So it’s been a little over a year since I got Mo. He got a little bigger than I expected, destroyed a lot more than I expected (4 pairs of glasses, 2 sets of rugs, and an ipod shuffle), and every other week I’m ready to kick him into the Hudson River. For now he’s still around. Chew-happy and pissing as free as ever. Not blogging so much anymor and thank God that never really took off cuz he was getting more traffic than me. I like how his hair is 3 different colors of mess like mine; my pup is growing up.

I’m also growing up. Hell, I’m getting older. Just celebrated my 7 year mark in New York. September 25, 1998. It feels like less sometimes (the college years are a chunk of time that almost don’t apply, cuz college life was such a seperate experience). I revel in getting to remember bits of the city I know that have changed over time: the Ansonia building always covered up in scaffolding, when Gray’s Papaya had the Recession Special for $1.50 (2 hotdogs and a 16 oz juice got me through college), the pre-9/11 subway lines before they got rearranged, Columbus Circle @ 59th before the Time Warner Center (when the Amish set up shop every day), Verdi Square @ 72nd before they put in the new subway entrance (when unlimited metrocards were $17), stuff like that. They’re tiny things to remember but tiny treasures to me just the same. Yet in a lot of ways it almost feels like I just got here. 7 amazing and life-changing years in this city have woven themselves into my world and I just can’t imagine what life would be like if I hadn’t come here. Despite the “itch theory” I have no desire to leave anytime soon. Feels like I’ve really grown up in this city and I think there’s a lot more of me to find in it. I have foreign neighborhoods to charter and more people to meet and different jobs to have and other apartments to inhabit and better luck to stumble upon and just a million more opportunites to take advantages of.

7 years clocked in. One single year to a dog. I guarantee that New York City has helluva lot more of this scrappy young pup to see. Arf.

Sitting in my inbox:

Dear Chris,

I hope you’re having a fabulous day!

I came across your resume on Monster.com today and your
experience fits our current profile of success. I was wondering
if you or someone you know would be interested in a current
management position available in a market near you.

We’re having an open house next Wednesday the 28th and I
would like to personally invite you! We’re growing and
we need your help in our continued success!

Must be willing to have fun while on the job, only serious
people need apply!

PLEASE DON’T FORGET TO BRING YOUR RESUME TODAY!! Salary
range up to 45K, depending on experience.

Sincerely,

Sandra Sweatt
Internet Recruiter for
Chuck E. Cheese’s Pizza

Exactly what on my resume makes her think I’m perfect for a position in the pizza industry? Thank God I found a job, cuz I might have just been hard up enough to call her back.

So @ the risk of speaking too soon about something I shouldn’t even mention, there’s a dark horse in the background. Sort of.

Zack works where I do, but in another department; he’s 24, he’s a full-time student, and he’s really nice. He also likes me like that. B/c I’m slow on the uptake, it was over a month or so before I realized that he was flirting with me during those walks to the train afterwork and that the offers for dinner were date-oriented. He’s one of those people who make actual concrete plans like, “Are you off Tuesday? Let’s have dinner, what time shoudl I call you?” This is insane to a noncomittal nonplanner like myself. I haven’t taken him up on anything yet but it’s tempting to play back w/ him, especially after he stopped in on his day off the other day and I caught a glimpse of him on REAL non-uniform clothes — DAMN, he’s a hottie. But I’m playing it cool, so motherfucking cool that it’s just maddening, b/c I… I don’t know yet. He’s sweet in a playful way that doesn’t crowd me and It’s really fun when somebody pays extra attention to you like that, sort of lifts the fog on post-breakup life. Some. I’m keeping things in perspective, or trying to, cuz the truth is I’m not really interested in dating anyone right now. I still sometimes catch myself longing for somebody else. And even though I don’t want it to be true, Zack — charming as he is, even with his lucious lips, golden brown eyes, that sexy latin accent, and a sick body on him that rocks the party — isn’t really my type. Call me a bland traditionalist, but I like them golden, blond, blue-eyed, buff, and born to to blend in on the WB. It’s just what does me in but ugh, I have to careful here. Firstoff, he’s one of the only people @ work that I really enjoy talking to (not that I’m hating the others, they just bore me) and I’d hate to mess that up… cuz come hookup or highwater my ass ain’t going back to the Land of Unemployment. Also, a bitter ex-hookup from way back in the day recently went OFF on me out of nowhere; we’re talking creepy “Why don’t you like me?!”, boiling-my-rabbit, vengeful hatemail-type shit, and even though I’ll be damned to wear the blame for his delusions, it reminded me that I gotta be careful about giving a really nice guy the total wrong idea. Or letting somebody get attatched and later accuse me of being playing head games (I wasn’t into getting close so now it’s a GAME I’m playing! Evidently, the “game” we were playing was me not being interested in the mutherfucker). But who knows? If my last relationship showed me anything, it’s that love intensifies even when you’re not fully sold that it will. It’s not always instant sparks and butterflies in your gut, like I thought. The inner progressiveness of love and affection between two people swells and swells and, if you’re lucky, bursts into something beautiful and real. You can’t wish for it or see it coming.

What the fuck am I talking about here? I’m not even making out with anybody up in here, much less making out with any soul connections. Anyway, it’s way too faint a nothing for me to even go into this. I just think Zack’s not gonna be easy to dissuade, he’s working the charm and already kicking his game up a notch. Yesterday he hands me a stack of pictures from his last trip to the Southern Islands; he was half-nekked in most of them… save for a pair of really cute, really filled out running shorts. Whoa. A dark horse, indeed, ya’ll.

In other news, I’m sick of ppl on the subway interupting my precious me-time to ask a zillion questions about my iPod nano. Dude, see the headphones in my ears? It means I don’t wanna talk to anyone. See the fact that the headphones are white? It means I OVERPAID to ensure that I don’t have to talk to anyone. Leave me alone. And no, you can’t touch it. But I know you wanna.

UPDATED: Did everyone see the season premiere of LOST? What the hell?! Walt’s taking backwards, Jack had Party of Five hair again, and I can’t stop singing “Make Your Own Kind of Music”. Any show that can squeeze in some Mama Cass is a winner in my book. Big bottom girls you make the world go rockin’ round.

Today is the last day of summer. Fall is upon us and I can’t fucking wait for autumn evenings on the Upper West Side, network fall TV lineups, and the chance to start dressing in layers. Been working out some inner-kinks on this here blogsite, so be on the lookout for older entries like that one suddenly popping up where hadn’t been before. Other little quirks are on the horizon, too. Bear with me.

Must pause right here to directly shoutout Marshall, a self-proclaimed faithful reader of this journal. This sweet fool caught my brief mention of a new interest in one of Beethoven’s sonatas and actually went to Amazon.com, reached into his wallet, and sent me this to broaden my horizons. It arrived to me @ work right in the middle of a really bad shift, totally made my day and reminded me to come blog a thank-you. Thanks, Marshall! I tend to be one of those punks who stays away, all skeptical, from all the much-hyped and praised works of historic icons like Beethoven (I don’t believe Shakespeare really wrote all those plays, I think Anne Frank’s diary is a hoax, and Jackson Pollack just made dribble-splatters on canvas. ahem.) but I look forward to getting onboard with this.

Also? thanks to the omnipotence of Friendster (fuck MySpace), he who was loved and lost has now been found. Just further proof that the Internet is going to kill us all. I wonder if he is gonna be God’s regular gay Christmas gift to me every year. It’s a gift that keeps on giving.

Serious as cancer when I say rythym is a dancer, and also when I ask if you remember the 21st night of September? Shut up, I said I was gonna do it. It’s Earth Wind & Fire, dudes! This shit is SACRED! I wait 364 days a year EVERY YEAR to live this fucking song and the world will just have to tolerate me today.

Wedding. Convention. Family Renunion. I don’t know what the fuck brought them, but they were all here @ my hotel over the weekend. Redneck bubbas in full force, ya’ll. Actual grown men stood in front of me boasting dumbass remarks and comments so offensive and appalling (”Them fool cajuns down there in N’awlins are better off now”) that I just couldn’t believe it. Though I fled my own Texas confines and I like to clown on folks who live in the outer-boroughs, I don’t consider myself one who drinks of the Southern Haterade; I generally enjoy when the clientel of my hotel is mixed and interesting, but these low class non-tipping motherfuckers (and their wives) just made my weekend misrable. So, b/c it’s been therapeutic for me in the past, I have a few things I’d like to say to them.

Dear Rednecks,
When you tell me your visiting from down south and I offer to make conversation by saying, “Oh, I’m from Texas” you are supposed to say, “Oh, that’s nice.” You’re not supposed to tell me that you hate Texas. All “steers & queers” jokes are also considered in poor taste, you dumb bitch.
Of course a slice of pizza is cheaper back home in Alabama. So is the rent. So are the women. You all consider The Olive Garden fine dining, so what do you want me to say? I’m sorry our pizza is so damn good.
I don’t want to hear your racist sensefolk opinions on the destruction of Hurricane Katrina. I don’t even want to hear the opinions on it from PROPERLY informed people. Youve got the right to speak as freely as you want, but don’t stand here @ my desk and talk out your ass and keep expecting me to agree. Please shut the fuck up.
Yes, Broadway shows really are that expensive. $200 is a LOT of money to spend on something you’re only gonna see one time, I agree. But this is Manhattan, and culture that doesn’t involve tractor-pullin’ or eating pies costs money.
You annoyed me. I hid under my desk everytime I saw you step out of the elevator. Please don’t come back, ya’ll. Y’hear?

Sincerely,
The Guy Who Made Your Every Wish Happen
…But Whom You Neglected to Tip

It’s offputting social encounters like these that sort of reawaken me to the fact that I live in a cosmo-bubble on this island, and I remember that not everyone in this country is on the same page. Most of us aren’t even in the same book; some of us can’t fucking read. It wasn’t so much that the people were cheap, it was their blatant lack of awareness that bothered me. It’s not like they said ignorant things b/c they didn’t care how they came off, I really think they honestly have no clue that it’s wrong to even THINK racist things like that, much less state them. And I feel dumb for thinking times are changing and that things are getting better everywhere. Hopefully, in addition to the places down South where people and attitudes are exactly as redneck as they were decades ago, there are some pockets of progress, where minds are open and maybe some sense is kicking in.

UPDATED TO ADD:

Tizzexas
This is a hilariously fitting performance peice by slampoet Andy Buck, whose recent blog entry nailed everything I’ve been searching for the words to say.

The four main leads on FX’s new show Starved all battle eating disorders and attend a shame-based, not-so-supportive group called Belttighteners, where anorexics, bulimics, and obsessive-overaters all gather together and the mission statement is IT’S NOT OKAY. The meetings are run by a stone-faced, cold-hearted group leader who, out of genuine concern for helping attendees get better, humiliates them with threats, insults, and jolts of electroshock aversion therapy.

Binge

Purge

Repeat

What’s not to love? If you don’t get on board the love train, it’s not okay, and the biggest favor you could do for me would be to die so that space you take up in this world could be replaced by someone who really wants to enjoy the show.

Spriteboy Speaks

… Again

Of all the days not to have my camera with me. Dammit.
And this one? probably my gayest post ever.

I’m always especially proud to be here in New York on this day. I was on w57th Street when it happened 4yrs ago, I was really sick with a fever and walked home, it took me hours and hours. My friend Jess kept calling my voicemail and leaving me updates on different ways to get home. I went to Barnes & Noble, where my friend M was working and going insane b/c he hadn’t heard from his wife yet. To this day, M & Jess are two of the people I consider closest to me, they have been there when things have been really scary, and I just feel like they can get me through things. And Barnes & Noble still makes me feel safe.

I watched this 9/11 special on the Discovery Channel the other night: BIG MISTAKE. I sobbed for about a half hour and finally just had to shut it off. I wasn’t one of those emotionally scarred people after the attack — I was way uptown @ a safe distance, thankfully. (By the way, did anyone see that episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where Larry hates on the guy whose son died on 9/11 but in a total car accident completely unrelated to the WTC attack? and the guy tries to cash in on WTC sympathy from people. It fucking cracks me up. I love that he’s picking on that.) Anyway, I remember the HR woman from work calling me each day for about a week, just letting me know the office would be closed and seeing if I was okay. I remember lots of us huddled around gated store windows of closed electronic shops along Broadway that day, watching the TV’s and trying to figure out what was happening. This one guy driving a flatbed truck unloaded all his lumber onto a West 79th Street sidewalk and drove people uptown in droves. In the weeks to come, when the death count was being tolled and debris was done settling, I remember the way people bound together and got one another through this. Strangers looked each other in the eye, shared newspapers on the train, apartment neighbors looked in on each other. People kept going to work, they kept taking the subways, they kept watching Saturday Night Live, they kept going to dinner and shows. Even under confusion and terrorist attack, New Yorkers held it together. They — we — still do. You can’t beat the people of this city, we’re a tough breed.

They’re gonna let the Tribute in Light glow tonight. I can’t wait to see it. I’ll actually be at the Floating Lanterns Ceremony tonight @ Pier 40, so it’ll be a nice view from there. Right on the Hudson. Maybe I’ll walk home again.

Last night on The O.C. Warrants. Rehab. Shirtless Ryan. People in comas. I can’t handle it. Holler if you hear me.

Recap thoughts: This was a kickass start/follow-up after the screaming! beatdowns! gunshots! cliffhanger from last season. Ryan got half nekked and I lost my shit. I wasn’t prepared for that. All this time I thought he was bloated and chunky, then the shirt came off (and he lost the bangs) and suddenly my world is on fire and it’s more than I can handle. His brooding is still a bit much, like how he was ready to run when they issued a warrant for his arrest. Bitch, where are you gonna go? You’re a minor. You’re also rich, don’t worry about it — the money will solve the problem. Oh and I want Sandy Cohen to be my dad (it’s the eyebrows) — when he called Jimmy out on his bullshit about “Oh I’m trying to protect my family” and got all, “Please, Jimmy, since when has family ever been impotrant to you? What the fuck are you even doing back in Newport?”, I was smiling @ the TV, all proud and shit, like I was watching my real father impress me. I need help. Julie Cooper is a WITCH, when she took that pillow to Trey, fresh-outta-the-coma? I was FLOORED. Who is this woman?! Julie Cooper is insane, ya’ll. Explains a lot about Marissa, who I really liked in this episode! I like how she totally owns up to shooting Trey. He was beating the shit out of Ryan so she grabbed that gun and blew him away, and even tho she’s struggling in private, she publically is like, “Fuck that shit, I saved Ryan’s life by shooting his Trey’s ass. He tried to rape me and I don’t feel bad.” Marissa’s not fucking around, ya’ll. She’ll KILL your ass. Also, I love how Kirsten is becoming a big old lez in rehab. The only thing I wasn’t feeling was Seth tossing a football on the beach with Ryan. What the hell? Ryan would definately do something like that, hell even Summer would… but Seth? his ass wouldn’t even own one. And he wouldn’t take off his shirt either, he’d be too insecure around Ryan to do that. Why would he even be @ the beach? he can’t play video games or charge his ipod there! These are reasons I like Seth, I hope they don’t go changing him for the sake of giving the group a “normal teenager” wash. This is the O.C., bitch, where the kids are rich, the parents are absent, and people just behave abnormally.

I used to really hate this show. What the hell happened? Fine, fuck it. Let’s just make this the TV post. My TIVO is full of stuff I’ve been catching up on. Rest assured I judge everything I watch and resent all the things I don’t like, and that resentment builds b/c I have nothing better to do with my time. So for those feeling pious and fair, please hit that little X at the top right corner of your screen and close this window, cuz I’m not one of soft opinion. Let’s talk hard about this shit. TV is important.

I was totally preapred to hate on Weeds especially when I found out it stars Mary Louise Sarah Jessica Masterson Perkins whats-her-face. All the promos kept showing her being this with-it dope-peddling single mom/widow who kicks it with black folks in the hood and talks down to all the white folks in her subdivision, all while being very Daria with the disaffected dry-wit and lifeless eyes. Typical formula to make us like the lead cuz she defies the suburban norm and we’re supposed to LOVE that. What’s with America’s recent love of subrurban life anyway? Who the hell wants to live in Stepford, much less watch what allegedly goes on there? It’s not really interesting to me, I guess. But I do really like this show, I like how uneven it can be and the way they play with the character levels. I love that at the end of the first episode, just when you think our main character has established what to expect from her, she totally breaks down crying and confused. I love that she runs this secret life and thinks she has everyone fooled, but her dealers totally know what’s up and constantly rib her on being white and clueless. And everyone’s buzzing about Elizabeth Perkins and how hilarious she is (basically playing Samantha from Sex & the City) but I think Justin Kirk is even funnier.

Open Bar on LOGO has me slightly amused, icandy is a cute name for a gay bar. Just like they did with Blowout, I love how the producers of these reality shows try to build all this suspense over whether or not the project will get pulled off in time. As if they’d actually spend all this money televising the construction of the bar that failed to open.I like how Tyler’s aspiring model/actor exboyfriend is totally over him and not even trying to get close but continues to hang around… oh, and what do you know? there’s TV camera’s there! The show is alright, I guess. I’m really waiting for this gay network to get some good programming. Right now it’s just the same 4 shows playing on loop, which isn’t weird I guess, since it’s run by the same people who do MTV and VH1.

I’ll say it again: I can’t get enough of Starved on FX. The fact that this once-bootleg, virtually rerun-only network kicked their dirty game up a notch with new shows like Nip/Tuck and It’s Always Sunny…, really just makes me wanna dip it BBQ sauce and binge, and then maybe vomit it back up. What I love about this show is that not only is it dark, reality-based and set in New York, but they don’t try to make you LIKE anyone or feel sorry for the characters. They’re these normal boring-sometimes-cute people with nonglamourous jobs and lives who happen to have these issues with food, and while they struggle with their appearances, they totally date and have relationships and aren’t losers. The group leader at their abusive support group cracks me up.

One show I’m just barely able to admit to watching is Beautiful People on ABC Family about a divorcee and her 2 semi-pretty daughters starting their life over in New York. I can’t believe I tune into this show b/c I spend most of the hour making fun of the bitches, but it’s addictive. It’s basically about the elite circle of Manhattan socialites, and how these brunette girls just don’t fit in — but they’re making their way anyhow! There’s the slutty college dropout/aspiring cokehad daughter working as a cocktail waitress as she sleeps her way up the social ladder, the other teenage daughter with a distracting mole (it looks like a zit) who attends a prestigious private school where there are Beautiful Popular Rich Kids and also Unpopular Ugly Rich Kids (we’re supposed to feel bad for them), and then the jobless mom who TAKES SHOWERS with her 2 daughters. Yes, you read that right and I was stunned when I saw it on my TV. Poor people are fucked up. I can’t stop watching.

But I am not feeling any kind of love for Barbershop. I thought the movies the show is based on were cute, but this series is really only there to fill the ethnic void that Soul Food and Resurrection Boulevard left behind (two shows I really liked). Also, the only person I hate more than Cuba Gooding Jr. is his fat little brother Omar, who knows he can’t be hot like his brother so he overcompensates by trying to be sitcom-funny. Everything he says pisses me off. Who cast him as the lead in this series? He’s 250lbs of poison.

Yeah, I said it. I meant it. I stole your mama’s credit. At least when I’m in Hell, there will be so many of you there with me. And we’ll watch TV together.

What are you doing tonight?

He’s young. He’s straight. He’s single. And he’s probably not gonna call.

Finally, a man - and a musical - with no cheesy lines or lame excuses. SLUT tells the story of Adam, a single dude on a lifelong quest for one-night stands, his best friend, the brilliant Doctor Dan, and the sexy rocker Delia who comes between them. Set in the East Village and around the world, this highly improbable, irreverent adventure comes with singing, dancing, screwing and raspberry margaritas.

Ahhh, I love it. I fucking love it. This is another one of the shows that got lots of attention at the Fringe Festival awhile back, I remember hearing about it. It stars both Andy Karl and David Josefberg (Luke and Abraham from Altar Boyz) and previews start next week. I’m all over it.

UPDATE: I saw the show. Front row. His very first scene was him getting out of bed, in his underwear (black SHEER boxer briefs). Later, going into another bedroom scene, he walked right up to the edge of the stage, ripped open his shirt, peeled off his jeans and stood there bulging at the front row with a little smirk on his face. I spent the rest of the show frozen and speechless. I’m still recovering. Go see this.