly Girl days. Plus, who the hell doesn’t like a Missy Elliot cameo? I fucking LOVED it. I especially enjoyed watching how the movie tried to make me believe that a gorgeous, 22yr-old hood rat would rise from poverty to sudden fame as a hip-hop music video dancer/choreographer but eventually walk away from it all in order to teach poor inner city kids how to dance but not look too gay when they do it. Despite her blings, chingy, sass, and power? she still Honey from the block and no matter where she goes, she knows where she came from. Ahem. Fools please, do you see J.Lo walking through the streets of her old hood? No. That bitch has her chauffer speed the fuck through those streets quicker than her audiences ran out of Gigli. “Hurry up!” I bet she yells. “Get us up on outta this shithole borough and down to Saks 5th Avenue! Faster! Faster! I can’t be riding through these parts anymore, don’t you know who I am?!”

The sudden snowy downpour totally caught me offgaurd this morning. I woke up @ 2pm as normal, thinking I’d see sunny skies like I’d seen all week — nope! Walking from the subway to the ATM tonight was a damn fight for my life. Fun night for pictures though.

The pics came out a little blurry and fuzzy cuz my camera was on the wrong setting, but it was really a nice night out. I had such a great night with my friends. My apologies to any innocent bystanders along Broadway who may have been struck by a stray snowball somewhere between 81st and 90th. Also, my apologies to her. I hope she tracks down the evil makeup salesperson that did that to her and sues them for all they’ve got.

Got in, took a hot shower, cozied up on my futon with my 2-gallon tin bucket of Chocolate-Caramel Chunk popcorn and caught the last hour of The Color Purple. BJ actually popped by for a quick visit but I wasn’t even coherent, I was already just totally engrossed in the movie. I swear, when Miss Sofia snaps out of her comatose state and does her “I know there is a God!” monologue? oh man, I bawl like a bitch. Every single time.

I’ve tried to negotiate a mutual understanding between myself and Carnivale, but it’s not going to happen. I tried, I really did, and I know that I’m supposed to be transfixed but ugh, I just can’t get into that show. All I wanna do is make the entire cast go take a bath and get all that sweat and dust off. I can’t even sit through the recaps. I guess it’s just as well… I’m glad Nick Stahl has this thing, though. I think he’s incredible. Angels In America looks all kinds of great, incidentally. Good TV. On the flip side? I can’t tear myself away from The Gaunlet! I thought that show was gonna suck hardcore and… ok, well it does, but in a really great way. What the fuck is going on with Sarah — how have they sent that girl off FOUR TIMES?! Oh man, I get way too involved. It’s like I finally understand how guys get so worked up over sports. Melissa tells me that the upcoming MTV Challenge airing next year, The Inferno, is even MORE off the hook. Can’t wait for that either.

So, I was gonna put it off as long as I could but I must join the masses, fall in line, and link ya’ll to Kia’s blog. Bawdy humor and brash comments are hardly amusing anymore, but the girl is just hilarious. What’s so different, original, or special about her? Dude, I don’t know. I think it was her little “Fuck You, I Hope You Die” shout-out to Nicholas on the mainpage that won me over. That kind of blatant, ghetto, “Oh no she didn’t!” mess straight kills me, we all lose our shit sometimes. It’s like I’m watching an episode of Living Single. Can I be a black woman too? (Don’t hate, man; Living Single was the shit! and I have endless love in my heart for Khadijah James.) I like Kia. She just GETS it.

Also currently GETTING it: Kelis. That “Milk Shake” of hers is the damn anthem, I watched the video on closed caption before I headed out to work this morning, just so I’d know what the fuck the chorus is. Anybody remember that oldschool song where she was screaming about how she hated you so much right now? The video for that was crazy. I hope when I get committed, taken away, and locked up in the asylum, that I get a black leather straightjacket like hers. That shit was kickass.

Btw, I am NOT happy about that. All I’m going to say is, if the music begins sounding happy, peppy, or uptempo in any way at all? I’m going to have to take drastic measures. Be afraid, Gwynie; I know where you live. Yes, I’ve seen your ass all up in-and-out of that townhome in the West Village (across from that salon). Don’t try and hide! “Clocks” just got a Grammy nom for Record of the Year, and I will hold you personally responsible if my gloomy hero Chris Martin gets all gleeful and shit.

An asshole who couldn’t get into Hudson Bar tonight came up to me @ the desk, pounded his fist down, and barked, “Why the FUCK isn’t that dick letting people into the bar?!” Oh hell no. I took a deep breath, zoned out, and lifted my gaze past him. (This is how I ignore unworthy shitheads who bother me at work.) I’d already had way too rough a night — hell, a week! — and I was not about to waste my breath explaining to him that he’d been deemed unworthy of Schrager hobnobbing, but the guy wouldn’t quit. “Hey!” he ordered. “I’m TALKING to you!” More ignoring. “Do I need to call Ian Schrager and have you FIRED? Will that get you to lift a fucking finger?!” he yelled, pulling out his cell. I looked at him, unimpressed, “Be my guest, sir.” “GO GET YOUR MANAGER!” he screamed. This made everyone nearby jump — all the other guests, that is — except for my co-workers and myself, who managed to build up an immunity to screamers, blowhards, and angry businessmen. “Sir, if I pick up the phone, it’ll be to call security.” “NO! I SAID I WANT A MANAGER!” Out of nowhere, my manager Johnson (b/c he’s kind of a dick) stepped up to the desk. “Excuse me,” he commanded. “What’s the problem here?” I didn’t even need to open my mouth. The angry little man basically shot himself in the foot by going off on Johnson, ranting on about how all he wants is to grab a fucking drink in the fucking bar and the fucking staff blah blah blah… Johnson broke free from the shackles of my distrust when he looked the guy straight in the eye, nodded, and calmly said, “Well I can appreciate that. What I DON’T appreciate, sir, is you disprecting my Front Desk staff the way you just did. So why don’t you turn around and apologize to Chris right now.” ROCK. The guy looked over at me and said he was sorry for yelling. I stared at him blanky. “Mm-hmm.”

He and Johnson stepped away from the desk and towards the escalator. Then Johnson motioned towards the end of the lobby @ Security, who came right up and escorted the little bastard out of the hotel. I love it.

At the risk of sounding out of the loop, what the hell’s going on in New York? Work has been insane, and will be even crazier for the next 2 weeks. Every hotel in Manhattan is completely sold out. The streets are PACKED. I’ve been in this damn city for 5 years now but I never really rememberd December being like this. I’m guessing everyone’s just in town doing Christmas shopping and stuff… is that normal? Do normal ppl usually fly out to New York at it’s coldest time of the year just to buy things @ the busiest stores during their most high-priced seasons? Damn.