why, yes, a rooster, it is a rooster.

annoying bible thumping coworker: hey, i like your hat. is that a rooster?
'why, yes, a rooster, it is a rooster.'
'it's cute. [my fat, three year-old beast] will love it!'
'yeah? got it last winter. it's the year of the, um, rooster.'
[cool russian coworker turns around. throws me the 'i know what you're talking about' look. cool chinese coworker starts giggling. we both hate the bible thumper.]
'i should get that for him. he'd love it. where did you get it?'
'uh, geez, where did i get it. aah, yes, a thrift shop in, uh, williamsburg. who knows how old it is.'
'oh, well, it's very cute. he'd love it.'
'sorry. luck of the draw, i suppose.'
right. luck of the draw.

for the complaint file

nearly out of coffee, mouthwash, my multi-vitamin, my 'SUPER!' b-complex vitamin, shirt starch, and contact solution, so i email myself at work a reminder to pick them up at the pharmacy during work or on the way home. do i? of course not. instead i go out for a martini and walk home clear across town from a subway like i don't usually take getting fully drenched, all the while on the phone with chemgirl catching up. (she's in love, aaw!) get home soaking, walking past at least three pharmacies oblivious to the fact that i need to go into one, get into warm pjs, and go about my night.

wake up this morning without any coffee or vitamins to get me going. (this will not be pleasant for anyone who comes in my way this morning.) couple that with the sad fact that i'm out of a-list boxer briefs and need to move on to b-list and that i'm out of running shorts, so i need to hand wash a pair before work. i am NOT a happy camper. grr.

and while i'm in complaint mode (i'm that guy... sad...), when the hell are the planet-save people going to get the email up and running? it's been like four days since i could access that email account. i mean, sure, you have an 'emergency' situation, bla bla bla, and i picture you tree-hugging hippies working night and day, going between bong hits and your super computer mainframe server [insert other important sounding computer speak here], but nothing. no emails for me. what about those jobs to which i've applied? nothing. how about my friends who are wondering if i'm alive or in a gutter somewhere? nope. grr, tree-hugging hippies, grr indeed. keep this up and i may conform to the masses and get a yahoo or hotmail account. i don't know which name is stupider: yahoo or hotmail.

and another thing... while i think it's great my 'super' felt the need to turn on the heat last night, he's got it set to africa in here, i about melted last night. went into front room to nuke the 'good morning!' pizza and realize that radiator is completely off, with all the heat in this place pumping through the radiator about 18 inches from my bed. lovely.

i'm going back to bed and starting this day again. i've had quite enough, and it's only 8.

truer words

have never been spoken.

i put the 'fun' in functional alcoholic

why today was good:
1. got trapped in new bigbossman's office. he's chill. i need that.
2. lovely run in central park, almost 70 degrees. imagine that. ran into a coworker powerwalking and runnerboy. the coincidence astounds me. (wait. i always run into her powerwalking at that time. and runnerboy is called runnerboy because he runs. and the three of us work about ten feet from each other. not all that profound, i suppose. but it made me happy nevertheless.)
3. spent an hour with a coworker, in her cube, without her creepy boss (who i am SO convinced makes porns when he leaves work, he's just that creepy) lingering about. killed a full hour of my day. talking about such finery as her colonoscopy yesterday, my weekend and the stop at denny's, and the price of odwalla at whole foods verses oren's. unlike the run, it was very profound, and, to repeat, killed a full hour.
4. a brainless job vacated in a different department that pays more and would be absolutely stressless. the good thing is that my lunch hour-and-a-halfs (and lunch two-hours on psychologist thursdays, can't forget that) will probably not be a problem, yee haw.
5. went out with the powerdyke at work and another coworker who looks like lucy from peanuts if she were real and pretty. went to the bar across the street, literally, which just. so. happens. to be a gaysian bar, with like a thousand breeder people from work (and the one gaysian who organized the whole thing.) the dykes and i left early early, but the breeders remained. catch the irony?

why today was grating:
1. bigbossman talks to hear himself talk.
2. wet leaves almost did me in, and my shorts chafed the hell out of my crotch. didn't find this little tidbit out until my boxer briefs aggravated it every time i moved when i left the gym. not a day in the magic kingdom, i assure you.
3. odwalla is the same price at both whole foods and oren's.
4. the manager of the department of the vacant job is a fellow mary who was just touchy feely enough at a bar awhile back that i have to wonder if an after school special would be written about what would come about if i got the job. i emailed her about the job and she goes and broadcasts to all of god and man in the department that i am asking about it. but, as i don't exactly have a manager yet, not like anyone will know, hahahaha.
5. my drink was only two dollar's off, as was the powerdyke's, but lucy's was part of buy one get one. the bartender could have told me this, hello. maybe he was too concerned about pulling the one hair off his shoulder that he forgot when he shaved his body this morning to remember to tell us? it was so attractive: pretty face, lovely body, stripped his tank off, and then proceeded to pull at a wayward hair for far, far too long, in front of far, far too many people. lovely.

you like my big cock...

...don't you. yeah. you know you do...

'hold on a moment...

...i'm getting a signal from the aliens...'

vroom vroom!

i suppose it says a lot when my coworker sends this to me and tells me i remind her of the one in the yellow car.

thank you, doctor zizmor!

(sorry, my non- new york city friends, if you were here, you'd understand this.)

and the beat goes on...

oh the wedding was just lovely, such a refreshing contrast to the the trainwreck to which i accompanied my best-friend chemgirl two weekends ago: that one was typical long island 'finery.' ('look, honey, two types of caviar, a champagne bar, and ice sculptures.' 'typical.' 'oh, absolutely, and expected at that, just wondering if he or she is mafia of if it's financed by citibank.' 'don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to. let's go say hi to the groom. "angelo!"')

nuff said.

but this past weekend was so different and peaceful. arrived to the hotel at 1am after calling the elderly, surly, (and kind of odd) front desk 'host', no fewer than twice to ensure, in my obsessive compusive style, that he would NOT be giving the room away, that i was was running late, etc. 'yes, and when you called two hours ago i told you the same thing.' well now. no need to take THAT tone, mr. snippy.

the next morning, though the wedding was, oh, 500 feet from the hotel, i still managed to miss most of the ceremony. (these things happen.) the couple is splendid together, talk about yin and yang: perfect. (but i say that from afar, she probably beats him and he probably has a pornography collection that would make hugh hefner blush, but still, indulge my fantasy.) grabbed a drink with the crowd between the wedding and the reception, thus starting my buzz circa 1230p (later than usual on a saturday.) the music selection was perfect, and there was no electric slide or funky chicken to be had by anyone. for that, i'm forever grateful.

whilst in the land of hot springs (who knew), i decided, instead, to work off the openbarbuzz that night in the hotter-than-hell-tub, alternating with dips in the big-boy-sized-but-only-went-to-4-feet-deep pool. duked it out with martha, the elderly front desk 'hostess' about the lack-of internet access after that. 'there is a cord in the room. you plug the cord in, when the computer is off, then boot up and you're on fire, brother.' 'you're saying that because i'm gay.' [totally, totally kidding, just thought i'd give granny a thrill.'] 'oh no sir! absolutely not! we here at the [hotel] make NO judgments on any of our guests!' 'just kidding, peanut. tons of love from room 134 to you lovely gals here at the front desk.'
...
'martha, sweetie, the cord doesn't work. not on fire, sister.' 'oh, well, see this number, just call it and they should be able to tap into your connection remotely! how grand is that!' 'yeah, but it's a charge to CALL from the little hotel phone. um, you people don't have wifi anywhere around here? business center?' [staring blankly.] 'oh no, we don't have that. but we do have wireless internet in the lobby. you can sit anywhere around here.' 'praise allah, sister, you've been holding out on me! i'll be flaming in no time.' [the guy in the lobby, about my age, who witnessed the whole thing busted out at this point.]

but by that time, i was in that post-wedding-fuzzy am-i-still-drunk-or-hungover-and-does-it-matter-because-the-chlorine-made-my-eyes-look-like-satan-and-i'm-scaring-other-guests mode, so i logged on quickly to check my mail and pick out a lewd t-shirt for the season and called it a night.

managed to make it to a denny's last weekend, thank goodness, my all time, hands down, do NOT judge me, favorite restaurant in the world. something there happened, however, in the last few years. see, there wasn't one thing for a veg such as myself: nearly everything had bacon or ham or sausage, or bacon, ham, AND sausage, maybe steak, maybe chicken, maybe chicken-fried steak, but the only thing on the whole goddam menu that i could eat was one of the slams: eggs with potatoes, toast, AND pancakes. i could hear atkins groan. and i liked it.

so that is my tale from the upstate wedding of 2005. managed to get the only weddings to which i've been invited in the last five years done in subsequent weekends, which was lovely, just in time for the holidays, for the holidays, as you can imagine, will bring their own sets of insanities. called chemgirl on the phone when i got to the george washington bridge, about ready to ejaculate on myself out of happiness that i was out of the god-forsaken country, and talked over the wedding. 'oh sweetie, it was NOTHING like last weekend.' [and being rather burnt, my filter was off. my intonation was, um, dead on.] 'hey now!' 'oh, i mean, two types of caviar are lovely, if you're into aborted fish and all, but this was just sooo real and perfect, not plastic and sterile.' 'oh sweetie, that was a mild wedding. i should take you to a good one.' 'there is no need to threaten me.'