Just had a cop threaten me with a $100 fine and tell me to drive "like a normal person" for having my foot on the dash. Park Police motorcycle m-12. Violation of power?

“There is nothing in this world that never takes a step outside a person’s heart,” Leader repeated softly. -- 1Q84, Murakami

Retweeted Samantha (@Yogitastic):

Reminding myself that speaking poorly about someone reflects more on me than the person I'm talking about.

I began this process in December with @DCHealthLink and @KPMemberService -- in person, over the phone, etc. Help from "brokers" etc.

Retweeted Paige Lichens (@paigesyoga):

I'll miss seeing him (again) as I'm teaching but come checkout @MichaelJoelHall Workshop @MINDtheMAT Sunday Noon; amazing teacher & person

Retweeted Big Brother UK (@bbuk):

That moment when the person you really, really don't want to be the new housemate enters... Awks! #CBB

Retweeted Ashtanga Toronto (@ashtangayogaTO):

Must-see: Sharath talks with @LiveSonima about his personal journey in #Ashtanga #Yoga -

Retweeted Hunter Schwarz (@hunterschwarz):

Every person in Imagine Dragons is just a Macklemore from a different universe.

"The irony is that a personality disposition normally seen as antisocial — disagreeableness — may actually be linked to 'pro-social' behavior,'" writes Psychology Today's Kenneth Worthy.

“Hey, Tengo, do you know the difference between the English words ‘lunatic’ and ‘insane’?” she asked. “They’re both adjectives describing mental abnormality. I’m not quite sure how they differ.” “ ‘Insane’ probably means to have an innate mental problem, something that calls for professional treatment, while ‘lunatic’ means to have your sanity temporarily seized by the luna, which is ‘moon’ in Latin. In nineteenth-century England, if you were a certified lunatic and you committed a crime, the severity of the crime would be reduced a notch. The idea was that the crime was not so much the responsibility of the person himself as that he was led astray by the moonlight. Believe it or not, laws like that actually existed. In other words, the fact that the moon can drive people crazy was actually recognized in law.

-- 1Q84, Haruki Murakami

Pop Francis continued: “A person once asked me, in a provocative manner, if I approved of homosexuality. I replied with another question: ‘Tell me: when God looks at a gay person, does he endorse the existence of this person with love, or reject and condemn this person?’”

“This church with which we should be thinking is the home of all,” he said, “not a small chapel that can hold only a small group of selected people.”

"Finally, students should note that their progress in Vipassana depends solely on their good qualities and personal development..."

Does Yoga Really Foster Transformation? A Personal Account ~ #ashtanga #iyengar #yoga

DC how to get a killer meal at a real person price. The ethnic food portion is gr8. See ya at Keren! @washingtonpost:

I might be the only person here loving the 97 degrees.

Today's big lesson: Don't be a bigot. And when you see a person in the act of bigotry, don't be afraid to use the term "bigot." It's a word that should make the skin crawl, and as such, one shouldn't be afraid to use it in correct context. Call a bigot a bigot, please.

"Cloudy, with biiiiiig silver linings" was the forecast this morning: <3 practicing in Dupont and making it to the end of primary right as Erica Martinson (a bff) walked up. <3 returning to crossfit. <3 leading a class and being able to thank my "sub" in person

"You look like a different person in all of your pictures," he said to me, without losing the smile.

As Lorelai observes of Kirk, ‘it's all any of us wants - to find a nice person to hang out with 'til we drop dead. Not a lot to ask." Amen.

hates tracking down his personal effects on Monday after a weekend of adventures.

Love must be as much a light, as it is a flame. ~Henry David Thoreau

I’ve been burning a dark, cold flame.

This week, I spoke to my classes about one of the different kinds of yoga that exist outside of the physical, specifically touching on the yoga of the heart: Bhakti yoga. While I worked on cracking open my student’s heart center (figuratively and litereally), a friend allowed obesity to end his life, a car came purposteriously close to endangering mine, and I couldn’t deadlift as much as I would have liked.

My inner monologue had begun to feel like crabs in a pot, only able to take so much of the flame before it came to a shrill scream. I nearly lost it on a couple who cut in front of me in line at Whole Foods with 18 items in the express lane.

Erica tells me I have white people problems.

She’s right, and it makes me laugh when I remove myself from my own malarkey. As I find myself noting the steam coming from the cracks in my exterior enamel, I’m reminded to return to my breath.

I didn’t flip out on the couple. Barely.

The next time you find yourself nearly going over the edge, as I nearly did, I would encourage you to disconnect from the anger by observing your breath. Allow your focus to shift from an outside perspective to an inner one. The outer circumstances can’t always provide you with the context required to make an adequate, informed judgement call on whats happening; however, a look at your inner fire can access why you are responding in whatever a manner it is you’re responding.

I find that compassion, sometimes called karuna, is harder when you’re not as happy with your innerworld as you might like to be. Was I really mad at the couple, or upset at Big Rob’s death?

You don’t have to like the person pissing you off, thats not what I’m implying, but it might be a good call to ask what good your inner anger is doing you. Or, equally valid, what its doing for those that have to deal with you, Oh, and for those that do love you.

The more love we’re able to give the more we’re capable of receiving. Compassion goes a long way to helping love those that we might not actually like, as it reminds us that we are all made of the same stuff. We’re all bound by one self– one huge love.

Bring awareness to all of your actions, and love openly.

Watch what happens.

I love you.

From the NYT Article, “A Yoga Manifesto“:

Yoga is definitely big business these days. A 2008 poll, commissioned by Yoga Journal, concluded that the number of people doing yoga had declined from 16.5 million in 2004 to 15.8 million almost four years later. But the poll also estimated that the actual spending on yoga classes and products had almost doubled in that same period, from $2.95 billion to $5.7 billion.

“The irony is that yoga, and spiritual ideals for which it stands, have become the ultimate commodity,” Mark Singleton, the author of “Yoga Body: The Origins of Modern Posture Practice,” wrote in an e-mail message this week. “Spirituality is a style, and the ‘rock star’ yoga teachers are the style gurus.”

Well, maybe it is the recession, but some yogis are now saying “Peace out” to all that. There’s a brewing resistance to the expense, the cult of personality, the membership fees. At the forefront of the movement is Yoga to the People, which opened its first studio in 2006 in the East Village on St. Marks Place, with a contribution-only, pay-what-you-can fee structure.

Lets make a few things really, really clear:

• Yoga on a mat without intention is simply exercise (albiet good exercise).
• Being an adept teacher (regardless of craft) does not automatically make someone a style icon but it will make that teacher a shaper of impressionable minds.
• Being free doesn’t mean being better, nor is the inverse true.
• Identifying with a teacher is not a bad thing, never has been, and it should come as no surprise that good teachers become well known.

So, what does it matter if you enjoy doing yoga in $108 yoga pants? It doesn’t.

What does it matter if you prefer sandy beaches over Manduka PVC? It doesn’t.

What does matter? Your attachment to these things. Me and my water bottle alone have no bearing on you as a yogi, but how YOU relate to me and my water bottle does. Luckily, if you practice yoga on the mat with good intention, you’ll be prepared to practice off the mat, too.

Pardon the platitude, but: practice, and all will come.

Yoga is a mind game, a breathing exercise, a way to prepare ourselves to be better for what lies ahead. That said, if you’re confronted by a sexy ass in a pair of something lulu, or caught up in envy of the mat (or pose, or person or…) to your left, you’ve been given some excellent obstacles to overcome in order to enrich your real yoga practice. Your own indignation is a reflection of the work that lies ahead for you.

This whole article struck me as indignant.

The goal, the main aim of (what I believe to be) true yoga is to stop the fluctuations, the churning, of the mind.

With the right intention you can charge how ever much you want for whatever you want and pay as little or as much as you want for whatever you want and it is yoga.

Everything else is yoga-based exercise.

It is the mission of Mid City Yoga (my company, for which this blog is a joyful supplement) to bring what I believe to be a transformative, ancient practice to new places and spaces. I’ve been calling it guerrilla yoga for the past few years, but in reality, its just another name for the same thing: yoga.

So, what does this have to do with finances?

At the end of the day, wear what you want. Do yoga on what you want. And do yourself (as well as the universal self of which we are all a part) a favor and don’t judge others for preferring to do their practice how and where they care to– whether its on a statue in the middle of a circle, in a pay what you can class at the end of the block, or in a mirrored room at the Sports Club LA with a private teacher and a $900 water bottle. Seriously, dude, just get out and practice.

Two more quick facts:

• Jealousy ain’t cute
• The paths are many, the truth is one.

Now, in regards to the “rock star” yogi business… well, I’m a teacher, and I have people who like my pedegogy. Call me biased, but I’m glad for that. I love sharing my practice, and couldn’t do that without my students. The very same students who, not so incidentally, challenge me daily. I take pleasure in seeing my students progress in asana as well as seeing their world views shift based on their realizations fostered by simple mat-bound exercise set.

I would not be upset if more people wanted to share with me.

I have worked with many excellent teachers (including the aforementioned Bryan Kest), but I have very few people for whom I allow the term teacher to take reverence. Kristen Krash and Kristina Maze have both been very instrumental in my development as a man, a yogi, and a teacher for very different reasons. We have a relationship that is commonly called a parampara. Don’t worry if the term is new to you, it simply denotes a teacher who teaches a student directly from a specific lineage.

My paths?

BKS Iyengar to John Schumacher to Kristen Krash to Me.
Swami Sivananda to Swami Vishnu-devananda to Kristina Maze to Me.

Would I call either lady my guru? Probably not, because much like the term parampara, that word has some boogidty-boo baggage with which I’d care not to associate directly. Perhaps its the American in me, but whatever. I’ll confess I’ve got hang ups around the notions of a guru.

A better question: would you call Iyengar or Sivananda rock stars? I’d call them world renowned teacher. I’m hard pressed to relate them to the Beatles, Lars Ulrich, Madonna (as much as I love her), or Robert Plant.

Is it really this articles assertion that their is a movement suggesting you knowing who my teachers have been (or heck, just knowing I’m going to be yours) make me less effective?

I don’t think so. I would argue the opposite but again, the paths are many.

One last thing: I practice, in my personal life, the yoga of syntheis.

From wiki:

Swami Sivananda’s approach to Yoga was to combine the four main paths – Karma Yoga, Bhakti Yoga,Jnana Yoga and Raja Yoga …. This is reflected in the motto of the society that he formed, The Divine Life Society…. “Serve (Karma Yoga), Love (Bhakti Yoga), Meditate (Jnana Yoga), Realise (Raja Yoga).” In his own words, “One-sided development is not commendable. Religion and Yoga must educate and develop the whole man – his heart, intellect and hand.”

Back to the money: Serve comes first.

I know we shouldn’t expect free things everywhere, but if you have a teacher not giving of themselves selflessly somewhere (in some way), then I’m hard pressed to believe they’re practicing fully off the mat. No judgement, just seems like common sense. Selfless service, Karma Yoga, is an essential part of a practice.

As I enjoy teaching (and might be better at it, than, say, collecting trash), I find that my volunteer hours are often well spent doing just that. So, it comes as no surprise to me that their are free classes all OVER the place. And you would be well served to take one. Just remember to give back, too. Teach your nephew wheel or something.

Practice yoga in line, in Stroga, and in the sack. Yoga everywhere. Yoga anywhere.

Everyone will be better for it, and it doesn’t have to cost a dime.

is engineering his next personal challenge. Want in? Let me know, and I'll get you feeling, looking, and most importantly functioning at your personal best!

will not be made to feel like less of a person for being all of himself.

will not be that person. Will not be that person. Will not be that person.

No posts in way too long.

Its winter, and not much is going on. The cold long months have been punctuated by trips to Florida for game show auditions, drunken adventures in the snow (Snow Day!), and driving through life with the cruise control activated. Its not the most exciting exsistance, but I'm enjoying it.

Anywho, I stole this stupid gay-get-to-know-you from someone else's blog. I've got time to kill before I head into the comedy coal mine, so....


1. have you ever had sex with the opposite sex? Yes
2. who is the first person you came out to? Robyn or Caroline. It was the same day.
3. are you out to your parents? Yep.
4. do you want kids? Not yet, if ever.
5. do you have more gay friends or straight friends? Straight, by far.
6. were you out in school? Out-ish.
7. is your best friend the same sex as you? I've got a couple, but, yeah, the one I see most often is.
8. if your best friend is the same sex, have you ever kissed them? Tried once, I was drunk and he's straight. It was one of those so-drunk-I-couldn't-stand type deals. It made a great, if mortifying, story the next day.
9. have you ever done crystal meth? yep
10. have you ever been in a sling? Unfortch, nope.
11. have you ever done a 3-way? Yes. I like they say "done" a three way. Something about that phrasing seems awkward and unexperienced.
12. have you ever dressed in drag? I've had a dress on but no make up. The side burns would ruin the mystique.
13. would you ever date a drag queen? Hahaha, only if we could do clown porn. I seriously can't see that happening. I like dudes.
14. are you a top/bottom or truly versatile? I don't know anymore. Lets say depends on the chemistry, but typically a bototm. Its a true as we're gonna get.
15. have you seen an uncircumcised thingy? Of course.
16. have you had sex with someone of a different race? Yes
17. have you ever barebacked? Yes
18. how many cher cds do you own? Who owns CDs? (I've got the greatest hits hiding in itunes somewhere)
19. name your first true love? Aww, Phoenix Robles.
20. do you still talk to them? When he's in town.
21. does size matter? I think bein' a big boy makes it easier to be better. But if you're a pro, and at least big enough to hit my prostate, my money's on no, that shit don't matter.
22. biggest turn on? Smart, sly eyes
23. biggest turn off? Fat.
24. ever been harassed because you are gay? Nothing so terrible that its ruined me as a person 🙂
25. worst gay stereotype that applies to you? Stupid question. I live up to a bunch of stereotypes. I <3 Madonna.
26. ever been to a pride rally? Yep.
27. would you marry if you could? Ugh. He'd have to be a real pick.
28. would you rather be rich and smart or young and beautiful? I'm already smart, young, and beautiful. I'm starting to think that this quiz was written by some queen troglodyte who got sick of eatting billy goats from under his bridge. Whateves, I'd still take cash if we're just givin' it out.
29. do you sculpt your eyebrows? Puja likes it when I do.
30. do you trim your body hair? Sometimes I shave in a landing strip from between my pecs down to my cock. Sometimes I'm a twink, sometimes I'm an otter! You never know what you're gonna get when I strip.
31. ever had sex with more than one person in a day? Yep.
32. ever been to an orgy? We didn't calll it that. Something about "orgy" screams "TACKY" and "STD." But, uh, yeah.
33. have you dated your best friends ex? Nope, but I have dated a best friend!
34. would you vote for hilary clinton if she ran for president? Vauge.
35. do you want monogamy in your relationship? It depends on the relationship. Some ships just aren't built like that. I want whats healthiest for me at the time.
36. do you believe in true love? Awww, sometimes. Sometimes, very much so.
37. do you have any tattoos? Yep
38. do you have any piercings? Yep.
39. would you date a smoker? Its not a deal breaker.
40. do you know anyone who has died from h.i.v.? Yep, though its not as though they've been in my inner circle or anything.
41. do you know what stonewall was? I feel like this troll penned quiz is veering into the lovely land of condecension.
42. wonder woman, xena, or the halliwell sisters? Am I a traitor to my dear, dear DC? Gimmie the Halliwels.
43. strangest place you have had sex? Ball pit at McDonalds?
44. strangest place you’ve woken up? Oh my god, really? A basement in Glover Park? My own fire escape? The roof of that art gallery?
45. are your best years behind or in front of you? It doesn't work like that.
46. favorite porn movie? An American in Prauge
47. are you in love now? Aww, if I am, its certainly not still healthy 🙂
48. ever been in love with a straight guy/girl? Nope, not a one.
49. did you ever have sex with them? I've got issues with turning the straights. It works to create a gay-tinged "black male rapist myth."
50. have you ever been to a nude beach? Can't wait.
51. have you ever been to a bath house? I can't quite bring myself to do it.
52. ever had sex in public? Superfun.

I love the smell of spray paint. It harkens back to a younger era of me in the country, bein' bad. I can always tell when someone's done a really fresh tag or when they've marked up the sidewalks somewhere for maintanence-- it throws me back to Colonial Beach before they paved the roads. A smell that I know equally well is that of ganj, a scent that harkens back to, oh, I dunno, about twelve hours ago.

I got all Taint-y with Alex on Sunday, and she had to twist my arm to get me there. I was zonked the fuck out from working all week, and had it not been for her insistance, I wouldn'ta made it. We were gonna go for a little drinky-drink, a little dancey-dance, and then just be-out. Two Sparks later, I had found my energy.

If you ask Alex, she'll tell you it wasn't the two Sparks, but the two boys, who got me moving.

Oh yeah, Alex and I got taken home from Taint. The boys, Joe and Dave, were both service industry folks. Joe's a little older, maybe early thirties, balding but cute, with a personality that was too blunt to be called catty and to catty to be called blunt. Facial hair and gauged earrings, light skin and darker features, he just wasn't quite my type. He checkeed a few boxes on the list, but really, his lack of boyish charm, and my Kathy Oversaturation, somehow warded off whatever spell he wanted to cast on me.

Dave, on the other hand, was much closer to my age. He was also much closer to Alex's height-- and Alex isn't a spectacularly tall girl, by any stretch. Not quite a stepladder makeout, but closer to 5'8 than to 5'10. Great arms, dark hair, and a fun smile. Funny as it is, Dave barbacks at Saint Ex, and remembered my drink that I had ordered all of once. Dave was being the wingman for Joe, and asked the normal litney of questions. I didn't give the answer Joe probably wanted. Thats okay, 'cause I'm fairly sure I gave the answer Dave wanted.

Puppy kicking and cruisey gym humor later, we had both made each other laugh. We moved from family guy to adult swim, and then he fessed up to liking Teen Titans. I told him that I dug on the Trigon storyline, and he misheard Trigun. We had both succesfully outed ourselves as nerds.

He invited us over, and on our way out (to his car), he told me that someone had to take shot gun.

"Shotty," says me. Like duh.

Alex, Yama (a third in their circle), Joe, Dave, and I smoked a ton of pot and watched a coach bag full of TV. We laughed our asses off, and enjoyed more Kathy Griffin on Bravo. "...Not Nicole Kidman" is a scream, and comes recommended. I didn't end up with either boy's number, but I liked my sit-next-to-session with Dave on the couch. I feel like following up or something, but we'll see. Its the start of the work week.

oh, speaking of work, I went out on Monday and saw The Aristocrats with a bunch of heads from work. Since we work at the Improv, we got invited to the sneak preview session. Enjoyed it fully, but the best part was with the old batty bitches midrow couldn't take the vulgarity anymore and dipped. That alone was as funny as the movie.

I was cranky all day Monday, but made it through. Feruza Balk and Return to Oz helped. Six Feet Under didn't. The second anniversery of Emily's death came and went, and I didn't totally break down. I was just salty at strangers. I also went a-googling Emily's name, and found out that the truck driver who hit her totally got four years in jail. Mary Washington also established a scholarship in her name.... the funny thing? She wouldn't have qualified.

She'd drink to the irony of all that.

Sorry, princess, this is my house.

When I came home from vacation there were beer bottles on my coffee table, my pasta had been eaten, cocktails had been made and not cleaned up... my house was worst than how I left it (which is sayin' something, bitches).

Lee broke in through the fire escape and stayed the night one night. He cleaned up after himself and refilled ice trays. Exactly as I would have expected him to. The neighbor girls came over and watched TV another night. They drank a little, but came back to clean the next day. Exactly as I would expect them to.

When they arrived, windex and paper towels in hand, the door quickly locked-- deadbolt and doorframe. When they knocked, no one answered. Yet, obviously, someone had just run to the door to lock it! The neighbors yelled in "Lauren, it's just us! We're here to clean up our mess!"

After some presistance on my neighbors part, some asian bitch with short hair answered my door in a towel and wouldn't let them in. Wouldn't even open the door at first. She told them to go away, that she'd clean up. That she was a friend of Kelley's.

Kelley does not even have a key to my apartment.

Lauren left her keys with Kelley. Who then gave them to Amanda for god knows what reason. Amanda, the asian bitch with short hair, let herself into my apartment. Who knows for what reason or for how long. Fucking whore. I'm livid. Not only did she not clean when she left, she lied to Kelley (or I hope she lied, and that its not kelley doing the lying) about the way shit went down, and I feel kinda violated.

Clearly the amount of people in and out of my apartment, sans bitch, lends you to the notion that I'm really not super troubled by guests. I'm not. If you are welcome in my home and I gave you a key, and I happen to be in Hawaii, please let yourself in. If you don't have a key, you call and ask if you can come over while I'm gone, I'll put you in contact with someone who can let you in for whatever reason. Or I can say no. This stupid fucking slut of a human doesn't even know my last name and certainly doesn't even have my cell phone number to give me the courtesy of telling her hell the fuck no.

Hell, the person she said she was a friend of doesn't even have a key to my apartment! If you're breaking into my home and lying to my friends, please AT LEAST know who's key your using to break in! Being 4 degrees of separation away from me does not allow you into my personal spaces. Thanks.

She also didn't leave a note. You always leave a note!

"An administrator at George Mason University demanded $10,000 from a 17-year-old youth last summer in exchange for keeping the pair's videotaped sexual encounters secret from the teenager's parents, the boy testified in Fairfax County juvenile court yesterday... But when police started examining the tapes, they discovered six other people -- at least three of them juveniles -- having sex with Sinacore, prosecutors said." -- via Lauren, full article @ Washington Post.com.

Jesus.

I've only ever made one video, knowingly, and I have the only copy. This news totally makes me wonder what the hell else is out there. I was fucked up when I made my video with PennEx, but the likelihood that I was in intoxicated and in a situation where someone could have had an actual video camera is quite, quite high.

Afterall, there have been pictures taken without my permission or knowledge. There’s prolly a video somewhere. Whatever.

The rumor mill says that the boys’ sex with the dude was consensual, but lets be honest. He was between 50 and 55 when that shit was going down, they were 16-17, so I have sneaky little hunch that he paid them for services rendered… that said, what services could I have been rendering when I was too fucked up to see the blinking red light?

Scary thoughts. I was just being slutty, not whorey, but you still don’t want that shit floating around. How very, very Paris Hilton.

Speaking of scary, my night at JR's last Thursday could have gone better. Neighborsex was there, as were a bunch of his friends. Catty fucking faggots (read: his friends), those with less hair and more money than me, seem to think its acceptable to rag on a twentyone year old.

Jerks. I don't want to get into too many details, but there were negative references to me and Chris Robinson (Black Crows), shit talk about my my facial hair. Oh, yeah, and White Lion discussions specifically designed to exclude me. FUCK WHITE LION.

Put this on record: I don't care about White Lion. I missed Cyndi Lauper's Hey Day. I will not feel bad for never, ever owning vinyl. And its okay that I’m more Killers than Depeche Mode. Thank you.

*phew*

So, backhanded compliments being what they are, after neighborsex left (without saying goodbye no less), the boys stopped being catty and starting blatantly flirting with me.

Long Story Short: I got plastered and made them promise to be nicer the next time. They promised.

They made me feel like a person with social anxiety disorder, and I know that I’m not. What a yucky, unwelcoming air to hoist upon a newcomer.

Jerks. The lovely PennKim thinks that I should drag her kit and caboodle out with me the next time I have to face them, but I think I might have to do this one on my own, or with the help of another fag. We shall see!

Jung Explorer Test
Actualized type: ENTP
(who you are)

Its still snowing, and I'm slightly damp.

I didn't stick around too long at work today, 'cause my manager pissed me off pretty much as I walked through the door. Granted, I'm nicotine free and not drunk, so I'm a little irritable, but still, I was entitled to this pissiess.

I was the second person to get to work today, and I ended up with a section I don't particularly like, so I tried to change it. Reasonably fair, right? In first, seniority, a bunch of different reasons for it to be okay that I change the floor plan. The hostess didn't feel comfortable doing that, since she didn't actually make the seating chart herself, so she went and asked Ennis, the slovakian cock, for permission.

(The hostess had already put someone ahead of me in rotation, stupid bitch, but I digress...)

Anywho, the slovakian cock told her a resounding no, so I went to confront him. I, acting like Madonna when her publicist told her to give up acting, told him to give me one reason why not. He didn't have a reason, but still wouldn't change it. I called him a shitty manager, and told him I would speak to his manager. It wasn't a faboulous drink-throwing bitch-down, but it did make me feel better. I asked if I wanted to leave, and here I am.

Jerk.

Maybe I do have an attitude problem.

Its still snowing.

Coral, the oft-crass, bitchy, class-of-her-own anti-hero has surely begun to piss me off. I'm predisposed to really liking Coral, seeing as how she and I shared some Cheetos my sophomore year of college, but Fattie pride is being strained. Coral's been steppin' to my girl Ruthie. You don't come out swinging against my Ruthie, we have far too much in common.

As we all know, if there is on thing that you don't do while I'm around, its kick the drunk out of a game. And, seriously guys, you don't do it to a dominating drunk, like my girl Ruthie! Miss Ruthie, I can relate. I've been kicked out of games before-- those girls were just scared when they kicked me off the scrabble table, much as they were scared when they eliminated you. Tell me 'superboulous' isn't a word.

Bitches.

Triple word score.

Oh ya, speaking of bullshitting for extra points and sophomore year, Mason got hacked. As a former member of the GMU community, I'd like to take this time to formally say goodbye to my social security number and hello to spam. And, of course, a warm welcome to the person who decides to steal my credit. Please take care of a lil sumthin' sumthin' for yo'self you'll be happy you did.. pay that really old cox cable bill I've let sit for the past couple o' years... honestly, they're really persistant.

Thanks! And enjoy the 27% APR!

Where the fuck is Paris Hilton when I need her?

I could really use her black amex right about now. If I'm going to Hawaii, I need a few things: rock hard abs, a well furnished apartment to return home to (no one likes coming from paradise to la chateu de ghetto), and some new clothes.

Margaret Cho once upon a time ago revealed the true secret for perfect abs: sucking cock. The only way to get the perfect washboard is through repetitive waist-bending motions, something that I hadn't, until recently, been partaking in. Since my sex drive died out somewhere around the time of my crystal meth addiction, I assumed that it was the drugs and not the dick that caused me to disappear into a lithe, toned, concentration camp Ken look. The gym has taught me otherwise, showing me that I can have good arms and pecs without nose candy. I'm actually not allowed back at my gym, so theres no way to know if it would have eventually supplied me with the washboard I want. That said, I'm left with one option: the only way to discover which variable, dick or drugs, was at work for me two summers ago is to reestablish an active, healthy sex life for myself.

Logic's fucking fabulous.

That brings us to point two: My apartment. While mostly well furnished, the old girl could use some help in the bedroom. Long neglected from lack of use by more than a stumbly drunkard (read: me), I think its time to make it a saddle worth getting back into. Bookshelves, artwork, maybe even a bigger rug. An ottoman to be bent over.

If only I were 18 again... oh, the wistful days of having more than a passing resemblances to a high priced twink escort and the number of sexual suitors to match. Oh, the days of having boyfriends to just steal cothes from.

Alas, now I've some how become indie meets Bloomies, and I'm actually the person I would have stolen clothes from.

Okay, so Halo isn't at 14th and Mass, its at 14th and P.

Basically, the hip new spot that just opened Friday is seeable from my window. In fact, its only three doors down from me. Weird, right? I was really expecting it to be a straight bar, but apparently its far from it: totally 'mo. Its also really, really pretty with a wall-to-ceiling curve that makes it tunnelesque. The red and blue lights they use to illuminate the wall sets really nice fuckin' tone, and the frosted glass illuminated yellow for the bar area is gorgeous. It helps that the red and yellow used are my favorite colors.

Anywho, Sacha before coming over filled me up a sippy cup of Everclear and mixed it with a melted daquri that had been sitting in her fridge for about three days. I wasn't gonna be shy, so I drank the bitch.

Yummy Yummy. Drunk Drunk.

So, ya, after not being able to find the place when we went down to 14th and Mass we met up with Sacha's friend Sam at Playbill, got a cocktail, and the bar tender told us where to go. Had a nice time, caught up with Shaina, Sacha's friend. She was with her Michael... Sacha adn Shaina each have a Michael, though they both agree I'm the better one (giggle!). Okay, so Sacha thinks I'm the better, maybe Shania doesn't for sure, but Sacha DOES frequently yell at Other Michael the following: "Oh Yeah?! I've gotta Michael, too!"

She does this unprompted and loudly, as only she can get away with.

So, I was gonna go over to Sacha's friend Greggles, but ended up runnin' in to Lauren first. We ended up smokin' cigarettes and gabbin' and then just passin' the hell out.

So, this morning I was woken up oddly.

Lauren hears the door down stairs open, and then slam. She hears these loud *thud thud thuds* coming up the stairs, very assertively. Then she hears *pound pound pound* on the door. Of course she thinks I'm about to be arrested or evicted or some such, so she quickly throws on shorts and a shirt (we're naked a lot), and answers the door.

It's my Mom, who lives two hours from here. Weird.

Well, either way she asks if I'm here, and Lauren tells her yep, and then says that I'm in bed asleep, half naked, she's sure. Mom jokingly responds "Is he alone?" and heads for the door.

Pause.
Turns around.
"He is alone, right?"

So, ya, mom just dropped the hell on by, Dad in tow. They came to carnap my Blazer. After the homeless person took up residence in it, went through all of my things that I hadn't taken out, and stole my band aids, we knew it was time to go. Or it may have been after the gas was syphoned. Whichever. Either way, they came and took my car.
I was most certainly still a little drunk when my mom got me up, but either way, it was fantastic to see 'em just drop by. She even gave me money for clothes hangers.

Brunch today saw Lauren, Jenny Lee, Pam, Carter and I at Saint-Ex. Carter is the boy who works at Urban and has somehow just worked his way into my friendship circle by simply being wherever I am. Weird, I realize, but yeah, fun guy. The bartender even randomly poured us a couple of redheaded slus on the way out. That was after the car drove by and threw an egg out the window at us (we sat on Saint-Ex's patio). Who the fuck gets EGGED?! Us, apparently.

We did a little window shopping together and really had a fab fucking time. I really, really liked the group dynamic of us five. A LOT. I want more of that.

Anywho, had to clean up quickly for work while everyone else just gabbed in my living room, and then bounced off to my first day of actual server training at Perry's. I rode my bike this time, which made the commute a heckuvalot easier. 9 hours later, I'm about to bop into Dupont to go grab a beer with Pam and Lauren.

So, gotta go, but wanted to hammer this out before I ran outta time.

Sun-drained and deeply tanned is how I'm spending this third of july. Krista and Crystal came down the day before yesterday to visit, and we went over to Playbill for drinks and for karokee. When we arrived, there was this amazing singer doing her rendition of "The Greatest Love" by Whitney. She rocked the fucking house. The next few singers were no less stunning.

Who knew that they were from two musicals over at the Kennedy Center? "Beehive" and "Sheer Madness" have been playing for a little while each over there, and I guess the principals made their way to my little dive bar for fun and laughs.

Poor Crystal, the one member of the family who can really sing didn't even get a chance to show her chops, since the Karokee machine broke half way into the evening. The other half of the evening was filled with acapella-ness.

We left, somewhat appropriatly, on "Empty Chairs" from Les Mis.

We had finished off my big ass bottle of Vodka before going across the street, so when we got back and danced in my apartment for an hour, it allowed us some sobering-up time. It also allowed for some hardcore emotional bonding... over the words and music of Dar Williams. We hugged, cried, and remembered why we were so glad to have each other.

LOVE them.

After the hour or two back at the apartment, we hopped our way over to Apex and did some dancing. A cute boy in a hat danced with Crystal, and Krista and I just rocked our shit. It was one of those nights where I wasn't feeling dance shy at all, so I grabbed the girls by the hand and led them to the up-stage area, and the crowd cleared for us. Its a satisfying feeling to watch people watch you, and know that they are making desirous looks. It feels good, its fucking empowering, and it makes me want to shake my dance shyness altogether. If Krista and Crystal are the antidotes for it, maybe they should just be around more often... just a thought. 😉

Anyway, we came down to the country the next morning, ending up at my folks bright and early; we left at 8:45, and made it here by like 11ish, including the stop at McDonald's.

We drank lovely frozen drinks and swam in the pool all day long. I'm a red-tastic light-burned thats going to fade into a gorgeous tanned, which is more than I can say for Ms. Crystal, who missed spots all over herself with the suntan lotion, and thusly looks like a bizarre picasso. No big thing. Its just funny shit.

We had been up for so long, drunken no less, that as soon as 10:30 rolled around, we were crawling into the tent to pass out.

Oh, ya, with so many heads in the house, we just pitched a tent in the back yard and pretending to be pioneers. It somewhat matches another portion of the day's activities... we decided to put go trapsing through the swamps around here like we did when we were little.

Muddy and yucky. Totally my childhood.

Right, so yeah, at 10:30 we were crawling into the tent, and being the person I am, I went ahead and checked my phone for messages. I had a text message from Bville Boy. Bville is an old coworker of mine, and someone I once considered a really good friend. When I cleaned up my addictions, I ended up losing my friendship with him.

He and his then-boyfriend were Lauren's roommates in the Holmead House, and they really sorta scewed over the member's of that home. Lauren, of course, is living with me now, but the reason she moved into the apartment with Jess in the first place had a lot to do with having to move out of the Holmead House-- when half of your roomates, Bville and BVEx, aren't paying, you sorta have to get the hell out.

So, Bville Boy revealed to me that he was at court for his eviction proceedings, and during the trial or whatever, he had a heart attack. A real, honest to god heart attack. He's fine, from what I can tell, but having his heart stops eems to be what he needed to kick start his quitting. BVEx has decided not to kick the habit, nor has his BVille's best friend... and to my shock, the ex and the best friend (who is a lesbian) are living with someone new... Justin...

I've mentioned Justin here previously. I hold massive distrust for anything/anyone associated with that boy, and damn it, I'm honestly thrown through a loop. How do you trust someone who is tied to the person you most intimatly tie in your head to your abuse?

Bville Boy was crying on the phone with me, and he told me he missed me. I'm the only person he knows who's actually cleaned themselves up, and he wasn't sure if he should contact me or not. Kate told him to. She said I'd be a good person to talk to about this... Kate. More old ties.

He informed me he's living with his parents, and I told him to stay there. I told him that's the best place to be (his parents are apparently helping him a ton, being supportive, etc). I promised we could get coffee, and that we could talk about anything he wanted to. He was grateful. He asked me how I did it, how I quit-- he said it was so hard. How did I quit? Because I had to! Because my life was called into question, and I chose togo on living... and to him I swore, swore on my life, that it was worth it.

I want to call Kate and fact check. We'd spoken fairly recently, had a real chat, and I think she's on the path to "un-broken." Even when we were both broken toys, we still had an underlying bond. I feel like I can talk to her about whats going on without there being any pretense of sketch.

Justin also makes me so paranoid, so fucking sketchy, that when Bville told me that his ex and his old favorite lesbianwere living with Justin, I immediatly thought that this was a trick, or that Justin was trying to somehow "get" me.

A well placed call to Tara calmed my fears and squelched the paranoia, thank goodness. She provided me a superb Crazy Check, bringing me back to reality. She pointed out what I needed to have repeated, and reiterated the arms-length embrace philosophy that I was already thinking about.

I want to know so much more about whats going on in this situation. I'm curious how Bville, BVEx and Justin could have crossed paths to the point that they'd be living together. I want to know how much Kate is involved with Justin. Argh. Nothing I can do from here. I know I need to not think about it... just calm the fuck down and just tan more. A good tan solves so much. And besides, if I'm gonna see Bville I wanna have a tan, just 'cause I'm vain.

Speaking of vain, I did have steak and crabs today for dinner... I'm going to get soooo fat visiting my parents. Just thinking about these associations from my past make me feel obese. Isn't that awful? I wish Krista and Crystal didn't have to work on the Fourth and could just be here tomorrow, too. They left tonight to go back up to their respective states, and somehow I don't mind bein' a True Fatty when they're here...

No more Cosi for me. There were many straws on this camel's back, but a shitty tipper with a good personality did me in. I called her out on it, told my boss about it. The district manager informed me that while individuality was once celebrated at Cosi, we're now a publicly traded corporation, and it's now frowned upon.

Yellow belts and shitty tippers. No more Cosi for me.

I've put my feelers back out into the Universe to bring me happiness. There are jobs out there waiting, and lots of options to persue. I've started the process. I have a part time job already lined up at Varsity Books... I'd be working with Sacha, and it's totally a make-your-own-hours type deal, which is cooler than cool.

Ice cold.

So, with that in mind, it leaves me open to find a resturant where my personality can be celebrated. It looks like Perry's in Adam's Morgan is a very viable option. Kelly's good friend Felicia (who asked me to model last valentine's day in her fashion show at Junction, if you'll recall) has a roommate who is the assitant GM. Looks like that establishment is a lock for employment. The average entree option is like $15-20, so I should make out okay there. And the hours are clearly much better. There's something to be said for gettin' outta work at 11 instead of 1.

I'm not really too upset about it. I'll miss my place of employment, but I had to do what I had to do. The GM has promised me a sparkling reference, so its not like he's holding a grudge against me. Most of my friends have left Cosi, sans Lauren and Jenny Lee (who's part time), so I figure its on to greener pastures. I've been talking about leaving for a while... just unhappy with mismanagment and the overall corporate sentiment-- Kelly said it best: "You put the energy out there, now's the time for you to go."

She's right. You can't be a coffee-sandwhich relationship broker for ever. Going at least a little higher end can't hurt. And, getting into the Adam's Morgan bartender scene is a good local scene to get into. I've made segueys into it with the help of Kelly and her friends, nows my own shot. I didn't have any street cred with them working corporate, and now I will. Its funny, but its true.

So, here comes the next big adventure. Financially, I'm still okay, emotionally I'm still okay. Stability is a mindset, and it's not something I'm gonna let get fucked up 🙂

Nothing went according to plan yesterday. Instead of Sacha and I getting together for happy hour, we decided to go be healthy seperatly-- she playing tennis, me going to the gym. Ultimatly, the plan was to meet up afterwards. After getting out of the gym, I decided to swing by Cosi to go see everyone. In the midst of a stolen diet snapple and a cigarette, Jenny and her roomate arrive with bags in tow from Urban in Georgetown.

The roomate she went shopping with was, as fate would have it, the roomate I have a crush on.

Suuuuch a crush. Especially after what happened next.

Sacha still hadn't called me back from her tennis match, so I decided to walk Jenny and Alex home. As we approach Dupont Circle, Jenny notices a drumcircle, so we decide to go take a closer look.

The people in the circle are reciting poetry, singing, and banging drums... facinated, we discover that this here circle is the DC Guerrilla Poetry Insurgency-- poetry to protect the peace. Jenny, Alex, and I stop to have a listen, and at some point this disgusting personification of all that is backwater decides to get on the open mike. "Stop crying and grow some balls" may have been the statement that unlocked Alex's inner guerrilla, because after the oaf got off the mic, Alex went up and started flowing.

A stunningly fierce black girl took the second mic and started singing behind Alex's words.

And then a helicopter flew over, and between the sounds of the blades chopping, alex's perfectly synchopated verbage, the harmoninzing, and the drums keeping beat through it all, I swooned.

I walked them the rest of the way home, smoked, and stayed for dinner. Jenny cooked us pasta, Alex was excited to ride my bike, and I just enjoyed the company.

Eventually Jenny went to bed. Alex was sprawled out on his couch, and I was sprawled out on mine. Eventually we were holding hands. What followed leaves me to play the 'context' game in my head for a while...

This morning I told him I still thought he was great. He returned to sentiment.

But there was no kiss. How does this work?

Not a bad trip to New York, I gotta say.

Dan and I finished up our classes last Monday and hopped onto the bus and made our way up north to DC to meet up with Lauren and Jess. The original plan was to just crash there for the night and get up way early to catch the $30 round-trip chinatown bus, but as it turned out, there was a bus that left at like 3:30 in the morning. What'd we do? We caught that one.

Why not, you know? As the bus approached the other chinatown, the sounds of mandolins and gongs could be heard playing through the busses sound system. We were the only white folk on the bus, so lest I make some sort of offhandedly offensive comment, let me just say my asian brethen on the bus didn't seem like the blithely happy beats, nor did it seem to make them any happier than they made me.

We got off the bus and meandered through china town, making our way down to Chelsea. Do you have any fuckin' clue how hard it is to find a coffeehouse in china town? Once we all had caffeine coursing through our veins, we treked through the lands of lore: The Village.

At 9:30 in the morning we were in a 24/hour pleasure store purchasing a Fuckuko that the old lady on oxygen recommended. Well, clearly Dan and I didn't purchase it, Lauren and Jess did. They also had Pussy Whip in the flavors of Blackberry Brandy and Strawberry Wine. Both were in fact flammable. Seein' as how I don't have a pussy, I didn't bother purchasing any. I don't think I want to put anything that has the potential to catch on fire near my junx, thanks.

After we rode the subway for a bit, we ran into Jess's only family member in the city: her cousin. She's like 45 or so, and really cool. How random is it that we just ran into her on the metro? I was pretty impressed. Also on that ride there was this black couple, who were singing really, really well. Lauren swapped them a dollar for a photo, and they invited us to a free show at the Cafe Vivaldi.

So, after the stint on the sub, we arrived in Times Square, where Jackie's folks were staying. They were staying in the Iroquois, in a 3 room suite that was habitated by James Dean from 1950-1953. How deliriously swank. And cool. James Dean was probably fucking his tricks in the room I slept in... that’s so fuckin' bitchin'. Mmmm...

We actually ended up going to the show at the Cafe and hearing Chocolate Thai and Jubilee sing. They cafe had plenty of seating, as it was an 'unannounced' show, but there were still a number of heads present. Throughout the show, CT and Jubilee kept referring to us as their "DC Friends." It was really sweet. After the show, we walked around the borough we were in smoking a joint and gabbing. As it turns out, they are going to be on Sesame Street! I need to make sure I'm paying attention so that I can tape it. I would love to see someone I smoked with chillin' with Grover.

I kinda absent mindedly just left out Dan's friend at NYU, Adrian. I'm annoyed with her, and was annoyed with him about her. Long stories short: She was supposed to be out of her class and call at 2:00. We put ourselves in Union Square to meet her. She never called. Dan called, and she didn't answer. Dan apparently didn't make super solid plans, but never made that clear. Then Jackie wanted us to pick her up a handle of Jim Bean. No big deal-- we asked Adrian when the store stopped sellin' liquor, and she told us midnight. The show finished at 10:30, and we asked where we should go to get some, and then she said that they were already closed. I don't know if she's just super-self-absorbed or what, but I'd rather not believe she purposefully lied to my friends and I. She also didn't really say a helluva lot to my friends which pissed me off. I realized Dan hadn't seen her in ages, but I'd never treat his friends the way she treated mine, or at least not without apologizing to Dan for it later. No such apology came. It wasn't even the apology from him that I wanted, it was an awareness that maybe he is some how accountable for his friends actions.

Accountability is a big issue for Dan. Whenever something happens, its the worlds fault, or someone elses. He also is aimless and has no direct ambition. He's totally inactive in any decision making process regarding his own life. It grates on me so badly because I know what it feels like to be there, in that space. I was in that space not so very long ago, and being around it now feels almost like a step backwards. I've talked about it with him, and I'm optimistic, but darn it, shape up.

I talked to Mara about it, and she gave good advice-- stick it out. Be a responsible, mature person, and watch it wear off. I guess she's right. My annoyance with it and my readiness to drop him immediately for it is nothing more than my own self defense mechanism showing up... but it is a valid issue, and one worth paying attention to.

Anyway, back to New York, since I've gotten that tangent out of my system. Adrian neglected to tell us that getting into NYUs buildings required a Driver's License and a Driver's License only; Lauren only had her passport, and thusly couldn't be admitted into the dorms. Jess and Lauren were rightly pissed at this point. Afterall, Jackie, one of the sweetest (don't tell her I said that) girls in the world had let us stay at her folks suite in NYC, and all she requested was some liquor. She requested it of Jess, and because of Dan's friend's flightiness, we couldn't get it.

Jackie was on her way down from midtown on the subway when we discovered our inability to enter the dorms, so we waited outside for her. I told Dan to stay behind and play with his friend. When Jackie found us in Union Square, we bought beer and hopped back on the metro.

At the hotel, Lauren and Jess quickly fell asleep. Jackie and I drank a beer or two and then diddybopped into Time Square. We walked around in the neoday that only Vegas and Time Square can seem to replicate. We wandered, talked, bonded, and fell into the almost sensuous serenity of being nearly native. The city envelopes, controls, and somehow still stays in the background... We felt like we belonged. We shared months worth of emotion and unlocked the emotional toolchest and got to work on one another, listening, wandering, talking, and bonding some more. I love Jackie. We finished off a few more back at the hotel, never getting drunk, and just talked until the sun was nearly ready to come up. The next morning we got a hold in Jackie's Chin, bought a bowl, had cream of asparagus soup, tried on sunglasses, and caught a china town bus home.

When we got back in the car, I was expecting Dan to mention his friend's behavior. It never came. I grew annoyed with my own thoughts, and wanted to sort them out, so I had planned on going home. Dan could see that something was pissing me off, so he asked what it was. I expressed to him my concern with his lack of awareness and lack of accountability. The discussion was short-lived, however, because bad news came. The bust for Pot that had occurred had managed to get Dan kicked off campus, though he had no official wrong-doing. His lack of grounding annoyed me even more after I worked really hard to get his police report released. I pretended to be Joel Kelly, of Billingsly and Snead, while talking on the phone with one Margaret Jones, from the Police records office. I convinced her that I was a paralegal, and was helping Mr. Snead work on a case where time was of the essence. It took convincing, but she agreed to release the records so that Dan could have them for his appeal... which had to be turned in literally two days after he got the notice of eviction.

Anyway, all I had to do was fax Ms. Jones the info she requested, which Dan had. Dan should have been just about ready to go to his next class when I called him to get him to fax the information over... but guess what? Instead of following through with any of the shit he needed to get done, he went to the mall, while his friend Meg and I helped prepare his stuff. We were both annoyed. My annoyance lasted a solid couple of days, and I told him to just go back to Delaware if he's not bettering himself here. He's just so friggin young in so many ways. Kelly calls 'em Boy years. She says he's not even a child in boy years, that hes still a baby, and in many ways I think she's right. Ahh, dual influence... Mara has validity and so does Kelly. I think they're both right in the words they've spoken. I need to watch out that I'm not dippin' out on this kid because of my defenses, and also not taking more than I should, as per Kelly.

Speaking of Kelly, she invited me to a fund-raiser/house party on Saturday night that was bein' held by a bunch of greenpeace-ers. It was up in NW, so I drove up from Colonial Beach and picked up Dan along the way. We grabbed Jess from her Cosi and checked into what will (hopefully soon) be my Cosi so that I could say Hola to e'rybahdy. We got to the house party without too much effort, and wouldn't you know it, the party was fuckin' hoppin'. Two kegs were going, the dancefloor was bein' held up beat-to-beat by one of the dudes from Thievery Corporation, and the ghanga was waftin' all through the top floor. We had a smoke session and Jess, who no longer smokes, caught herself a lovely-lovely contact high. So lovely, in fact, that as we were walkin' out the window to the rooftop area, Jess almost took a second face-plant of the month... this time over the roof. Luckily balance was caught, but whoooo booy, was it funny/scary/ridiculous.

For the Greenpeace party, I decided to make a pair of jeans. Well, not make, so much as modify, but anyway, I had these jeans from Gap that I slit up the side nearly to my midthigh on each side and on the inner side, up to my knee. For Madonnarama last year they were safety-pinned together and made into a neuvo-prince kinda look. Loved 'em. For this event, I attacked an old garter set, and made different sized strips tapering from shorter strips to longer, and stitched them into the slits. Then I took my mom's curtain decorating rope and fashioned a belt that does this in the front: //\ And comes around into the back and cups my ass really tightly. The jeans turned out to be a smashing hit, they got talked about in a positive light on a couple of occasions. This, of course, stroked my vanity like no other, and made me grin from ear to ear.

I mentioned earlier that I pretended to be Joel Kelly, of Billingsly and Snead. Well, I got to tell Caroline that I was pretending to be her father’s paralegal (Snead, get it) the other day. She and I took Anabell for a walk that was only supposed to be around the block, but ended up taking about two hours. I guess we had a lot to talk about. Caroline’s lookin’ well, and feelin’ better, too, from what I understand. They just readjusted her thyroid medication, so we’ll see what that brings. I told her that I was trying the Atkins Diet (which I am, btw) for a while, and she was totally supportive. Until she showed me this three layer dessert she made. It was so rich that even the enviable appetite of the Snead Family couldn’t finish the dish in one sitting. She told me to chew it up and spit it out, it was that good. I did. It was.

Also from the vaults of Caroline… she had found this stray a few months ago that she named Jake. He was a good puppy, but Papa Snead wouldn’t let ‘er keep it. Anabell was enough fur in his house as-was, so she hunted around to find a new owner. One of her bookclub buddies stepped up to the plate, and the puppy shipped off to Caroline County. Well, the dog got loose from the new owner. Its fine, no worries, but one of the neighbors called the police on the cute little beagle for dog vagrancy. She had to go to court for it and everything.

So, there this girl is, in court, when they announce the Honorable Charles Snead presiding. Andrea, the new dog’s owner, thinks to herself for a minute: Caroline’s last name is Snead. Caroline’s Dad is a judge. She sees the judge, and he’s a large man. Caroline’s Father is a large man.

Can you believe it? The man who turned away the vagrant dog to begin with is now presiding over the case. Poor Andrea is so honest that she didn’t mention it at the time to him, but Papa Snead got rid of the charges anyway. So, when Caroline told her daddy what happened, he about lost it with laughter. “Why didn’t she say somethin’?” he bellowed with laughter. “I liiive for letting people go for no good reason. All she had to do was say ‘Your honor, Caroline Snead gave me this dog, and I’ve just recently been learnin’ how to take the proper care this vagrant dog needs.’ And I would have said, ‘Of course! This dog has a history of vagrancy, one that I am very familiar with! There are extenuating circumstances! Dismissed!” I don’t know if Papa Snead would use that many exclamations, but I imagine that he would, so we’re gonna let ‘em stay.

Tomorrow's going to be a busy day... I'll discover whether or not I get my job at Cosi back fo' rizzle, I get a massage by Kelly, and then I get to take her out to lunch. Following that, fingers crossed, I get to go to work.

By the way, Alanis cut her hair. Love it.
(photo lost to time)

I love my absent-mindedness. Really I do. Suzi's birthday is not this weekend, its next.

The Sigma Ball is this weekend. I'm taking Mai as my date, which is tres exciting. Its only $25 bucks a couple, so Mai and I are thinkin' about renting vintage late 60's outfits and doing it with real style. I want a really, really sharp suit, and mai wants a short dress. Think James Bond and Pussy Galore.

In Person.

Thats what we're going for. I'll slick my hair back, courtesy of Murphy's Hair Wax, and we'll drink funny colored drinks out of martini glasses we brought with us. Instead of bringing a flask, we'll bring 3... and just make Kamikazi's all evening in my shaker.

I think that sounds like an award-winning evening. So, I will actually get a little sleep this weekend, its next weekend I have to focus on.

Okay, be-ou be-ou.

I totally enjoyed my weekend.

Friday night, Dan, Nicki, Creech, Sara, and I went to the Jew Frat's party-- I ran into a friend of mine from freshman year, Ricky, who is actually now the roomate of Nicki's bastard ex boyfriend. The ex is named Tim. He's a douche. That's all I have to say about him.

I beat the party record for keg-standing, at 19 seconds. Not a personal best, but enough to leave with a smile. I also drank jungle juice for the very first time; I thought well of it. Yum!

Afterwards we went to Ike's Diner for foooood. Ike's is the new on campus late-night-till-4-am dive that takes meal plans. The line was insane, so we dipped after waiting nearly half an hour. On the walk, I casually threw-up, and kept walking. The group was a little surprised at how non-chalantly someone can just vomit and walk... Ahh well, the joys of stomach muscles.

Saturday I went into the city to play with Lauren and Jess at Apex (it was lesbian night!). Dan and Creech metro-d in, and we met up with Jackie, too. Sooo much fun. I smuggled a bottle of Jim Beam into the club... in my crotch. For the record, it was a handle of Jim, too. We hid the bottle in the bathroom at one point, and then just decided to leave it in jackie's purse. We took swigs of it every now and then in between dancing with trannies.

Okay, so maybe it was just Jackie and I dancing with the trannie, but she was like 50, and resembled a female snoopy. And she kept making eyes at me, so I decided to be awful. Booty-grinding She-Male Snoopy with your curly-haired partner in crime, while chugging a bottle of Crotch Beam, is a moment that can only happen at Apex.

Creech, Dan, and I went back to Jackies and partied more. Jackie and I were troops, finished off the handle, and taunted each other over a couple a' rounds of pool. A good time.

Jackie's trip to NY was post-poned until today, so as it turns out, I'm still gonna diddy-bop up. Jess, Lauren and I are catching the mornin' bus up to NY and meeting up with Jackie then. We're gonna come back Wednesday night, and I'm gonna head on home.

I haven't been home in forever, I'm lookin' forward to it. I'm hoping I can work on Friday before going down to Blacksburg on Saturday. What on earth is in Blacksburg, a mountain town nearly 5 hours from here? Suzanne Dove, who I'm going to tickle, hug, and inebriate for her 21st.

I'll need to leave for Blacksburg at like 7am to be there by noon, and then I'm gonna have to leave Sunday morning at like 10 to be back in the city in time for work on Sunday night. I'm lookin' at only getting a couple of hours of sleep this weekend 😛

Thats okay, busy's good.

As it turns out, Nikki, Dan's good friend, turns 21 on May 20. We're talking about having a combined party... Lord knows where we'll have it. I should talk to maybe Michelle, Suzanne, and JC. See if they'd throw me a 21st birthday party. Hmmm...

Who knows, who knows. Anywho, I gotta go write a paper before I get ready for New York. Yay!

(ramble)
Silly Stoner.

Got my blood test results back-- woo hoo! I'm so fresh and so clean-clean! I rewarded myself to a day of slackin on Monday 'cause of the good news. That seems like the most important thing to have happened, finding out that I'm disease free.

I feel a little like the stray cat that gets taken in to a nice home. I've gotten fat, healthy, and contented. What a lovely feeling.

Kylie and Dannii Minogue's new stuff, BT's Emotional Technology, Kevin Aviance's Give it Up, Fischerspooner's #1, Timo Maas's Music for the Maases 2. I figure now's as good a time as any tobe replinishing my CD collection. They all got jacked, and so I've not had music for a good while now-- and there was no need to get new music since the CD player in my truck was broken. Now I have one, so CDs I will buy. Its better that I don't have a tape deck or audio-in port on my car, since it means I have to go out and buy CDs again instead of just downloading 'em and throwin' 'em into a Rio Karma.

Eventually I'll nab one of those nifty Karmas, but until then, it means a slow purchace of CDs. I'd like to continue buyin' CDs every week, maybe like one or two a week. That way I'd be maintaining an active interest in listening instead of just being washed over by Pop like I was for a while.

It also means at outlet of spending money on things that are good for me. I need to treat myself to things more often, because I don't do a very good job of that. Pot here, a cappacino there, but rarely clothes or music. Sometimes I manage to save for an electronic, sometimes. I'd like to see myself blowing money away on something other than drugs, snacks, and other wastes of time. It's still blowin' through cash instead of saving it, but 3 small mochas is a cd, you know? I'd rather, as a person, be going for the music that the instant gratifications...

Alas, stoner updates.

One last thing: The McMason Underground Gossip Mill is faster than I had realized. I went to visit my old roomies and michelle yesterday, and you know what? They knew I had a "boyfriend." The message didn't get too distorted in this game of telephone, they're just a 'lil off. Kinda like bein' in the Enquirer, ya know? Gotta love it.

(/ramble)

(photo lost to time)
You're just the happy go-lucky type. You might have
your pet peeves, but other than that, you're
mainly calm. Blending in with your
surroundings, you're the type of person who
everyone likes. Usually it's you who cracks
jokes at social gatherings - after all,
laughter is the best medicine. Sometimes you
pretend to be stupid, but in all actuality, you
could be the next Einstein.


What Type of Soul Do You Have ?



I just woke up from a lovely late-day nap. I couldn't help myself, I was so zonked.

Yesterday was such a busy day that I'm honestly not surprised that I needed to just recharge my batteries... I got up, went to school, got my blood drawn, went to class, and then had a date.

I'm not sure what to say about any of the above in great detail, because its still to early to say on all of 'em 😉

I get the results back from my blood work next monday, the 23rd of February, and I hope to have another date with Dan before that. I had a really nice time-- he's funny and hot.

And a total fatty.

We'll see what develops.

I made a friend today in my Comm 301 class. She's quite spiffy, her name's Emily, and she said I reminded her of one of her friends.

Comm 301 is interpersonal communications, and today we were talking about the different roles we fill, as well what roles we look for our potential mates to fill. She and I had a wonderful time ex-bashing.

Well, I asked her to introduce me to the aforementioned friend, and we ended up walking right into him when we got outta class. His name's Dan, and he's cute. I think I've seen him around before, but I'm not super sure. He looked pleased enough to make my acquantance, but who knows.

Do I even like boys again? Again, who knows.

I know that I think this boy in my Comm 380 class is worth a second look. He's a smarty who dresses well and I like that his responses in class always make me think a little. Via note-sending (how 8th grade am I?) with my friend Lauren, we've decided that its a 50/50 shot if he's gay or not. We've made and held eye contact a few times, but nothing more. I thought he winked, but lord knows, it could have been something in his eye.

Thats my luck.

"Attraction is the aggressive, sensual moment, independent of drama, that attacks or shocks the spectator into an awareness or emotion." -- Sergei Eisenstein

Word.

Today was a lot of fun. I got to go to work today, which I honestly was really excited about. I started training at Friday's in Fredericksburg, and Pam, the shift leader, is doing the training. I LOVE Pam! Becky used to call her Momma Friday's, and its soooo true. She's really the only person workin' in the front of the house from when I was originally employed there.

However, as of today, thats no longer completely true. They fired the GM that was there when I went in last week for sexual harrassment, and brought in a new one today. His name is Jay, and he was the FOH manager when I started at Friday's. Weird, huh? So, thats two more GMs in my tenure there, for a total of five. Crazy.

I also got my hair cut today, and I'm tickled with the results, as I got a Central Park discount which brought my grand total to only a 7.95. Its the best haircut I've had in ages, too.

On the way home it was sleeting and gross, but I made it all the way into Colonial Beach before trouble arose. Only in Colonial Beach do people stop in the middle of the street and gab from truck to truck. I'm not sure what sort of inbred mentality they have that in the middle of a fucking ice storm its a good idea to stop and chat, but it landed me in a ditch. In what was surely an act of charity, they proceeded to roll up there windows and drive away as I got out of my Blazer. Bastards.

Before I could hate humanity entirely after this, the guy who's yard I landed in came out and helped me dig my truck out of the ditch, and his neighbor brought over a bright flashlight so that we could find something to attach the tow cable to-- the guy had a 4x4 and pulled me outta the ditch. No damage to me or to my vehicle.

They've not announced yet whether or not I'll have class tomorrow, but I reckon not. Eitehr way, I'm getting up at 8am to find out; I wanna be in Fairfax fairly early tomorrow if I have to go at all.

Krista and I gabbed a bit today, and we've decided she's coming down Valentine's Day weekend, and we're going to have a "Down With Love" party, complete with 60's theme. She convinced me into the theme, but it lets me go get the pair of cute-cute Chanel glasses I wanted.

Yay!

Some interesting news today:

Adderol/Ritalin, Study Drugs? Clearly.

Cheney's Allowed to Make Judges Partial.

So we send him to try to con the pope.

And finally, some good news: Virginia Introduces Bill to Open Liquor Stores on Sunday! Yay!

Alright Kids, lets strap in.

The first day of Mike's 2 hour each-way commute begins today... and you know what? I couldn't be more thrilled. I'm so excited that classes are starting. Its been such a hard road with so many different deceptions and failures and what not, that this semester I know for a fact that I will recieve at least a 3.4 gpa.

Hold me to it.

Here is a copy of my schedule, a tough looking 12 credits though it may be. At the end of this semester I will have finished my concentration in Media Criticism!!! w00t.

Voice and Articulation:
Comm 210-001 Mon-Wed 1:30-2:45 Thom 112 00707
Interpersonal Communication Theory:
Comm 301-002 Mon-Wed 3:00-4:15 Thom 211 00723
Media Criticism:
Comm 380-001 Wednesday 4:30- 7:10 Krug 204 00779
Cable TV:
Comm 399-005 Wednesday 7:20-10:00 Thom 121 00784

Le sigh.

Well, I'm putting in a retroactive withdrawl for this past semester's fuckups. I certainly have enough proof to show I had outstanding circumstances all semester, so I will prolly get it. The dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, my new subcollege, decided to return to me my schedule that the system ate, and told me to just go to the classes and explained what happens.

The retroactive withdrawl should be a good thing. I went on a blind date last night with a boy named Chris. Chris goes to Hamden Sydney, an all boy's school, and came with fairly high recomendations from one of my high school team mates.

So, I meet him at Friday's, and of course I'm 20 minutes late. And, of course, he's drunk. Not so much there, buddy. The muthafucker deserved a merit badge for his fucking crackscout troop. So, I gave him the cold shoulder and made friends with the table next to us. When he got up to use the restroom, the guy at said table leans over and goes:

"Whadya think?"
"I think he's a douche."
"No kidding. If he hadn't gotten up, I would have said something."

Now the time come for us to do something else, and he wants to take my car. My response is fairly simple: I don't have room. He got the hint. He leaves, and I end up chatting with the guy at the table, Sean. Sean goes by the name Newman, and dates the manager Sabrina. Pam, who has been at friday's even before I came and went, comes over and gabs, keeping us company. Well, then walks in a guy named Dominick. Dom is hot. Hot, Hot. Nice... and funny.

Fuck.

He has a boyfriend.

I couldn't maintain eyecontact with this boy. I didn't want to talk for to long, I almost felt nervous! I really try to be good around people who are taken, but I have a hard time with my Ps and Qs when I'm sober, and a helluva lot harder time when I'm drunk. So what else, knowing I have to be good, would they do except invite me to Merriman's? You know Merriman's-- Fredericksburg's very own gay bar.

Not that I'm sayin' I would have bagged him or anything, lemmie just say, but it was neat to get those butterflies. Either way, Merriman's was incredibly dead, so I bounce on home.

It gets to be about 3am-ish and I'm on the computer, and my friend Dave is a bit upset. His new boyfriend and He broke up earlier in the day, and I felt bad for him. I knew he needed an ear, so I turned around and drove the 45 minutes back into fredericksburg to meet him at Denny's around 4.

Dave and I have a fairly neat history. I met him at in a hot tub, both of us fucked up, naked. We chatted, realized we went to the same school, and clearly, since we were both naked at the same party, had mutual friends. Dave's body really kinda "does" it for me... he's a beautiful person, and I mean that through and through.

Initially, he knew Jimmy, who took Dave in when Dave was younger. We call Jimmy Ma Harper, and he kinda keeps watch over all of us, for what I generally feel is a benevolent reason. Dave has differing views on Jimmy a bit, but he still calls Jimmy "Dad" and Jimmy still calls Dave "Son"-- Lets just say sociopaths exist everywhere. And the drugs can bring out sociopaths, which is scary. Dave is mistrustful of Jimmy, and tina users.

That said, I recently kicked my own tina habit. The fact that I know Jimmy and the fact that I used made Dave really nervous about me, and those nerves turned into an accusation right before New Year's. We had managed to spend a lot of really good time getting to know each other on an intimate basis at thi point, but on the last day we were together, he got a lil weird. I kinda just decided to chalk it up to the "whatever" category, since I know full well that I have a boy who's personality and looks I really like, and he also happens to really like me. His name is Jarret, and he couldn't be more wonderful. Not a lick better!

Oh, but the flaw.

Its a wonder to me how much I dig a guy who legitmatly understands me. I reckon there are very few sensitive guys out there, and Jarret is definatly one of them. He likes me to explain my emotions and my darkness, and he listens intently. But, I also realize that he doesn't grasp a lot of it the minute I throw it out; not because he's slow, just because we've had different life experiences. I'm just weird.

Jarret and I have a lot of roads left to walk down, and who knows, he may be a boy I see in a monogamous, serious capacity. I think about him in that role a lot, and I know he does for me as well... heck, we've been on-off since august.

But, we were discussing Dave. Weird as I may be, I was happy for Dave when he said he was in a relationship with a new boy, even though it hadn't been that long since we last went out. I can understand it though, since Jarret and I could up an item, and I'd have been the one that seemed to suddenly be "committed."

I had assumed the boy would have to be better than me, or more ready to commit, or something, so I figured he clearly was a good guy. I was excited and happy for Dave. Pissy, true, but also very happy.

They lasted 16 days, and the dude was an Alcholic. The capital "A" is for asshole. I discovered all of this at Denny's chatting, and I think it went until around 6am. I come back from the bathroom, and Dave's sorta making a face, so I ask what he's thinkin'. He was tryin' to figure out weither to ask me home or not, and how to do so without there being some sort of subtext. He was trying to be nice, and you know what? Krista and I are gonna have to stop calling him by the nickname "Crazy."

Krista:"Talk to Crazy lately?"
Me:"Nah, Crazy's been writing too much poetry about the drugs I did to talk on the phone."

We're not nice. But, I guess the good behavior from earlier that day kicked in again, cause we cuddled and stuff, and didn't hook up or anything. We just snuggled, and it was very nice. He's a good snuggler.

So, ya, we managed to watch moviesall today and it was the perfect way to spend the day-- I feigned that i ran errands to those that would have cared, but really, it was a movie day. Dave and I stayed on the couch, under the covers, and practically in our pajamas for "Roger & Me", "Close Encounters of the Third Kind", and "The Lost Boys." I barely watch one movie every three months, so I'm setting a high benchmark early on in 2003.

Lots of other personal though, but I'm tired. I'll remember to talk about the fact that I've decided not to move back to DC for a good long while. But, sleep now.

Chapter Heading
by Hemingway

For we have thought the longer thoughts
And gone the shorter way.
And we have danced to devil's tunes
Shivering home to pray;
To serve one master in the night,
Another in the day.


Amazing, it still fits...

Before, it was about the pressing feelings one conjurs when they are embarking on a decision. Intellectual intercourse and the idea of entertaining a new voice; Was I to accept the request for rekindling of relationship fires, fires I never extinguised internally, from the only boy I, at the time, had ever loved with all my heart? The one that I had loved infinitly, but also the one that had done a complete emotional whitewalling and had repeated a vicious cycle of leaving and regretting? I had trusted this boy on countless occasions with my trust, and this new voice was whispering "drive to him." Something inside me knew that "him" wasn't the boy who wanted to rekindle.

The poem, for me, had a lot to do with correct decisions and the fear associated with the haze of indecision. It was a battle of inner bravery yet exterior cowardice....Which voice do I obey? The idea of even going to see this new boy was a betrayl... but it was also *right*, and you cannot betray those who let it happen to themselves.

Drive, Drive, Drive Away.

this boy who was my best friend... I wanted to go listen to him talk for hours. I had cell phone bills that clearly showed I was practicing. I wanted to drive the hours it took to visit him, just so I could lay next to him, knowing that at some point in the night he would scoop me up and twist me into a pretzel, hugging me as tightly as he could. I wanted to feel it in every chakra of my body that I was wanted and loved.

I've never known more than when I was seventeen, and there I was eighteen. I could have made the decision so much more properly had I been forced to six months sooner.

I heard this poem in my head the first time I made the drive home.

I felt like I was doing such wrong. I couldn't help but drive to see him every second I got. To stay for as many weekends as possible. To envelope him the way he enveloped me. I can still smell his presence when I close my eyes, a phantom of pheremones that I wish more often than not to forget. But the voice was right. I needed to make that drive.

That poem is so different now. Its bigger, meaner. It's begun to embody a gorgeous, worldly woman with all natural hair-care products and a biodegratable poly-cotton blend power suit. She is the the corporate gaia, red tape incarnate. And, this poem comes to mind every time I'm forced to reflect on one of her assaults.

I was so much stronger and smarter. I wanted to be so much "more." But, now that more seems like so much less.

Frankly, things felt different the first time I thought about this poem. One emotion and one person had the potential to fill the world so much darkness... this vast, loud darkness-- and I thought I had somehow bested it.

Its different now, I said, some how flipped inside-out. The logo seems to be on the inside.

Before, it was one emotion affecting the world, now its the world affecting one person.

I wonder I'll ever flip it right-side-out? I think my eyes have readjusted to the very loud dark. I know that black bleeds with just a little water and I realize now that that's the only color corporate gaia paints in.

I don't get a sense of accomplishment from helping very rich people get very richer anymore. I can strike out on my own right now and start at some shmuck corporation... I know I can. But muthafucker, I know I won't be happy being a corporate tool, and I don't mean to be a sqwaking cliche.

I think that my ambition has changed. I'm so much more driven to being happy, as opposed to my happiness driving me to my ambition. I think my goal sets are very different, and I kinda fear that. I wanna be happy with making 24,000 a year and doing really engaging things. I don't know right now whats going to fulfil me at 45 because I don't know whats fulfilling me right now.

I don't know if anything is.

God, to be 17. I've gained perspective in the past couple of years. Frankly, though, I think I liked it better from over there. I can still remember the smell created by lovers body against me, but I can't taste ambition. Yet I can feel my powers rageing beneath the surface, ready to be used for something... Not love, not work, but what?

"It must be stretched before it is to shrink" -- Lao Tsu.

Grumble, Grumble.

I spent the morning lying in bed until about 2. I also stayed up reading until about 5, so I feel absolutely fan-fucking-tastic about my decision. Normally when I'm in low spirits, I like to stay in bed alllllllll day long, occasionally getting up for sorbet or dulce de leche.

Today, I was in high spirits everytime I woke up, yet I still curled my toes around the slightly indian-themed comforter and tucked myself back in for a nap. Every single time. And it happened like 4 times.

But, anyway, I got up at 2 and spent the afternoon helping my dad out at his shop, runnning cars back and forth from fredericksburg for 'em. No big deal at all, really.

Nothing, in fact, to grumble at. Ohhh, but there's more. I got an academic warning my freshman year that carried over to the first semester of my sophmore year. When you are a freshman and get a warning, it is also a probation, simply 'cause of how its set up. Well, now it looks like I've royalled screwed myself, because I got a warning this semester. That combo warning-probation has managed to land me my first Academic Suspension. Argh!

There seems to be an override I can request. But, that means I really, really have to get on the ball! I guess things could be worse, cause they're not really so bad.

I did find the override info, and I called ATT today and found out where the hell the phone they were supposed to be sending me was. Its in transit. In (you may laugh now) Chantilly. I'm gonna just let them deliver it to the Dirty House, and I'll go back and get it later. I think thats the best thing for me, cause I truly don't feel like dealing with the drive to Chantilly again, or anything involved in that area. It seems I'm going to be making a cameo at Mason to hand in my override... now I just have to figure out what the fuck I do to turn it in. If there is anything to turn in at all.... Yes Virginia, I can be a fuck up.

I think its gonna have to be hard 'cause I need to *want* it after I've gotten it, ya know? But, in an effort to clear my head, I've been taking online quizzes.

Quick! Learn!

Evil Quiz: You're totally evil. When you wake up in the morning and look in the mirror you say, 'I'm gonna be evil today!' You know you're evil and you love it.

(photo lost to time)
What Type of Lunatic are You?

(photo lost to time)
(photo lost to time)
Which Dysfunctional Care Bear Are You?

(photo lost to time)
Your soul is bound to the Burning Rose: The Rapture.

"I go where my heart beckons me, and I go
with my head high. But sometimes, I get a need until I bleed so my heart swims above my head.

The Burning Rose is associated with passion, intensity, and desire. It is governed by the god Eros and its sign is The Flame, or Physical Love.

As a Burning Rose, you can get lost in the moment if you let yourself. You are a very physical person, be it in relationships, work, or play. You may be driven by your hormones sometimes, but you know it's because you have to follow your instinct.

What Rose Is Your Soul Bound To?



Lots of quizzes! I needed a little self involved time, and I feel much better! Oh, for the record, I also would have rolled a "Gay Bear" and a "Tramp Bear" on the one quiz, should I have changed just one answer in the last question. Same with the first question. There were two answers I *really* liked in both, and changing them at all gave me 4 distinctly different bears.

Though, really, I suppose Tramp Bear and Gay Bear go hand in hand. As do Stoner Bear and Raver Bear. Whatever.

Today I moved out of the Dirty House for good. Mara and Krista left at around 3:45am to get Mara to the airport, and I decided against tagging along. It would have been silly for Ristika to come all the way back to my house from balitmore to drop me off and then diddy bop back up past balitmore again on her way home to Jersey... it would have been silly just so I could say goodbye at the same time.

I'm a mushy boy insofar as that I cried when my ladies left. Not bawling or anything, but definatly streams down the cheeks. How big of a geek am I? I couldn't help it, I had such an amazing time this week.

Krista and I came down to the Dirty House, then proceeded down to my folks for a financial pick-me-up as well as to retrieve my car. Of course my car didn't bother to start when we got there (dead battery), so we just hopped in the Krista Mobile and returned back up the Fairfax. I reckon its a good thing we took her car anyway, 'cause its so much easier to parallel park than my Big. Red. Boat.

On our first night out in the city, Krista and I went to Cosi (you'll see that as a developing pattern) for dinner and to celebrate the arrival of my bag of Holiday Greens. We ran into my friend Nuvia, and she was on the prowl for Santa's Good Stuff, too, so we drove around until she saw a dealer on the corner that she knew. Krista and she bonded over the pains of ugly puerto ricans, and we all rolled a festive blunt and walked through Dupont smoking. I couldn't have felt more Gang-Star.

On Christmas Eve Eve I called my friend Markie and we went to his place to hang out. He lives up by the convention center, on 10th and M, and so we ended up taking our Chariot (the G2 Bus) into Dupont after we pregamed with an entire bottle of our friend Jim Bean. Lawdy. Needless to say, the bus ride was particularly drunktastic, as was running into Mark's ex Brandon, who I had met previously. I had actually met Brandon on my own and realized his relationship to Markie via the powers of the Triumvarate. Poor ol' Brandon didn't realize that we have some sort of freak ability to triangulate people on the greater eastern seaboard... he couldn't have known that his exboyfriend's best friend is a SuperTwin.

Anyway, we decide that we're going to go to Cobalt after we find out that Apex is closed for the night (who closes on Tuesday? Ew), and we proceed to get in the middle of the herd. A drunk Maneuver was going to have to be performed to get Ristika, myself, and Markie into the venue... but at the last minute the maneuver had to be aborted as one of us got caught. Defeated, we headed for Cosi....

As luck would have it, Mark noticed a door slightly ajar. Printed on a small sheet of paper taped to the door is "Employee Entrance Only", and we realize its to Cobalt. Without much hesitation or delibaration, we're sneaking in the door and shimmying up the fire escape. As we arrive at the final door into our RetroNight, Mark tells us the game plan: sprint to the center of the club as fast as you can. Stay in the crowd. We may as well have synchronized our watches.

Oh yes, we danced to Step By Step and "The Last Song." No need to even question whether we got in or not! Speaking of synchronizing, I got to synchronize my hips with a cute boy's on the dancefloor... I'll never know his name, but doesn't that just make it better? I was on my way to the bar with Krista and Markie, and the boy pulls me over to him, allowing my cabal to venture further forward. About 20 feet ahead now, Markie looks back and stops Krista... "We've lost one."

It didn't last long. The sheer combined force of the three of us that night was probably too much for most mortal men to stand, 'cause Markie and I shortly discarded him back into the pile of boys.

On our way out, however, Krista broke the heel on her leather boots, and proceeded to throw 'em into the Trash and walk 10 blocks back to Mark's in her bare feet. Atta-Girl! I was soooo proud of my gurl! Anyone FRC enuff to throw their Leather Boots out and highstep their ass golden style through dupont gets props. We earned our Denny's Breakfast at 5am.

The next day Krista and I are preparing to get my Supertwin, Mara, from the airport when we notice that the car is overheating. We had to make the executive decesion to have her come in via the train to Union Station, as we returned home to take my cousin Tabby (tabitha called Tuhbabitha much to her chagrin) vehicle into the city.

Tuhbabitha and Charese came down for new years, and I could talk about it at length, but there is no need to. Tabby was ragging and bleeding through and bein' ultra-snotty. Charese is just so young. Bleh. I can't fuss too much, cause Tabby let us take her car into the city to wait for Mara, who, the poor thing, had a delayed flight as well as less than perfect flight companions.

I want so badly to go into stories or yarns and talk about Mara, but I don't really know how-- she's my supertwin, so knowing my reaction means you prolly know her reaction. Something you Replace that begins with an "H"? What would you put down? In the last game of scattergories we played, we both had "Helium Tank." Thats the best way I can put it. I love her with all my heart.

So, that said, we shopped around at Union Station for a while for her, but then grew tired of the wait and bopped over to Le Cosi to grab a sandwhich. I grabbed one for Miss Mara, too... I had to. I'm a fatty... I know the only thing that fixes these sorts of delays is food, so I had to get her one, I just had to. But I was left with a condumdrum: what the hell type of sandwhich does mara prefer? The only thing worse thing worse than me not bringing a sandwhich would be me bringing a yucky sandwhich. I had to get it right.

Turkey. Its gotta be turkey. You can't go wrong with turkey and cheddar. Who doesn't like turkey and cheddar? To not like it would simply be UnAmerican.

I think she liked it =)

Anyway, New Years was spent in Silver Spring at one of my friend Jackie's friends house... I didn't really know 'em at all, but by the end of the night, we were the definition of "the life of the party." They practically took notes and fought over who got to tell the story of our family. Huge house, Jewish Dentist Dad. Nuff Said.

So, Crababitha bitched at the party. She bitched in teh city. If bitches were hammers, she'd have had a folk hit. She and Charese disappeared from whence they came the day after they came down.. really, it was less than a 24 hour visit.

Clearly I'm upset. Clearly.

So broken up that we actually made it out *again*, and we went to two different college night events, one at Platinum, the other at Apex (Gaypex). At Platinum I saw a cute boy talking to Mara, and apparently the conversation started as such:

Dude: Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?
Mara: No, I don't really dance like this! I'm just having fun!
Dude: Thats not what I wanted to ask you.

It turns out he was asking about me =) The only fags in the place found the other one. They wouldn't come up and dance, though, they said it was better to admire from afar. "admire"
Whatever.

I love dancing with my cousins. It makes me so happy. They're goofball chowderheads and I love it. Love Love Love it. I am so blessed that I get to share blood with my best friends... you can't choose family, but I wouldn't choose anyone else.

Anyway, the next few days were spent bonding... we made it to the hirshorn (the hub of all things is awesome), to the cosi, and around scott circle and dupot circle countless times. We ate at the GhettoStarChineseWok... In fact, we ate just about everywhere. Cause we ate a lot. A lot a lot. Mara made alfredo. Brownies. Krista made Jello. We made 10 mile long trips for ice cream. In fact, though we failed at our attempts to get ice cream a couple of times, we really did make like 3 efforts for 3 different varieties. Gosh we ate.


But, eventually it had to be done....and my girls left today.

I don't even wanna talk about it, 'cause then I'll start missin' them again. I also don't want to talk anymore about the food we ate, 'cause then I'll be haungry again.

Mm...haungry...

Oh! About the move: I left sooo much shit behind at the Dirty House... my poor fuckin slumlords. If they didn't suck so badly, I sure would be upset about leaving them with all that junk 😉

So Krista and I left The Dirty House II, also known as my former townhouse in fairfax. I arrived home to absolutely no clean dishes... yikes. My roomates are so creepy and scary at times I want to just leave all of my things there and never have to go back to the house. My one roomate, Chris, was tryin' to sleep with all the potential applicants from roomates.com... this lead to us not being able to fill the initial vacancy in the house.

I caught him in a lie after I had spent like 2 months out of the house, and all of his other lies unraveled. Including how 'hard' he was looking for the new roomate. I personally threw him out.

We proceeded to fill the next vacancy with someone who has so few social skills, and who is so creepy, that it makes *me* uncomfortable to talk to him for more than .2 seconds. I don't even like "Hi"'s.

My neighbor once told me that I could talk the legs off an iron stove, so don't doubt my ability to gab. Yah. He's that fucking weird.

So, two months have passed since Initial Creepy Scary (Chris) was thrown out. He proceeded to sneak into the house while everyone was asleep and then leave before everone was awake so that he could sleep on our couch.

Cause, yeah, his girlfriend was our landlords daughter. I'm sure she was thrilled to learn what her then boyfriend was doing... I can't feel bad about any of it. If you're a Creepy Scary, I'm callin' ya out.

Which is what I had to do the other day to Secondary Creepy Scary (Mark). I told him that I did not like speaking with him, and that in the future we should make a point to do it as little as possible. It was as he was trying to ask me to find him pot. Idiot.

So, yeah ICS's girlfriend's parents wouldn't pay to fix a damn thing after all of this went down, and JC and I got stuck trying to fix all this shit.

SCS proceeded to not clean a damn dish he dirtied after our conversation. I should know better diplomacy, I realize, but if your a CS, you're a CS. Its the only defense I have, but those fuckers need to live elsewhere. And since they won't, I will.

Oh, and about the guy I threw out? He didn't give his key back, and for a week before Xmas

Only 4 more days 'till I'm done for good with the Dirty House II.

Then, it should only be a month before I'm into my new condo or townhouse... one potential I've actually dubbed 'the Sushi Spot'... better title than Dirty House, right?

This is a link to exterior...

And here is the interior or the building it shares.

We'll see.

The family, meaning mom and dad, woke me up around 9 in the morning... those poor souls. I was so cranky this morning, and retardedly moody. Its so funny, 'cause by and large my moodiness is unnoticable. To those that have seen the force-of-nature that it can be though, they'd laugh at the very insinuation that I'm anything less than volitle.

They also, I hope, would agree that they are the closest people to me, and the fact that they see Hurricane Mike at all is a testament. But whatever. I'm a pineapple.

My friend lauren came up with the notion that we should make Fruit ID Cards for all of the queers at Cosi South, just in case anyone questioned that we were fruits. I would be a pineapple; sweet to the taste, bright, vibrantly yellow... kinda cute, but definatly spiny to the touch sometimes. Also terribly acidic, but you never quite notice how acidc cause of the sweet.

Sweet Sweet Sweet.

But, yeah, it was definatly a spiney day... My poor folks, they had to deal with my unidentifiable ire when speaking with me. I apologized profusely, telling them that I know that I'm not the most pleasent person in the world right now, and they understood. Its just really hard to explain why I was crying at christmas.

Frankly, for someone who has been dubbed beligerently chipper, I've done a fabulous job of being a little raincloud on christmas. I didn't ruin christmas for anyone though, I self-medicated myself via sleep all the way up from my folks' to Jersey. Can't be a crab all day =P

I knew I had to let something inside myself play with these emotions, cause I wasn't winning. I just kept thinking that I never got around to giving either Trev or Emily their presents from last christmas, and now neither of them would ever get a gift from me again. Gawd, how fucking melodramatic.

*crab pinch pinch*

Trev's not dead of course, but to a boy who's clearly being a nutball, thats hard to explain. Blasted ex-boyfriends... I was thinking about him that I fell sound asleep in the back of the car for the 4 1/2 hour drive, and when mom woke me up ('cause we were getting close) I was positively chipper. Grinning from ear to ear as a matter of fact =)

Yay! Declawed!

I'm sure as hell glad I was grinning when I got here, too, cause I love my family. I hadn't been in rare form with them in a while... I missed the family reunion, then I dropped off the face of the earth for those couple of months... and I still wasn't 100% at thanksgiving. I feel a lot closer to it, moreso than I have since Em kicked, and that makes me feel great. My cousins and I have these fucking barrel laugh sessions that I have with few others. Those consistant, big, huge moments of connection that make it hard to breath from laughing.

That bein' said, I'm all the more excited cause the whole Bailey Crew is a'comin' to DC for new years. My girl Kelly has these friends who are renting out the top of a club in Adams Morgan, Bossa, and we're going. Krista, Charese, Tabby, Aric, Aric's Girlie Girl Tara, and maybe if I can find a way, Mara.

But, thats a pipedream. I haven't even talked to her about it... but gahdamn gahdamn, wouldn't that be some fun shit?