Poker? I Hardly Know Her...

SO…every christmas my mom gives me lottery ticket (a scratch off). Every year I don’t win.


This year I didn’t bother scratching it off, til this morning.

It’s some poker thing. I know nothing about poker. But you have to make the best hand on the card to beat “the champ”.

Anyhoo…I scratch it off and almost died because I think I’ve won five hundred dollars with two pairs (3s and 8s). Then I look again and I realize I’ve won a million dollars (two pairs, Ks and 8s). the Champ doesn’t have anything.

I show our intern because…well…he’s a straight guy who plays poker with his friends in the dorms, and he confirms that it looks like I won a million dollars.

So I run down to the convenience store in our building. Wait on line. Text CawfeeMate that he may be married to a millionaire. we cyber-gag.

When the guy at the counter scans it, it comes up LOSER. So I’m trying to explain that I won and he’s like NO. if it doesn’t scan as a WINNER you LOST.

GOOD DAY, SIR.

So I walk upstairs...all dejected...and try to figure out how I lost. when the champ has no pairs, no three of a kind, no straight; just a bunch of random diamonds.

Poop.

Flush.

Husband Material

The other day, a business associate called and, as is our custom, we chit-chatted for about 10 minutes prior to getting to the point of her call. See, she’s originally from the Jersey Shore and now lives in San Francisco, so she has this fantastic East Coast mentality with West Coast energy-thing, which I find both interesting and friendly. Having worked together for a number of years, she always asks how Rufus and CawfeeMate are doing, and refers to him as my “partner”; CawfeeMate, not Rufus.

Let me be honest (‘cuz, y’know, I’ve been lying this whole time): of all the ways that one could refer to CawfeeMate, “partner” is one of my least favorite (behind “special friend” and “roommate”); by now, most of you know that words matter to me. When I hear the word “partner” I think of two things: 70’s/80’s cop shows like Cagney and Lacey and Starsky & Hutch, where you were bound to hear one refer to the other as their partner when talking to a third party and Bewitched where Darren worked for McMahon and Tate; we always saw Larry Tate, but never his partner, _____ McMahon*. I’m a child of the TV generation; sue me.

Anyway, the point I’m driving at is this: to me, “partner” is such an emotionless and clinical term for a relationship; it purports that the relationship would not be there if the two people weren’t working towards a common goal and removes all romantic connotations. Even the alternatives provided by the MS Word Thesaurus sound decidedly unromantic (“associate”, “colleague”, “cohort”, “equal”, and “co-worker”). While one might certainly argue the homo-erotic subtext found in both Cagney and Lacey and Starsky & Hutch, the relationships were work related. That’s not my relationship with CawfeeMate; he’s my husband. Emotionally, spiritually and legally.

High End Moral Dilemma #237

I go to the same Starbucks, every day, before i go in to work.  It's conveniently located up the block from my office and is barely a mentionable detour, on the way from the F train. Granted, it can get ridiculously busy and overcrowded, throughout the day, but it's the only Starbucks within walking distance. Oh and did i mention i'm currently in a battle for Mayor of this particular Starbucks, on Foursquare? i digress. I know all the baristas; most by name, but a couple only by face; and they, in turn, know me and my “drinks”. Most of them know that Monday through Thursday I get a venti bold classic with 3 pumps and Fridays are usually a 5 shot venti skim something or other (initially this was to limit my caffeine and sugar but has, more recently, been to save money). Most of them also know to wait for what kind of 5 shot venti skim beverage i want; sometimes it's a Caramel Latte, sometimes it's a Peppermint Mocha, once in a blue moon it's a White Mocha; lately it's been a Cinnamon Dolce Latte.  sorry, another digression...where was it? oh yeah...

Ho-Ho-Hold UP

The holidays are right around the corner and I’m totally not having any of it. I’ve been seeing all kinds of Christmas decorations in my travels around 3 of the 5 boroughs, since Halloween. Wasn’t Halloween, like, last Tuesday? “My” Starbucks has had their iconic red cups since November 1st and started serving Christmas Blend this past Monday. It’s all happening way too quickly for me.

God Complex

I’m getting mighty pissed off that natural disasters and atrocities are constantly being blamed on The Gays. It seems we’re responsible for last weekend’s hurricane, last week’s earthquake, the butchered boy a month or so back; hell even 9/11. Everything bad, according to the Crazy Christers (and friends), is their god’s way of telling them that he’s pissed off at us; all this drama is his way of saying that DADT should remain, DOMA is A-OK and that New York is the new Sodom (ok…maybe that last one’s not that far of a stretch).

Tic Toc Tic Toc Tic Toc

Okay, I’ll admit it: I live by certain sets of rules. I have rules for just about everything: being a straphanger, grammar, workplace etiquette, winter driving; the list of lists of rules goes on for days. These rules (and many more*) have taken me 35 years to craft and have served me well over that time. There’s one rule, though, that I’ve come to think of as a matter of social convention; one that almost everyone must should abide by: punctuality.

a Bad Romance

I fear I’m a bad relationship and don’t know how to get out. Worse, I don’t know if I want to get out. No, it’s not CawfeeMate, you boob; the man’s a friggin saint.

It’s my knitting needle dealer.

*Sigh*

things at work have been insane, so blogging has really fallen by the way side (in case you hadn't noticed). Hope everyone enjoys their holidays (or their anti-holidays, if that's your thing...i dont' judge).

Friday is For Forgiveness, People

i'm sorry about all the quizzes, but i'm too overworked right now for anything more than this. also, my muse seems to be on some sort of sabbatical, lately, and i find i have terribly little to say (outside of a Facebook status update). maybe she's here, or here or here (they seem to have no problem writing new and interesting things, almost daily).
so, yeah...if you guys happen to see my muse, please tell her i miss her.

Supersize Me

i have an incredibly "love/hate" relationship with food; i love to eat, but i hate to gain weight.
i love food; meat, vegetables, bread, cakes, sweets. i come from foodies and my mom and dad raised me to try everything before saying i don't like it. lately i've even begun to re-visit things i hadn't liked in the past, attempting to see if my taste really has changed*.
the problem is, i like food a little too much. over the last 33 years i've lost and gained and lost and gained to an almost ridiculous degree; i'm starting to feel like Kirstie Alley. here are the highlights:

• (1999, about a year after graduating college) i was 165 lbs and wearing a size 30 jeans*, thanks to a really hot mexican guy who gave me mono.
• (2006) a year before CawfeeMate and i tied the knot  i was 210 lbs
• (2007) thanks to Weight Watchers, i was down to 172 by the time we got married, on October 6th.
• (2008) a year later, i was up to 190 lbs, when we got married (again) on October 11th. 
• as of this morning, i'm down to 173 lbs.
  
  
  

i can pretty much point to my complete unwillingness to participate in any physical activity as the cause of my ascent to 210. i do not like sports. i do not like to exercise. given the opportunity, i would lie around (be it on the couch or in a hammock), reading and playing videogames all day. actually, that's exactly what i did for six months, in 2003, while i was unemployed and mooching off CawfeeMate;  that's where the bulk of my...bulk...came from. 

but, in the end, all the rest of the ups and downs all come back to food.

i almost always want to eat, but i know that i can't.

i could snack all day at work; i could drop $5 a day on the lady who sits 3 desks over and sells snack-sized bags of chips and cookies and pretzels and things...but i walk by her every day and only say hello.

at home, i'd gladly indulge in second helpings of whatever we make for dinner***,  and then sit down to watch tv with thebag of pita chips and a tub of hummus we got from Costco...but, instead, i measure out one portion of chips (admitedly about 2 cups) and about half a cup of the hummus. and dessert? i could easily down half a pint of Ben & Jerry's Cake Batter ice cream or half a package of Oreos or Mallomars in an evening, instead of stopping after one scoop or 3 cookies.

if i didn't exercise restraint, i'd feel terrible about myself. i'd be racked with good old fashioned catholic flavored guilt about not being able to overcome my basest urges. because that's what it's all about, at the end of the day: being able to lie in bed**** and say "your will-power stopped you from eating today". well that and being able to fit in size 32 pants.

i slipped this morning and indulged in the craving i've had for McDonald's breakfast. There's alot of fat and alot of calories in a bacon, egg and cheese on a bagel, folks, but i had to give in. there was no way i'd be able to make it another day without one. so, as "penance" i skipped lunch and will forgo my after dinner chips and hummus. as i finish writing this (i started about 4 hours ago), i'm unbelievably hungry. Debbie, the chip lady, has one bag of Cinnamon Scooby Snack graham crackers left (only 55 cents!) but i'm going to walk past her, on the way out the door, no matter how tempted i am to slip twice in one day.

i have to will myself not to because each time i do, it's another step closer toward 210...someplace that i refuse to ever see again.

* i have CawfeeMate to thank for this, since his way of cooking and tastes aren't quite the same as mine. he's a brilliant cook, so chances are if he makes it, i'll like it.

** truth to be told, i probably should've been wearing a size 32, but i was 23 and had an ass you could bounce a quarter off of and make change, so why quibble?

*** 99% of the time, whatever we cook is made in a way that the WW gurus would approve of: low fat or no fat cheeses on our pizza, chicken sausage, green vegetables every day, measured portions, little or no oil, nothing fried, etc.
**** maybe this explains why CawfeeMate tells me that i "sleep eat"; that is: make noises like i'm eating and drinking, in my sleep.

IMHO Revisited & Re-Posted

Read last year's post here. My feelings haven't changed.

September Resolutions

1. write something every (week) day, instead of just updating my Facebook status every fifteen minutes.
2. continue working out regularly, upping the weights accordingly and not plateauing when it gets easy.
3. find some kind of cardio workout that doesn't make me wish i was dead.
4. increase blog traffic on this tired old corner of the internet that i call my own.
5. find reasons to hate my job less.
6. find a creative outlet.

Baby Blues

pick yourself up off the floor*, gentle reader. i do not, i repeat not, want a child. i'm simply feeling a pang of melancholy because almost all my straight friends are popping out kids (some are two deep) or on their way to getting knocked up (by way of impending nuptials which, usually, result in a kid). as you know, i am not a fan of children, for more than 20 minutes at a clip (with 1 or two exceptions).

this leaves me on the outside of another social circle**. my friends can't "come out and play", as readily as they used to. meetings, which are already over-scheduled because of work and other social obligations, need to be further scheduled around bathtimes, feeding and other mommy/daddy duties. gone are the days when you can call up Couple X, Y and/or Z and invite them to dinner or brunch or even a movie, and it sucks***.

selfish? hell yeah. jealous? maybe. childish? absolutely.

this is why i'll never have kids of my own; i don't think CawfeeMate could handle two.

*i know you were knocked off your chair from the combined shock of 2 posts in 2 days and a title which may suggest my longing for a child of my own

** a friend, recently, did not invite CawfeeMate and I to her 2nd child's christening. she said that they were keeping it very small and making it family only, but as much as i try to to believe her, i can't help but feel it's because we're not part of the Mommy/Daddy Club.

***i'm not judging or pointing fingers or being all passive aggresive or anything like that. i totally respect that being a parent is a valid lifestyle choice; and yes, my life is busy, too. it's hard squeezing in a social life into two days a week under the best of circumstance, but adding another person into the mix (one who can't drive, drink, pay, or cut their own food) makes it even more difficult.

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 is busier than a hooker during Fleet Week

ok so those of you with whom i'm friends with on Facebook may have seen yesterday's status update (referenced above). it's true though...i'm a bit overwhelmed, at work, lately due to cutbacks and power shifts.

that having been said, i'll only be posting sporadically for a while, till things calm down or power shifts back. feel free to e-mail me or hit me up on Facebook.

This Totally Falls Under the Category of TMI (Read at Your Own Risk)

this post is gonna be graphic and blunt, but i feel compelled to write it and "put it out there". consider yourself warned.

about a month ago (actually it'll be a month, tomorrow) i went to the doctor because i was feeling...ill and i began experiencing symptoms which are too personal to even think of mentioning on this blog. suffice to say, they were odd enough to drag my, my usually non-malingering, ass to see Dr. Frank. after a bit of...poking around, Dr. F decided i may have a prostate infection. slightly alarmed (i hear the word prostate and my natural association word is cancer), i asked the usual how/why/where questions. the good doctor suggested that the probable culprit is good old fashioned man-on-man butt sex* and urges us to start wearing condoms** whenever it..comes up; he then prescribed 30 days of Cipro.

fast forward 27 days, to last friday. i'd been asymptomatic for between 2 and 3 weeks and was really excited because i only had 6 pills left! i'd be able to bring my dairy back! i'd be able to drink again! i wouldn't fear being crippled by too deep of a squat while Wii-Fitting. i wouldn't be nauseous! i'd be hungry again! sadly that was not to be. the aforementioned symptoms came back. i called the doctor and saw him on saturday morning.

he took me off the Cipro and is sending me for prostate tests. this time, though, his recommendation is to make the appointment for the tests as early as possible and to make sure that the prostate has been properly stimulated the night before. all that was missing was a prescription for Wet Platinum and the Best of Enigma.


*you should always have "full disclosure" with your primary care physician; if he doesn't know all the facts, he can't help. the fact that mine a friend and co-worker of CawfeeMate is a bonus.
**after a year of monogamy and the required testing we stopped, thinking that all hurdles had been cleared. who knew?

Briefly: Word Rules

Remember, when you were a kid, you learned that there were certain rules in grammar ("i before e...") and for every rule there were certain exceptions ("...except after c or when sounding like a, as in neighbor and weigh"). they were drilled into your head in the 1st or 2nd grade and then hammered in every so often.

one of the most basic rules, though was pluralization of nouns. if there's more than one of something you stick an s on the end. granted there are certain words for which this does not apply, because they end in y which then becomes an i and s becomes es; you know how it goes. other exceptions are the words which, for whatever reason, don't change when you pluralize them ( ie. deer and moose) or become whole new words (ie. mice and geese).

Lately, though, i've noticed that the rules seem to have changed; the plural for octopus is no longer octopi, it's now octopuses. the plural for fish is no longer fish, it's fishes.

now, i know language is fluid and subject to change over the course of the ages, but when did this happen?

On Time

do you remember when you were a kid and hours lasted days and days lasted weeks and weeks lasted months, etc? the school year (9 months) felt like three years and the 3 month summer vacation seemed to last a year so that by the time labor day rolled around you were almost glad to go back. Even high school and college seemed to last forever since one was a prelude to the other and the other was a prelude to the"real world".

then, sometime around the age of 22 or 23, when you're out there in "the real world", it's like somebody hit the fast forward button and then lost the remote. days no longer dragged, weeks began to fly by and it seemed like there was rent or bills due or a holiday to buy gifts for, every other week. there were never enough hours in a day to cram work, socializing and sleep, but that was okay because you didn't really need to sleep (wake, work, club; lather, rinse, repeat).

sometime around your mid to late twenties you began to see what all those adults meant when they told you how fast you were growing up and how big you'd gotten since they last saw you; you'd look at nieces or nephews or younger cousins and wonder when they stopped being babies. teenagers were now "those obnoxious kids" and you hear "Sir" or "Ma'am" way more often than was comfortable. life started being less like a John Hughes comedy and more like Four Weddings and a Funeral as all your friends started getting hitched. the mall job/retail gig gave way to a "real job" and the wake/work/club combo is now a thing of the past 'cuz as it's not quite as easy to walk into work after an all-night dance-a-thon or hanging out with drag queens till 3am.

then thirty hit. those married friends now own homes and are starting to pop out kids with alarming frequency and even your gay friends are settling down and getting dogs/cats. your parents are looking less "vibrant" and, sometimes, just plain old. hearing them called "grandma" or "grampa" isn't quite as strange, because they're starting to look the part. there are people you work with who were born in the '80's and are unable to get any of your pop-culture references. your taste in music is now considered "old school" or "retro".

still...time keeps flying by. somehow you went to bed a kid and woke up an adult, like in Big. you've become responsible to/for somebody and you've got a home and a dog of your own. weekends go by in the blink of an eye. work days almost can't be long enough and are sandwiched between dreadful commutes. deadlines, mortgage payment, doctors appointments, weddings, christenings, and meetings are always right around the corner. you have to schedule time to see your friends, who you used to see daily, weeks in advance.

what the fuck happened?

Work Out

when i started this job 5 years ago, on my 1st day, my co-workers played the usual ice-breaker/getting-to-know you Q & A session. when we got to the inevitable "girlfriend?", i laughed and said "no...boyfriend" and that was that. there were no repercussions, no bad vibes, no condemnations. my closer co-workers even came to our wedding, 4 years later. as you may expect, i'm not the only gay guy at work. i am, however, the only out gay guy. our wedding picture sits on my desk, i've got an HRC post-it note block, a rainbow in my e-mail signature and, quite frequently, a pretty damn gay desktop theme on my PC. i talk about stephen openly to anyone who inquires, and when new people see my ring and ask about my wife, i tell them that i've got a husband and a yorkie.

all the other gay guys around here operate pretty much under the radar. when talking to their co-workers, they refer to their "roommate" or "friend" or not at all. nothing is ever discussed, out loud. the other day a guy, from another department on another floor, who i know is gay and who knows that i know (but has never said anything outright), asked me about my weekend and i told him that the huz and i went...wherever we had gone...and he looked surprised. when i inquired about his, he got all conspiratorial and whispered that he had gotten married in Boston...to his boyfriend of 5 years. i congratulated him and he whispered all the details to me and then i told him about ours. when i left his desk, i was left with the distinct impression that none of his co-workers knew he had gotten hitched that weekend; that one of the biggest events in his life was swept under the rug and went unacknowledged by the people he spends a minimum of forty hours a week with. this made me feel both incredibly sad and very lucky...

i've been out since college. not completely, mind you, but out nonetheless. the 1st person i told was one of my closest girlfriends (who happened to be dating my very best guy friend, at the time) whom i'd known all through high school. i wrote her a letter, as was our custom, and waited on tenterhooks till she responded; her affirming response (which inadvertently outed me to my mother) left me feeling relieved and comforted and though she and my friend stopped dating, we remained fairly close for several more years. since my 1st experience was (largely) positive, it was a domino effect from there; i told almost all my other friends, one by one, and they all remained supportive (except, ironically, my best guy friend but that's another story). after about four or five years of being out to everyone but he, i came out to the last person on my list, my father and, all things considered, that went pretty damn well too. coming out to him, though, in short, the entire "coming out" experience was a good one for me and, since i started out pretty early, i've made my way through the world (ok, through my itsy-bitsy corner of the world, which is basically the 5 boroughs and some bits of New Jersey) as "a gay man". as such, i haven't switched a pronoun or "pretended" since the early '90's, and can honestly say that i've never met even the smallest amount of opposition or bigotry. i don't know what people might say behind my back or when i'm not there, but it's all sunshine, lollipops and kittens when i'm there.

i find it hard to believe that my experiences, in both the workplace and in general, are the that uncommon. i'm, quite honestly, flummoxed why more people aren't out . the amount of time we spend with co-workers is quadruple what we spend with husbands/lovers/"roommates" in a week. it boggles my mind why, in this age of Proposition 8 and Don't Ask Don't Tell and the Dark Ages of Bush, you'd choose to remain invisible. Visibility and honesty are what breed tolerance, acceptance and support. no?

Thursday Cop Out or 25 Things You May (or May Not) Know About Me

i got this from Facebook, last night, and while i usually don't go in for this sort of thing i thought i'd give it a shot. the 1st 25 are from the original FB post (and are edited, slightly, to fit my format here), 26+ i'll be updating throughout today.
if you wanna take the ball and run with it, it's up to you as i do not "tag" people on my blog; though most of the people who read my blog have done this at one time or another.

1. i spent more than half my life in Catholic school where the only things i learned were how to write pretty well, how to turn an F in gym into a P and how much i dislike organized religion.
2. i hate cats.
3. i've only kissed 2 girls (both of whom i still love, very much and both of whom i see quite often, but not as often as i wished)
4. i'm a Buffy fan by conversion; the 1st time around, i scoffed just like everybody else, now i'm hooked.
5. i'm glad i'll never have kids of my own.
6. i used to be allergic to chocolate and oranges.
7. i played little league baseball for many years and hated almost every minute of it.
8. i always wished i'd learned to play a musical instrument or to sing.
9. i've got four tattoos and am seriously considering number five.
10. i'm color blind; can't differentiate between shades of red, green and brown. blue and purple sometimes fuck with me too.
11. if i suddenly became ridiculously rich, i'd open a joint bookstore/cafe, and buy a slightly bigger house with stephen's dream bathroom and a library for me.
12. i got my nipple pierced in college. just one. worst pain ever, so i never went to get the other one done.
13. the day stephen and i got married (the 1st time) was the happiest day of my life and every day since has been pretty damn swell.
14. i can't dance but wish to god i could.
15. i'm scared of bugs, clowns and bridges.
16. my favorite color is blue...almost any shade.
17. i've never had a cavity, broken a bone or spent more than a few hours in the hospital (for serious head wounds).
18. i'm running out of things to write.
19. i listen to music from the time i wake up till i walk through the door from work (and sometimes till i go to bed). club music, pop music, broadway musicals; all kinds of music.
20. at work, i'm the go-to guy for useless information and facts about things like manatees.
21. i've been known to communicate with several of my friends using only movie quotes and song lyrics for hours at a time.
22. i'm very easily intimidated by people i think are smarter and/or better looking than i.
23. i've worn glasses since 6th grade and would never get lasik surgery.
24. i've been to paradise but i've never been to me.
25. i wish i'd come out earlier.
26. left to my own devices, i'd probably be about 250 lbs.
27. i sometimes wish i was born about 20 years earlier so i could've been a part of the 70's and 80's...but if i was i'd probably be dead by now.
28. i have 3 books of poetry i wrote throughout college and beyond, that i've been told is really good, and would love to get published somewhere.
29. i never tried to get it publised because i'm scared of the rejection process.
30. i'm very embarassed by compliments and never know what to say when i receive them (since i tend not to believe them).
31. i've never had a nickname.
32. i've never never tried drugs.