Ask Me No Questions

so after much rushing around and defensive driving, we showed up at the DJ's office to find that though the office was open till 9:30, an appointment is required prior to meet with a DJ. the receptionist was only able to confirm that, Yes our date is open and someone would contact us today. why the receptionist (extremely sweet and personable girl; extrordinarily Staten Island [adjective]) was there and what the other two women skulking about the office were doing is anyone's guess; one thing is certain though, they weren't DJ's and could not answer questions about DJ-ing or any of the minutae the craft entails.

"What do you say when you're money's gone? Chaka Kahn! Chaka Kahn! What do you say when you're man is gone? Chaka Kahn! Chaka Kahn!"~ Mary Tyler Moore (Franklin Fuentes)

Hey Mr. DJ Put a Record On, I Wanna Dance With My Non-Legally Recognized Life Partner

tonight, the hubby and i are off to pick a DJ for the Commitment Ceremony. this is the next step in booking the "important people" for the big day. so far, the list looks good(if i knew how to strike out the text i would):

• Catering Hall? done!
• Celebrant? done!
• DJ
• Photographer
• Florist
• Honeymoon? (thanks to MS, this one just got easier!)

we're going to see a DJ company called Dash of Class. they're who my brother used for his wedding. Stephen and i have always found the name...interesting. why just a dash? wouldn't you want more than just a dash? or are they saying that anything more than a dash is just too much class? granted, they're mostly from Staten Island and Brooklyn, but couldn't they scrape together more than just a dash?

i have 3 very simple rules for the DJ:

1. there will be absolutely no theme dances (ie Hands Up, the Electric Slide or the Dollar Dance)
2. he is not allowed to speak on the microphone, except to announce the "dance with my mother" and "couple's 1st dance". if he harrasses anyone to get up and dance, i'll plunge the cake knife in his heart.
3. he will be given an approved song list that he is absolutely not allowed to deviate from. if he does, he'll meet the same end as in #2.

if he thinks Bride-zillas are tough, wait till he sees Bottom-zilla.

Music Makes the People Come Together

Some thoughts on what's randomly playing on my MP3 Player from my as yet unnamed playlist...

1. Stand Back (Stevie Nicks): i can't stand her, but i love this song. i have no idea what she's saying; it sounds like she's stuck in a wood-chipper.
2. the Tide is High (Blondie): honestly, before their "comeback" Blondie could do no wrong. this song really is golden.
3. Heart of Glass (Blondie): see #2
4. I Would Die for You (Prince): i've always liked Prince, but Shithead was a majorly psychotic fan. it was terribly disturbing. i still listen to him now and again and thank Cher i'm with Stephen. :)
5. Edge of Seventeen (Stevie Nicks): see #1 (i think it's just the chorus i like about this song; all the rest is unintelligible)
6. Immature (Bjork): the lyrics to this song are awesome: "how could i be so immature to think that he could replace the missing elements in me? how extremely lazy of me!" say what you want about her, the bitch has a point.
7. the Queen is Dead (the Smiths): ah the angst of Morrissey. whatever happened to him?
8. She Bop (Cyndi Lauper): this was one of the very 1st albums i ever owned (on cassette!). i played it so much it wore out. it wasn't till, like 5 years ago that i realized what this song was about. that Cyndi! she was so naughty!
9. Frankly, Mr Shankly (the Smiths): this song is SO f'n snotty and peppy!
10. Take a Chance (ABBA): in college, Jenn and i used to sit in her car and she'd chant the "take a chance" part over and over again during this song. we always cracked up!
11. Blue Monday (New Order): holy '80's Batman.
12. Ask (the Smiths): *sigh* ah to be a buck-tooth girl in Luxemburg.
13. Shine (Cyndi Lauper): the 1st time i heard this song was live, when she opened for Cher during the "Farewell Tour". i still get chills when i hear it. love her!
14. No More (Jason Walker): holy crap. this song's lyrics are phenomonal and it was produced by Dynamix AND it was covered by Kristine W! the next time someone needs a Break-Up Mix or Anti-Valentines Day mix: this song is totally going on it.
15. Because of You (Kelly Clarkson): ok i admit it, i jumped on the KC bandwagon. this song is so gut-wrenchingly well-done, with her plaintive and desperate sounding voice, that it's hard to resist. i still won't watch American Idol though.
16. Everything She Wants (Wham!): yup i own Wham!, and i'm not ashamed. i love this song. she's a greedy bitch George! leave her and go back into the bushes!
17. Voulez Vous (ABBA): this song is so campy and so fabulous.
18. Paradise is Here [Junior's radio edit] (Cher): Cher and Junior is like chocolate and peanut-butter: fantastic separate, and mind-numbingly fabulous together.
19. Love is a Groove (Cher): it's that noise at the begining of song that really gets me. it sound like she's playing bottles filled with water. i live for that noise. then she says "Kathmandu", and i know that she can do no wrong.
20. Girlfriend in a Coma (the Smiths): (see #7) c'mon, who else could've written this song?
21. the Sodom and Gomorrah Show (the Pet Shop Boys): this song is like a Vegas production number. i *heart* Neil Tennant.
22. Faithfully [Valentin radio edit](Judy Torres): i usually hate covers, especially when i really like the original, but this one is phenomonal. she really makes it her own; incidentally, it's also a pretty kick-ass mix.
23. Regret (New Order): i absolutely love the opening bars of this song. wow, New Order; where are they now?
24. Mama Mia (ABBA): (see#17)
25. How Soon Is Now? (the Smiths): this song is deffinitely in my top 5 for all time favorites.
26. I Knew You Were Waiting for Me (George Michael and Aretha Franklin): this is the butchest i've ever heard him sound.
27. Gloria (Laura Branigan): poor Laura; dead. yet, her song lives on and on and on
28. Barracuda (Heart): this song always takes me back to Wednesdays at Barracuda; where we'd see the notoriously fabulous drag-queen: Shasta Cola. she tore the place up with this song.
29. I Wanna Have Some Fun (Samantha Fox): so trashy, so slutty, such a one-hit-wonder that somehow had five.

ok, i'm mad busy now. there's no way i'll be able to post more. until tomorrow!

Can You Mainline Espresso?

after the scintillating soup dumplings of Chelsea, we took the girls to the cafe` that Stephen and i went to on our 1st date (g'head, you know you wanna say AAAAAAAAAAAAW), for dessert. we hung out for a while; indulging in cappucinos, pumpkin cheesecake and tiramisu and then parted ways. now, on the way into the city, Stephen and i stopped at a Starbucks so i could get my caffeine quota for the day (CawfeeGuy is a high-holy mess without it; we're talking headaches, mood swings, etc). when i got back in the car to go home, i still had half of my 5-shot-venti-iced-skim-caramel-latte. by the time we got home, at 9:30, it was gone. long story short: i was so wired, i didn't fall asleep till after midnight. i lay in the bed, next to stephen, with every atom of my body vibrating. i felt like the Flash. i felt like Whitney Houston. now, i feel like hell.
i am so tired and so delerious that even the lyrics to Samantha Fox's Love House seemincredibly deep and meaningful.
today is probably the worst day that i could feel like this: it's Monday, the interns have all left (leaving me to do all my work myself), and i've now got more work than i have gotten all summer long. i probably shouldn't be blogging...

"There's love in my house for fun, whee/There's love in my house for you/There's love in my house, you won't be sorry/'Cos I know just what to do"~Love House (Samantha Fox)

No Dumping

Nil was in town this weekend, and as we haven't seen her in a month or two, we made plans to go to dinner with her and MS.
stephen and i had gotten into the city a bit early and in an attempt to come in out of the rain, we stopped off at Barracuda for a dirty Martini (ok, he had water and i had a martini) to wait for the girls. a little bit later, we met them in front of the best Chinese restaruant in Manhattan: Grand Sichaun (on 24th and 9th). we had taken MS there a couple of months ago and she's been asking me for weeks when we were going back; she was hooked, after tasting their signature delicacy: the soup dumpling.

i can't say i blame her, these things really are addictive. the 1st time stephen took me for them, i pestered him for months afterward. in case you haven't figured it out, they're dumplings...filled...with blistering hot soup. seriously. you can't make this up. delictable chunks of pork or crabmeat floating in absolutely intoxicating pork broth, wrapped in a perilously thin membrane of dough. they even have a diagram hanging on the wall to teach you how to eat them without burning off half your face (yeah, they're that hot). we also ordered Glass Noodles with Spicy Pork, Tea-Stained Duck and Sauteed Baby Bok Choi; all of which were delicious in their own right and worth a golf-clap. as usual, the service was bad, but to be honest after dipping into the little sacks of nirvana, sitting in the bamboo steamer, you really could care less.

"yes to food is yes to life"~ Eat the Menu (the Sugarcubes)

DJs Are Alive

Yup, i'm addicted to You-Tube


1st off, Kristine W looks amazing. Secondly, this song is absolutely sick and i am living for it. this is so fabulous, i think i need to lay down.

i *heart* NY (Updated 8/25)

the other night i sat down and watched one of my all-time favorite movies, the Adventures of Priscilla: Queen of the Desert. it got me thinking about a couple of things:

1. i love drag-queens. i do. it's an absolutely indisputable fact. they're sassy, they're gorgeous, and they're just plain fabulous. if there's one drawback to being...ursine...it's that i will never be able to be a drag queen. i'd be an absolute trainwreck in sequins and a wig. it really is a shame because i'm such a talented lip-syncher and would make a wonderful Keely Smith.
2. before i die, i want to visit Australia (or at least a Kylie Minogue concert. ok, i'd settle for Dannii Minogue)
3. i could never live anywhere but New York City (by which i mean the 5 boroughs, conveniently labled on the attached map, for your convenience).

this last thought may seem strange, but let me explain:

during a terribly tense point in the film, one of the characters muses to another, "It's funny. We all sit around mindlessly slagging that vile stinkhole of a city, but in some strange way it takes care of us. I don't know if that ugly wall of suburbia's been put there to stop them getting in or us getting out...." and i began to think that the same could be said about New York. Our city really is a cultural womb were all the "degenerates" and "freaks" of society (trannies, lezzies, faggots, drag-queens, etc) can feel at home. our city takes care of us, encourages us and sheilds us from the narrow minded, right-wing, ultra-conservatives that exist everywhere else. Stephen and i walk around the city (Staten Island and Brooklyn included) holding hands and giving PDAs, all the time and only once (in the middle of Little Italy) were we heckled. i wouldn't even dream of doing it on Long Island or New Jersey though (Fire Island and Princeton the only notable exceptions); i don't trust the whitebread suburbanites out there. It's a totally different world out there: people look at you funny if you're not wearing socks with your sandals.

sure, we complain about how dirty and crowded Manhattan is, but where else can you see a drag queen, in full make-up, waiting for a train at 7am amidst a crowd of people who are paying her no more mind than anyone else? new yorkers are so fantastically unphased by things that make others blush, wince or gasp. that's how you can always tell either a tourist or expatriate: they look absolutely mortified when they see a bum masturbating on the subway; all the other commuters know just to give him room or open their umbrellas. nothing shocks us anymore.

is this ennui a good thing? maybe, maybe not; but it's who we are, and i'll be honest: i'd rather live here than some town in "the Midwest" (read: anywhere outside the five boroughs) where they roll up the streets at sundown and thing GWB should be the new Emperor. I've become one of those New Yorkers who truly believe that New York really is the center of the universe; i can't even logically conceive ever leaving (except to go to another city like Chicago, LA or San Francisco, but i doubt i'd be as happy).

“I can't wait to get back to New York City where at least when I walk down the streat, no one ever hesitates to tell me exactly what they think of me.”~Ani DiFranco

Rufus Wainwright: the Art Teacher

i absolutely love this song.

Dwarfs

looking at Nil's post on the subject, i thought up names for the people I work with...

Cunty
Hoochie
Brainy
Snarky
Alchy
Sassy
Whispery
Dummy
Sissy
Giggly and
Greasy

the "Sanctity of Marriage"

According to NBC, a couple have just been married in Bismarck, North Dakota, with their family friend, Henrietta, a chicken, as their bridesmaid.
A fucking chicken .
According to reports, the couple were Terry Morris and Renee Biwer.
The chicken was originally Terry's pet. He had kept her for 12 years.
He says that he didn't tell his girlfriend about Henrietta at first because he thought she would think he was crazy. Today Henrietta accompanies the couple like a member of the family including staying with them in hotel rooms.

but President Bush is afraid what the crazy fags and lezzies will do if we're allowed to get married, right?

read the full article.

"The only thing that scares me more than space aliens is the idea that there aren't any space aliens. We can't be the best that creation has to offer. I pray we're not all there is. If so, we're in big trouble.”~ Ellen Degeneres

Kristine W.- Some Lovin'

this woman is AMAZING. i defy you to tell me differently.

Just a Few of Random Thoughts...

we had a Pampered Chef team meeting last night and didn't get in till after 11; i didn't fall asleep till after midnight, i'm beat. these are things i was thinking of on my way to work this morning...

• i want a dog. i really miss Max, the dog my parents got just before i left home. we swung by their house on Sunday and he was so happy to see us! jumping all over the place, tongue everywhere. it really made me puppy-sick (posts like this from Nil don't help either). we've been talking about getting a puppy, but the house is always such a mess and we're hardly ever home, it would be terribly unfair to any puppy we get. **sigh**
• Hillary Duff, Come Clean (Chris Cox mix): it's so good, i can't stand it. when John Michael gave this to me, last year, i rolled my gorgeous brown eyes (they really are, y'know) and said "Right...Hillary Duff" while making a very rude hand gesture. now, i feel so guilty for admitting, in print, that i'm absolutely loving a Hillary Duff song. the only consolation i can glean is that Chris Cox really is the Rumplestiltskin of vocal house: look at the gold he spun from the straw that was Donna Summer's You Are So Beautiful or Korn's Beating Me Down. plus, who else could make a Janet Jackson megamix where you don't mind not being able to make out a word she's saying? yup, it's all about Chris Cox. ok, fine: the lyrics are pretty hot too. just don't tell her i said so.
• i finished my book. now i'm done with David Stukas' murder mystery series (again). i'll re-read them in a year, as i tend to do, but i'm bummed he's not writing anymore. i did, however start a new book, the Man Who Fell In Love with the Moon by Tom Spanbauer. so far it's kinda weird: Half indian (feather, not dot) kid growing up in a whore house in Idaho at the turn of the century (20th not 21st). can't wait to see where this is going

"Let the rain fall down/And wake my dreams/Let it wash away/My sanity/'Cause I wanna feel the thunder/I wanna scream/Let the rain fall down/I'm coming clean, I'm coming clean"~ Come Clean (Hilary Duff)

That I Am

You Are an Espresso

At your best, you are: straight shooting, ambitious, and energetic At your worst, you are: anxious and high strung You drink coffee when: anytime you're not sleeping Your caffeine addiction level: high

What Kind of Coffee Are You?

Sangria: Spanish for "the Devil is Tap-Dancing On My Brain"

Friday night John and Chris came over to play cards, and i can't remember when i've had more fun or been more intoxicated.
Stephen thought it would be great to make have a Tex-Mex Fiesta (last time we all played cards, it was homemade pizza and red wine). we got home and he whipped up Nachos, Chicken and Cheese Quesadillas and the most amazing Guacamole i've ever had. the food was absolutely beyond wonderful (girls, you have got to run out and get yourself a man like mine). then came the sangria. it was like a drag queen in a pitcher: fruity, sweet, tart and strong enough to knock you on your ass. two glasses and we were all off our faces. it was so good, John started doing his Ellen Greene(Audrey from Little Shop of Horrors) impression, and i lost it. i really thought i was going to start shooting guacamole out of my nose. it was so beautiful outside that we stayed on the patio, laughing and singing and attempting to play cards till after two. i vaguely remember the party breaking up and going to bed.
when i woke up on saturday, i thought i was in Tijuana. my mouth was dry and it was so bright outside that i almost fell out of bed just to crawl underneath. it wasn't nearly as bad as the last time i got...tipsy...but it was pretty bad. i couldn't talk, thinking was not an option, and there was no way in hell i was taking of my sunglasses. 6 hours, a vanilla latte and 3 tylenol later and i was back to normal. i'd say i'm never drinking again, but we all know that's a bold face lie.

i can't wait till next time we play cards. i'm thinking homemade Dim Sum and Mai Tais.

"Temperance is simply a disposition of the mind which binds the passion"~ St.Thomas Aquinas

Nostalgia...Sorta...

i've had some time to kill today (thanks to our summer interns, my work day basically stops at 3pm; thanks kids!), so in my final hour of Friday i was looking at some of my past posts. think of this as either an Update show on Maury or one of those flashback episodes of the Golden Girls or Family Ties...

1. the men's room at work: still a sewer. do grown men really need to stand in front of a toilet with their pants around their ankles to urinate? must they chit chat at the urinals like it was happy hour at the Toolbox?
2. Babies Babies everywhere: stephen's sister gave birth, my sister-in-law is still preggers and so i my supervisor. also, one of my friends from college is in her 2nd trimester after a terrible ordeal with invitro fertilization.
3. my brain tumor: i saw the audiologist a few months ago, i have minimal hearing loss in my right ear. in a few months i have to go back for another MRI and hearing test to compare to the last couple, to see if the tumor's grown and my hearing has gotten worse. short answer: everything is status quo. no worries :)
4. my job: i still like my job alot, but i'm convinced i could be doing something else to help my fellow man. btw: volunteering organizations don't answer e-mails.
5. my name: as some of you may have noticed, since turning the Big Three-Oh, i've changed my name to CawfeeGuy. if you hadn't noticed, SURPRISE!
6. Our Commitment Ceremony: ok so we've booked the hall and the celebrant; we now need a DJ and a photographer. i'm also still looking for the perfect poem or song for the ceremony, too. i remain undaunted.
7. the Next Blog button: does everyone in portugal have a fucking blog?
8. Underoos: i'm still being teased about this **folds arms** i don't wanna talk about it.
9. the Weather: it's been gorgeous here for the last week. let's keep it that way, i don't think i can survive another heatwave.
10. Ethel Merman: hasn't left my MP3 player in days. she's been duking it out with Kristine W for diva of the week. I'm glad to be alive in the land of the living where there's no business like show business...

is there anything else i've missed?

Go Team Go

As sort of an unofficial weekly tradition, my niece and i go to lunch almost every Saturday. it's really sweet and i look forward to it as "our" time. we stopped for a while, just because she had ballgames and we were just genuinely busy every weekend.
Anyhoo...

this past weekend, we were sitting in one of SI's 4 Applebees (does any town/borough need 4 Applebees? i don't think so) when she started talking to me about baseball. it truly amazed me that this girl, 20 years my junior, knows more about baseball than anyone i know. we're talking team and individual player batting averages, stats, etc. If she told me that Derek Jeter had 12 birthmarks behind his left knee, in the shape of the constellation Cancer, i'd believe her. she's that good. what's even more ironic and comedic (and pathetic) is that her knowledge of baseball is in direct correlation to my lack of knowledge; as smart as she is, is as dumb as i am.

we sat there for well over an hour, in which time she explained the breakdown of the National and American leagues; apparently the two leagues are divided into three subsections: AL East, AL West and something for the middle (AL Square-States?) ditto for the NL. then she went through a 20 minute monologue on how the All-Star teams are picked for both leagues. she let me ask as many questions and i needed to, explained using appropriately small words and spoke slowly as not to confuse me; she didn't condescend once during the entire tutorial. it was like having lunch with Jimmy the Greek in pigtails.

now, don't get me wrong, i think it's terrific that she's got such a wealth of information at her disposal (Auntie Mame was right: knowledge is power) i could listen to her talk about it for hours (despite my dis-interest in the actual topic). i'm just slightly envious that she knows so much and is interested in baseball as much as she is. when i was her age i honestly couldn't care less about sports, especially baseball. Ok, that really hasn't changed much, but still...i was on a little league team for about 5 years and the only the only things i remember were being hit by the ball and consequently rushed to the hospital (3 times) and standing in deep deep right field (that's the one behind the pitcher, right?) picking flowers to give to my mom between innings (i'm not joking). all the rest is a blur of boredom, discomfort and fear of leatherbound projectiles. we also went to a couple of Mets games when i was a kid, but all i remember of them is Hotdogs and the big foam finger; oh and Hat Night! i was very happy when we'd go on Hat night.

ironic that i actually felt compelled to "come out", right?

She and i aren't going to lunch this weekend (Stephen and i have a Pampered Chef show to do in Queens, and she has a birthday party), but i'm sure we'll go next weekend. i hope so, she promised to explain why the Designated Hitter rule has killed the game of baseball.

"Well I was just wonderin' why you would throw home when we got a two-run lead. You let the tying run get on second base and we lost the lead because of you. Start using your head. That's the lump that's three feet above your ass"~ Tom Hanks (A League of Their Own)

the Mobile Melting Pot

riding the F train to work every day, one really does encounter a cross section of New York's extraordinarily diverse and overwhelmingly bizarre population (i've made several comments on this in the past). now, i realize that different cultures have different social norms and customs but it's truly amazing the things that people will do on a semi-crowded subway car. it really isn't my intention to come off as a total xenophobia, but here you go. 5 examples, submitted for your approval:

1. coming home yesterday, the train was very old; it had two long bench seats running the length of the cars and several poles running down them middle aisle. the nearly empty train was filled at my stop. when i sat down, an indian/middle eastern man sat to my right and a young black girl sat on my right. as we hurtled out of Brooklyn, the man on my right got closer and closer and closer. by the time we got to 14th street he was almost literally, in my lap. when i got up at 23rd (preparing to get off at 34th), i noticed that there was nobody to his right. i don't know if he was trying to go home in my pocket or what, but he made me terribly uncomfortable.
2. about a week ago, on the way home, i watched as an old Asian man kept his index finger, buried up to the 3rd knuckle, in his nose for the entire ride from Brooklyn to 34th street. when i got off, his finger was still in his nose. i don't know what he was digging for, but i hope he found it eventually.
3. on the way to work the other day i saw a man gnawing on a stick. it wasn't a toothpick or a chopstick. it looked like a small tree branch, possibly a large twig. he was on the train when i got on and didn't exit before i did.
4. a few weeks ago, on the way home, i watched as a Russian woman (i know this only because of the newspaper she had in her hand) jumped into a seat that a very pregnant woman was aiming to sit down in. she then gave the pregnant woman all kinds of face, because she was almost sat on. (yes i gave the pregnant woman my seat).
5. several weeks ago, on the way home, two older Eastern European couples got on the train. the sat across from each other, with the substantial aisle between them, talking loudly in their native tongue. as the train filled with people, they continued their conversation by shouting at each other over the heads of the other strap-hangers.

is it me or are these examples of strange behavior? is there a cultural definition of "personal space" and "hygiene"? it seems the more i take public transportation, the more i notice that different cultures behave in the most bizarre ways.

“There's no map to human behaviour”~ Bjork

Nothing Says "Morning" Like...

the dulcet tones of

work my disco-lovin pussy, Ethel.

“I can hold a note as long as the Chase National Bank.”~Ethel Merman

Brunch: It's Like Breakfast, Only With Attitude

as i mentioned, Stephen and i went out for brunch with my parents on sunday. my mom had wanted to sample a place that she was thinking of having my sister-in-law's baby shower at so she made reservations at a place called the Bistro. the food was good, the menu was a little limited, and the Mimosas were quite botomless. all in all, i'd give the entire experience a 7 out of 10. the reason i bring this up, is because having brunch with mom, dad and Stephen reminded me of when i used to go out to brunch every sunday with a guy i was seeing in Brooklyn...

we would get up late on Sunday's and head over to Park Slope, called Sotto Voce. now for those of you outside New York, Park Slope is like Brooklyn's answer to the Village; it's where all the artsty/yuppie/crunchy/gay types moved when the City seemed too daunting or expensive. it's cute and full of brownstones and little cafe's and restaurants. like the Village, though, it's also got a discernible note of pretension and haughtiness about it; sort of an "I'm Too Sexy for This Borough" kinda deal. in the five months that Shithead the Pathological Liar (that was his name...really!) and i were together, i never felt cool enough to be there. my jeans were old (not distressed), my shirts were worn (not vintage) and my Docs didn't come with the hole in the sole (they were worn down). granted, i've definitely got issues when it comes to feeling out of place; call it paranoia or "social anxiety disorder" or whatever but i'm terribly self-conscious about being around my peers. anyway, the brunches themselves were absolutely steeped in an almost palpable amount of pretension and attitude. the patrons of Sotto Voce sat around like rejects of a Guess ad: all disheveled hair, wrinkled couture and dark circles under the eyes. everyone had that, "Roxy closed at 8, i've had 4 hours sleep, and now i'm here" look. even the waiters seemed to ooze a level of haughtiness that one does not expect from someone slinging hash. Shithead, however, loved it. he felt it completely boosted his stock and self worth; we were where we should be seen on a Sunday morning. Me? i just felt like i was paying too much for so-so Eggs Benedict and cheap-champagne-mimosa (i'm more of a "Diner Omelete and Bottomless Coffee" kinda gal). after a month or so, the whole experience really left me with a very poor impression of what Brunch should be: cunty queens and eggs.

i found out later that brunch is actually alot of fun with the right group of people, at the right place, and when you're not dating a Shithead.

"The world changes in direct proportion to the number of people willing to be honest about their lives"~ Armistead Maupin

Happy Birthday Madge

forty-eight fuckin' years old and still fabulous

"There are moments when I can't believe I'm as old as I am. But I feel better physically than I did 10 years ago. I don't think, Oh God, I'm missing something.”

~Madonna~

the (Not-So Lost) Weekend

what a fantastic weekend. i took off yesterday because, let's face it, it's been a fairly difficult couple of months (what with the brain tumor, entering middle age, general work related craziness and various other stresses). the last day off i had was to go to, yet another, doctor for the damn pea in my head. that was well over a month ago and despite the fact that i only have 3 vacation/personal days left (having squandered the other seven), i felt it was definitely time to cash another in. the remaining two are already reserved for Black Friday and our anniversary (October 6th).

anyway, i can't even say that i did anything terribly exciting over the weekend, and that was the best part. i got to sleep late, i had lunch with my niece, saw a movie and went out for brunch with my parents (that's a post all by itself). i also got to indulge in my latest slothful activity: sunbathing. i laid out on (on my new chair; heaven!) sunday for about 2 hours and then again yesterday for an hour (i couldn't take anymore than an hour, as i really was sweating like a whore in church). it was absolutely glorious and now i'm a wonderful shade of brown that belies my Sicilian roots. if it wasn't for the fact that i can be a big flaming mary at times, i look like i should be schlepping crates of olives on my shoulders or stomping grapes in a barrel alla Lucy. ironically, with my colorblindness, i feel like i look a touch green, which strikes me as funny.

i also made it through two books this weekend: Chris Kenry's Confessions of a Cassanova and David Stukas' Going Down for the Count, both of which i hightly recomend. i've mentioned in the past how much i adore the way Kenry writes; this book is just as good as his last two (thanks to Magenta, since i bought it with the GC she gave me). David Stukas also is a writer worth reading. he has a (four novel) series of murder mysteries that are absolutely wonderful. they're funny, extremely clever and actually mysterious (ok they were for me, but to someone with any shred of common sense they may be quite simplistic); very Agatha Christie meets Armistead Maupin. i actually corresponded with him recently, and i'm sad to report that he will no longer be writing new installments of this particular series (so pick 'em up now, before they go out of print!).

"Too much of a good thing is wonderful!"~Armistead Maupin

Yes, You've Returned (Now Go Away Again So We Can Go Back to Missing You)

Hello, darlings! this is one of my ultra-rare weekend posts (i've got a three day weekend planned), and since i know you all wait with bated breath for my scribblings, i'd hate to let you down; consider this Monday's post.

Stephen and i just got back from seeing, you guessed it, Superman Returns. to be quite blunt, i just want him to return my $9 for the movie and $6 for the bridge to get out to New Brunswick, since it's already out of both the Staten Island theaters. as far as i'm concerned, this movie was truly one of the biggest disappointments ever to come out of Hollywood since Glitter. the plot was thinner than well sliced prosciutto, the acting was more wooden than Howdy Doody and the special effects seemed to come straight from the video game which is probably more exciting. there was absolutely zero in the way of character development and if you had to quantify the amount of emotional depth displayed by any of the actors, you'd be looking at negative numbers. i'm not going to bother spoiling any of the plot points for you, since i'm sure it'll probably be out on DVD by the end of September.

the biggest problem, by far, was that neither Superman/Clark (i don't recall the actor's name) nor Lois (Kate Bosworth?) really seemed to care about anything that was going on at any given moment. their interactions were so lackluster and plastic that it was like watching mannequins (one of which, with a nice sized package, by the way) in pretty clothes. only Kevin Spacey and the ever fabulous Parker Posey had any emotion at all: they were evil and stupid (respectively) and they were loving every minute of it.

i can't quite imagine what the writer, director or producers were thinking when they greenlighted this movie for production. i guess with the success of Batman Begins and all the other comic book movies, they thought it was time ressurect Superman, but they should've waited for a good script to come along. it was like watching a really bad episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Smallville (like the Preying Mantis episode of the former or Kryptonite Tattoo episode of the latter) only with a bigger budget. strangely enough, having watched both shows (we're actually in the midst of Buffy: Season 2), they're much better acted and written.
Incidentally, we own the full series of Buffy, Angel and Smallville on DVD, if you wanna borrow them. we won't charge you $9, and i'll guarantee you'll be immensely more entertained.

"Well, I don't think I can handle this/A cloudy day in Metropolis/I think I'll talk to my analyst"~Jimmy Olsen's Blues (the Spin Doctor's)

What Will Your Obituary Say?

'What will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

"Young bones groan And the rocks below say : 'Throw your skinny body down, son !' But I'm going to meet the one I love So please don't stand in my way Because I'm going to meet the one I love No, Mamma, let me go"~ Shakespeare's Sister (the Smiths)

a Not-So-Brief Story

I kind of glossed over it the other day, in the midst of my freak-out-tirade, but i'm going to elaborate on something that's really bothering me. it's very long and i doubt many of you will even bother reading this, but i need to get it off my chest.

my brother and i have never been, what anyone would call, close. we're 18 months apart (he's older) and couldn't be more dissimilar if we were born different species. my mom tells this adorable and amusing story of how, when i was brought home from the hospital, he dragged out his toybox out as sort of a Welcome to the Family, Baby Brother gesture. yes, it was adorable, it's also the only act of kindness that can be recalled (and not by me). we had a relationship that was completely tantamount to what my parents had planned by having us so close together: we fought like cats and dogs. i don't really know why, we just never got along and were terribly cruel to each other for years. i stress "to each other", because i want to be as fair as possible: i was both the victim and tormentor, like most siblings. any ill feelings i may have had for him were exacerbated by the fact that he was, what one would call, a "bad seed". he was always in trouble; my mother spent an inordinate time at school talking to his teachers and the principal. at some point he crossed the line from childish mischief to criminal mischief and just became a truly despicable person. he caused an incredible about of trouble and even more pain to both my parents till he was well into his 20's.

meanwhile i just did my thing: school, work, friends, etc. as i've mentioned (way too many times in the last couple of days), i was a geek; my teachers all liked me (or didn't pay me any mind), my friends were all basically good kids (we were all on the debate team for god's sakes), and i never got in trouble for anything bigger than incomplete homework assignments or low grades in Chemisty and Math. i'm not bragging, i'm just telling it like it is; i was on auto-pilot (more or less) since the time i was 16, while they tended to my brother. suffice to say, there was no way he and i would ever be Brady Bunch/Waltons close. it didn't really bother me, i had friends.

years later, as we grew up, we remained civil to each other (he asked me to be Godfather to his 1st born, which i accepted) and got slightly closer as he attempted to straighten himself out. last year he asked me to be his Best Man at his wedding and i was truly surprised. i didn't think we were there. i accepted, after some consideration, and we tried to (re)build some sort of fraternal relationship. i tried as hard as humanly possible to bury all the childish bullshit that had hung around us for two decades. i really tried to push it all aside and chalk it up to his immaturity (and possible ADD?) and my chronic over-sensitivity. i gave a speech at his wedding, told him and my sister-in-law how much i loved them, meant every word of it, and cried on the dais. after the wedding stephen and i made numerous attempts to get together with him and his new bride, to no avail. they were always too busy or just not interested. so i gave up.

i do love him. he's my brother, and somehow it's coded into my DNA to love him. on 9/11, i knew he was working in the City; i called my mom in a blind panic, hysterical till she told me that he didn't work that day. the problem is, i really don't like him. i know it's a sin to say, but i'm afraid it's the truth. maybe too much time has passed, and though it is all water under the bridge, there's no way to go back and make up for all that time that was lost. maybe this is where we're supposed to be.

about a month ago, stephen and i were at dinner with my parents. my mom asked if we'd started planning the wedding and i told her we had. she asked about Best Man and Maid of Honor and i told her i'd decided to have Jenn and John stand up for me as my witnesses. i thought about it and i know that if they weren't up there, it would just feel wrong. she wigged. she told me that my brother would be crushed and we got into this big argument over the place of family in my life, and it was all very dramatic and terrible. in the end i told her exactly how i felt. she finally said she understood and respected my decision. her only request was that i tell my brother. so, a few weeks ago, on the way to my niece's game, i told him that Jenn and John would be in our wedding party. he said he understood completely and that he was fine. he then said that he hoped i wouldn't be offended if they asked someone else to be the Godfather to his next child (his second, my sister-in-law's 1st). i said i wouldn't because, well, i'm not. i truly didn't expect to be asked. in my mind everything was fine. case closed. let's all go to the ballgame.

weeks fly by and here we are, on Saturday, out with my parents again. at the end of the evening my mom swears me to secrecy and tells me how upset my brother is over the wedding. to say the least i was stunned. i had no idea he was upset, because he never told me. as a matter of fact he told me he wasn't upset. silly me for taking him at face value and believing what i'm told by a 31 year old man. she told me i couldn't tell him that she'd told me and that i should call and act casually. i just nodded and we left.
i'm still dumbfounded. i'm also angry: angry that i'm supposed to realize when i'm getting the cold shoulder, angry that i'm supposed to read between the lines when someone tells me how they feel, angry that once again he's pushing me out of the way and starting shit. i know that sounds selfish of me but i'm just really upset. it seems pretty basic to me that one should say what one means/feels. i do and perhaps i'm crazy for expecting others to follow suit.

"I'll bet your wishing You could turn back But this is all you are now Not even as much as a grain of sand You're finally nothing "~ Blood (Casey Stratton)

Lord Love a Duck!

So i just finished re-reading James St. James' true crime epic: Disco Bloodbath. i'll be honest, i absolutely detest non-fiction. Biographies bore me silly (the only exception was Mommie Dearest) and i really don't care enough about other events to read books that usually fall into the True Crime genre (yes, i'm that shallow). the only reason i ever picked this one up was because John made me watch the movie that had been made about the book, Party Monster. the movie was absolutely amazing. it was so surreal and so incredibly strange and tragically funny that i figured it had to be fictional. i didn't remember any of the events happening. i've never been big on current events and keeping up with the news, don't ask me why. i have no idea what's happening in the middle east, but i'm a whiz at Name that Tune! anyway, the entire affair was all new to me. i found the book at B & N and absolutely devoured it. this was one of the most unbelievably well written books i've ever read. wait, before you scoff, hear me out...

as i've mentioned , i'm a complete and total spaz. perhaps one of the worst gay men in all of New York. this really isn't news nor is it a new occurrence; i've always been this way. having read this book, i experienced the entire drug-fueled Club Kid phenomenon (that i'd not been a part of, and never would) from a remarkably lucid first hand perspective. his account of what it's like to be on K and E and dozens of other drugs is (according to a friend) incredibly accurate. overall, the book is incredibly funny, witty and clever. it chronicles the events leading up to (and the aftermath of) the murder of a drug dealer by the uncontested king of clubs, Michael Alig. the police's ambivalance and the press' involvment are highlighted with panache and verbal dexterity. even Alig's descent into the very depths of heroin and crack addiction are told with amazing insight and surprising humor. he's such an entertaining and fabulous writer that you almost forget the subject matter that fueled the book. i had no idea who the people were when i started reading , but St. James does such a phenomenal job establishing his real-life "cast of characters" that by the end it was impossible not to feel even the slightest emotional connection to all of those involved. it almost made me lament that i'd not been a part of the Club Kid movement of the 80's and 90's. almost.


"The death of a disco dancer Well, it happens a lot 'round here And if you think Peace Is a common goal That goes to show How little you know The death of a disco dancer Well, I'd rather not get involved I never talk to my neighbour I'd rather not get involved "~ Death of a Disco Dancer (the Smiths)

Look to the Stars (Pt. 2)

Leo: Don't expect much clarity from friends or sweeties today, even if you need it in a bad way. You can wait it out, and they will figure their stuff out after a few days have passed.

well that window was closed mighty quick!

"Nothing in America is real until its on TV” ~Michael Alig

Look to the Stars

Leo: If you've been worrying about your future, take a deep breath, a solution is close at hand as good friends come to your aid.

well, thank Cher for that! but could my horoscope be any more vague? "close at hand"? where the hell is that? and how long do i have to wait? i am totally worrying about the future. there's so much happening right now that i'd be as brain-dead as dingbat not to be worried...

the wedding is almost a year away and we still need to find a DJ, limo, and florist. we've almost booked the Celebrant, but the ceremony is only a bare-bones skeleton that needs to be worked out and blocked in the hall. speaking of the hall, we've yet to pick a menu or even sample their wares. i'm still hunting for poetry or song lyrics (though i am very partial to K's suggestion). then there's the music during the ceremony, i haven't even thought about that. money is still an issue, i'm not entirely sure we'll have saved enough to have the small amenities and things that i would like to have. i'm having a hard time recognizing whether we're going to be Simple/Classy or Cheap/Ghetto. i'm still kinda hazy on when the invitations go out, not that it really matters because we haven't picked any out yet.
i'll be honest, that despite yesterday's post, i am worried that i'm going to look like Hindenberg bobbing down the aisle; i'm convinced that formal wear makes me look huge and i don't think i can handle that. stephen's on weight watchers and somehow i lost, like, 7 pounds and then gained back 3. i know it sounds incredibly shallow but i'd really like to be somewhere under 200 lbs by next october. these cheez-its that i've been scarfing down (in lieu of lunch) aren't gonna make my ass any smaller are they? no i didn't think so.
**sigh** the icing on the whole cake is that my brother has stopped speaking to me because i'm not having him in the ceremony as my "best man". ironically, i had to be told that he wasn't talking to me by my mom. apparently i've been getting the cold shoulder for a few weeks now. **shrug**
i need a cigarette or a martini.
no. bad idea! martini's are too high in calories and i don't smoke...

"I don't think art is propaganda; it should be something that liberates the soul, provokes the imagination and encourages people to go further. It celebrates humanity instead of manipulating it."~Keith Haring

Chill

I really am a uncool. Seriously though. I'm a total tool.

i've never been one of the "cool people", probably because i use expressions like "cool people" and "tool" and put things with quotation marks. i'm not sure how it happened but i managed to miss every possible opportunity at being stylish and fabulous that could possibly be bestowed on someone. it's like i'm Sleeping Beauty and the fairies that were supposed to come and bless me just stayed home to paint their toenails: i can't dance, i can't sing, i'm pudgy and balding, i'm not particularly charismatic, i'm color-blind, and have an absolutely abysmal sense of style. i may as well have been born straight...or worse: a lesbian.

when was younger (ie. my early 20's) i watched tv shows and movies like Queer As Folk, Will & Grace, Trick and Kiss Me Guido and think "wow, are all gay men gorgeous and stylish and fabulous"? "did i miss a meeting or something"? i figured it was just fictional media hoo-ha, like soap operas, pro Wrestling and the Gulf War. then i started going out to clubs and bars and i saw that it was true. there were beautiful men and boys as far as the eye could see; hell even the Jersey boys were good looking. it was incredibly daunting to someone who'd never received praise higher than "you're...cute" by anyone other than his mother. i was glad that most clubs were dark and most patrons were either fucked up or drunk. it was an incredible relief that nobody could see my hairlip, third eye, cowlick or gimpy leg. i'm kidding, of course, i never had a cowlick.
so why'd i go? the music, mostly. even though i'm a terrible dancer (i'm part of the 1% of gay men born without a shred of rhythm; check local listings for our semi-annual telethon) i went because i totally loved the music and watching my friends dance; predictably, my closest friends are all terriffic dancers and good looking almost to the point of being intimidating (no matter how much baby blue they wear). the post-closing time trip to the diner or White Castle also added a certain trashy glamour to the affair as well (who can resist the siren call of Chicken Rings and Mozzarella Sticks at 4 am?).
one of the more interesting twists of fate was that i became very good friends with an extroverted DJ and a budding Drag Queen, neither of whom could ever be described as being less than fabulous. they were regulars in in the NY club scene and really were everything i wasn't. even now, almost 10 years later, it occasionally surprises me that we're as close friends as we are; i'm deffinitely the Rhoda. the best part, though was that they both always made me feel Cool by Association: less Rhoda and more Mary.
so my, point, if indeed there is one to all this rambling, isn't Woe is Me! I'm Bucky the Mule-Faced Boy, it's that no matter how out of place i feel amongst the gay community, thanks to the crap we're fed by Falcon, HX, Next, Bel Ami, and the rest of the youth obsessed, twinkie-lovin media, i've finally come to grips with the fact that i'm still okay. i used to try to fit in: be like the herd. it never worked. EVER. i used to get upset that i didn't look like everyone else, wasn't as goodlooking or as built. i'm finally over it. all of it. i just can't do it anymore, and now i realize that i don't have to.i've got wonderful friends and a terriffic lover. i'm finally over needing the constant validation of the The Community. i'll never walk into a room and turn everyone's head, and i don't care.

"I used to get spanked. Yeah, my mother used to line us up and we'd get it with the belt. I think she was into music, cause we were all different sizes like a xylophone. But I've been through therapy, I'm OK now"~ Cyndi Lauper

Decisions Decisions

my birthday has come and gone, and now, a week later, i am going through the gifts that my friends, family and co-workers have lavished upon me:

1. a completely phenomonal "anti-gravity" lounge chair from Stephen. i've been wanting a nice lounger for sometime, but haven't seen one i liked. leave it to Stephen. if god had a loung chair, this would be it.i dragged this bad-boy to the pool on saturday and let me tell you, i have never been so absolutely comfortable while lying poolside. between the chair and the breeze, i lay there for about 3 hours and now i'm brown as a nut.
2. the Penzey's spice box from Jenn and Brian. LOVE IT. so obscenely fabulous that it truly warrented its own blog entry.
3. a three Pack of Madlibs from Chris. am i too old at 30 to still adore these?
4. CD's from John. holy crap i was so desperate for new music that i almost went out and bought the new Bjork CD. thankfully he came through and now i realize that i would've wasted at least $18 on it. this is beyond strange. i can't even. in addition, he also provided me with some much needed new dance music (ok, it's new for me): Amanda Lepore's My Hair Looks Fierce, Eric Kupper and Richie Jones' mix of Beyonce's One Night Only from the up-coming Dreamgirls movie (i've been belting this one in the car since Friday), Dana International's You Can Kiss Your Money Bye-Bye and the coup de gras: Junior's mix of Armand Van Helden's Work Me Goddamit, which i can't stop listening to. i mean seriously, this song makes me feel gayer that Elton John's fanny-pack.
5. gift cards galore!

• Best Buy from mom and dad
• Macy's GC from the gang at work
• Amex giftcard from Stephen's parents (redeemable everywhere i wanna be!)
• Starbucks cards from my neice and also Paul and Buster. totally saving them in my wallet for when i need a pick me up, but am low on funds.
• Tower Records from Magenta (and the little minx got me the book she was talking about in the comment from this posting; can you say, "Generous to a fault"? that's next on my To Read list)

Magenta's Tower GC was spent days after i got it. 2 books i can't get anywhere else, Tower.com, bam. i'm loving this whole online-shopping thing.

the Macy's GC is totally going to cologne: Curve, Pi, or possibly to replace the brand new bottle of D & G Masculine that i dropped in our bathroom (how do you spell "Tragedy"?).

and now here's my quandry: what do i buy with the GC's from mine and stephen's parents? do i wait for Season 2 of Desperate Housewives? Season 3 of the L Word? Season 5 of Smallville? Season 5 of Will & Grace? Season 4 of Bewitched? Season 4 of the Golden Girls?

Too...many...choices...what do i DO?!??

Level 7

LEVEL 7 -- VERY FEMININEIt's kinda assumed 'Oh, yeah he's gay'. Your consistent behavior leads anyone you come in contact with to think that you're more than likely a fun loving homo boy. You're the life of the party and your hands are moving and talking as much as your mouth. You clothes are so perfect that sometimes they look fake.


after the last quiz i took, this shouldn't be half as surprising as it was.

Does this Make Me "Soft Butch"?

You Are 40% Boyish and 60% Girlish

You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch. Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes. You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them. You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be.

How Boyish or Girlish Are You?

"GIRLS WHO ARE BOYS/WHO LIKE BOYS TO BE GIRLS/WHO DO BOYS LIKE THEY'RE GIRLS/WHO DO GIRLS LIKE THEY'RE BOYS/ALWAYS SHOULD BE SOMEONE YOU REALLY LOVE"~ Girls and Boys (Blur)

It's Funny 'Cause it's True!

Your Ideal Pet is a Little Dog

You're both high strung, hyper, and cute. You're one of the few people who can get away with carrying your little dog in a little bag.

What's Your Ideal Pet?

"I want a dog, A chihuahua/When I get back to my small flat/I want to hear somebody bark/Oh, (oh oh) you can get lonely/Dont want a cat,/Scratching its claws all over my/Habitat/Giving no love and getting fat/Oh, (oh oh) you can get lonely/And a cats no help with that"~ I Want a Dog (the Petshop Boys)

a Steaming Hot Cuppa CawfeeGuy

for those of you who don't have a television, radio, internet access or access to newspapers or weekly magazines: It's Hot as Satan's Asshole in New York Fucking City. temperatures have not left the high 90's in over 2 weeks. it's gotten so bad that the borough of Queens was plunged into a blackout for over a week, and my area of Staten Island has had blackouts of an hour or more every night since last wednesday.
as if the heat wasn't bad enough, we are bombarded by the media telling us how fucking hot it is. The New York Daily News, the New York Metro and AM New York have all been running front pages like this for over a week. thanks alot fellas, the old people passing out on the side walk and out melting shoe soles aren't enough of a tip off. clearly there is nothing else happening in the tri-state area or the rest of the country that commands this kind of attention.

"According to the Kinsey report/ev'ry average man you know/much prefers to play his favorite sport/when the temperature is low/but when the thermometer goes way up/and the weather is sizzling hot/Mister Adam for his madam is not/cause it's too too/it's too darn hot"~ Too Darn Hot (Cole Porter)

That's Just Super

once upon a time there was a little boy (for the sake of this story we'll call him KoolAidBoy). KoolAidBoy loved superheroes. he watched the Superfriends, Wonder Woman, Batman on TV and saw all the Superman movies. he would pretend he was the Flash when he ran outside, Aquaman when he was in the bathtub or the pool, etc. this kid was totally into superheroes. One Christmas morning, KoolAidBoy opened up what looked like a shirt box and got a wonderful surprise! Superman and Aquaman Underoos! KoolAidBoy was beyond ecstatic! he could now pretend he was a superhero even when he was at school! nobody would know that he had his secret costume on under his uniform! Santa was a genius. he wore his Underoos as often as his mom could wash them. they really were the underwear that was fun to wear.
like all boys, KoolAidBoy eventually grew up, and (of course) out of his Underoos. life went on, as it tends to do, but he kept his interest in superheroes and eventually began collecting comic books. he still watched movies, the occasional cartoon, and (naturally) re-runs and dvd re-issues of Wonder Woman and the Flash, but his days of wearing Underoos were long gone...or so he thought...
he happened upon an advert one day, when he was supposed to be working, for the new Adult sized Underoos. he was absolutely overjoyed! he wondered to himself (in a non-sexually deviant, nostalgic kinda way), How Cool is This!? then he looked at the publication date of the article and saw that it was from 2001. how odd. upon further research, he discovered no other mention of what seems to be the Holy Grail of Underwear, so he does what anyone would do, e-mail the manufacturer:

Dear Fruit of the Loom,
i recently read an article from 2001 about adult sized Underoos, what ever happened to them?
sincerely,
KoolAidGuy

the reply:

KoolAidGuy,
Thank you for your e-mail regarding adult size Underoos. We appreciate your interest but adult size Underoos were never added to our line of products. Thank you for writing.
Teresa Sikes
Consumer Services
Fruit of the Loom
Bowling Green, KY 42102-9015

KoolAidGuy is obviously perturbed. He even brought it up to a few friends at a recent birthday dinner and was met with a few dubious looks (and, to be fair a few groans of displeasure that matched his own). his nay-saying friends contended that this was the sort of thing that child molesters and deviants would be into. KoolAidGuy was quite taken aback. it had never occurred to him that it was strange! maybe that's why Fruit of the Loom never released them.
it's been years since he pretended he was the Flash or Aquaman (7 was fun 30 is better), but he just thought it would be pretty cool to have an undershirt and matching boxers with either of their likeness, right? just to hang out in the house in while watching Bewitched or the Golden Girls; who knows, maybe KoolAidGuy's hunky older boyfriend would consent to wear his Green Lantern Underoos and they could have a classic Team Up :^)

"I'm more than a man, i'm more than a plane, mor than some pretty face beside a train. it's not easy to be me"~ Superman (Five for Fighting)

Sing...Sing a Song...(Part 2)

i'm still searching searching searching for the perfect songs/poems to be recited at the Commitment Ceremony . submitted for your approval (btw: any suggestions you can offer are welcome):

I Remember You

I remember you,
You're the one that made my dreams come true
A few kisses ago..
I remember you,
You're the one that said,
"I love you too,
Didn't you know?"
I remember too
A distant bell,
And stars that fell
Like rain, out of the blue..
When my life is through
And the angels ask me to
recall
The thrill of them all,
I shall tell them I remember you



Like Someone In Love

Lately I find myself out gazing at stars
Hearing guitars like someone in love
Sometimes the things I do astound me
Mostly whenever you're around me

Lately I seem to walk as though I have wings
And to sing like someone in love
Each time I look at you I'm light as a cloud
And feeling like someone in love

Sometimes the things I do astound me
Mostly whenever you're around me

Lately I seem to walk as though I have wings
Run into things like someone in love
Each time I look at you I'm light as a cloud
And feeling like someone in love
Like someone in love
Like someone in love

Well, We Knew That...

You Are 40% Weird

Normal enough to know that you're weird... But too damn weird to do anything about it!

How Weird Are You?

these quizes are addictive.

"Oh what a shame that your/pockets did bleed on St. Valentine's/And you sat in a chair thinking/"Boy I'm such a Prince!"/Well life's a train that goes/from February on day by day/But its making a stop on April First"~April Fools (Rufus Wainwright)

*Phew*

You Passed 8th Grade Science

Congratulations, you got 6/8 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Science?

"So for awhile we conducted experiments /In an apartment by the River Road /And we found out that the two things we put together had a/ Bad tendency to explode "~Chemistry (Semisonic)