Well damn. You silly sons of bitches. How did ya'll miss Taint? Its not that far a drive-- and I worked my shit. You guys shoulda, too! Phoenix, Alex, and Mike Cooper did. Flordia, New Jeresy, Boston, Virginia? You all missed out. Just sayin'.

I'm spellbound by both Grey's Anatomy and Desparate Housewives. The former for its very real portrayal of how relationships go down (as I remember), and the latter for the sheer candytainment. Well written, engrossing. I'm on edge for each new episode. Markie was right, we are at the new coming of television.

This was a banner week for bruises in the land of Mike. I mentioned the twin extra long, and I guess I should have referenced its girth, too. Sore Mikey. Then, on Tuesday, I was jumping a fence to get to Columbia Plaza (go have a look, and see that big highway thingie? thats got a fence)... well, it had just started raining, and my foot slipped. As I was launching myself. I fell and flew about four-ish feet and also busted my ass on the pavement. I also hit a spokey-spoke.

Black and blue, strawberried, poked more than once and bleeding, I was a tore up fatty. I was crampy, bloody, as well as mostly jovial in re: to the whole matter. Lets be honest, kiddies, its a good story. When I was finally able to climb stairs like a normal human being, I awoke with a gunky eye. Apparently, three months of one contact set will do that to you.

I'm all healed now, my vision is fine (though the glasses are natch), and I can behave like a normal member of society. I, like any well trained mutt, have righted most wrongs and maybe even fixed the root source of all these problems.

Lack o' Lube? Uncheck. Fence Jumping? Uncheck. Permacontactcs? Uncheck. Pavlov, of course, had a bell. I have pain and suffering.

On the bright side, I'm really cute in my glasses.

I'm sure it'll come as no surprise, but I've been fired from many a job. If I were a professional bag go-througher, I'd more than likely get terminated for something like this.

Trite sonofabitch.

Jesus, who let me go on about the past five years? Really? I sounded like some sort of Tracey Gold meets Ghost World Afterschool Special. "Quick! Hide the exacto-- he's a cutter!"

Jeeze. Work somehow managed to mumbo-mojo me back into good spirits-- one part tobacco and one part good company. Libations later signed and sealed my happiness, as I ended up at the Hunt after work with Chris, Smokey, and JD. Anita was working for some reason, and Lauren wasn't, so things were a little old school. Totally weird to be there with Anita slinging cocktails-- she hasn't done that in forever. Lauren was actually who took Anita's place last year as Miss Anita became a MF9to5er. It was like summer of last year all over again.

Fall down drunkardness ensued, so thats why I'm referencing yesteryear. Don't worry, I'm not gonna get all Afterschooly again. Anita and I stayed at the Hunt for a bit after hours, and that put me in a position to meet a tall cute AU boy, who just happens to be named Mike.

Word up, hey. It's been well over a year since I had a sleep over at an AU dorm, and the idea of a twin bed sounds like it would be almost as fun as coalwalking, but for a hot boy you do whatcha gotta do. If we end up seeing more of this boy, we're gonna have to call him M2.

Anyway, for good faith in my noncuttery, here are some adorable ass baby penguins being screened through security before their flight.

(photo lost to time)

Yesterday was Nill's birthday. Kind souls that Nills and Lee are, they invited the 14th Street Christian Youth Association (read: Caitlin, Ashley, Jeremy, and I) over for Tapas. In true fourteenth street fashion we arrive noticably late for a guest list that only plus-one'd one more-- Miss Maria. Thankfully, fatties need not be worried, the food was just coming off the stove as we arrived. Hearts of Palms, Cajun Shrimp, Meatballs, Melon and Prucheutta, Asparagus, Potatoes, stuffed mushrooms... Jesus, it was fatkid paradise.

UH. Total food porn.

The libations flowed, and when we all had gotten good 'n tipsy, the dancing and shakin' moved into a homoeroticism that even I couldn't have expected. The problem? All the straight boys were busy with each other. Isn't that always the way?

Yes, ya'll, I can't help but feel like there is more HoYaY going on between my my heterobuds than between any of my homo ones. Go figs. Its prevelant enough that there is a pattern!

After watching many gender combos bust a move, Caitlin and I made our way down to the black cat for indypop dancing and beer drinkin' fun. I believe us to have had a lovely good time, met some nice folks and pretention was at a minimum. It was superduper nice having a Saturday off!

Making efforts to be dirtier than Anna Nicole at the generous geriatrics nursing home, the Mid City Market directly below me has been indundated by something a little unpleasent. Something a little gross. Hell, lets just come out with it: I've shit on the market. Yes, kiddies, the minute you give me running water again, I go and break the pipes. The kitchen of the fishies store is now filled with floaters of a different kind.

The plumber came on an emergency call at like 5 in the afternoon this past Wednesday and I was just getting ready for my wednesday shift at the 'prov. He comes in, decides there ain't much he can do, and goes along his way. Friday morning, my property manager woke me up by coming into the apartment with three plumbers. My boxer clad ass, sexy at any given minute, was up and moving with out an ounce of frazzle. The good mood and sexy legs, not fear and reprimands, may have been what I remember for that first forty-five seconds, cause I somehow managed to put the bong and weed away the night before. Heck, the property manager even said he like what I'd done with the walls (painting was a bit of a no-no).

And, also luckily, there weren't any strange boys in my bed and there certainly weren't any lesbians on my couch. Pretty much the cleanest and emptiest you'll find my house, all things being even. There wasn't even a straight boy in the bar!

The folks had their 23rd Wedding anniversery last night; it doesn't get more romantic than the first day of spring, ya'll. They're coming into the District this evening to hang out and have dinner and I'm really very excited, not having seen them in a few months and all. They should be here around 7:30, which means I am gonna miss happy hour on my only day off. I'll manage.

Puja is going to be returning my cell phone to me tonight after I go to dinner with the family. She's had it since February 26th-ish, so I'm really, really excited to have it back. I can't believe I went nearly a month without it, without killing myself.

I've spent most of my time with the improv kids, the neighbors, or the neighbors and the improv kids together, so its made the lack of phone calls much more tolerable. I know what its like to just go a knockin' on my friend's doors now. Its like the olden days!

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!

I'm a darkly tanned, happy fatty.

I'm so happy. So internally fulfilled, free, and amazing. I have so much to share... the islands were amazing... disjointed memories, making love, and toes in the sand. Sea turtles, waves, whales, Geo Trackers, and memories. So many memories. And a man who took my heart very quickly. His name first Name's John, middle name Henry. He's a steel driving man, and if only I were making that up.

I'm in love with so many things. I can't wait to project my joy on the rest of the world. So much more later. I have to find my keys. I'm home again-- finding my keys is a real adventure after all this time.

And for now, a good old fashioned stalking:

"From:
Subject: hiya
Date: Sat Mar 12, 2005 01:34 PM

i see you in Whole Foods all the time, you're very cute.

and you have cool clothes 🙂

how are you?"

Not such a bad note to find in your box when you arrive home. I do have cool clothes.

Inbetwixt the haze of smoke and the yummy manjo fruit salad, Puja and I spent a whole day catching up, gabbing, and basically giggling at one another. Hell, we even made that fruit salad. And went to dinner. HUGE dinner. God it was good.

Good, good stuff.

Puja told me that I need to leave the opening of ethnic fruits to her. She's wise, that one.

For all creeps, romantics, shyguys and shiesters, Craigslist and the City Paper offers an outlet for every missed chance with the random hotfolk and facinating. The "I Saw You's" are printed in the Washington City Paper every week, and Lauren and I used to read them religiously. Lately, as the printed word is slowly dying to me, I've been reading the craigslist version more religiously.

For the first time, I'm a Missed Connection!"

Word!

I'm gonna respond and see what happens, 'check yes or no' so to speak.

February 22nd came and went without any real problems, and all is right with the world. Kinda like if the only potsmokin quaker, Smokey, I knew came into work with a bag full of granola and a copy of Gandhi in each hand. Oh. Wait. She did.

Ugh. I woke up at 8:30 this morning, after having gone to bed at midnight.

Since the skitrip I've been waking up early for a variety of reasons, but on my day off I shouldn't have been wide awake so fucking early. Does this mean I'm going to be trapped on a too-early sleep cycle for a few days? Boo on that.

I've got some good news. The woman responsible for the sherry enema is pleading not guilty to manslaughter. Thank goodness! Atta girl! I was worried for her well being, the mans been addicted to enemas since he was a child. Heck, he even had recipes-- the man was legitimatly a mixologist for the ass.

Who can't respect that? Who? Who!



Lad-da dee la da da.

Today is laundry day here in the land of Mike, so I have to find something rewearable and not heinous to do laundry in. But first, I need to shimmy up the fire escape and get clean. Why up the fire escape? I haven't had hot running water in nearly a month and a half.

The UN says that running water is a basic human necessity, so basically, I live in Apartment Rwanda right now. I've had to go to Uganda (re: Cait, Ash, Jer's) to hygienate my self. Yum! At least I've been able to call my living room Gitarama in good jest.

The light at the end of the tunnel (or more appurtenant, the water at the end of my pipe) is that the plumber will be here on Tuesday at 9am. I'm so fucking thrilled. I may actually be able to have a normal, clean, bath again. Honestly, the water pressure in the tub wasn't a damn thing worth writing home about in the first place, so now that I'm getting all new pipes, I really am looking forward to my new Bath-Time Barbie abilities. Yay!

I'm sore, banged, and bruised. But I'm happy.

No, I'm not sleeping with anyone on a regular basis: tanning has made me feel like its summer! Its amazing! I'm amazing! It really is time to herald the return of SummerDrunk!

Thursday didn't see me making it to all-you-can-drink-a-rama at JR's; instead I opted for the safety of straight men, and went to the improv to hang out with the boys. I can’t seem to escape the trap of ending up in bumfuck whenever I go out and play with them– the time it was Chris's in Alexandria. I woke up pretty much still baked. Shocking. I made it back to the District in time to party at Lee and Nill's with Ashley.

I was apparently more trashed at the party than I can recall myself (not blackout drunk, just feeling spectacular enough that I had no idea that I was tipping over my beer repeatedly for the sake of stories). I love shots, I really do, and at a point they stopped giving me real shots, switching them with water. It took me a few (3) to realize this fact, at which point I asked for another. Even I know that water is a good idea!

I was horizontal on my couch with my feet still on the floor when I awoke the next morning. There was no Ashley in sight, meaning she made it home safely. Attagir! last thing I remember from Friday night was the vane efforts at watching Alias. Sadly, we were both entirely too trashed to comprehend a whole episode. We must of start and restarted three times.

Umm, ya, it took a lot to get me to work on Saturday, seein’ as how I was still drunk when I woke up. It definatly required Lauren and I getting coffee... I love it when the coffee guy sees me at 4:30, blurry eyed and less than bushy tailed. He gives me my coffee for free! Hee! Anywho, when I got off work, I made it over to Shacha's for a lovely little party. It was already two, but that didn't stop Chris and I from goin' over there and having an absolutely fun time. Or so I think we had. Cause, uh, yeah... I got plastared at Sacha's.

I was drunk enough that I had to call around to find my keys on Sunday morning. I couldn't for the life of me figure out where I had left them. Apparently I put them in the sink, and Chris moved them for me. He knew exactly where they were...

My Drunky McSherlock powers of deduction tells me that Chris knowing where my keys are also means Chris had to put me to bed. Uh oh. This complicates things just a smidge-- on Sunday a friend of ours informed me that I may have "weirded" Chris out. Hee!

It damn well could have been anything. I am just as likely to have fallen asleep with my head in his lap as I am to have tried to make out with him. Either one of those could weird someone out, and either one is as likely as the other to have occured. He hasn't brought it up, and I'm gonna just let my own curiousity on the matter subside, and maybe just forget about it. Maybe. I am awful bruised up and my eye looks like I may very well have been punched– but that could have come from a domestic disturbance with my stairs.

I can’t wait to find out what really happened. There is nothing better than true gossip about yourself that you don't know.

So, anyway, like everyone else in America, I was doin the Super Bowl thing on Sunday. Drinks aplenty, but moderation, too. I clearly had been excessive for days and pace finally started to matter again.

I began my Super Day over at Caitlin, Ashley, and Jeremy's place, but I eventually had to make my way out to Glover Park for Bill's big shindig. Tons of people tons of fud, ya know? Bill’s all the way out in Glover Park, so it makes it a little tricky to get home, 'specially when I don't like waitin' around for the bus. I managed, with the aid of the lovely and wonderful Lil Miss Smokey.

Anywho, after my lovely ride home, I go to play more with Lauren, and she had Kelly in tow. Yay for snuggle buddies! Just snuggle buddies for a little while, though, cause this boy had to go to bed and get up eaaaarly on Monday.

This boy had the catch the Open Bar bus to Pennsylvania at 8 AM. Bailey's took the Improv skiing at White Tail providing us with the yummy open bar bus, ski rentals, lift rentals, a meal, and even booze in the lodge. Fred (Standsinsauce Movetocleveland), Bill, Chris, and I spent all day playing together. We provided the bowl hits on the side of a mountain, the good music, and the great comradery... It really was amazing, we had a wonderful time. See, ya’ll? Booze gives back!

I made it home early enough to go to Showtunes at JRs with Eric and his friends Kaari and Matt. Such a lovelier bunch of people than that one group I went with a couple of Thursdays ago. I practiced pace all day, and managed to not hurt myself or anyone else all day. Kaari and I even got a high score at one of those pushbutton-y games you place at Bars.

So, now after this remarkably long tally of events, lets discuss the damage done:

Ankle: Twisted.
Knee: Cut
Right Eye: Bruised
Right Cheek: Cut
Back: Scratched
Right Wrist: Scratched
Thighs: Sore

Damage from Skiing: 1
Damage from Drinking: 6

I'll let you guess which is from what.

Now that Julia Child has kicked, we can let the sherry flow free for merriment! Oh, sure, sherry's fun to cook with and its definatly fun to drink; I even hear you can get really fucked up off of sherry if you try hard enough. But what happens when you're an ulcer ridden alcoholic who can no longer swallow? Do you give up the sauce? Or find another means? I have less than fond memories of bootybumping intoxicants, but certainly you can't do that with sherry... can you?


LAKE JACKSON, Texas (AP) — A woman has been indicted on negligent homicide charges for allegedly giving her husband a sherry enema that killed him. -- via Canoe


Is it gross that I wanna know how much she gave 'em? Don't worry ya'll, I'll stick with my Coors Light in a pint glass.

What, with Martha's new Apprentice spinoff more than likely going to be done in shackles, her anal swallowing South Park gig, and the mental images of beerdouching myself to death, I'm now afraid to go into my own kitchen.

"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!

Some 28 year old college chica just got 18 months probation for selling faux Duff beer. She was forced to reimburse the purchasers, to the tune of nearly 2k. I wonder what beer she used to fake it? I guess it doesn't matter, aside from the 18 months, they're makin' the bitch see a shrink. I still think its a good idea-- whatever.

In real beer news, apparently Coors Light and Molson are thinking about merging. Don't fret, you didn't miss the memo, both are still lame. I mean, think of the list of beers that you get with this new SuperBrew company? Molson Canadian, Coors Light, Carling, Keystone, Aspen Edge, Zima, Rickard's and Kaiser... would you honestly wanna order any of those? Ugh, bring me a Chimay!

Coors, Miller Lite, Zimas... they all kinda fall into the same category in my mind, watery and cheap. Little Miss Smokey said it best: "I drink Miller Lite when I'm actually thirsty and at the bar. Its not like I'd order it if I ever wanted a beer." Word. It is drunk water as far as I'm concerned, but if I'm ever near an avalanchable area, I'm gonna be sure to bring plenty of one of the new SuperBrews. It could save my life-- over somewhere in Europe (where is the Slovakian Cock from, anyway? Czech Slovakia? Ugh, I'm dumb) a man drank 60 beers and pissed his way out of an avalanche that covered his car. Apparently he drank and pissed so much his liver and kidneys hurt.

Buddy, I know your pain. Hmmm, how can I work this into casual discourse? I gotta go melt the snow?

I woke up just now very upset... I had a very vivid dream that I forced myself out of.

The dream starts in an apartment, and someone in that apartment is telling me how truly talented people are always crazy. He then began discussing a woman who could speak french, and then about this same woman's painting, and how it wasn't even what she was most amazing at. I can't remember (now) what she was supposedly best at. In the dream, I recognized the art work as my neighbor's, Caitlin's. We're a little older in the dream. Some things had changed.

I identify the art to the man as Caitlins, and return to working on my own painting. Caitlin is there now. It begins to rain, and the paintings begin to become wet, both caitlin's and I's. Shes there, and faces appear in the paintings that are getting rained on. Its beautiful, unintentional, and lovely.

The dream itself feels like complete reality. There is something going on across the way, in the dream, that requires caitlin and I's attention. I immediatly fear the worst, that something's happened to ashley. I think, in the dream, that she's dead. We run to where the ambulances are. Dream Caitlin is very worried, too.

We get there, things are fine, and the homes that have the emergency are rows of trailers, not unlike the trailer parks I recall from my youth. Caitlin chats up the firefighter, I chat up the other, nothings wrong. I realize I can't remember anything from Real Now to Dream Present Day (the dream, again, is in the future).

The dream goes on, I don't remember now for how long, and I'm now with Caitlin's mom. We're having an intimate time together, the three of us, I think over dinner. I confess that I may need a shrink. I also admit that I don't remember the past four months or so. Not a thing.

I ask them to tell me what happened, what had transpired in the time that I'd lost.

Her mom worries that it will upset me greatly. She, in the dream, is very close to me apparently.

I ask what happened, what I was missing.

They agree it might be time to tell me.

Caitlin hesitantly tells me that a very close friend betrays me. I am told I have nothing to worry about anymore. She tells me it happens on Feburary 22nd. I, in the dream, think thats Mark's birthday. She doesn't confirm or deny anything. She relates that I fell off crystal wagon, hard, and that I'm lucky to be alive. She also tells me that I don't have anything to worry about anymore. I ask if its what I fear, and she says yes. I think that means (in the dream) that I'm HIV +. I, in the dream, get upset, and she tells me that I am just plain lucky to be alive. It is implied that the betrayal and the HIV are related, I believe.

I realize, in the dream, that this can't be real. That I can't have lost THAT much time. I force myself to wake up, and I do.

I go to the kitchen, now in real life, and its flooding. At some point I left the kitchen sink on, or I slept walk and did it.

Weird, right?

Do I start fearing Feb 22?

I had a really busy day today, I bounced from work to home, to 12th and Penn (to pick up a package), to 13th and U (to get ready for hawaii), back to home, to the gym, to home, to Jenny Lee's (15th and U) to Chi-Cha (Carter's going away party), and couldn't quite make it to Staccato's for indie rock and roll karaokee for the children (tsunami relief) to catch up with the improvers.

Phew.

Anyway, on my way home, after spending time with Alex, his new boyfriend, and Jenny Lee I decided to come home, rub one out, and leave a message on Craigslist under men seeking men. Its a laundry list of the thing I want in a man. We'll see if anything comes of it, won't we?

Bring it on, 2005... the motto? "I've got feet, sweep me off them."

The Year of Love, indeed.

So, today was eventful for no good reason. I spent the day before yesterday with Dave Atell and random drunkeness-- can't complain, after all the man has a TV show. I certainly don't. That bein' said, tonight was a drunken revelry of a great magnatude...

Especially because Mel and I spent the end of the evening hauling trashcans full of bathroom water. Yeah, the bathrooms flooded and we got stuck with carrying the trashcans full of shitwater to the main sink in which we could safely dump them.

Fun times.

I made out with Lee, my straight good friend, on a sort of dare/"I'll make out with her if you make out with him" type deal. I won't mock it because Lee and I both now think that the other is an excellent kisser, and thats dope. Because he is. And so am I. And we have no reason to lie.

So, yeah, last night actually was Caitlin, Jeremy (the neighbors), and Lee's joint birthday party, and we had a drunken revelry. For a last minute shindig, the turnout was fairly nice, and we had a good time. I got to make out with a straight good friend of mine who could kiss well, and I got to go to work today and play with Dave. Dave's super fun, and a huge ol' drunk. Word.

That all said, it's now kinda sunday morning style and I'm going to smoke a bowl and watch adult swim. I can't compain. I'm glad Jordan sent me home with a bowl pack. And these are the days of my life.

Republicans! Be on notice!

I'm a pedestrian, I walk places. You... you in your boots and cowboy hats, black ties and long scarves, you evil motherfuckers... this is my town, and you are a guest! Again, I repeat, you are a guest!

You fucks. I realize that where you come from its okay to wear your self-importance on your sleeve, you have more cows than people. But! But! If one more of your goddamned limos, stretch hummers, or fancy-shmancy cabs are in my way when I try to walk across the crosswalk, I will beat the living pulp out of your car. And run. Quickly.

"Crosswalk," bitches.

I know the alleys, you don't. You will not catch me, and your car will be in a state befitting your soul. Dented and mangled. You can show your disrespect and deign for the common man, thats fine, but I need not civility in my disobedience.

Be on notice!

And, think of it as payback for the 17 mil we're shilling out for you to hit our pedestrians while wearing your cowboy hats and tropywives.

92% of your neighbors want you gone.

How 'bout that.

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.

I couldn't walk down 14th Street this weekend without walking into a large, scary looking leather daddy, a slave sans ballgag, or a horrified tourist. Good Times. Yeah, the Mid Atlantic Leather Conference was in town, and I actually went on the "Meet the Meat" bar crawl this past friday. I knew that I could have gotten myself into real trouble, seein’ as how I dressed up like a gay 70’s teensploitation movie character. I was all sorts of varsity football jersey, shaggy hair, and rope handcuffs. Lets not forget the belt buckle in the back that Caitlin decided was just straight up “pornographic.”

Bitch was right, and I was hot.

Miss Meg came with me dressed in a sequened scoopy bra and leather pants. She looked hot as fucking hell, and honestly, the girl's body is ridiculous. I couldn't have asked for a better drinking buddy, seein' as how the minute we go to the Washington Plaza the straight bartenders were buying us rounds. We made one hell of a pair, tricked out football player and awry cheerleader.

We stayed at the Plaza long enough to get macked on by older gentle men, but no one of note decided I was the hotness, so we moved on. My fragile little ego needed to be stroked (yes, ego, not that) so we hit the Green Lantern and Titan, too. Lantern was excellent, and I made out with a boy for fun. Figures, he was the only one there who was clearly not there for the leather scene. He had gotten lost on his way from JRs, I imagine. Poor cute, tallboy.

I’m lame enough that the fact that his name was also the title of a Newbery award winning book made me want to make out with him even more. I suppose if I was going for the self-referential grade school sex look, a Newbury winner would be perfect.

Alas, bad kissers sometimes have great names, so it was back home and back to Yums for detox and rehashing. Meg made her way to the bathroom to relieve herself of a cocktail or two, and managed to sleep for a short bit on the bathroom floor. Yikes. I passed out somewhere between the Tivo and the radiator, with a jug of water next to me. I found it in the morning, but couldn’t find my voice. I reckon that’s why the slaves didn’t have ball gags, one night out, and even this loudmouth couldn’t talk the next morning.

One of the hot things about last night is that there were quite a few pictures taken of Meg and I, so somewhere someone is ogling us in posterity. Hot.

God love ya, Paris. You finally get to partake in one of the greatest, vainest thrills a gay young man can discover: calling out your own name in bed. Getting nailed hard has never been so fun and meta.

Honestly, though, isn't this a lil dangerous for the universe? I fear for the trapped souls that are bound to be tied up in the whooshing sound of Paris gettin' drilled.

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.

electroclash is love
brought to you by the isLove Generator

Its true! How did it know?!

Thats about all the lovin' I'm gettin' though. No gym membership, no romantic prospects. Thank god I have good friends, otherwise I'd be lonely. Miraculously, I'm not. Not even a little.

Word.

I'm actually about to run out the door to Halo, which is at 14th and Mass, just down the street. I just got in from my first day at Perry's in Adam's Morgan. It has a webside somewhere, I'll find it and post a link.

I've been a busy boy all around, lots of adventures with Miss Pam (like an adventure to the Lesbian Club Phase-- where every dyke sans 10% looked like John Goodman) and just frankly lots of runnin' around.

Theres the door bell!

I went to bed at like midnight last night and didn't get up until 10:50. Thats so much more sleep than I needed... I prefer it when my body is just happy with 8 hours. More sleep is better than no sleep today, 'cause I'm goin in to set up my schedule at Perry's today with Devon, the night time manager. I had hoped that when I finally rose from bed this mornin' there would be a message from 'em tellin' me what time to come in, but alas, there was not. So now I'm just gonna call-- saves me some effort, and gets me to the gym a little sooner (no waitin' around).

I didn't go to the gym yesterday, I instead went walkin'. Pam and I went from Dupont to Chinatown and went out to eat at this really yummy spot. I'd share the name, but I haven't a clue what it is. Thank goodness for chinese friends. They order for you.

Pam: Do you eat weird stuff? Like, would you eat an ear?
Mike: I'm from the country, would you eat scapple?
Pam: Word.

So, we fooded it up and then went to Wok n' Roll (hehehe!) to get Bubble Tea, which is a yummy-yummy bevarage served on ice that has large tapioca balls at the bottom (like the size of marbles).

Pam: It's good, and besides, you love it when balls shoot in your mouth.

She didn't fib, it was good. I had a lil problem with the ear, and only the ear, 'cause when you bit it, it made the sound as when I got my cartlidge pierced. As funny as it is, if I coulda gotten past the *crunch*crunch* I woulda been fine, 'cause it tasted good. I think I just need another go at it.

We walked from china town back down to my house, which really sets up a positive theme for Pam and I: walkin'. We were both elated to discover that the other was a walker-- I love just high steppin' through town, and so does she. Last night she and I walked from Dupont to Adam's Morgan and then came back down to L'orial Plaza for margaritas and pantains. The plaintains were horrrrrrrid (what we get for stoppin' by late at night), but the margaritas were tasty treats.

Hopefully with the start of this new employment stage, I'm gonna actually have the oppertunity to do a 'lil shoppin' when I'm in Chinatown, or order an actual entree instead of an appetizer at the Plaza. I should call them now.

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...

There are few things I'm sure about, but one of them is certainly that nothing makes a boy feel better about leavin' his job than getting his dick sucked. Oh, hell, thats a blatant lie. I'm pretty sure I'm far to confident about far to many things, but yeah, the dick sucking == better moods equation is definatly one of them.

Either way, I finally gave my apartment a decent begining christening yesterday afternoon. I hope that ending up on the rug was Bike Messanger Boy's subtle sense of humor-- I have shag. Not a bad trick, he's no Alex, but he is exceptionally good looking. I guess Jenny Lee put me in the mood for a mohawk, what with her recent facination with them.

If Lauren hadn't come home while I was putting on my shirt and BMB was walking down the stairs with his bike (what a shifty mid-shifter!) I'd prolly feel even better about it. As it stands, its the sexual equivalent to Yum's at 4am-- it does the trick, but you don't feel great about it in the morning.

Whatever... a mid-city mid-shift dick suck is barely shady; afterall, I was on his route!

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 🙂

I'm getting some random kid from online to come help me put the air conditioner I just got off craigslist in my window. It was free, so even if it won't fit, I can't complain, all it cost me was a little gas.

It weighs like a bajillion pounds, so as I was moving it from my car to here, I had one of the guys who hang out around my apartment help me lift and carry it up. Its so funny, to know the majority of the street people by name (or title). When I went back down to teh car to turn off the hazzards, I ran into my upstairs next-door neighbor. Her name is Caitlin, she's 21, and just moved outta foggy bottom. Good for her! The more people out of GWULand, the better. Unless its Mara for law school. But, then, I expect she can get into Georgetown.

So, that said, now some random boy is coming over to help me lift this damn air conditioner into a window, so that the house is nice and cool before Puuuuuja gets here. She may bring Donovoan, too, which is exciting. I love that boy! (Donovan is Cherese's boyfriend, Cherese is Puja's old roommate who became ashley's roomate)

I used to have to use Kate to keep track of all of my acquantances, because I totally couldn't do it. I simply knew too many people. I don't think of how many people I know in my casual day-to-day life until I'm reminded. Jenny Lee was asking me how I ended up at some party or something, and I told her facetiously "I know a lot of people."

Her response? "Yah, thats what I keep hearing."

Apparently thats one of the ways people describe me. Nifty. A shame I'm not more popular 😉

Sacha's in Cleveland right now, playin' with her folks, but when she gets back, we're gonna have to discuss when we're leaving for Tampa. There was an ad in the newspaper to "drive my car" to tampa, and so Sacha and I of course answered it. Now this has led to me taking the days neccesary off from work, and us packin' up and headin' down to the sunny state.

Sacha and I both need the tan time, so it'll be time well spent.
Go Florida!

So, this boy that I had met at work a few weeks ago called me today. Long story short, he mistook me for a jew, but got my number anyway. Anywho, he called me last night, outta the blue. I figure I'll call him this afternoon, maybe set up a date for Monday. 🙂 Yay!

I've also managed to get a crush on my co-worker's roomate. He works at Result's (the gym), and he sings, dances, acts, and is in general funny. He makes me swoon, but thats almost intimidating. Though I think he finds me cute, I don't know how to ask him out on a date. I didn't get his number the last time the three of us went out. I'm gonna make a point of gettin' it before tampa, I guess.

Its not bad to set goals.

So, so busy.

Lets see, what happened in the past month?

I got the apartment I wanted so badly. I live at 14th and P... I'm officially Mid-City Mike. So much has happened in the past month, its fairly daunting to decide what it is I should share.


We'll list them.

School gets hectic, so does work, so does moving. My gym-goin' slacks off.

School ends. It will be my last semester at George Mason, as I plan to transfer to the University of the District of Columbia. UDC.

The conversion van I used to move my stuff from Colonial Beach to here had a bad transmission requiring (and resulting in) some slow moving.

Pauline returns to California.

Robyn got married.

Tara moves to New York.

Dan and I put things to an end. We are too different.

I got a bike, which leads to funny drunken bike rides.

Got a boot on the ol' blazer, to the tune of $700.

Mark got a purple-flavor.

My bag (containing my wallet, keys, work clothes, Lauren's ipod, and probably someone's soul) got stolen.

Jarret and I scaled my fire escape, and in the midst of a fairly hot moment later on in that evening, the police decided to scale my fire escape, too. There's something creepy about the police looking into your room.

The neighbors, one a city planner, both under twenty nine, bought me a bottle of wine in apology for callin' the police on me.

Sacha's friend recognizes me at work. Calls her on the phone. We talk, and return to one another's life.

Phoenix and I actively speak more, returning in a friendly capacity to one another's life. He has a fantastic boy in, of all places, harrisburg.

Krista came down, went home when I didn't answer my phone (the night my bag was stolen), realized her err and came back down.

Paid to have new keys cut by a locksmith for my car. $200.

Krista and I have a fan-fucking-tastic couple of days runnin' the city for all its worth. We never make it to Haine's Point.

Jackie, Sacha and I reunite for two-day party. As it should be.

My wallet arrive in my parent's mail. The $120 that was in it is not there any longer, but my ID is. I no longer have to relive my pre-21 adventures. Also attached are my keys, negating the $200 spent on keys.

Lauren and Jess come to an end. Lauren comes to stay with me.

My CD player is stolen out of my car.

The people who sent me my wallet (the Washington Metro Area Lost and Found) do not have lauren's ipod, my bag, or anything that would have been with my wallet.

My savings have been thorougly drained.

Sacha finds in the newspaper an ad to drive some man's car to Tampa on the 25th of June. Will pay return air fare home. Blocks begin to be put into place for a spur of the moment to trip to Tampa.

My apartment is still fabulous.

I developed a fake crush on Jenny Lee's roomate, Alex (he's cute!).

Jenny Lee, Alex, and I go dancing. I develop a not-so-fake crush on Alex. He can discuss Oprah's effects on middle america. Applicable pop culture? Swoon.

Saw "De-Lovely" with Sacha. I'm imagining a vauge obsession with Cole Porter rising from this viewing for both Sacha and I.

I'm going back to the gym today.

Today has been a day of reflection unlike any I've had in recent memory. We celebrated Easter with the typical trappings of baskets and fake green grass that has been the tradition for every year I've been alive.

A lot of time has passed since 1996. Krista, Aric, Aunt Karin, Uncle Mark, Mom, Dad and I were reminded of it as we watched old movies of bygone holidays. We've grown up so much, we're so different, we're a million other cliches, but we're also very human; and thus, we're susceptible to a million more.

I taped over a part of Easter '97, which took place in Ohio, at some point. I'm an asshole. How was one episode of a stupid soap opera more important than my family's history? I guess I wanted to replace those years so badly that I not only removed the entries from my mind, I was cavalier about erasing them on tape, too. I didn't even think about who's feelings and memories it could hurt.

Such an asshole.

No grudges were held for my indiscretion with a tape. So little fear of retribution from my kin, in fact, that Krista was trusted with putting a hole in my body. A second cartilage piercing to match hers. Krista did it with a needle and an orange... my first new piercing since Trev, Matt, and I went and got my nipple pierced in July or August of 2001.

The hole in my nipple is still open, but no ring resides in it. I lost the metallic memory marker in a boy named Sebastian's apartment this summer. I met him in a dimly lit hotel party where a drag queen named Simone held court, and the party goers reveled, tweaked, and made complete asses of themselves, myself included. I swirled, passed out, and was taken care of by Sebastian at that gathering, one of the few times I needed Mike-sitting at a party. He kept the drag queen away from me, I reckon claiming me as his own in some sort of sick drug addict ritualistic way. I hadn't slept in 5 days.

We had hit it off earlier, I was taken by the glint his eyes displayed, though they were nearly covered by an angora kangol hat. He was the type of boy you weren't sure whether to hire to paint your fence or invite inside to paint the town, the kind who might use his knife for your defense or for worse. It didn't hardly much matter which you desired more, there was no short end to his stick. There's little question to those that know me why I was drawn in; He was a cup game, quick figure eights and tempestuous transition, daring your eyes to blink.

No, I should have known. I liked that he wrapped my mind up in wit, tied it up, and held it dear. I liked how the shadows ended before his lips began, leaving me with the anticipation of each well formed word. I wanted to listen, I wanted to taste.

He wanted me, too. My time in Sebastian's company in any capacity was around two months, and he led me to the social pools in which I nearly drowned. He himself proved to a horrible floatation device, one who preferred to sit at the bottom rather than rise to the top. He was a drug addict, with a far more ferocious addiction than my own.

He was also missing pieces of his soul that I could never repair; parents, best friends, a traitorous nature, and tina.

He left my life easily enough, an amputation necessary and grotesque for all the ways a mind can quiver and become weak for a drug that was flesh and blood.

I saw him online today. His bio said "4 Rnt."

There were rumors that got back to me almost as soon as I started speaking about him to others. All signs pointed to the fact that Sebastian had escorted previously. I checked my facts. They all pointed to prostitution, but I wanted to believe him when he told me they were untrue.

I can't make light of my own allowed delusions... I did, actually, believe him. I let myself be lied to. I let him meet my mother. I let him sleep in my bed, and told him he had a place to go if he needed to clean up. I wanted to believe I could help wash away the filth of addiction as easily as one wipes oil from the bridge of their nose. I wanted to believe that I wasn't feeling deep emotions for a liar and a whore.

I couldn't care less if he sold his body for money. I wish he hadn't sold his integrity. I wish he hadn't sold me out. I wish he hadn't lied to me.

I wish that holes in my body weren't reminders of holes in my soul. Holes in my own integrity. Holes in my own honesty.

I might have a thousand wishes, but I'll be damned if I'll rub a thousand lamps. Let him do that.

I can't tape over last year any more than I can erase myself. Let the sty in my third eye see skewed versions of myself, they can't be any worse than lies I believed or the lies I told myself and then repeated to others. Fuck Sebastian. I hope everytime he blows someone, he remembers blowing out the candles in my room before climbing to bed, remembers what my face looked like as I went down on Justin, and I hope he feels in his sleep, when he does sleep, what my lips felt like on his.

I hope he waits in anticipation for the taste of me. Let my only vengeance be my very lack of it.

Hit play.

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 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!

Mark has plans for an event for the two of us called Tequila Grande. Its a night of tequila-soaked escapades involving 7-layer dip, tequila-lime chicken, and margaritas. It seems to me there will be more time for that, since more time will be spent in DC as of today.

"Why, oh why," you may ask, "is Mike returning to the city?"

Because thats where I have become gainfully employeed (it seems).

On Monday night, after studying hard for and then ace-ing two midterms, it seemed I had a night of revel-ry ahead when I was informed of a certain friend's 21st birthday event. She turned twenty-one at midnight, and we were going to make our way to the Friday's in Fair Oaks for birthday love.

When we arrived, I informed the server that I worked at friday's, so that he would perhaps discount some of the appetizers. Total standard procedure. Well, when birthday shots were being ordered, he carded me. I didn't think much of it, figured I wasn't getting the drink, and that was that. He called me out for bein' a minor, and no spectacle was made.

When the shots arrived, there was an extra. I proceeded to take the shot with the group, and all was happy in friend-ville.

I got up in the mornin', rolled to work, and when I arrived, I was taken to the side and sat down. Last night at 1:30, whomever it was that called me out on bein' under 21 called around to all the Friday's in the Northern Virginia area describing me. I'm pretty easy to describe, it can be done in like three adjectives and maybe a noun.

They claimed me, and then were informed that I had drank as a minor and that they had informed corporate. Insta-termination, non-rehirable for 6 months.

I didn't let it dampen my spritis too thoroughly, knowing I had yet another midterm to ace on wednesday. I spent most of Tuesday with Michelle just bein' a fatty and relaxing.

Wednesday I aced the next exam (for Comm 380) and goofed off further.

I went with Ashley today to DC to speak with the GM of Cosi to ask for an application and an interview. All things went well, now I just have to get a schedule and I should be golden. There don't seem to be too many terrible hitches in the plan, so I'm optimistic.

I don't know yet exactly how the commute is going to work, but Mom supported me goin' somewhere else to make more money. Cosi has negative connotations in her mind, slightly, due to the atmosphere that used to be employeed there, but good heavens, that is no longer the case.

That crowd has came and gone, and the new crowd is wonderful. Dedicated, sober, fun folk who are students and working actively towards success. A far different crowd than the aforementioned "atmosphere."

I look forward to working with Lauren again. I look forward to making good money at a place that has the capactiy to treat me well. It changes my routine a bit, but I also put down day-shift hours to work as a barista, which I think would be neat, as well as allow me to continue rising early for a reason.

I think I'd miss the AM now.

I'm really enjoying my life the way it is now, busy yet also laid back. I'm doing the best I've done in school in a loooong time, and I see people who love me unconditionally every day.

As quick as Fridays came into my life, it goes out. I can't help but look towards kismet as perhaps the reason I got called in to work at Cosi on Friday. It set up a decent doorway for re-entry.

I didn't mention it on Monday, since I was preoccupied with preoccupations (*grin*), but other stress-me-out-ers arrived on Saturday when a dorm I was playin' Uno in was busted for marijuana. I was with Dan visiting Chrissy on Saturday night after I finished studying and napping, and the dorm room got clambaked. There we a few of us in there, but Dan and I didn't have anything on us. He got a violation for being involved with a room that contained paraphnalia, but he wasn't in the actual room it was found in. We were hanging out in the suite's living room.

Oh those crazy-ruckousy Uno players.

Anyway, he had his meeting with the housing folk, since he does live on campus, too. He should be fine, so we'll see. Still, I'm worried for him. Not too worried, though. He's never had an offense before.

Work being interrupted looks like it will only inconvience two days worth of actual work time, and even still, I make about three times a night at cosi to what I was makin' on average at Friday's. There's good reasonin' out there for me to not be fretting.

Speaking of fretting, I think its almost time for Dan to meet one or two of the cousins. I like the boy muchly, and he's endeared himself fantastically with my local support network, and I suppose now its time to expose him to another huge aspect of me: my family.

I'm sorry I missed getting down to Florida with Krista to visit Mara and Dana. I've not heard from Krista since she got back, so I'm curious to hear the stories of yonder. It now seems that I'm doin' a good job at missin' out on my trips because of work. This weekend will be spent at Cosi or at home saving money, as was last weekend. This weekend's lock-down will keep me from seeing Jackie in New York, but I've gotta do what I gotta do.

Recent concertation internally comes from my thoughts on Dan's naiivity. He prioritizes partying more than I do now a days, and that worries me. He's no where near how party-oriented I was a couple of years ago (heck a couple of months ago), but I think about. I decided to actually talk to him about it, and he was really receptive, and knew exactly what I was talking about. We talked about a lot of things relating to it, and I'm not really concerned about it anymore. He recognizes that he's doing it, and just that very recognition means that it won't go too far, or last for too much longer.

I feel like I know, cause I've been there.

His friend Emily, the girl that set us up, and I spoke about a couple of those concerns, and i was glad to know I wasn't the only one who noticed it. Calling someone out less than two months into dating them isn't kosher, but I was glad to have someone to discuss it openly with. She could say exactly what I was thinking. It made talking about it with Dan a lot easier. I'm tickled. It seemed like a good time to discuss such things, what with the bust and what not.

That, and him seeing my own need to find a job based off of consequated actions. He saw how hard I worked and how dedicated (an non-flakey) I was, and saw how one stupid action could effect something that was goin' really well. Its weird for people to view me in a really responsible light again. I'm still king sketch of team sketch, but I'm also up every morning going to work, and studying like anyone else at exam time.

I feel like I did when I was seventeen... and thats really got me smiling. I've said for along time that I've never been happier or known myself better than I did when I was seventeen.

A classmate who's intelligence and input to the class I've really, really appreciated and enjoyed all semester asked me how old I was today. I told him 20, and his response was one of a a slight shock-- "Wow. You're reeeeeeally smart."

It made my day.

Things feel tangible again. Word.

It was lovely spending time with Lauren this weekend... I hadn't seen the girl in over a month. We dropped a friend of Dan's off at the airport and then proceeded to make our way over to the mall on one of the days we were together. We spent like four hours shopping with the majority of the time bein' spent at H&M.

God I love H&M.

Anywho, on the way there Lauren told me about the new girl at Cosi, Anusha, who didn't know what a Mop was.

Anusha: What is this?
Lauren: A Mop.
Anusha: What do you do with it?
Lauren: You Mop.
*later, anusha sweeping*
Lauren: Are you almost ready?
Anusha: Yes. I just have to broom some more.


"When the Left is right and the Right is wrong" -- Washington Post Media Notes

The comparisons between Rosa Parks and Gavin Newsom, the San Fransisco mayor who is allowing gay marraige, is a little stretched, I'll admit. However, criticizing Chief Justice Roy Moore, the Alabama judge who wouldn't take down the ten commandments, couldn't be more validated. The San Fran Mayor is a hero, he deserves to be praise as such.

Saying that he gets lauded and hero-cized because he has the 'politically correct' mindset is ridonkulous. He's getting praised because he has the correct, nonbiggoted view.

The reason that Mr. Bama Judge is getting mocked should be abundantly clear: we have a seperation of church and state. He's not being "politically incorrect," he's defying one of the tenets this country was built upon, not a neo-1950s imagined one we like to believe. John Locke never said a damn thing about two kids and a dog, and neither should our constitution.

k thx.

In the four hours I was on the phone with my cell phone company getting all the kinks straightened out, I actually made friends with the girl on the other end. Her name was Lauren, and the call center was based out of Nova Scotia. We gabbed, chatted, and she fixed all my problems. One of the subjects we eventually came to was gay marraige. We joked about how as soon as school was done, we'd have to go out and get ourselves hitched, and I told her I'd have to go up her way to get that taken care of.

She told me about her aunts who have been together for twenty years and just got hitched. They're also expecting their first-- its very, very late in life for one of them to be sproutin' beans, granted, but they couldn't be happier. It made me all wistful for a better country.

Oh, Canadia.

The early mornings have yet to cease their onslaught against my fatty pride. I still rise and shine earlier than I've managed on a regular basis since high school.

Don't get confused, I'm certainly not fussin'. My mornings come early, yes, but, works also going well. I'm managing to get their on time, even when Dan has to kick me out of bed in the morning.

I guess its been just over a month now with Dan, and things are good. I don't hate him yet. In fact, I kinda dig 'em a lot. My only hesitation with him is his youth. He's twenty, which to me feels so young. He's not world weary or battered yet, and he still thinks in terms of what is the most party-effective as opposed to having worked the college lifestyle out of his system already.

I can't say much, but I picked up a full-fledged rock-star habit, as opposed to just random drunken shinanigatings. I have to remind myself that the energy and "immaturity" I see are really things that I could probably use a few dallops of here and there, because frankly, I could use some innocense.

Ah well. I need to get in the shower, 'cause its gettin' late. Work at 10!

(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)

Things are pretty good over here in the land of Mike.

My parents got back from Daytona really late last night, actually this morning, around 1 am-- they drove straight up from Florida, and it took 'em around 14 hours. They had just gotten off the cruise ship that morning, and drove straight through.

They're so adorable, I love my parents. They're so invigorated, and chipper, and have stories upon stories from their adventure into the islands. They brought me back 4 kinda of rum, which I think is pretty darn exciting, too!

Dark Coconut Rum, Clear Coconut Rum, Mango Rum, and Banana Rum. YUM!

Things are pretty much on the up-and-up.

Republicans, and the Texas they road in on, are Evil.

Osama Surrounded! technically, Krista and I have him surrounded, too. Just depends on what sort of 'distance' you mean by surrounded.

Dubya:"Let's Punk the Media!"

Osama: Coming to you live, the first week in November...

Anywho, I'm gonna be on my way to Mason. It's Homecoming weekend (who knew?!) at school, so there should be lots of shinganigatings for me to enjoy. Puja was drinkin' at 2 when I spoke with her, so we'll see what condition my girls are in when I arrive. I'm gonna be suprising Dan by coming up early, he wasn't expecting me until Sunday, when we were gonna go to a show together.

Hehe, insta-date. I reckon I should bring a change of clothes for Monday, too, since I'm not gonna wanna come all the way home on Sunday. Monday's gonna be a big day, too, speaking of which, cause its blood-test-result-day. I'm gonna be a-okay, but it's so undercover stressful, the waiting and all. I didn't realize I was stressed 'till I noticed the key factor riding as the undercurrent of nonproductivity and detachment. I curbed just about all of those feelings early, but it'll be wonderful to feel "free and clear."

Roundtrip air-fare to London. $199

I should be worried, perhaps, as my wanderlust is kicking in. My wanderlust is very rarely condusive with school; like Caroline's told me on many an occasion, you actually have to be in the state in which you are enrolled if you hope to ever attend a class. She's right, but Boston is a fun visit. North Caroline could be fun. Or Seattle. I've never spent any real amount of time in the latter two, but I do think it could be a welcome stay.

This could all be from the blood test, or it could be from chatting with Mark about my next visit with the sexual assault counselor. He broke up with his boyfriend last night, and other yarns of wrongness. Also in the vein, it could be that I had an enjoyable time with a boy, and now I'm thinking of reasons to make him undateable. I'm a friggin loon, but a loon with a second date today.

Blah, its prolly just a case of Boy.

I get the urge to be elsewhere sometimes, and I guess this morning it kicked in. I used to stare at National Airport when I would take the metro in from Phoenix's, and just think about all the different places I could go, with just the little money in my pocket.

Speaking of "little money," I guess part of it stems from the fact that I'm making next to no money at Friday's... its a lot of fun, don't get me wrong, but my sales were $65 on friday, before I got cut for the day. Its really hard to make any cash, even when you're pullin' down 30% tips. That still only leaves you with havin' to tip out bussers... a lovely 18 bones is fun and all, but not when it costs 8 in gas just to get to work.

Alas, I'm sure I'll find myself in better spirits after a ciggertte and some time alone in the car; after all, I do have enough dough to buy party supplies for Ristika and I, so I can't fuss too much. I'm just glad my money from school came, otherwise I'd be a complete pauper.

...

Puja just informed me that it's Rag Time at the Apollo for everyone. A quick guesstimate will confirm that it's all of my girl's rag cycle time... no wonder I'm pissy. That explains last weeks eating.

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9.	</b>Kerry, Senator John, MA - Democrat   (59%)  Click here for info
10.	</b>Edwards, Senator John, NC - Democrat   (56%)  Click here for info
11.	</b>Gephardt, Rep. Dick, MO - Democrat   (52%)  Click here for info
12.	</b>Libertarian Candidate   (45%)  Click here for info
13.	</b>LaRouche, Lyndon H. Jr. - Democrat   (43%)  Click here for info
14.	</b>Lieberman, Senator Joe, CT - Democrat   (34%)  Click here for info
15.	</b>Phillips, Howard - Constitution   (18%)  Click here for info
16.	</b>Bush, President George W. - Republican   (16%)  Click here for info
17.	</b>Hagelin, Dr. John - Natural Law   (8%)  Click here for info

</blockquote>
</td></table>

This table courtesy of Martha V.

The weekend wrapped itself up nicely, and that did nothing but lead to Monday classes. Things are goin' how they should be, so no worries gentle journal... though, one prof is worthy of mention today. Her name is Dr. Sparks, and blonde, tall, power-suited sexy-fierce chica that comes complete with a winnning smile and a vicious glare. Only the former has been fixed in my general direction, but for more reasons than just the latter her class may go down as the "Comm that Made Men Cry." Its a research methods course where the fail rate is almost the same as the actual passing rate.

Fear.

Little rumblings of better judgement be damned, I'm ready for it. Sometimes you get surprised: in a class of 250, one of my friends from Freshman year spotted me; Kumbi, ganked the seat next to me. She makes the wole class less intimidating... shes totally my african goddess. Imagine a study buddy who can dance like the wind, has mini dreads, leather earrings, and will kick your ass if you don't know the answer to question 47-C. That's my Kumbi.

I had plans with Ashley after we both got out of our classes, and seein' as how I was a little early, 6:50 instead of 7:10, I just stuck my head into her dorm and waited... then procced to wait and wait some more. I trusted in her to remember me, she's the type of girl that doesn't forget about appointments with folk, but it was starting to get a little later. 7:45 rolls around, and the dorm door flies up, with her bounding in shocked as hell to find a Mike in her house.

"I called your phone-- its off; I thought you forgot our plans!"
"Nope, been waiting here."
"Get your shoes on and get outside then, bitch!"

Who was out there? Lindsey and Omar! Ashley came back to her room because she had a strange gnaw in her gut-- I guess that was me gnawing! Lindsey came up to surprise folk, and Ashley dipped out on her class. Omar arrived in tow, with the announcement that Omar and Lindsey had decided to rekindle their relationship!

They may not get invitations to "Down With Love"-- but I'm really excited for them. I like the two of them together.

Such a fantastic evening commenced, filled with laughter, smokin', old jokes and new... su-fuckin'-perb. We go to get dinner and who should we run into at The JC but Puja, her old roomie Noukla, our friend May, Carriell, Carriell's roomie (and Dave's friend) Liz, and a host of their assorted friends. Huge reunion again.

Kismet. Unconditional Love.

w00t.

That night I slept at Carriel's, cuddled up, and Carriel taught me how to wrap my hair before bed. I can make the cutest little wrap now! Hehe! Just ya'll wait, you're gonna see me runnin' around with my lil scarf all tied up and talkin' bout my wrap... I can't wait.

Anywho, got up and drove to work, and did about 10 hours on the floor. Made just under 90, but had to give about 30 of it away for the Host/Hostess and for the 20 bucks I borrowed for shoes. Either way, its nice to have a few bones in my wallet again.

Work flew by, except for my last party of 6, which were old renn fair folk, so they tipped well, but ran the shit outta me. I told them I used to work their which may explain both the runnin' and the good tip. Le Shrug.

Speaking of work, I'm getting less shy around Dominick. Our friend Pam is heading to Colorodo for two weeks, and when Dom heard he looks at me and goes "You're stickin' around, right?" "Of course!" "Good-- someone I like'll still be here."

Look-at-me-now-mutha-fuckah! We've progressed into chatting about cars, conditions, cunts, and cuties. In a word, w00t. I still have a silly-stupid crush on the boy, but wordy-mc-word, I'm happy that he digs me and that I'm not just some quivering jello mold around him... just picture the floating fruit, and you'll know how incapacitated I felt around 'em. I don't know why it feels like a big accomplishment to get a boy to laugh, but it does/did. I'm not even interested in him in a sexual capacity, I know he's taken, but still, 'complishment stands. Now that I've loosened up, bein' shy was kinda momentarily neat.

Who knew I could get clamy?! ::grin::

I got to chat with Ashley about boys and their effects, including my silly crush on Dominick, and I got reassurance that for all the steps and stages I'm going through, she has as well, and that they're normal, cute, and healthy. I love Ash.

I was so tired when I got home (was it the 10 hours, or the boy?) that I kinda just tucked myself into bed around 11, and called it a day. Who am I, goin' to bed at 11? Ew.

Ahhh well, wash-rinse-repeat, I guess, 'cause here I go, gettin' back on the road to head to school again.

Such a good time last night!

I drove up to Mary's and got there a little before seven. Mary lives with Billy Tibbs, who I played football with in High School, and I hadn't seen him since January of Freshman year. Isn't that crazy? Its actually been just about that long since I've seen Stacy, too.

Mary and Stace were out getting pedicures, so Billy and I chatted and made ourselves drinks, then when the girls arrived home, we all decided to make our way to the grocery store for chasers and what not. We decided to get a few bicardi mixers, and I grabbed the correct corresponding fruits to adorn the glasses with, as well as to blend in.

Fatty pride kicked in, and we landed at Taco Bell after the grocery store. Then Donut Connection. Kelsey, Mary's younger sister was out with us, and it turns out she's in 6th grade-- which makes her about 11. Thats when Mary and I met, 6th grade. Scary thought, the realization that Mary and I have been friends for ten years now. Tibbs and I met in 4th grade, Stacey in 6th. We've been friends for a very, very long time.

And, amazingly, it was like nothing had changed. We've all grown up so much in the past few years, yet we still have that special invisible bond that hasn't done anything but grow.

Unconditional love is amazing. I'm blessed.

Kansas's right to discriminate against fags upheld.

I wasn't 15, but I was a month away from 16-- and in Kansas, that meant that I would have sent my suitor to Jail had we been found out. I wouldn't have just sent my comely cocksucker to jail for a year or two, as would have been the sentence for his straight counterpart... oh no, he would have been sent to prison for 17 years, much like the poor man in the article.

Oh, and it was consenual-- and they were both developmentally challeneged, incase you didn't catch that.

When are you motherfuckers going to stop discriminating against me? Every crime against my people is a crime against me-- and I may as well be an asexual creature right now. I don't even like gay men these days, but I wouldn't send one away for 17 years... jeeze.

We enter in the midst of house warming party held for John and Liz (dating); more correctly, we enter in the midst of a conversation being held by John and Phil (college best friends, now 26) conversing on the matter of why Phil has left his amazing job. Phil responds, only half flippantly, "I left, because I plan to Save the World."

4.18

"And how do you propose to do it?"
"Well, Lungless labs; thats for a start.
We'll picket it, disrupt it, sue it--"
"Phil, Lungless LAbs won't give a fart.
They'll slam you straight into the slammer
Where you can practice Russian grammar
Until... (By ones and twos a knot
Grows round the disputatious spot)...
Sense penetrates your soft ingenious
Cerebrum." "John, you've missed the point,"
Says Phil: "The world is out of joint;
And such acts, though they may seem tenuous
To you, give heart to us; whats more,
Bring new peace fodder to our door."

4.19

Speech strained and clarified by passion
--His S's remain S's still--
In unantagonistic fashion,
Eschewing escalation, Phil
Resumes: "John, take a look around us.
Imagine that the first bombs found us
Just as we are-- as here we stand
A glass of liquor in our hand.
There by the door is Van Gough's painting
Of Sunflowers. Here are all our friends.
And suddenly, our small world ends,
And our vile dust is swept up, tainting
The hills, the vineyards, and the seas
With irredemdiable disease.

4.20

"So tell me, how much will it please us
That mankind with its crazy ways
--Bach, Rembrandt, Socrates, and Jesus--
Will burn to ash and swivelizing haze?
Will it console us to be knowing
In the swift instant of our going
That Red Square, like our children's creche,
Will soon be charred or ulcerous flesh?
And then, when the soft radiation
Descends on what's not been destroyed
--Trees, whales, birds, wolves-- the birthless void--
Think how the crown of earth's creation
Will murder what which gave him birth,
Ripping out the slow womb of earth.


4.21

Is it just 'we' who feel this terror?
Do you think 'they' can't understand
What will come down through aim or error
Upon their great and fragile land?
We must stop--...(Caught by sudden sadness
He fumbles)...-if we can- this madness,
We common people of goodwill..."
A young man stands and stares as Phil
Says, "...Fallout can't tell Omsk from Reno..."
He stands there wordless, half in love,
Drinking Phil's speech, the image of
El Greco's Felix Paravicino:
The same pale, slender, passionate face,
Stregth and intensity and grace.

4.22

It's Ed. Now Liz has introduced him
(At his request). Ed, rarely short
Of words, finds Philip's have reduced him
To numbness. On the tennis court
Or with his advertising rabble
Ed spouts forth a distracting babble
Of witty entertaining trash
Till his companions long to smash
Their rackets on his simmering cranium
Or seal his lips with editing tape;
But two sure passwords for escape
Have been discovered: One's Uranium,
The other, God. All talk of these
Causes Ed's babbling brooke to freeze.

4.23

Now host and hostess, drawn by duty,
Have vanished, but-- to stay with Ed--
At twenty-three, though quite astute, he
Seems easily dispirited;
Although his energy's appealing,
It serves the function of concealing
Rifts of anxiety so deep
Some nights he finds it hard to sleep.
(Liz thinks this trait comes from their mother.)
Both Sue and Liz adore Ed: he's
Warmhearted, fun, and quick to pleace;
But neither understand their brother
When his designs and words are skewed
By what they term his godly mood.

4.24

Phil looks at Ed: intese, athletic,
Silent-- the sort of man whom he's
Uneasy with. But Ed's ascetic
Tension betrays his own unease;
And by now Phiil's free-floating status
(Bouyed by spiritiuous afflatus)
Projects goodwill on all mankind--
And so, in half an hour, we find the pair engaged in conversation,
Which now that he's gained his cool
And half slipped back to playing the fool,
Revolved round Ed's prolonged narration
Of how he happened to procure
A green iguana from the store.

[Phil and Ed continue a fun, light conversation before being interrupted by Jan. Jan, a college friend of Phil's ex-wife is not pleased with an off-handed comment about woman meant only in jest. Phil options to leave, and Ed offers him a place to crash in town so he doesn't have to drive home drunk. They arrive at Ed's.]

4.31

Phil looks around at Ed's housekeeping.
Ed yawns, and strips off shirt and shoes.
Silence outside. The iguana's sleeping.
This quiet grid of avenues
With red-flowered gum for decoration
Lies deep in slumber and sedation.
"It suits me, Phil. The flat's quite small,
But there's a garden, after all--
And a small pool for the iguana..."
Phil's bleary eyes rest on a bowl
Of fruit, a crucifix, a roll
Of film, a photograph of Lana
Turner, who smiles across the floor
At Holbein's sketch of Thomas More.

4.32

"My patron saint." "Which one?" Ed, grinning,
Says, "Go to sleep!" and turns to pray.
He asks forgiveness for his sinning,
Gives thanks for the expended day,
Consignxs his spirit to God's Charity...
Now Philip, with exiguous clairty
And some bewilderment, sees Ed
Cross himself twice, then come to bed.
Lights out. Phil mumbles, "What a party!
I really blew it then with Jan.
Ed, thanks a lot. I mean it, man--
I haven't yet met a Dorati
I didn't like... (Across the bed
He reaches out and touches Ed)...

4.33

... Good Night." Ed fears to answer. Trembling,
He moves his hand across the space
--What terrifying miles--assembling
His courage, touches Philip's face
And feels him tense up and go rigid.
"I'm sorry," Ed says, in a frigid,
Half-choking voice, "I thought you might--
I didn't mean-- I mean-- good night."
Taut with cateleptic tension
They lie, unspeaking. Phil thinks, "Why
Be so uptight? He's a great guy.
I've never bothers with convention.
God! It's a year that I've been chaste...,"
And puts his arm around Ed's waist"

4.34

Now, just as things were getting tenser,
And Ed and Phil were making love,
The imperial official censor
--Officious and imperious-- drove
His undscriminating panzer
Straight through the middle of my stanza.
Now, GentleReader, is it right
This swine should put my Muse to flight,
Rooting about among my pearly
Wisdom till he finds orts that he
Can gobble down with grunting glee?
Forgive me, Reader, if I'm surly
At having to replace the bliss
I'd hoped I could portray, with this.

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!

What Kind Of Superhero Are You? by electronicoffee
Your Username
Your First Name
Your Superhero Last Name	Flarestar
Your Weapon	Dagger of Ice
Your 1st Superpower	Meta Seduction [pheremones]
Your 2nd Superpower	Invisibility [Mental]
Created with quill18's MemeGen 2.0!

My Dad is a wise man. It's snowing, and he went outside to grab the shovel and brought it in. Little events, big events. I don't know that I would have thought to do that immediatly.

I lose my phone or keys at least twice a day.

Each.

I can learn a lot from him.

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

(photo lost to time)
Fight Club!


What Movie Do You Belong in?


Krista asked me the last time she saw a batch of quizzes on here if I was cheating or not. And, after this quiz, I'm starting to wonder if they just aren't too accurate for their own good. Creepy!

Oh, something funny from last night. While the group of us that went to Zola's were waiting for our table, we sat in the Bar and shot the shit. There was a girl in the bar with the cutest little set of cherries inked on her neck. I had to tell her how much I enjoyed them, and she ended up being totally sweet.

I sat down next to her and gabbed, and stole a ciggarette. She giggled as she handed it to me, and warned me it was a Newport. I told her that menthols were a tasty minty treat, kinda like candy canes-- they only come around so often, but you're always tickled when they do.

I run into her again about 3/4 into my visit to Zolas, sometime before dessert has arrived-- and her friend Tracy has arrived. Both of these girls are beautiful, I gotta say, but neither one is prettier than the other, just pretty in different ways.

So, we're talkin' about UPN sitcoms, when Lisa asks me if I knew who Tracy was. Of course I didn't have a clue, and Lisa responds with "Beyonce". Well, I lean around and grab "Beyonce"'s ass, and proceed to laugh mine off. I told them that I was gonna leave here and tell everyone that I grabbed beyonce's ass at the bar-- had I taken a photo I coulda gotten away with it, Tracy really did look a lot like her.


Lisa: Now, do you know who I am?
Me: Toni Braxton?
Lisa: Why does everyone say that?! No! I'm J.Lo!
Me: Prove it! Turn around?
*turns*
Me: Stick it out! Shit gurrrrl, even white boys gotta shout.
Tracy: Baby got back.

I Said Gah-Dayum, Gah-Dayum.

Fuckin adventures out the wazoo in the past two days. For Christmas, my brother Trey gave me Capitals tickets. I couldn't have been more thrilled, the only time I make it to a Caps game is when he throws tickets my way.

And, of course he has seasons tickets, and the seats were amazing. That said, I got to the stadium, and suddenly I'm a star. I'm sitting in Trey's section getting looks, and he hasn't quite arrived yet. I'm there maybe 10 minutes and he shows, headed to his buddy's section.

He calls me over, and we shoot the shit for a bit. I have to fess up to circling the wrong date on the calander, so I was like a half an hour late, and dateless, but I think it was better that way. Why you ask? Cause Trey and I got to do some major drinking and some major bonding.

Everywhere I went, I got treated like VIP, and whenever Trey would say "that's my little brother" people would come up to shake my hand, or tell me how wonderful my big bro is.

Weeeeeird. So, Caps won, and Trey kept grabbing me Tanqs and Tonics-- I love that my brother knows exactly what I like to drink.

But, either way, we had a really nice time just bullshitting at Nick and Stefs, and then made our way down to Rosa Mexicano. Of course they had to be booked, so we diddybopped right on down to Zola's.

Its Resturant Week in the city, so it was all sorts of packed, but we got this swank-ass booth in the back. I had this awesome pepperoni fondue, a veal dish, and a chocolate fondue dessert... oh my god was it fuckin' lucious. It was all very hoity-toity, and I of course ate the atmosphere up with a spoon.

Hell, I woulda sopped it up with a biscuit.

I parted ways with my brother and then made my way to Cosi. I hung out for a bit, smoked some with the Nuvia, and met the members of Stomp!

They were eating in Lauren's section, and then we went out together. We headed down to Ben N' Mo's where we partook in an apple hookah and watched the MC Battles. There was this one little white girl who was off the chain... and she was punkin' the big dudes left and right.

You know I gotta cheer for my underdogs.

Out with me was Lauren, Jess, Jarrett, and the guys from Stomp... and after we parted ways with the Stomp-Heads, we went back to the house on Holmeade and smoked. Lauren and I proceeded to make our infamous Grands Biscuit (which we make EVERY time we're stoned in that damn house) and egg sandwhich. Yessah, it was good.

Jarret drove me back to his place and I had a nice sleep. I also have come to the realization that Jarret and I just aren't sexually compatible. He's a great, amazing guy, but he just doesn't do it for me.

I can sleep next to him without getting hard. Its done.

I'm concerned that we may lose our friendship, and I'd hate to see that happen. I love spending time with him, and hanging out with him. As a matter of fact, Jarret's done a great job of always being there when I needed him, and he makes me feel good. All that said, he still doesn't do it for me sexually. I won't call him a bad kisser, thats not nice, but he sincerly doesn't work me out. I wish he did. It would make it easier.

Either way, its the next day, and I'm giving Nuvia a hand in upper Northwest. Picture it: Martin Luther King Day. Empty, but car lined street. Me driving. Car *reversing* out of a parallel parking spot. Crunch.

I manage to tag the back of his car and seriously fuck up the front of mine. The muthafucker was drunk and stoned, and didn't speak english-- but get this, Nuvia knew him. He fucking sells heroin apparently, and she knew a boy that owed him 15Gs. She told me not to give him my real info, and since she was translating, I was sure not to.

Attafuckingirl.

We walk a few blocks up and catch a bus down to the Fort Totem metro stop, from which we caught the red line down to Dupont South. Nuvia made it home safe and sound, and Jarrett came and kept me company all day.

Thats partly one of the things I'm worried about with the Jarret, for the record. He's a good buddy, and I don't wanna hurt him. I know that he once had trouble dating another boy because that boy just wasn't me, and as ego-inflating as that is... I wouldn't wish that shit on anyone. I know what it feels like. Men suck.

Um, yeah, bitter faggot shit aside, I called dad, and he comes up to tow my lovely car away. He gets it all set up good and tight, and I tap the gas just a tiny bit to align it all properly, and we're all good to go... when my car goes over the edge of the dolly, falling and wedging itself now *on* the dolly. Yah, thats a fucked up chasis. Somehow, Dad and I managed to fix it with the help of two extra jacks and some 2x4s.

Let me just also repeat that I have somehow fucked a heroin dealer and we are in the sketchiest neighborhood around. I'm scared shitless by my city for the first time ever, and I'm just glad that we're ready to go.

Oh, thats when the tire on the dolly pops. My father's a bright guy, he knows when I'm around to expect the unexpected, and he just so happened to have a spare dolly tire.

Which pops, too. So, my dad's now towing my car through Georgia Avenue on a rim, just praying that a gas station appears. The dolly's shaking like crazy, and I'm nearly in tears for my poor car. We've travelled maybe 2 blocks with a tire, and now maybe 7 more on the rim.

When things are starting to get a little bleak, and the dolly's begun ratttling crazy-style, we look and see a "Now Entering Maryland" sign. And, then, like the fuckin' burning bush, a BP appears, and lawd-love-ya, it had a service station. AND it had a 13 inch tire to fit the dolly.

Yeah, we made it home alive... but now that I've decided (oh, you may not know this) to stay home and not move to DC until prolly August, I don't know how the fuck I'm gonna get to and from class... argh. Its a 2 hour commute each way, and I can't exactly take the bus.

Ahh, well, we'll see. I refuse to let this strip away my clarity and good mood. I forged the beginings of a real friendship with my older brother, decided exactly how I do and don't wish to live out the next 7 or so months, and have found a way to actually discuss things with my father when we have differing view points without either one of us feeling attacked-- I don't know what silly braid the universe is trying to weave with these incidences and calamities, but I refuse to let it be anything other than a bright knit.

Huzzah.

Hahahaha, Emily would be sooo proud of me! I have managed to watch nothing except trash TV for like a week now!

The summer before last, she spent about 70% of her evenings at my house. Every night she would have a different chick-friend that her mother thought she was staying with, when in reality she was taking up the other half of my queen-size mattress. Wooo-wee, that girl. She was over so much that we called her our "other" roomate. We didn't give her a number, cause that wouldn't be fair-- really, she was number one.

But, anyway, we would cuddle for hours, watching trash reality television and getting minimal sleep. It would go Blind Date, Change of Heart, Elimidate, and then Fifth Wheel. We'd get to watch an episode of Married with Children, and then Street Smarts. We'd eat one of my crazy rice concotions, and then we'd go to bed.

Or drink for no good reason except that we enjoyed our time drunk, too.

She'd make snorty noises at me to play with her hair... it in truth was one of her favorite things in the whole world, to have her hair played with. I used to fall asleep running my fingers through my mom's hair when I was really little; I could fall asleep playing with Emily's hair, but it rarely happened that I was the first one out. I hope she knew that it was one of my favorite things in the world, too.

Haha, that girl. She'd have to yell to get me up before she left in the morning, because she would be leaving first and she knew I had a helluva time getting up. I'd pretend to get up and then fall back asleep for 15 minutes more that I really didn't have.

And we'd wash-rinse-repeat, with the occasional IHOP Salad night in between. Oh, the IHOP Salad... We'd split a salad between the two of us, sometimes stoned, and then go home and have a trash-tv night.

I don't have a 40 to tip, but i'll flip the remote to your memory, Em.

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.

My cousin Mara has this anteater, and its really very adorable. The anteater has some great story attached to it, and an equally great name. I don't really remember the story or the name, because it was probably a really cute boyfriend-y story, and judgeing from my last couple of entries, I have reason to block out cutesy boyfriendy stuff 😉

Nono, it's Mr. Something-er-other, but really, he's cute.

I, too, keep an anteater next to my computer at all times. He's a teenie-beanie baby from McDonald's.... it's the mini-me of hers. Who keeps an anteater at the computer? Honestly.

Well, in my car there is a purple otter named Pip that lives in the sunglass holder. He has a brother, Pop, who resides in sunny California with one of my dearest friends, Becky. He's a great otter, and very few people know he even exists, since he spends so much time in the shades holder.

Becky was my first roomie ever, and I love her dearly. One late, late night we watched simultaneously the sun come up and "The Bear in the Big Blue House."

So, anywho, I found out today my father has a road buddy. We were taking some cars up to the auto auction, and I happened to notice that he had some weird figurine wedged in between the windshield and the dash board. Otter!

They talk. Kinda crazy, both that they talk, and that he too has an otter... I talk less to my otter than my father prolly does to his seein' as how a friend had to reprimand me once for talking to Sketch while driving. I was chatting with him on the phone, and of course he had to hear my talking Sketch Doll (from the great movie Kilo and Sketch) start ta1lking in the background. Those things are so accurate (hahaha), and they respond to so many things you say (or what they think you said). I was busted, but thassokay (it prolly would have responded to that).

Oh! My cousins Krista and Aric had a conversation recently that seems fairly fitting, and fucking kills me:

Aric: What does my m2 get at a 1/4 mile?
*begins to flip through book*
Krista (from across the room, barely looking up): 15.6
Aric: Damn! 15.6! You're Right!
Krista: No way! I pulled that out of my ass!

One Last Sketch Tangent: My Sketch Doll wears a burgendy bandana now, to differentiate himself from Jeremy's. That was a neccesity once Kate started SketchSitting my Sketch and Jeremy's Sketch. Headwear makes it happen!

Lil, the original of Coyote Ugly, sent this my way (okay, blatently ripped from her blog):

TARA'S QUESTIONS TO ASK TO AVOID DATING A DOUCHBAG
1. Do you still live with mother?
Having to wipe my ass everyday is a part of life. Having to wipe his ass too is only doubling your chances of getting your hands in SHITT!!
2. What kind of car do you drive?
He must drive a nicer car than yours or one equal to it. If not that just means his piece of crap car will always be broken down and guess who becomes the taxi
3. Do you have a checkbook and at least one credit card?
If he doesn't that just means he has no credit and eventually he will want you to cosign in order to replace his PIECE OF SHIT CAR!
4. Do you do drugs, or have the need for drugs?
Yes antidepressants fall under this category. Loser
5. What type of drunk are you?
A grown man taking a piss on the floor of the living room is not exactly material you want to bring home to mom and dad.
6. How long does it take you to get ready?
Taking longer than you to get ready means he is one of those pompous asses that will take the rear view mirror from you while you are putting on your makeup to check his hair
7. Have you ever been in jail and for every 10 people in your family is there more than one of them in jail?
If the answer is no, follow by asking if you were dating him and he went to jail would he call you to bail him out?
8. At what temperture do you wash your underwear? You might find this question odd, but if he can't answer it you'll find yourself enjoying doing his laundry as well as yours.
9. What do you do for a living?
Although the initial thought is materialistic, this question is actually showing you if you will be filling out resumes for a second job because you got stuck paying his bills too.
10. And last but not least the ever so important sex question.
How often do you NEED sex?
Don't get me wrong sex is great..to want it everyday is onething.. to NEED it is a flashing red sign that says CHEATER!

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.

You're Thailand!

Calmer and more staunchly independent than almost all those around you, you have a long history of rising above adversity.  Recent adversity has led to questions
about your sexual promiscuity and the threat of disease, but you still manage to attract a
number of tourists and admirers.  And despite any setbacks, you can really cook a good
meal whenever it's called for.  Good enough to make people cry.

Take the Country
Quiz at the Blue Pyramid</font>



Hahahaha! Yay!

When you spell Park with an "E", it makes it classier. Or, at least, thats what the owners of my new building seem to think.

I call it my new building, even though I haven't moved in yet. I'm ridiculously excited about moving in, though, because I spent the afternoon chatting with Ms. Tyson.

Ms. Tyson is my leasing agent and the building manager, and she is a sassy black woman who clearly has Moved. On. Up. She was kinda gruff to me at first, but by the time I said "Oh, Ms. Thing!" she was pretty much putty 🙂 I like her a lot, she's sweet, and I imagine I've befriended a good one.

I chatted with her further, and I got her to lower the security deposit to 300, and to toss me a move in special. Yay for half off the first months rent, meaning that I can afford the move in while I wait for school disperse my funds.

Things do work out for reasons.

(photo lost to time)

So, thats my potential new pad. After discovering that I didn't get the preapproval for the mortgage, I spent the day trying to find 2 bedrooms in A) the area I wanted, and B) in the price range I wanted. I think I've found a good one.

I'm gonna go tour the facility tomorrow and then report in to the Potential Roomie, Tiffany. Half of me just wants to look at the housing manager and yell "GIMMIE!" but I realize that won't work too well.

It took me about 10 hours of constant searching to find that damn place, and I can say that my mood lifted infinitly when I findly found it. The feeling of "trapped" sucks big wookie.

Oh! Oh! On the brighter news front, I have my first business dinner with my new client, Evolvian tomorrow. We're meeting at Artie's in Fairfax City. How lame is it that this week I am so broke I'm gonna have to ask my parents for business dinner money?

LAAAAAME.

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 😉

I'll be leaving Jersey for Virginia tonight. My cousin Krista and I are headed down to either my folks' or to my townhouse for the night, and then tomorrow we'll be doing another drive around the state to get me situated back at my folks' before the new year hits.

Moving is such an enormous hassle at times, but its going to be so much fun with Krista in tow. We're gonna probably play like its New Years Eve from now until we pick up Ms. Mara at the Airport.

Mara, my supertwin, is in fact coming to VA for the New Years. How muthafawkin cool is that? She read the live journal before we could talk it out and had already made her plans. I'm gonna give that a big ol' "yay-yay."

So Mara is to arrive, and the whole crew is coming south... now its just a matter of confirming with Kelly that our plans are still on. I've got a little anxiety that something might happeen and Bossa might not be available or that its gonna be too many people or something... but those are just the little anxiousnesses of a host. I'm positively stoked.

In other flame-related news, I small child said to his father "look daddy, he's a fairy!" as he pointed at me yesterday night. I was wearing fairy wings that Ristika (krista) bought for me at Hershey Park in PA, and she was wearing a blinking red nose... no, we're not attention whores or anything.

We made the trip to PA to stay the night with Aunt Terri and Charese, since it was Charese's birthday yesterday. Her boyfriend Tim took her out to dinner and then to Hershey Park's Candy Lane, and we all met them there.

It was the closest I've been to Harrisburg since Trev and I broke up, and I did really well. I didn't kirk out or anything.

So, there is still packing to do to get Ristika ready for a week or so in DC, and I get to help. This should consist of three outfits for each day she's there just to accomidate her indecisiveness. Like I'm any better 😛