Park It

Not too long ago, the huz and I started doing our weekly food shopping at the local Wegman’s (which is hardly local as it is in a completely different state, but still only 15 minutes away) in Perth Amboy, New Jersey. See, to a Staten Islander, Wegman’s is the Disneyworld of supermarkets, with obscenely amazing meat, cheese, and produce sections; their quality in all three greatly eclipse the SI supermarkets. But this post isn’t about better brussel sprouts, fresher organic chicken thighs or fourteen different kinds of gouda; this post is about parking*.

see, I have a really big problem with this sign. Can anyone tell me why parents need specialized parking? Is procreation finally considered a handicap? Are kids finally being seen as crippling external tumors which have been expelled and given animus? or maybe they're life sucking parasitic viruses? I guess it depends on who you ask.


Now, I know the purported rationale is probably…um…er…actually, I can’t even fathom the rationale behind it is. I seriously don’t know why Mom and/or Dad (or Mom and Mom, etc.) would need special parking. I’m straining my brain on this one, but is it so they don’t have to walk with their kid(s) through the parking lot to the minivan (whose doors, trunk and engine open and start remotely)? That’s just nonsense. I mean really though: a good parent would have their kid sitting in the wagon or they’d be keeping an eye on it so that it doesn’t run, tear ass, through the parking lot (or the store); and Maury knows that most of the kids in the US could use the exercise a walk to the mom-mobile would give.

Believe it or not, this isn't about the kids (for once); it's also not a "gay/straight thing". it's about how the store views parents versus the rest of us. Regardless of the rationale behind the “preferred parking”, it’s clearly a complete crock of shit. There is absolutely no, legitimate, reason people with kids can’t park in the 1st available spot they see, just like everyone else; this is tantamount to those people who drive around with handicap placards they faked their way into getting**.Luckily, though, while you can get a ticket for parking in a handicap spot (sans placard), this Parental Parking nonsense is not enforceable. It’s something made up by the store to show their patrons “they care”, about some of them. Parents’ money must be greener and fresher than those of us who don’t have kids. I guess they never heard the expression “disposable income”.

Since this ridiculousness isn’t enforceable, the huz and I have absolutely no problem parking in one of those spots, should they become available while we’re attempting to park. The last time we went shopping some soccer mom decided to mouth off about us parking thereand we put her in her place right quick but stating that it doesn’t state that the child has to be present, or even human; our child was home…in his cage.

She was not amused and blanched suitably.

* and was evoked my Facebook status, today “David wonders what the HRC and other LGBT groups will do when The Gays finally achieve marriage equality (and we will, goddamn it)”. to which Breen Lantern commented “LGBT PARKING”!
** and don’t give me the “not all handicaps can be seen” nonsense, you know who I mean; if you can climb down out of a Hummer, the handicap can’t be that bad.

Monday Morning Malaise Means More Quizes

I'm a Lamborghini Murcielago!

You're not subtle, but you don't want to be. Fast, loud, and dramatic, you want people to notice you, and then get out of the way. In a world full of sheep, you're a raging bull.

Which Sports Car Are You?

Thanks to Can't Never Could Do Nothing for helping me phone it in!

Test Day: Trippin'

The Road Trip of Your Life

You see romantic love as what's most important in life. A deep connection with someone else is the primary thing you crave. You live life at a fairly leisurely pace. You take time to enjoy the sweeter parts of life, even when you're busy. You're willing to take a few risks in life. You may not take the road no one travels, but you're happy to take the road less traveled. You tend to be a workaholic. You overwork yourself without ever realizing it and sometimes suffer the consequences later. In another life, you could have been a great artist. You trust your creative instincts enough to let them lead you.

The Road Trip Test

Back in the Saddle

it appears that some Mea Culpa's are in order for friday; several people seemed not to know i'd be taking the extra day off. to those who e-mailed me and failed to receive a timely response, i'm sorry. to those who were forced to come up with their own idea for a blog, i'm sorry. to those who called the office looking for me, i'm sorry.

in the future i'll be sure to post a Gone Fishin' sign or something the day before a long weekend.

anyhoo...
Friday we picked up the car and it's not nearly as bad as i feared it would be. my dad saw the salesman on Thursday and told him how unhappy i was that the car was so un-sporty. The salesman's conscession was to add the pinstriping. i'll admit, the color blue we chose helps immensely (originally we'd seen the car only in Brooklyn Grandma Beige with Beige interior), but the pinstriping is definitely a step in the right direction. should the sun ever shine on Staten Island again, i'll post a picture that does the color justice. aside from that, it drives like a dream, the sound system blows my Cavalier out of the water, i had forgotten how much i missed a functional AC system and power windows, and i dunno how i ever lived without lumbar support. in short, i'm sold. (btw: the homo-friendly bumper magnets should arrive on friday). we took a christening trip to Long Island to get our taxes done, visit with stephen's parents and go out for dinner at the most amazing Cajun restaurant with a perfectly divine lesbian couple.

Saturday night we went to a Fucker-ware Party at John's friend Phil's house (think: Tupperware or Pampered Chef party with dildoes, butt plugs and lube). it was fun, but the best part was the the girl who pleadlingly asked the Dildo Lady if she had anything to make her boyfriend's dick bigger; i don't mean discretely, i mean "it's like getting fucked by a golf pencil" kinda braying, all throughout the presentation. the worst part was that the guy showed up later on and everyone's was looking at the incredibly hot, built-like-a-brick-shithouse guido poor schmuck shaking their heads. y'gotta feel bad for the un-hung; the real highlight was hanging out with John, Justin and little Marissa. the whole affair seemed considerably less ridiculous and infinitely more fun.

Sunday and yesterday were real chill-out kinda days; hanging out around the house, doing laundry, cleaning, writing out the Thank-You cards from the wedding (watch your mailboxes) and some quality puppy time.

this is the best i've felt in two weeks; i'm not exhausted, congested or hacking up a lung. life's good, y'know?

I'm Too Young and Quasi-Fabulous for "Adequate" (or I Will Not Let My Car Define Me...I Will Not Let My Car Define Me...)

(via e-mail; edited for length)

Justin: Eddie Izzard 2/14-3/7 at Union Square Theater! We're going right?

CawfeeGuy: **whines** I dunno...Lemme talk to the hubby. We've begun HUMUNGOUS belt tightening, with him back in school and the new car lease, etc.

J: New car? What's this?

CG: Yeah the cavalier finally decided she'd had enough: the alternator is 30 seconds from a meltdown and the transmission was weird (if you want all the specifics, ask stephen). She was a tough old thing and I drove her into the ground…she will be missed.
In a panic ('cuz I will not be w/o a car) we leased an '08 Camry LE last night; my dad works at one of the SI dealerships as a transporter and got us a SWEET deal...in our meager price range.
I'm kinda EH about it. I find I can't get EXCITED about a Camry; it's not stylish or sporty or fun…it's practical and safe and "luxury". To me luxury = old people. **shrug** it's only for 3 years.

J: A CAMRY. Well. Enjoy that, Esther.

CG: THANK YOU! **crosses arms and scowls**
That's EXACTLY what I said to STEPHEN and my MOTHER and EVERYONE ELSE who's ALL excited over a freakin CAMRY! How the HELL can ANYONE get it up for a CAMRY?!?

J: I don't know how anyone could possibly be excited over a Camry. There was a comparo of it in this month's Car and Driver. If I recall, it was described as "Adequate" and "Quiet" and a "Buick replacement."

CG: Ugh. It’s just so…MIDDLE AMERICA/SUBURBIA. I can’t even slap a queer bumper sticker on it.

Nothing Makes You Realize How Much You Hate Your Job Quite Like Returning From Four Days Absence

and no...it does not make the heart grow fonder.

i don't feel much better and quite frankly i'd rather be home; i really think i could have used one more day (especially considering the abysmal weather we're having).

i miss having a puppy on my lap under a thick comforter and a rainbow afghan.
i miss watching dvd's of Queer as Folk, while sipping incredibly sugared tea.

but i'm here today and tomorrow, and then i've got another four day weekend...one day will be spent buying leasing a new car; i'm not nearly as excited as i should be about this, but that's a whole other post.

Monday Morning: Ugh

terrible weekend.
my mom got rushed to the ER on Saturday night for shortness of breath (she's asthmatic) and a pain in her chest which was radiating down her arm (she's also got heart problems). we were there till 4am and she left at 2pm, on sunday. everything's ok, they don't think it was a heart attack; they're not sure what was wrong, but she's home now and i'm gonna call in a little while to make sure she's ok.
i'm just wiped out.
thank god stephen was with me.
today's his birthday.
***4:30***
the rest of the day didn't make me feel any better.
mom's feeling fine, by her own admission. i was all set to go see her after dinner, but the car is dead. stephen brought it to have the alignment and ABS looked at (this is the 2nd time in 2 weeks, after having to buy another 4 new tires, which makes a total of 11 in 3 years). the mechanic wouldn't let him leave; he said it was too dangerous as the car is almost brake-less.

Three Day Weekend

so we've got another 3 day weekend planned...
tomorrow is the True Colors concert. MS is driving down up from Connecticut to Staten Island and then we're gonna head down to Atlantic City. i'm really looking forward to it; the last concert i went to was Rufus at Radio City, last year. i've never seen Erasure, nor Debbie Harry and i'm all psyched about Cyndi. when she opened for Cher (during the Farewell Tour that Wouldn't End), i cried during True Colors, both times i saw her. i took off from work tomorrow, just so we'd be able to get to AC in a leisurely fashion (not that it'll stop me from speeding).

Saturday is gonna be nice and chill. i'm sure we're gonna get home very late from the concert (not enought dough to stay over in AC). so we're gonna probably sleep in, Stephen will make a Weight Watchers friendly brunch for the 3 of us (fat free Huevos Rancheros?) and we can just hang out. i should go to the mall and find my dad a gift for sunday, though...

Sunday is Father's Day so we'll be with our respective dad's; stephen in Long Island and me elsewhere on Staten Island. seperating on holidays is a drag, but what can you do? these days are about them not us. actually...the only thing i mind is not having the car so i can make my quick escape, post dessert...

i've nothing else to report.
has this blog gotten dull, or is it just me?

Long Weekend: the Day After

I am so beat. It's hard to believe i could be this tired after a 3 day weekend, but here i am.

the MRI went well, though the PA who gave me the dye injection seemed to have pierced a vein. so there's a big bruise on my left arm and i look like a really clumsy heroin addict. i'll get the results when i go back to see Dr. Demonico on June 1st. after the MRI i spent quite a bit more than i should've on comic book graphic novels (dunno why, but i'm on a comic kick lately). it was totally an act of comfort through spending, since stephen and i had gotten into a bit of a row that morning.

Saturday, i had to bring the car in to get new front brakes, which meant getting up at the ass crack of dawn to be the 1st at the garage. little did i know that since the guy who owns the garage is stephen's cousin, that i'd be out in an hour (and $350 lighter). afterward, we did some wedding "chores: we checked out rings and chose tuxes for ourselves, our fathers and our groomsmen. sadly, Men' s Warehouse does not rent out top hats.

the AIDS Walk went very well, yesterday. Again, up at the ass crack of dawn to make the 7:30 ferry. i have to tell you, i had a great time. it was a totally gorgeous day out and i really felt like we made a difference (thanks to all the help from my family and friends, i collected $410). Plus, i got to see Cyndi Lauper, Whoopi Godlberg, Hal Sparks and TR Knight at the opening ceremonies. my hips are killing me, i have blisters on my feet, and shin splints but i'm glad we walked.

since we were walking 10k i didn't feel too badly about not sticking with Weight Watchers. i had my Starbucks Skim Vanilla Latte` for breakfast and a couple of 2 point bars throughout the day. All bets were off by the time dinner rolled around, so i had a nice entree at the diner and of course my late evening bowl of popcorn. i don't feel like i over ate but i won't do it again for a very long time.

all in all...it was a good weekend. expensive, but good.


“The rhythm of the weekend, with its birth, its planned gaieties, and its announced end, followed the rhythm of life and was a substitute for it.”~ F. Scott Fitzgerald quotes

Slippery When Wet

it's been raining since late Saturday night. not, like, normal everyday April Showers kinda rain. no...we're talking monsoon-esque torrential downpour. think Noah.

ordinarily, this wouldn't bother me; i like the rain. i like the dark grey sky and wind. i like the feel of the rain on my face and in (what's left of) my hair. i like the sound of the rain on the windows, roofs etc. i don't even mind driving in the rain; i'm not a bad driver, i can handle it. on Staten Island, people drive 90 mph, on small streets through puddles that come up to your door. i've been trained.

This week, however, i'm back in NJ for work. i'm driving every day on the NJ Turnpike, with people who can't handle the rain. i don't know what it is about people in the Garden State, but rain turns 90% of them into complete and total idiots; they just can't handle it. the minute the 1st drop hits a windshield, traffic slows to a crawl and people completely forget all the rules of the road: windshield wipers without headlights, turn signals, left lane speed limits, etc. it's terrible. i understand exercising caution in inclement weather, but (like everything else about this state) this is ridiculous.

i like this downpour though...it's very alliterative in a German expressionist film sorta way. today's the kind of day when one should be listening to either Dark House music (read: anything mixed by Chris Cox or Peter Rauhofer), 90's alternative rock (read: Live, Pearl Jam, STP) or vocal blues (read: Billie Holliday, Marlene Deitrich)

"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"~ Come Clean [Chris Cox mix] (Hilary Duff)

Snow Job

I’m not going to jabber about the Oscars. They were dull and un-eventful, despite Ellen’s best efforts. The most exciting thing was the prospect of Jennifer Hudson’s ta-tas popping out during the Dreamgirls Medley. I’m kicking myself for staying up past midnight and then waking up at 5.

No, this morning, I wanna talk about snow. See, I think it’s high time that somebody laid down some ground-rules about Proper Snow Removal from your Car/Truck/Suv/Rickshaw/what-have-you. Driving down the NJ Turnpike this morning (yup, I’m back in NJ this week), I was appalled and enflamed by the number of cars that were covered, and I do mean covered, in snow; the drivers having cleared off only the bare minimum. One car I saw had only cleared off the windshield; the hood, roof, trunk and bumper of the car were covered in at least 4 inches of snow which was flying off as the driver flew at 65 mph down the NJT. Even more unbelievable was that the entire rear-window was completely obstructed; as in zero visibility. The number of cars that had barely been cleaned was staggering. The fact that their drivers didn’t seem to notice the Spy Hunter-esque cloud of snow and ice they were leaving in their wake, was even more amazing.

The I’m Too Good to Clean of My Car crowd appears to be comprised of three types of people:
1) those who drive BMW’s, Mercedes, Cadillacs, Infinities, and other luxury/status cars.
2) Those who drive SUV’s.
3) Women.

Typically, the most snow-sodden vehicles are Cadillac SUV’s driven by women.

What’s the matter girls, couldn’t rouse the maid to warm up the gas guzzling monster truck, just so you can make it to Curves before work? That’s no reason to put the rest of our lives in jeopardy.

If you aren’t tall enough to clean off your truck/suv, or just can’t be bothered to take the scaper to the Jag, please do us all a favor and stay the hell home.

Ugh...Monday...again (pt. 2)

mondays do not become me.

i'm tired, broke, and i think i have a fever; one minute i'm hot then

i'm freezing the next.

my ear is absolutely killing me (think falling sideways on a steak knife) and everyone at work is annoying the living piss out of me.

i have to go to Jersey the rest of this week and i'm praying that i have enough money to get me back there and back ($6 tolls and a 1/4 tank of gas each way). plus, stephen has me paranoid that the car won't make it out of the parking lot, let alone to Big-Hair-land.

i don't even have Heroes to look forward to.

tomorrow night we meet with another photographer (number 3), this time in Manhattan. of all the samples we've seen, i like hers' the best (granted, all i've seen is her online album, which naturally showcases her best photos). so far, she's the only photographer i've spoken with that has actually attended and worked a Commitment Ceremony, so that's a good sign. no matter what, we need to make a decision this week.

Thanksgiving Weekend Re-Cap

it's been a few days, kids and here's what you missed (in no particular order)...

1. Thanksgiving: it's just as i said it would be, only without the appetizers. thankfully mom changed her mind at the last minute about them. the food was wonderful and plentiful; i'm still a little bit full. halfway during the meal Squirt announced that she would like everyone to give her an idea what we all wanted for Christmas, because she was going shopping with her mother on Sunday. i found out later, from her father, that she's been squirrelling away all the giftcards and money that she's gotten as gifts over the last few months to use to buy her Christmas gifts for other people. i was so moved i almost started to cry. it's very Gift of the Magi...



2. the pumpkin cheesecake: this is the 2nd year i've made it and the 2nd time i've had to scrap it and begin another, halfway through. last year i'd mistakenly doubled the amount of butter when making the graham cracker crust (and had it ooze out of the bottom of the spring-form pan). not really a big deal. this year, however, after the cake was in the oven i sat in front of it, licking the spoon (yeah? what of it?) and i found a piece of glass the size of a baby tooth. apparently, we'd broken a glass somewhere in the kitchen and there were still shards of glass lurking, unseen, around. So, rather than risk it, i threw out cheesecake number 1 and started from scratch. it was 11pm, the night before Thanksgiving...i'd just worked the whole day and was in absolutely no mood. i cursed, i growled, i slammed things like a toddler. it was worth the do-over, because the 2nd one was absolutely marvelous and devoid of any and all lethal debris.



3. Black Friday: i thought i'd get to sleep a little, sadly i was mistaken. stephen left for work at 6:40 and called ten minutes later to tell me the bus didn't come. so i rolled out of bed and drove him to the bus stop to meet the chick he's carpooling with. then i went back home and cleaned the house for the next 12 hours, in preparation for our quasi-engagement party on Saturday. i dusted, i vacuumed, and i polished wood. by the time i was done, the house was immaculate. i was only a little bit content, since it came at the expense of attending Nil's birthday get-together at Mario Battali's restaruant, Otto. i sacrificed Nil, MS and olive oil gelato, for sparkling mirrors and dust free doorjambs. quite honestly, i don't think it was worth it.



4. Saturday: the party went well. our parents came, as did my brother and his family and his sister and her family. we ordered a tray of chicken rollatini and spaghetti with garlic and oil from the pizzeria we frequent. the food was good and everyone seemed to have a good time. we also served these wonderful appetizers: homemade mini-quiches (bacon, cheddar, mushroom and zucchini) and an artichoke-sundried tomato tapanade, for which stephen made the most amazing flatbreads. it was nice, because it was the 1st time my brother, his wife and Squirt, got to meet Stephen's family.



5. the After-Party: we joined John at Staten Island's newest "gay night". it was cute and the space has alot of potential, but personally i think it would make a much better lounge than club. the music was a little much considering how small the room is, and the strobe lights tended to blind you if you were facing the bar, so it was terribly difficult to see the muscle-bound, half naked italian bartenders. it was a little bit pointless, truth-to-tell. there was the usual mix of the new generation of kids with fake ID's and SI's has-beens rubbing elbows and pelvises. it was nice to see that the lesbian contingent was also represented, though i think it's because SI's lesbian DJ extrordinaire (who shall remain nameless) was there spinning. i saw a few too many familiar faces in the crowd, still looking for love in all the wrong places. naturally/thankfully, after we left, the usual drama ensued.



6. Sunday: lazy day which included Buffy and Angel, munching on leftovers, food shopping and dropping off the car at the mechanics' so he could take a look at her speed tremor. stephen actually called me as i was writing this to tell me that the mechanic feels that the tremor is nothing to worry about. it'll either get worse or it won't. if it gets worse, we should worry about it then. i think i'll take MS's advice and get AAA.




7. Stephen decided not to surprise me, and told me that he's been planning our honeymoon: we're going to San Francisco! i'm really quite excited, as i've never been out to the left coast before and i've been dreaming of going to SF, ever since i read Tales of the City, a decade ago! i'm also really glad that he told me, so we can plan the trip together. i ran right out and bought Time Out's Guide to San Francisco to give me a heads up on what there is to see and do; Stephen's been there before, so he looked up a couple of places and added them to our tentative itinerary. naturally, i welcome any and all suggestions.

Auto-Neurotic

I was supposed to be back in NJ all this week, but I just found out that it's only for today. you've no idea what a weight that is off my mind. The last thing I want to be doing is driving out to West Armpit (ie. The land that Starbucks forgot), with the car in its current state: dangling precariously on the brink of death.
Ok maybe I'm exaggerating slightly, but true to form, I have absolutely no clue when it comes to the inner workings of a car. My concept of automotive mechanics is sketchy at best. I can fill my gas tank (when I remember) and replace the windshield wiper fluid. That's it. In all honesty, had Stephen not told me there was something wrong with the car, I'd have no idea. Who knew that a car isn't supposed to shake and tremble, like Katherine Hepburn, when you hit 63 mph? Certainly not i.

Having once-upon-a-time (in a suburb far far away) been straight-ish (yup, he dated girls, folks), stephen has some possible diagnoses for what's causing the Kate-like tremors (something about the spark plugs or the transmission or something, I dunno). Now, I know that tranny trouble (hee hee) is pricey, so that kinda made me balk and I'm really not sure what the spark plugs do, so I don't know if they're a major expense (I don't think so). On the way home from our nephew's christening, in long island, stephen starts asking me if I'm prepared for when car breaks down.

Whoa whoa whoa...First off: Who knew that was an option? Secondly: waddaya MEAN "when"...how about "IF"? now, as I've mentioned I was a Boy Scout, so I am actually prepared for many eventualities: I always have an umbrella, my cell is always charged, and there's an emergency $20 in my car. my bag is a bottomless pit of curiosities which include matches, chopsticks, a impossibly small stapler and a sewing kit. I've got lip balm, a mini mirror from the Met, and a small box of toothpicks from our 2nd date. In my wallet I've got a Swiss Army card with scissors, tweezers, a knife and pen. Trust me I'm prepared. I just didn't want to hear that I needed to be prepared for something. the last thing I need to think of is that I'll be flying down Rt 78, belting out a Bjork tune (you should hear my Icelandic accent), and suddenly find the car losing power. This is not a vision I need, nor is it one that I'm EMOTIONALLY prepared for. I'm not ready to deal with (having to deal with) my car breaking down in a foreign land. In my mind, everything is ok til it isn't. when it's not, I'll figure it out, I just don’t want to think about it till I have to. Call me irresponsible, but that's how I see it.

I'm glad I won't be returning here for the rest of the week. When I got in the car this morning I had an amazing amount of agita, over the idea that I wouldn't make it to Starbucks...i mean work. Tomorrow, I'll hop on the express bus. If it breaks down, another one will be right behind it to carry my irresponsible ass to Manhattan where it'll hop on the 1st F train it comes across.