PrincessMelissa: HI
LittleSpriteboy: dude i’m an asshole
PrincessMelissa: no
LittleSpriteboy: i just blew $333 @ the apple website
PrincessMelissa: you’re not an asshole
LittleSpriteboy: on those brand new fucking ipods
PrincessMelissa: that little baby one that is big as a pencil?
LittleSpriteboy: YES!
PrincessMelissa: oh, yeah total asshole

iPod Nano

I was supposed to get up and go get an eye exam today so that I can place an order for new contact lenses. The ones I have are way too old, they get foggy and I have to keep using drops and I really can’t see shit with them. Truth is, I’m scared to go get an exam b/c I’m pretty sure they’re gonna say I can’t wear contact lenses anymore b/c I wore them too much. And they won’t let me order more till I get an exam. The woman on the phone @ the optometrist office is straight up like, “Chris? No.” “Please, just order them and i’ll pay you in CASH” “No, you need an exam so we can update your prescription.” “FUCK YOU AND YOUR EXAMS!” I’m going blind, I just know it. I eventually swallowed my bitter pill and made the decision to go this morning… but then the new iPod Nano got released.

Now, b/c I’m a bad person, my original scheme was to break my ipod mini (which is essentially what the iPod Nano is, just a smaller cuter version) and then call Apple and get it replaced — the Protection Plan says they’ll replace it with whatever the current version of the product is. But then I read the fine print and saw that reserved the right to just replace the inner workings with refurbished parts if they want to. Dammit. So with the 4GB model, the 2yr protection plan, the dock, and shipping, everything came to about $333. GOD. Thus, no new eyes for me; I’ll just be bumping into shit for awhile. You know, there are blind folks in Manhattan who navigate the shit out of this city every damn day; I bet I could totally get a stick and join the fray, at least till my next paycheck (cuz I refuse to wear glasses in public forums — the comparisons to Harry Potter are just too frequent).

The web is bad. It makes me spend all my money and defile my self. I already have a shuffle, a mini, and a 10GB that just sits on my computer desk — what the hell am I doing? Somebody stop be quick before I call up Apple and add the skin jackets to my order.

photo from Streetsy
(b/c i’m not quite fey enough to make something like this)

Everyone keeps asking me if we’ve talked lately. Like, has he called or have we checked in with each other. It seems like a weird question to be asked and I always pause and think about how to respond. I mean, we broke up. Is calling what people normally do afterwards? No, we haven’t spoken. I didn’t expect to, not sure if that’s strange or not. There was no real decision made about it, I guess we’re just kind of leaving each other alone… to be okay.

But I think about him. Usually makes me smile.

French Quarter, New Orleans

I took this picture on a getaway weekend in New Orleans around this time last year. I was just walking down Chartres St. and caught a glimpse of this. I remember thinking how strange it was that it seemed to fit just right with my situation @ the time. Once again, it’s all too accurate. The front page of The New York Times yesterday actually made me gasp — that woman’s dead body floating along the pier. I thought it was disgusting and disrespectful, but then again New York has always dealt with the ugly side of disaster head-on.

I’ve always felt a kinship with the city of New Orleans. When my dad’s side of the family first got here from Ireland — like WAY back then — they went to New Orleans. Maybe that’s why next to New York, it’s just always been my favorite city, it’s felt like home. I’ve gone many many times over the last 10 years; I love there b/c it’s a place where life slows down and it’s just easier to enjoy little pleasures like great food and music and culture… stuff I have full access to in New York but rarely have the time to slow down and appreciate. I’m sad about what’s going on over there. I have a ton of family spread out all over the Louisiana bayous, I think they all evacuated to Texas right after the news hit.

Everyone’s focusing on the people left behind… but I keep wondering about the people who got out. They must feel so lost. They’re stuck with their familes in cheapass Motel 8’s paying $200 a night for a shit room that should be $69 a night. What are they going to do? They still have credit card bills but they don’t have income. Does their health insurance still work? Did they get their family photo albums before they left? It’s got to be so fucking frustrating, just scarier than anything I can imagine. A lot of shit is being talked about the local residents who chose to stay in New Orleans when the hurricane approached (a lot of them waited too long), and I’m not really sure how I feel about it. If Manhattan was under danger of being submerged by some Day After Tomorrow-type water, I’ll bet a ton of these lifetime locals would set their jaws and insist on going down with the ship too. Maybe I’d be one of them.

Keep your heads up, bayou folks. The rest of us are here to help any way we can.

Suddenly September. Every blog entry for the next three weeks will be nothing but fluff/filler till I get to reference Earth Wind & Fire and be relevant.

So Next Magazine (where my homie Gregory T. Angelo holds court as an editor-type who WASN’T paying dues 5yrs ago alongside my ass in a busted up white van with a trailer full of sets and costumes for our non-union stint as The Outsiders) hosted their very first Out There Awards @ Crobar on Monday night and my scheming ass got slipped a very precious golden ticket. Straight out of Willy Wonka with the golden ticket, ya’ll, including the rule about “You may bring one guest and one guest only”. I actually skipped down the streets of Soho like Charlie Bucket, except with better hair and teeth (that kid looked busted. What, your poverty-stricken ass can’t afford a toothbrush and comb?). Even though I’d had a really rough week @ work and am not a serious clubber, I just couldn’t bear to spend another nice quiet evening in the fucking stillness of my uber-clean apartment. Nightlife called. So I rang up a pretty boy I know, got myself together, hailed a cab to OUCH, and let the healing begin.

I wasn’t prepared for how Done Up things were gonna be. Most of these gay events are pretty lame, with one or two D-list DJ’s making an appearance, and aging go-go boys that I wouldn’t even admit to riding the same train next to. I went just expecting to stay a short time, figured I’d only be able stand outside of my element for about an hour before Boredom lured me back uptown on the A train, but I had a ton of fun. The awards were hysterical, with subversive categories like Most Improved Drag Queen, Most Overexposed DJ, and Best Weekly Party That Got Shut Down, and were presented by a fucking random smorgasbord of NYC Nighttime personalities. Anthony Rapp went onstage and presented, which alone made the whole night worth the cab fare, and a LOT of other gay glitterati was there — including Andy Towle, who’s even more gorgeous in person. Jai Rodriguez’ hated ass, thankfully, was nowhere in sight; probably busy doing something culturally-relevant, like teaching straight guys how to stand still @ a party. Anyway, the event was HUGE. I actually ran into a lot familiar faces, including an ex-roommate who I had no idea heads up Da Lipstyxx now, an ex-classmate (Hi, Peppermint!) who made a huge impression on me and with whom I’m having dinner with next week, an ex-plaything who still fills out those jeans nicely, and an ex-bitter friend with whom I finally buried the hatchet. By the end of the night I’d smooched on a tall hottie (looked a lot like Bravo) who I found out works @ my old job, got molested by a tranny, got shouted out — “Oh my God is that SPRITEBOY?!” — by the loudass Amensia Sparkles (yes, that one who I think looks even hotter out of drag), and just had a great time getting out of my clouded head. Check out the new issue of NEXT, I’m sure they’ll be recapping the shit out of it all. After the mo’s shut Crobar down, my newly accquired crew of beautiful boys and I went to that glow-in-the-dark Pizza Bar, which had really fucking good pepporoni. Afterwards it was late and there was a lot of walking around wondering what to do next, a lot of hugging and “I love you man”. It’s been awhile since I had a night out with the boys, been awhile since I had a real night out at all. It felt good.

My iTunes and I are on a nostalgia binge this week. I can’t stop thinking about oldschool jams. I got home from the salon today (rockin’ my new black and red mop) and spent a good 15 minutes breaking it down in the middle of my living room floor to Coolio’s “Fantastic Voyage” playing on loop with the bass cranked up. Before that, on the train ride uptown, it was “Weak” by SWV. And on the way to work this morning I was deep in the flow of “Tha Crossroads” with Bones Thugs & Harmony. Yes, dudes. See you at the crossroads so you won’t be lonlaaaay (and I’mgonnamiss EV-RAY-BODY).

Well, Miss Jodi, one of my favorite bloggers ever, tagged me for a Meme. I think you’re just supposed to fill them out and pass them on ike an annoying e-prayerchain or cyber petition. But I love talking about myself so, in no particular order, here we go.

7 things I plan to do before I die:
1) be completely happy with who I am
2) live in my dream building @ 100 w.81st Street
3) have messy, loud sex in a barn
4) get those 15 minutes clocked in
5) see the Pyramids
6) be a Dad
7) buy my mom a real lighthouse on the shore, she’s obsessed with them

7 things I can do:
1) brew really good iced tea
2) see things for what they are
3) fall asleep anywhere
4) waste hours surfing the web and not get bored
5) work a crowd
6) make a great mixed CD
7) beat cancer

7 things I cannot do:
1) make someone change their mind
2) drive a car w/o hitting something
3) housebreak my dog
4) leave home w/o my ipod
5) go back to Texas
6) pretend to be amused by sports
7) take Tom Cruise seriously

7 things that attract me to the opposite/same sex:
1) cockiness (taking Confidence to a higher level is sexy)
2) blond hair, blue eyes, KILLER smile
3) a happy go lucky attitude to contrast mine
4) full ownership of all their quirks and downsides
5) solid opinions (i hate ppl who play indifferent)
6) a slender build (not skinny. i can’t work with that.)
7) hobbies that don’t necessarily include anyone else

7 things that I say most often:
1) I love this shit.
2) Sorry I missed your call.
3) BAD DOG! STOP IT!
4) You’re a mess.
5) Hold your shit, bitch. You know how we do.
6) Wanna be my plus one tonight?
7) Welcome to Concierge, this is Chris speaking.

7 celebrity crushes:
1) Mandy Moore - no explaination needed.
2) Ryan Seacrest - it’s more of a sick fascination, I can’t WAIT for the E! True Hollywood Story to hear about “when it all came crashing down.”
3) Ewan McGregor - b/c he can do anything — musicals, animation, action, indie, romantic comedy, drama, sci-fi — and be amazing at it. Also, he just seems naughty. At a porn set, Ewan would want to be the fluffer. I love him.
4) Kelly Clarkson - she just seems really nice and grateful.
5) Danny Roberts from Real World New Orleans - um, the accent, the eyes, the sheepish grin. I still have his season taped on VHS and I don’t even own a VCR anymore.
6) Claire Danes - b/c she was Angela Chase, and everytime I put on a flannel shirt I think of her.
7) Matt Czuchry - he’s just so damn cute.

And now I’m passing this on to some other folks. Not that anyone will be filling them out, b/c most ppl aren’t like me and will have lives and plans over this holiday weekend. Most ppl won’t sit at home watching TV with their dog. Shit, most ppl aren’t even reading this blog today, they’re in cars on the way to beaches and concerts and stuff. Traitors. Run to your bliss.