oh, head over to Traveling But Not In Love and wish him a happy birthday, too (since we share July 31st as the date of our births). i'll let him disclose which year is his...
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
No, It's Not Too Early to Be Thinking About My Birthday Pt. 3
and here we are at last. i'll be out Thursday and Friday, celebrating (and prepping the house for a sleepover with MS). so, have a great weekend, kids!
oh, head over to Traveling But Not In Love and wish him a happy birthday, too (since we share July 31st as the date of our births). i'll let him disclose which year is his...
oh, head over to Traveling But Not In Love and wish him a happy birthday, too (since we share July 31st as the date of our births). i'll let him disclose which year is his...
Monday, July 27, 2009
Treeson
i think i may be a bad person, because i'm trying to figure out how to bump off a tree. Now, before all you hippies, wiccans and Druids freak out on me, let me explain...
when Stephen bought the townhouse, back in 2005, we both thought the tree was charming; it was large and leafy and wonderfully shady. it turns out, 4 years later, that it's quite a bit too leafy and shady. being a sycamore, it drops leaves for ten months out of the year making our walkway and patio look like The Land Of Eternal Autumn and completely blotting out the meager amount of sunlight, our mausoleum of a home gets, in the one window we have. The tree also makes it impossible to keep a garden in bloom for any amount of time, as both the blanket and canopy of leaves stop everything but moss from growing. it also leaves a wonderfully slimy green coating on our patio under the never abating leaf carpet. Swamp Thing kinda green, people.
So, the huz and i decided to find out what it takes to take down a tree in an outer-borough of New York City. i'll be honest, i expected the "pass-the-buck" method of bureaucracy, so i was totally fine with talking to multiple people and explaining the sitution. On a lark, i started with 311 (NYC's "information services") and was told to call Staten Island Forestry Services who, in turn, told me to call the Staten Island Office of City Planning, where i left a voicemail for some clerk to call me back....and they did! it turns out, that regardless of the fact that the tree is on our private property, it can't be taken down unless it's sick or diseased or dead. period. end of story, right? wrong.
while i was making my calls to various city agencies, the huz was at home doing the same thing (while he was supposed to be studying and doing his homework). also, as expected, he got the complete opposite answer: "it's your tree, on your property, do whatever the fuck you want with it". so now, we're at an impasse.
a very dark, dank and leaf blanketed impasse.
a few people have suggested killing the tree using methods such as hammering two nails on either side of the tree and hooking up an industrial flashlight battery to the nails to electrocue the thing to death or bleaching the soil around the roots. neither method is, particularly, tasteful to me 'cuz, while i'm no "tree hugger" i do have a heart and believe that the tree is a living thing and that that's plain old murder for murder's sake since i don't need the wood to, say, build a house or make toothpicks or something. also, "arborcide" carries a $15,000 fine, in NYC if you're caught; and, if someone turns you in, they get a reward. so, yeah, murder is out.
another person suggested just having it removed and not worrying about it...till we go to sell the house and it's existence appears on the blueprints and both the city, the lawyers and the buyers inquire as to where the tree went; this suggestion wasn't even a consideration for me, by the way. i may not be an angel, but that's bad business.
now, we have no idea what to do with the Jolly Green Giant on our meager little lawn, i'm wondering, if removing all the branches and leaving only a trunk is still considered "pruning". honestly, this whole thing has me...stumped.
when Stephen bought the townhouse, back in 2005, we both thought the tree was charming; it was large and leafy and wonderfully shady. it turns out, 4 years later, that it's quite a bit too leafy and shady. being a sycamore, it drops leaves for ten months out of the year making our walkway and patio look like The Land Of Eternal Autumn and completely blotting out the meager amount of sunlight, our mausoleum of a home gets, in the one window we have. The tree also makes it impossible to keep a garden in bloom for any amount of time, as both the blanket and canopy of leaves stop everything but moss from growing. it also leaves a wonderfully slimy green coating on our patio under the never abating leaf carpet. Swamp Thing kinda green, people.
So, the huz and i decided to find out what it takes to take down a tree in an outer-borough of New York City. i'll be honest, i expected the "pass-the-buck" method of bureaucracy, so i was totally fine with talking to multiple people and explaining the sitution. On a lark, i started with 311 (NYC's "information services") and was told to call Staten Island Forestry Services who, in turn, told me to call the Staten Island Office of City Planning, where i left a voicemail for some clerk to call me back....and they did! it turns out, that regardless of the fact that the tree is on our private property, it can't be taken down unless it's sick or diseased or dead. period. end of story, right? wrong.
while i was making my calls to various city agencies, the huz was at home doing the same thing (while he was supposed to be studying and doing his homework). also, as expected, he got the complete opposite answer: "it's your tree, on your property, do whatever the fuck you want with it". so now, we're at an impasse.
a very dark, dank and leaf blanketed impasse.
a few people have suggested killing the tree using methods such as hammering two nails on either side of the tree and hooking up an industrial flashlight battery to the nails to electrocue the thing to death or bleaching the soil around the roots. neither method is, particularly, tasteful to me 'cuz, while i'm no "tree hugger" i do have a heart and believe that the tree is a living thing and that that's plain old murder for murder's sake since i don't need the wood to, say, build a house or make toothpicks or something. also, "arborcide" carries a $15,000 fine, in NYC if you're caught; and, if someone turns you in, they get a reward. so, yeah, murder is out.
another person suggested just having it removed and not worrying about it...till we go to sell the house and it's existence appears on the blueprints and both the city, the lawyers and the buyers inquire as to where the tree went; this suggestion wasn't even a consideration for me, by the way. i may not be an angel, but that's bad business.
now, we have no idea what to do with the Jolly Green Giant on our meager little lawn, i'm wondering, if removing all the branches and leaving only a trunk is still considered "pruning". honestly, this whole thing has me...stumped.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Test Day: the Scissor Sister
You Are Scissors |
 Sharp and brilliant, you can solve almost any problem with that big brain of yours. People fear your cutting comments - and your wit is famous for being both funny and cruel. Deep down, you tend to be in the middle of an emotional storm. Your own complexity disturbs you. You are too smart for your own good. Slow down a little - or you're likely to hurt yourself. You can cut a paper person down to pieces. The only person who can ruin you is a rock person. When you fight: You find your enemy's weak point and exploit it. If someone makes you mad: You'll do everything you can to destroy their life |
in short, i really sound like an asshole.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Meat & Greet or Don't Play With Your Food (First)
this Saturday, the huz and i went to a friend's Annual Pig Roast/Family Reunion, up in New Rochelle; the family...reunes...and everyone is encouraged to invite friends to share in the bounty of a 70-odd pound pig which is roasted in an enormous box in the back yard. we had gone last year, but arrived "fashionably late", as is our people's custom, only to find that when one arrives fashionably late to a pig roast, one is left with a few stray dried out pieces of pork and picked over side dishes. oh and a head. the head was left, too.
this year, we aimed to arrive at 2pm; the time listed, on the invitation, as the "pig flip" (when the pig is, quite literally, flipped over in its flaming coal-lined coffin which is cooking it to perfection). i wasn't quite prepared for the sight of an enormous pig...butterflied...and pressed flat between two grills (like you'd cook a red snapper). i was instantly appalled (but not enough to not have a sizable helping of pork, about an hour later when it was carved up), especially when i remembered a conversation i'd had with a friend who eschews pork and pork products because pigs are incredibly cute and smart animals. i get that rationale, totally; i really do (i just love bacon and prosciutto and sausage and ham too much to have those kind of principles).
his rationale, though, reminds me of 2 stories from my childhood:
1. Once upon a time i was a really stupid kid. i ate just about anything my mother put in front of
me ("try it once, if you don't like it i won't make it again" was her motto) with the exception of seafood. the only seafoody things i'd eat were spaghetti and clams, tuna salad sandwiches and fish sticks, the last i actually really really liked. well, one afternoon when i was about 8, my mother announces that, for dinner that night, i'd be having fish sticks, which usually meant my parents and brother would be having sole or somesuch "real fish". a little later on my father returned from work with a big bag from the fish market which proceeded to get dumped in the sink which was full of water. i came in to investigate and, low and behold, there were two enormous live lobsters writhing about and trying to escape the sink. i was totally enraptured of these animals. for an hour or more, i stood by the sink and played with my new friends (whom i'd named, according to family legend) at no point noticing or wondering about the huge pot of water and spices boiling away on the stove top; that is, until my mother decided it was time for her to prepare dinner for herself and my dad. i don't remember eating the fish sticks or watching them eat the lobster just being super upset that my two pets were gone...and that mom and dad ate them. it was the last time anything live was ever served in our house.
2. years after the lobster incident, we took a trip down to Florida to visit my grandmother who was living with my mother's sister who was living in a double-wide with her hillbilly husband, a couple of kids, and numerous dogs. nestled in the back, behind the trailer, was a small wooden shack which lived rabbits. one day, uncle james brought me out in the back to show me the rabbits; cute little fuzzy bunnies. i was sitting on the grass playing with the rabbit, whom (again) i'd named, for a long while till he told me to go in the house and play with my cousins. i ran off happily, since to be around uncle james meant you needed to keep your guard up against "titty twisters", "indian burns" and various other physical assaults, thinking i'd see "my" rabbit later in the week. later that night, we sat down to dinner my grandmother had prepared: fried chicken. at least, i thought it was fried chicken till uncle james chuckled and told me it was "my" rabbit.
so, yeah, my days of putting a face to my food are long gone; which is good, because i love meat. chicken is my favorite (maybe it's because i've never met a chicken?) followed by veal (more things should be locked in a box if it makes them taste this good) and lamb...i love me some lamb. i guess i've become desensitized to the whole "meat is murder" thing, and quite adept at seperating "Babe" from "Baby back ribs" and "Caroline the Moo-Cow" from a "Quarter Pounder with Cheese". besides have you ever seen a cow inthe flesh? those enormous eyes are filled with pent up rage and given the opportunity i'm sure they'd love to turn one of us into cud...
this year, we aimed to arrive at 2pm; the time listed, on the invitation, as the "pig flip" (when the pig is, quite literally, flipped over in its flaming coal-lined coffin which is cooking it to perfection). i wasn't quite prepared for the sight of an enormous pig...butterflied...and pressed flat between two grills (like you'd cook a red snapper). i was instantly appalled (but not enough to not have a sizable helping of pork, about an hour later when it was carved up), especially when i remembered a conversation i'd had with a friend who eschews pork and pork products because pigs are incredibly cute and smart animals. i get that rationale, totally; i really do (i just love bacon and prosciutto and sausage and ham too much to have those kind of principles).
his rationale, though, reminds me of 2 stories from my childhood:
1. Once upon a time i was a really stupid kid. i ate just about anything my mother put in front of
me ("try it once, if you don't like it i won't make it again" was her motto) with the exception of seafood. the only seafoody things i'd eat were spaghetti and clams, tuna salad sandwiches and fish sticks, the last i actually really really liked. well, one afternoon when i was about 8, my mother announces that, for dinner that night, i'd be having fish sticks, which usually meant my parents and brother would be having sole or somesuch "real fish". a little later on my father returned from work with a big bag from the fish market which proceeded to get dumped in the sink which was full of water. i came in to investigate and, low and behold, there were two enormous live lobsters writhing about and trying to escape the sink. i was totally enraptured of these animals. for an hour or more, i stood by the sink and played with my new friends (whom i'd named, according to family legend) at no point noticing or wondering about the huge pot of water and spices boiling away on the stove top; that is, until my mother decided it was time for her to prepare dinner for herself and my dad. i don't remember eating the fish sticks or watching them eat the lobster just being super upset that my two pets were gone...and that mom and dad ate them. it was the last time anything live was ever served in our house.2. years after the lobster incident, we took a trip down to Florida to visit my grandmother who was living with my mother's sister who was living in a double-wide with her hillbilly husband, a couple of kids, and numerous dogs. nestled in the back, behind the trailer, was a small wooden shack which lived rabbits. one day, uncle james brought me out in the back to show me the rabbits; cute little fuzzy bunnies. i was sitting on the grass playing with the rabbit, whom (again) i'd named, for a long while till he told me to go in the house and play with my cousins. i ran off happily, since to be around uncle james meant you needed to keep your guard up against "titty twisters", "indian burns" and various other physical assaults, thinking i'd see "my" rabbit later in the week. later that night, we sat down to dinner my grandmother had prepared: fried chicken. at least, i thought it was fried chicken till uncle james chuckled and told me it was "my" rabbit.
so, yeah, my days of putting a face to my food are long gone; which is good, because i love meat. chicken is my favorite (maybe it's because i've never met a chicken?) followed by veal (more things should be locked in a box if it makes them taste this good) and lamb...i love me some lamb. i guess i've become desensitized to the whole "meat is murder" thing, and quite adept at seperating "Babe" from "Baby back ribs" and "Caroline the Moo-Cow" from a "Quarter Pounder with Cheese". besides have you ever seen a cow inthe flesh? those enormous eyes are filled with pent up rage and given the opportunity i'm sure they'd love to turn one of us into cud...
Friday, July 17, 2009
Test Day: Ego Maniac
You Are the Ego |
 You take a balanced approach to your life. You definitely aren't afraid to act out on your desires - even crazy ones. But you usually think first. Morals drive you as much as hedonism does. You've been able to live a life of pleasure... without living a life of excess. |
Test Day: Color My World
You Color Your Life With Vibrant Brightness |
 You are an energetic person who's obsessed with ideas and modern. You love technology, and you like to be on the cutting edge of things. You tend to be a little materialistic. You you love to shop. You love sophisticated and dramatic things. You were born to live in the heart of the city. |
Test Day: It's the "Logical Intelligence Portion" Which Hurts the Most...
Your IQ Is 105 |
 Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Exceptional Your General Knowledge is Above Average |
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Test Day: Treat Yourself
You Are a Dipped Cone |
 You are dramatic, deep, and even demanding. If you're going to do dessert, you're going to go all out with something super rich. People might be surprised to know that you worry about how you're perceived. You've got an image to keep up, and you don't ever want to appear weak. |
Monday, July 13, 2009
Principle Return
Jay the Summer Intern: i hate that when i Google a particular stock company, the 1st thing that pops up is information on who that company donated money to.
CawfeeGuy: why (do you hate that)?
JtSI: what to i care who they donate money to?
CG: why would you want to invest in a company donating money to causes that are in direct conflict with your beliefs?
JtSI: huh?
CG: if you were black and found out that the company you were going to invest in donated money to...i dunno...the Klan, would you still invest in them?
JtSI: if they produced a significant return, yeah! but these are political donations...who cares about shit like that?
CG: i guess you have to be a minority to understand.
JTSI (laughing): yeah...whatever.
CawfeeGuy: why (do you hate that)?
JtSI: what to i care who they donate money to?
CG: why would you want to invest in a company donating money to causes that are in direct conflict with your beliefs?
JtSI: huh?
CG: if you were black and found out that the company you were going to invest in donated money to...i dunno...the Klan, would you still invest in them?
JtSI: if they produced a significant return, yeah! but these are political donations...who cares about shit like that?
CG: i guess you have to be a minority to understand.
JTSI (laughing): yeah...whatever.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Test Day: Men Are From Mars, Women From Venus, But...
You Are From Pluto |
 You are a dark, mysterious soul, full of magic and the secrets of the universe. You can get the scoop on anything, but you keep your own secrets locked in your heart. You love change and you use it to your advantage, whether by choice or chance. You don't like to compromise, to the point of being self-destructive with your pigheadedness. Live life with love, and your deep powers will open the world to you. |
Test Day: Mind Boggling
You Are Boggle |
 You are an incredibly creative and resourceful person. You're able to dig deep and think outside the box to get things done. You are a non linear thinker. You don't like following directions You draw your inspiration from the strangest places sometimes. You're constantly inspired. |
Test Day: Metal Man
You Are Copper |
 You are provocative and challenging. You help people realize who they really are. You live a very balanced life. You always take time for love and art. You are both a powerful and generous person. You always have time to give back. People find you to be incredibly ethical and loyal. |
Test Day: Where Is Pointer? Where is Pointer? Here I Am...
You Are the Index Finger |
 You are ambitious, driven, and capable. You aren't afraid to take responsibility for your actions - or place the blame on whoever deserves it. You are honest, free thinking, and objective. You see things in your own way - and you aren't afraid to let everyone know about it. You get along well with: The Thumb Stay away from: The Ring Finger |
ok this is so flamingly ridiculous that you all have to take it...'cuz i wanna know if we're compatible on the great Hand of Life.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Monday, July 06, 2009
No, It's Not Too Early to Be Thinking About My Birthday Pt. 2
CawfeeGuy: oh, honey, i e-mailed you a link to my Amazon-birthday-wishlist...if you're looking for ideas.
CawfeeMate: is it the same stuff you had on the Christmas wishlist?
CG: well, not all the same stuff, but similar.
CM: oh, then i'm not even gonna look.
CG: Huh?
CM: yeah...you're not getting any of that stuff.
CG: but...that's the stuff i want.
CM: i know...but that's not what i'm getting you; i'm a much better gift giver than what's on that list.
CawfeeMate: is it the same stuff you had on the Christmas wishlist?
CG: well, not all the same stuff, but similar.
CM: oh, then i'm not even gonna look.
CG: Huh?
CM: yeah...you're not getting any of that stuff.
CG: but...that's the stuff i want.
CM: i know...but that's not what i'm getting you; i'm a much better gift giver than what's on that list.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
an Open Letter to the NY Heritage of Pride Parade Organizers
Head Faggot, Dyke, Tranny, etc,
The husband (aka CawfeeMate) and i recently marched in the annual Heritage of Pride Parade, under the banner of my (extremely pro-diversity) company. this was our second march down fifth, flaunting our faggotry and, once again, we had a blast! The music! The outfits! The myriad personalities co-mingling in a sea of mutual acceptance (and occasional bitchiness). All of it was spectacular and i'm so, wonderfully proud to be able to have taken part, especially in light of the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall riots; after having watched the parade from the sidelines it felt great to participate (even though we completely missed out on the swag). i would like to applaud everyone who was involved with getting the whole thing off the ground! a couple of suggestions, though...
The husband (aka CawfeeMate) and i recently marched in the annual Heritage of Pride Parade, under the banner of my (extremely pro-diversity) company. this was our second march down fifth, flaunting our faggotry and, once again, we had a blast! The music! The outfits! The myriad personalities co-mingling in a sea of mutual acceptance (and occasional bitchiness). All of it was spectacular and i'm so, wonderfully proud to be able to have taken part, especially in light of the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall riots; after having watched the parade from the sidelines it felt great to participate (even though we completely missed out on the swag). i would like to applaud everyone who was involved with getting the whole thing off the ground! a couple of suggestions, though...
- placement: when deciding the line up of which group goes where, how about a little more rationale? last year my group was in-between a couple of banks (which makes perfect sense since we are, for all intents and purposes a bank). this year, though, we were sandwiched in between the Universal Unitarian Church and Flaming for Christ: Gay Presbyterians. WTF? while i love people who love the lord (the way i love all stupid people), it was odd, to say the least; i mean, surely we were not the only financial institution present!
- let's talk punctuality, people. now, i know that the riots were kicked off by drag queen, but that is no excuse to have the whole parade run on "drag time". my "group leader" was told that we'd be marching at 11:30 and, knowing his faggots, he told the flock to get there at 10:30. do you know what time we actually started marching? 2:30. don't get me wrong, it was a beautiful day, with the sun shining (i got the most gorgeous tan), but not everyone is blessed with my olive complexion; some people (CawfeeMate, for one) tend to crisp in the sun and standing motionless like a tree for 3 hours is not a good idea. also, think of the afformentioned drag queens: would you want to stand around waiting, in full face, wig, platforms and skin tight vinyl? i don't think so.nobody wants to see Anne Tique or Virginia Hamm melting in the sunshine like a Rocket-pop. do it for the drag queens and the fair skinned queers.
- music: maybe it's because we were sandwiched between holy-rollers, but it seemed like all the other floats before us and after us (we, sadly, did not get a float; it was not in our budget) had better music (the UU sang a gospel version of the Indigo Girls' Closer to Fine every third song and the Presby-queer-ians played the strangest assortment of Michael Jackson, disco and 70's TV show themes); again very strange. Music being something very near and dear to my heart, it always surprises me that there isn't more cohesion or uniformity to the parade floats' choices. CawfeeMate made a suggestion 1/4 of the way through: Choose 20 "pride related" songs/themes and have the DJ's play them on an endless loop/rotation. there are countless versions of I'm Coming Out and I Am What I Am, and the floats should make the crowd want to cheer and get happy. down with the dirges!
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