(Friday Five):
1. What does it say in the signature line of your emails?
“It’s not what you call me, but what I answer to.”

2. Did you have a senior quote in your high school yearbook? What was it? If you haven’t graduated yet, what would you like your quote to be?
I didn’t have a senior qoute b/c the administration scrapped the senior layout and opted for a 16 page tribute to the Flag Football team instead. But, for yearbook signatures, I alternated between shout-outs to 2 of my personal anthems: the rowdy-n-subversive “Hack the system!” war cry via Hackers, and the watch-for-me “Remember my name” warning via Fame. Both lame and impossibly posuerish, yes, but I was clueless as hell and had no idea.

3. If you had vanity plates on your car, what would they read? If you already have them, what do they say?
I am vehicularly-challenged. But if I could plant my vanity shit on an A train car, it’d read: Sweet&Low: Act Like You Know.

4. Have you received any gifts with messages engraved upon them? What did the inscription say?
My mom gave me a rifle on my 16th birthday with a card attatched that said, “Jesus loves winners.” Ok, not really. That was Becky Leeman, but whatever.

5. What would you like your epitaph to be?

Here lies Sprite.
He was so far behind, he often thought he was ahead.
(His hair was cute, though.)

***

Strange fact #42: Butterflies are called what they are b/c ppl used to think they stole butter.

*cough* I think a certain little somebody whom I know really well and on the regular (probably reading this right now) is about to get a big big suprise dropped on them… Watch your head and please evacuate your comfort zone NOW. */cough*

So, I braved that subzero windchill, and hopped right on the 7 train and away from my beloved Manhattan this morning. Yes sir, packed my iPod, my wallet and passport, and trekked my ass right out of modern civilization and into Queens obscurity, where I wandered the outskitrs, rubbles and ruins of Long Island City. It was a scurry ordeal, far more horrifying than I even thought possible, as the Manhattan skyline just kept getting smaller and smaller… but I kept stedfast and marched onward. I was a man on a mission.

My quest proved victorious. I eventually spotted the FreshDirect.com depot, found my way to the pickup spot, and emerged from the warehouse with 10lbs of spicy mexican chorizo in tow. TEN POUNDS of pure Tejano grub. None of that shitty, pre-smoked, Domincan junk for me — Mi gente, usted todo sabe de lo que estoy hablando — I got the REAL freakin’ McCoy. It’s all sitting in my freezer right now! Now I’m off to the corner market to stock up on eggs, peppers, and flour tortillas. We’re doing things serious up in here, ya’ll.

Spriteboy Fact #139: I secretly wish that every step I took in this damn city left a glowing footprint. That way we’d all know where I’ve been, and I maybe could catch up with myself.

I was waiting for the A train tonight @ Columbus Circle when I heard this amazing voice echoing through the station. It was coming from the upper entrance level, just kind of soft but very vivid and pretty, and I followed along the 1/9 uptown platform to a beautiful young girl with long dreadlocks and a guitar. Singing, strumming, and just emoting these gorgeous melodies into the station. Four of my trains went by and I just stood there, staring at the walls and pretending to be really interested in my cell phone, so I could hear more of her music. Her sound reminded kind of me of that soul singer Kina but with a more raw sound, and she looked a lot like Res, actually. Just mesmerizing. I dumped all my coinage into my palm and debated whether or not to give it to her, I mean it’s not like she looked exactly homeless or anything, but it was clear she wasn’t rolling in money. Giving her a handful of dimes and pennies just seemed like a condescending thing to do. Embarassing, sort of. She was maybe my age, just sitting there on a little stool, plugged into her amp near the magazine stand, with a pad of paper next to her. I spotted some CD’s in blank, white sleeves laying in her bag, and I ran — literally ran — out of the station, up to the street, to the nearest ATM. I came back a few minutes later with cash and a big smile on my face. After she finished her song, I walked up and asked her if I could buy one of her CD’s. She flashed this gorgeous smile and said, “Yeah! It’s a demo.” “Your songs are beautiful. Is $10 ok?” “That’s really nice, thank you. Do you have email?” she asked, nodding at the pad. “Leave me your address and I’ll keep in touch with you.” I scribbled down my name and info and paid her for a CD. She smiled again. “God bless you.” “Thanks, you too..”

I raced home, all excited, and uploaded her 5-track demo onto my iPod right away. I’ve been listening to it nonstop all night — it’s gorgeous, I haven’t liked an album this much since Coldplay. The first track, “Touched”, is what I heard her singing first and it’s my favorite one so far. Her name is Susan Cagle, she plays on the subways a lot, from what I gather (I googled her), and I hope I get an email from her soon.

Susan Sings

Charlize Theron. Oh my god. Shit, man. I will never EVER say anything bad about that woman. Her performance was what made the movie more than just a low-budget documentary-style, Based On A True Story, Christina Ricci flick. Everyone’s talking about her physical transformation, which I’ll admit was just astonishing — that bitch got UGLY. The teeth, the dead eyes, the bad skin. If I had never known who she was, I’d have assumed the actress playing the lead was a virtual unknown. You NEVER realize that it’s Charlize Theron. But what really deserves raves? is her talent. She played this trailertrash, mannish, brutal killer… yet she managed to make me care so damn much about this horrible, psychotic, trainwreck of a person. Even when she’s standing there with the gun in her hand, screaming “God I’m sorry!” and blowing some guy’s head off, I found myself really wishing she’d just get a lucky break and find a way out of that life. I was dying for her to come out on top. That scene @ the bus-stop where she’s talking about never being able to forgive herself? I fucking lost my shit. We’re talking eyes closed, chest heaving, sobbing-kind of tears. If this woman isn’t at least nominated for an Oscar, there is officially no hope for a brighter tomorrow.

Christina Ricci was really good too. I’ve always liked her a lot, but none of her roles have ever really commanded much from her, nothing that really makes her DELIVER. She spent most of the movie in tears and confusion, and I totally followed along with her the whole time. Even when she’s breaking Aileen’s heart at the end, I still felt for her.

This movie tore my guts out and just threw them all over the place. I walked out of the theater just speechless and antsy. Grabbing some Starbucks and kicking it with my friends after this movie was no longer appealing to me. The fact that it was all based on a true story made it even heavier. Ugh, it just trashed me. Got me all ripped up.

Go see this movie. GO.

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Hear me, all rowdy sexpots of swinging London! The puckering, handsome lad you see webcammed before you is one of my very best friends: Matty, the bumbling blogger behind World Wide Wuh. As you can see, he’s quite fit — he’s also talented, charming, witty, lovable, and always cleans up after himself. Matt prefers the laddies to the ladies — however (under the influence of alcohaul and driven by the sheer force of curiousity), Matt recently discovered the joys of flexisexuality and ravished a lovely young pretty at a holiday party… so, ladies, I fully support your endeavors with him as well! Currently a man of leisure, Matty enjoys the simple things in life: new wave 80’s tracks, jars of Marmite, text messaging, snogging drunks, frito pie, and putting pompous employers in their place. He has a wonderful sense of humor and a high tolerance for annoying, inconsistant American boys with way too many opinions. He’s the bestest brit in all the land and I love him dearly. You will too.

If you happen to pass this dashing bachelor on the street, or perhaps see him sitting across from you on the bus, please take him by the hand, lead him to your bedroom, and allow nature to take its course. Don’t ask questions, don’t even waste your time with words. Just FORNICATE.

Or take him to a pub and buy him a pint. Whatever works.

Today’s the last day to nominate your favorite blogs, dudes! I know all the office-slaves have nothing better to do, dammit. I was supposed to meetup with the photographer from Pavement Magazine for another shoot they wanted to do, but I’m pretty sure we’re not doing it. It’s snowing mighty nasty out where I am, and I’m not about to head out there, so I have nothing else going on. It’ll be my first year actually filling this whole Bloggies thing out, cuz last year I didn’t read many blogs and I just ended up quitting halfway through. Lots of good shit out there, plenty of people making me laugh out loud and just plain amusing my ass. I need to update my links page like nobody’s business, actually.

By the way, it’s been a long time coming, but “Bruised” by The Bens is the damn anthem.

So thanks to a hot tip I got, I’ve stumbled onto the awe and wonder that is FreshDirect.com. It’s amazing, and what’s even more amazing is that THEY SELL MEXICAN CHORIZO! Just as I was beginning to give up on the idea of ever finding authentic mexican hot chorizo in New York City! This is just too cool… too cool, it seems, to deliver to my neighborhood. But it’s all good, cuz they’ve got a depot in Queens and it’s only 2 stops off the 7 train out of Manhattan. I can place my order online and go pick it up the next day if I want to! Woo-hoo!

Happy voting, ya’ll.

Despite last night @ work, this was a really nice weekend. I metup with the prodical Jax on Friday night for dinner and some Mandy Moore (neither of which were as delicious as I’d hoped), woke up to breakfast in bed & Finding Nemo with Randy the next morning, and then headed to Morgans Bar later that night for my dawg Mishy’s goodbye party. She just got into some huge amazing hotel industry school and is heading to Switzerland for the next few years. The lounge was in a basement and practically lit by candles, and tons of Hudson kids showed up drunk and ready to makeout, so it was a really great way to send her off. Mishy is just the sweetest girl in the world. I love her like a fat kid loves cake. You know how some people totally take you by suprise, how you find yourself caring for them so much more than you actually thought? Mishy was one of those people to me. I’m really gonna miss her.

Spriteboy Speaks

I was yelled at by 37 different people this evening. Thirty seven different people (this does not include people who were just flat-out rude to me… shit, we’d be here all night if I was tallying those kind of numbers) — furious hotel guests, each of them with veins popping out of their foreheads and their voices cracking under pressure. Probaby the worst night @ work I’ve ever had. No heat in the entire hotel for almost the entire day. Freezing wind chills + old rusty plumbing = water pipes bursting. Serious flooding, man. We’re talking water pouring down from some of the lower floors like in Titanic, totally raining down into some of the boardrooms and executive offices. Ruined computers, furniture, and all kinds of shit. Ruined my night, more than anything. As a side effect to the flood, the sporadic water pressure surge caused the hotel fire alarms to go off right away, sending guests into a panic and of course directly to the front desk for answers. Did I have any? NO, cuz why would I have any idea what the hell was going on? Having only ONE MANAGER on duty made things even worse, plus my comrade in arms Stefan had gone home early. Fucking punk waltzed in 2 hrs late and then faked “not feeling well” so he could go home and watch Sex & the City. I’ve been known to employ a not-so-true sick call once or twice myself, but at least I have the decency to just not come in at all. What a world man. The hotel was just insane. All this, and they wanna send me to more “EDGE” workshops so we can talk about how I can be better at doing my job.

Do you know what it’s like to stand there and be the whipping boy for something you can’t even begin to make excuses for, and do it everyday? I can’t really say I blame them for being upset and outraged, but dammit, I’m too busy licking my own wounds to think about them. They had the uphand of getting to scream their lungs out at me while I stood caught in the crossfire, with no options or answers, just as frustrated and at the end of my rope but unable to chuck my shoe across the desk and knock a few of them unconcious. I’ve been there a longass time but as much as I’d like to say I’m invincible, I sure as hell have my bad nights and sometimes it just never gets any easier to handle. I was a broken little man by the time I hobbled out of that place tonight, just verbally pureed and emotionally bitchslapped over and over again. I was like Tina Turner circa the Ike Period.

How does a hotel like this one stay in business? How does wee little sprite of a man like this one keep going? One of us is gonna give out and break sooner or later. I just wonder which will go first.

I’m disabling the comments section of today’s post, just cuz I’d rather spare us all the sympathy and shit. Instead, I urge everyone to roll out and do this: look for one of my kind be a damn hero. Catch the little guy who buses your stupid table @ the diner and slip him his tip straight on; don’t leave it on the table — put it in his hand and tell him “Thanks”. You’ll get over the initial awkwardness and it’s not going to embarass him — shit, he just fucking wiped up after you. Or tell that stressed out girl behind the counter at Duane Reade that she’s the shit and you really like her hair, let her know you noticed how she handled that line really fast. Stick up for the little hoodie on the subway who’s just trying to be a big boy and raise his funds, you don’t hafta contribute but hell, just give him a nod on your way out the train. Things like this matter, winners. They sometimes make the difference between somebody’s worst fucking night and their sweetest little moment.

Brooklynite. Sprite. Randifer.

… just another little lovely from Ky, my favorite boywonder in all the land.

If any of my friends ever tried to Punk this shit on me, they would not find me laughing. What the hell, man? I don’t even think I’d WANT to be friends with somebody who would pull such a stupid stunt in the first place. How much time do you have on your hands to do this kind of shit? And why are you dropping $100 on something that’s only funny for about 2 minutes anyway?

So, I’ve been all perplexed and pondersome about my “place” at work lately. It’s a new year with no new opportunites and people are making new starts, resigning, tranferring out, taking promotions. Little steps up. Not just people — my friends, buddies I work with on a regular basis, some of them who I even helped train. And I have to stop and wonder if I should be moving ahead too. There are a lot of opportunities around me, really. The kids @ Concierge have been trying to get me to transfer over there, it’s less stressful, a bit more prestigious a position, and they make a SHITLOAD of money in tips. There’s also other properties in the city and even some in other cities I could switch too, even some new ones in the works — and I’ve often toyed with the idea of doing a stint @ St. Martin’s Lane for awhile. I’d NEVER be stupid enough to get into Hotel Managemt (I just don’t have the nerves), but there are other levels in the supervisory hierarchy that I could handle, and probably be great at. But then I remember that I’m not interested in making this industry my career, and that I actually came here to do something else, and that what I’ve got is great for me at this time. *sigh* But when people around me are moving ahead, moving on up, and I’m in the same place, making the same money, worried about paying my cell phone bill? it just makes me take everything about work into question. Dammit.

In an effort to pull my head out of these dark thoughts, I’m taking a holiday and going to see my girlfriend’s new movie tonight. Shut up, all of you. There may be some partying up @ 1984 later, but that all depends on the weather. When the temperature goes down into single-digits, I think it’s God’s way of telling us to stay in and watch a movie.

Readers, I beseech ye, it is imperative for you to understand that my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and they’re like, “It’s better than yours” — damn right! — and also? that Netflix is a truly amazing thing. So is free amatuer porn on the internet, but that’s a level I really don’t need to take us to today.

I’m sneaking this entry from the front desk @ work, just like I used back when I was new and powerless and without seniority or weight to throw around. It’s fucking boring as hell and has been like this all week, but I’m too poor to go home early. I need the hours. My latest T-mobile bill nearly made me cry, and Amex just emailed me and the subject line read: Notification Regarding Your Acct Status. , so I’m riding the Poverty Train for the next month or so. No spring trips to Europe for me, it seems. No more NOTHING, dude. But I’m far too young to spend all my time obsessing about bills anyway, my bills are steep but it’s not like I’m in scary debt or anything… at least not yet. Count my blessings or whatever. Gotta keep working and whatnot.

The hair is blue-black now with these really white chunks. But some of the blue color bled into the lighter peices so now it looks like I have really light blue highlights. I’m smurfin’ it, man.

By the way….

iPod mini
OH. MY. GOD. They’re wee! They’re gorgeous! They’re exactly what I want! True, they only hold 1,000 songs and still cost about as much as they ones that hold 2,500… but dammit, style over substance. I also flove the new earphones. It’s like somebody @ Apple actually sat down and went, “Hmmm… how can we make these things even cuter, bluer, and more perfect for Spriteboy?” I LOVE THEM!

My new Netflix DVD’s finally came in. I got The Emporer’s Club for Randyboy (cuz he’s been dying to try and spot me in those quick shots), and I also got the Volcano High: Bonus Disc and a special Disney release of the making of The Parent Trap (cuz I loved that movie and Haley Mills was the shit in her day). I plan to go home, warm up my spagehtti, and soak up some more mindless popculture info. It’s a good thing.