AMATEUR

Thanks to Mai and her unicorn, I enjoyed this greatly and I hope you will, too...

MISSING IN ACTION

I know I've been neglectful, but that has more to do with the fact that since Thanksgiving, I have travelled up and down the Northeast several times. We moved out of our family home in Delaware (that was a mindscrew) and I was in DC and NYC back and forth for work, so I'm finally getting a moment to get back to things. Of course, I leave again for X-mas and the first week of January is already filling up (why does Day One in New York start on New Year's Day? Who does that?) so it looks like I shall be very busy, indeed.

In the meantime, this is quite possibly one of the funniest things I've seen in a while. Enjoy.

Oh, and Happy Holidays! (yes, I still use the greeting because not everyone celebrates Christmas, Walmart)

*ACTUAL ENGLISH SUBTITLES USED IN FILMS MADE IN HONG KONG*

1. I am damn unsatisfied to be killed in this way.

2. Fatty, you with your thick face have hurt my instep.

3. Gun wounds again?

4. Same old rules: no eyes, no groin.

5. A normal person wouldn't steal pituitaries.

6. Damn, I'll burn you into a BBQ chicken!

7. Take my advice, or I'll spank you without pants.

8. Who gave you the nerve to get killed here?

9. Quiet or I'll blow your throat up.

10. You always use violence. I should've ordered glutinous rice chicken.

11. I'll fire aimlessly if you don't come out!

12. You daring lousy guy.

13. Beat him out of recognizable shape!

14. I have been scared shitless too much lately.

15. I got knife scars more than the number of your leg's hair!

16. Beware! Your bones are going to be disconnected.

17. The bullets inside are very hot. Why do I feel so cold?

18. How can you use my intestines as a gift?

19. This will be of fine service for you, you bag of the scum. I am sure you will not mind that I remove your manhoods and leave them out on the dessert flour for your aunts to eat. [sic, of course]

20. Yah-hah, evil spider woman! I have captured you by the short rabbits and can now deliver you violently to your gynecologist for a thorough examination.

21. Greetings, large black person. Let us not forget to form a team up together and go into the country to inflict the pain of our karate feets on some ass of the giant lizard person.

Phew.

So I know it's been a while. And I know I was silent after the election. That has more to do with my schedule and trying to move out of the Delaware house, which is a whole other bag of worms.

I will say that after 12 years, it's nice to finally remember what it feels like to win on Election Day. And here in New York, it's a nice change from 4 years before when I was crying in my beer.

You may call me cynical, but what I said before the election matters more now than it did before: It's not enough to win, it's about what you do with it that counts. So the clock is ticking and from what I've seen so far, I have reason to believe that we're back on a good track. Thank God. It's been too long in the darkness, my friends.

And anyone who thinks that the Presidential is two years away has to think again. That campaign began November 8th, 2006. And I will once again do what I did in 2002 - peg a candidate that I think will make it somewhere on the ticket. When I was working on the McCall campaign, one of the managers asked us a hypothetical: If the Democratic Presidential nominees were Edwards, Kerry, Dean, Gephardt, or Gore - whom would we work for/which one would win the nomination?

I would like to state for the record that I was one of two to pick Kerry. And my original hunch was correct.

So put some money down, kids. I'm changing the question slightly, but let's ask the same question.

If the Democratic Presidential nominees were Clinton, Obama, Vilsack, Bayh, and Biden, which one is likely to be on the ticket?

My answer is Tom Vilsack. Where on the ticket, I can't be so sure. Unlike 2004, we have a rare Presidential election coming up where neither the President is running for re-election and a Vice-President is running for the big office. That being said, the demographics of the electorate are too difficult to make a really accurate prediction and the last election confused the map.

And I would never underestimate the Junior Senator from New York. I love her to death, and despite what everyone else says about her chances, I would never underestimate that woman. She's proven she can beat the naysayers. And that is also more reason for me to heart her. That's not an endorsement, just the truth.

What I do know is that Tom Vilsack has an incredible story, he was a popular governor of Iowa, a moderate, and could carry the Midwest. So I'm pegging half a horse on him to make it on the ticket, no matter where on the ticket he ends up. He would turn some of those red states blue - and that would be a good number of electoral votes that flip the other way.

So look out for him. Don't discount him. And don't be silly to discount either Obama or Clinton, either. And I'm comfortable saying that I don't think both of them would be on the same ticket - for fairly obvious and sad reasons.

So let's hear it, folks. Anyone dare to make predictions?

A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

I take a break to crawl out from the millions of maps that have made me cross-eyed to bring to you a special public service announcement in several parts:

1. After a whole day of travelling on planes for two ten-minute meetings on Long Island that routed me from Albany to Boston to Long Island and then from Long Island to Philly back to Albany (because that makes sense), I don't give a flying damn if your plane was delayed. Don't whine to me. I've gotta get to the gate before my next plane boards.

2. Subsequently, if an entire Judo team is returning from a tournament and the team consists of mostly high school/college age kids who have nothing better to do than yell, scream, and try to rub up against each other, I should be allowed to move seats. Especially if it's the last leg of my journey.

3. In the Bill Maher tradition - a NEW RULE: Air-buses or Air-rickshaws, as I have dubbed them, need to go. If there's only one row of seats separated by an aisle and then another row of seats, no one should be flying in it. I don't care if you feel like a rock star because you have to step down a flight of stairs and walk on the tarmac to get to the plane, they're just wrong. Any plane where the Navigator/Co-Pilot is also the Stewardess should be outlawed. As a union representative, unless they're getting paid to do both jobs, then away they should go. Give me a bigger plane that doesn't rock in the air like I was on a tilt-a-whirl or the Pirateship - anyone who has been to an amusement park knows what I mean.

4. Do not, I repeat, do NOT allow white kids to cornrow their hair. I don't care if you think you're cool. Especially the half skull cornrow - where it's done from the front of the scalp to halfway and then stops like someone got tired of doing it. I saw two little girls, sisters, with cornrows in their hair like that and it was just wrong. If you're a parent, you should be outlawed or blacklisted. It's like allowing your kid to have a mullet because you think it's cute. I have news for you: it didn't look cool when Justin Timberlake did it when he was in N'Sync. Kevin Federline is... well, if you don't already know that he sucks, then allow us to cattleprod you. Frankly, you just don't have the hair to make it look good.

and finally:

5. If you are over 50, it's not cool to have "Orange County Choppers" stickers all over your car so no one can see the Yankee bobbleheads and assorted stuffed animals you've deliberately placed in the back window. I'm a huge Yankee fan and those bobbleheads belong on a shelf in your house and/or office. And gluing action figures to the dash is also a big no-no. Not only is it distracting, it gives off the impression that you're down with having your car look like you're still in high school. You're over 50. Enjoy the Social Security those of us still working are paying you.

Someone's riding the bitter train.

...and back to the maps.

Remember, the more you know...

SOMEONE'S PULLING MY LEGS...

And undoubtedly, they need it, given that I'm as tall as a Smurf.

But if I even remotely resemble any of these people given my facial structure, then suh-weet.



Yeah, right.

WHY I SOMETIMES FEAR FOR MY PEOPLE...

It turns out that not only Chinese boys are bored. The boys in the Philippines have nothing to do, either:



The best part about the video is that they are in a cybercafe-type place. In the Philippines, you can find them on every corner. My question is, where are the people that work there?

If you go to YouTube, you'll find a whole collection of really bored Filipino boys. It must be the new thing to do for schoolboys on their afternoon breaks.

Sigh. Lea Salonga is still our claim to fame. It's hard not to see why.

PATRIOTIC

On September 10th, I found myself locked on Murray Street between Broadway and West Broadway, sandwiched between cars just trying to move but sitting idle because we had been directed and then blocked by the police. It turns out President Doucheb... er, Bush... was giving some sort of speech at Ground Zero. Bunches of people were walking up Murray, turned away from Ground Zero because of the President. Many of them were not only annoyed, but pissed.

New York is not the city to piss off near September 11th.

Especially when it involves President Bush. We just don't like him like the rabid red states do.

Those of us stuck sort of commiserated together. What else could we do? None of us liked the president, but it wasn't like we were going anywhere. Our comments were funny and nasty at the same time, "Oh, we'll just be here until his photo op is over." Or, "Yeah, it's close to mid-terms, isn't it?" I love New Yorkers. They know what's going on even if they don't read the paper everyday. And in times of annoyance, we can chat with each other like old friends.

After convincing the campaign I was working on that I was certain I wasn't going to be going anywhere, we noticed the President's motorcade going south in front of us. Fifteen minutes later, they were going north behind us. And we were still stuck. Um, the big hole in the ground is over there. I can point to it - it's only a few blocks away. You'd think that after all his talk and swagger over Ground Zero that they might have a small idea of where it is and how to get there. ESPECIALLY since they cleared the streets for him to go. I'm just saying...

Forty minutes later, we moved. And I'm still pissed.

IN the meantime, here is something amazing: a reporter who finally told it like it is. And to thank him, I'm sharing. He's said what I've been wanting to say. Enjoy. (And just FYI, the picture is one I took the evening of September 11, 2006 driving back to the hotel. I love those lights.)

The Nation -- Keith Olbermann is without a doubt the best news anchor on television today. Two weeks ago, echoing the spirit of the legendary Edward R. Murrow, Olbermann took Donald Rumsfeld to task for comparing critics of the Iraq war to Nazi appeasers. Tonight, broadcasting live from above a desolate and still demolished Ground Zero, Olbermann delivered a stirring eight minute commentary indicting the Bush Administration's shameful and tragic response to 9/11. The entire speech is worth watching and reading, so I'm posting the full text below.

Half a lifetime ago, I worked in this now-empty space. And for 40 days after the attacks, I worked here again, trying to make sense of what happened, and was yet to happen, as a reporter.

All the time, I knew that the very air I breathed contained the remains of thousands of people, including four of my friends, two in the planes and -- as I discovered from those "missing posters" seared still into my soul -- two more in the Towers.

And I knew too, that this was the pyre for hundreds of New York policemen and firemen, of whom my family can claim half a dozen or more, as our ancestors.

I belabor this to emphasize that, for me this was, and is, and always shall be, personal.

And anyone who claims that I and others like me are "soft,"or have "forgotten" the lessons of what happened here is at best a grasping, opportunistic, dilettante and at worst, an idiot whether he is a commentator, or a Vice President, or a President.

However, of all the things those of us who were here five years ago could have forecast -- of all the nightmares that unfolded before our eyes, and the others that unfolded only in our minds -- none of us could have predicted this.

Five years later this space is still empty.

Five years later there is no memorial to the dead.

Five years later there is no building rising to show with proud defiance that we would not have our America wrung from us, by cowards and criminals.

Five years later this country's wound is still open.

Five years later this country's mass grave is still unmarked.

Five years later this is still just a background for a photo-op.

It is beyond shameful.

At the dedication of the Gettysburg Memorial -- barely four months after the last soldier staggered from another Pennsylvania field -- Mr. Lincoln said, "we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract."

Lincoln used those words to immortalize their sacrifice.

Today our leaders could use those same words to rationalize their reprehensible inaction. "We cannot dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground." So we won't.

Instead they bicker and buck pass. They thwart private efforts, and jostle to claim credit for initiatives that go nowhere. They spend the money on irrelevant wars, and elaborate self-congratulations, and buying off columnists to write how good a job they're doing instead of doing any job at all.

Five years later, Mr. Bush, we are still fighting the terrorists on these streets. And look carefully, sir, on these 16 empty acres. The terrorists are clearly, still winning.

And, in a crime against every victim here and every patriotic sentiment you mouthed but did not enact, you have done nothing about it.

And there is something worse still than this vast gaping hole in this city, and in the fabric of our nation. There is its symbolism of the promise unfulfilled, the urgent oath, reduced to lazy execution.

The only positive on 9/11 and the days and weeks that so slowly and painfully followed it was the unanimous humanity, here, and throughout the country. The government, the President in particular, was given every possible measure of support.

Those who did not belong to his party -- tabled that.

Those who doubted the mechanics of his election -- ignored that.

Those who wondered of his qualifications -- forgot that.

History teaches us that nearly unanimous support of a government cannot be taken away from that government by its critics. It can only be squandered by those who use it not to heal a nation's wounds, but to take political advantage.

Terrorists did not come and steal our newly-regained sense of being American first, and political, fiftieth. Nor did the Democrats. Nor did the media. Nor did the people.

The President -- and those around him -- did that.

They promised bi-partisanship, and then showed that to them, "bi-partisanship" meant that their party would rule and the rest would have to follow, or be branded, with ever-escalating hysteria, as morally or intellectually confused, as appeasers, as those who, in the Vice President's words yesterday, "validate the strategy of the terrorists."

They promised protection, and then showed that to them "protection" meant going to war against a despot whose hand they had once shaken, a despot who we now learn from our own Senate Intelligence Committee, hated al-Qaida as much as we did.

The polite phrase for how so many of us were duped into supporting a war, on the false premise that it had 'something to do' with 9/11 is "lying by implication."

The impolite phrase is "impeachable offense."

Not once in now five years has this President ever offered to assume responsibility for the failures that led to this empty space, and to this, the current, curdled, version of our beloved country.

Still, there is a last snapping flame from a final candle of respect and fairness: even his most virulent critics have never suggested he alone bears the full brunt of the blame for 9/11.

Half the time, in fact, this President has been so gently treated, that he has seemed not even to be the man most responsible for anything in his own administration.

Yet what is happening this very night?

A mini-series, created, influenced -- possibly financed by -- the most radical and cold of domestic political Machiavellis, continues to be televised into our homes.

The documented truths of the last fifteen years are replaced by bald-faced lies; the talking points of the current regime parroted; the whole sorry story blurred, by spin, to make the party out of office seem vacillating and impotent, and the party in office, seem like the only option.

How dare you, Mr. President, after taking cynical advantage of the unanimity and love, and transmuting it into fraudulent war and needless death, after monstrously transforming it into fear and suspicion and turning that fear into the campaign slogan of three elections? How dare you -- or those around you -- ever "spin" 9/11?

Just as the terrorists have succeeded -- are still succeeding -- as long as there is no memorial and no construction here at Ground Zero.

So, too, have they succeeded, and are still succeeding as long as this government uses 9/11 as a wedge to pit Americans against Americans.

This is an odd point to cite a television program, especially one from March of 1960. But as Disney's continuing sell-out of the truth (and this country) suggests, even television programs can be powerful things.

And long ago, a series called "The Twilight Zone" broadcast a riveting episode entitled "The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street."

In brief: a meteor sparks rumors of an invasion by extra-terrestrials disguised as humans. The electricity goes out. A neighbor pleads for calm. Suddenly his car -- and only his car -- starts. Someone suggests he must be the alien. Then another man's lights go on. As charges and suspicion and panic overtake the street, guns are inevitably produced. An "alien" is shot -- but he turns out to be just another neighbor, returning from going for help. The camera pulls back to a near-by hill, where two extra-terrestrials are seen manipulating a small device that can jam electricity. The veteran tells his novice that there's no need to actually attack, that you just turn off a few of the human machines and then, "they pick the most dangerous enemy they can find, and it's themselves."

And then, in perhaps his finest piece of writing, Rod Serling sums it up with words of remarkable prescience, given where we find ourselves tonight: "The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs and explosions and fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, attitudes, prejudices, to be found only in the minds of men.

"For the record, prejudices can kill and suspicion can destroy, and a thoughtless, frightened search for a scapegoat has a fallout all its own -- for the children, and the children yet unborn."

When those who dissent are told time and time again -- as we will be, if not tonight by the President, then tomorrow by his portable public chorus -- that he is preserving our freedom, but that if we use any of it, we are somehow un-American...When we are scolded, that if we merely question, we have "forgotten the lessons of 9/11"... look into this empty space behind me and the bi-partisanship upon which this administration also did not build, and tell me:

Who has left this hole in the ground?

We have not forgotten, Mr. President.

You have.

May this country forgive you.

HONESTLY?

Drink the koolaid. Drink it! I'm just gonna let this one speak for itself.

This just in from CNN:

Still, some Southern women remain stalwart supporters of the president and the Republican Party. At a watermelon festival in Chickamauga, in the mountains of northwest Georgia, substitute teacher Clydeen Tomanio said she remains committed to the party she's called home for 43 years.

"There are some people, and I'm one of them, that believe George Bush was placed where he is by the Lord," Tomanio said. "I don't care how he governs, I will support him. I'm a Republican through and through."

FUN ON A PLANE

So I just returned from the motherland, The Land of Pleasant Smiles, the Philippines.

Or as I call it, the Land of Brown.

While I have many pictures and stories to tell, here's a gem:

My mom and I are in the exit row of the plane on the 17 hour leg of the journey (yes, seventeen hours - on the way to the Philippines, it's eighteen) and sometime in the middle of it, I wake up out of a sound nap to discover a long line waiting to use the bathroom. Two woman are standing and opposite of them is a mother and her little child. I notice the little child is doing the pee-pee dance, holding himself. It's pretty obvious he has to go pretty bad.

I decide to watch to see if one of the women will let him go before them. I look over at my mom and notice she's watching, too.

Then she bemusedly says to me when she notices me looking at her, "Yeah, but the funny thing is, no one is in the bathroom."

And I look up to see that the "Occupied" light is not on. And they all continue to wait in line.

No, we weren't jerks. As soon as I noticed this and had a bit of a laugh, one of the ladies seemed to lose patience and pushed the door slightly, realized it was empty, and let the little boy go in.

You gotta laugh when you can on a 17 hour flight.

P to the S: Kudos to Mai-chan who actually offered up a suggestion to my Snakes on a Plane challenge. I'm still taking applications.

DAMN, IF IT'S THAT EASY...

Then I'm quitting my job. On the eve of my departure from the states to the homeland (that would be the Philippines for those of you not paying attention), I choose to rant about something that I find completely, utterly - even fascinatingly (that's a word, dammit) - ridiculous.

Of course, I am speaking of Snakes on a Plane. Have you heard of this movie? Snakes on a Plane. Guess what it's about? Snakes.

On a Plane.

Ga?

We Americans really must have dumbed down a lot to deserve a movie title like that. The boy insists that it must have been the working title of the screenplay that got leaked and such a buzz was created that they had to keep the name. But come on, snakes on a plane?

What I'm saying is that if something as ridiculous as Snakes on a Plane actually makes some money, then I'm quitting my job and writing stupid movie plots, too. Just imagine.

"This summer... you might have only seen it in your dreams: Chickens in a Car."

or...

"Come and see what everyone's talking about: Hamsters on a Steamboat."

and...

"Don't walk. Run to be the first to see Monkeys in my Pants."

I'm gonna make a fortune.

This is fun! Who else can come up with movie titles and marketing catch phrases on the Snakes on a Plane theme? I know all four of you who read this are highly intellegent, witty individuals. So give. And share your brilliance with the world. Or the other three subscribers.

I feel like I'm selling myself short. The other four subscibers.

In the meantime, I'm off on a sabbatical for a spell. But keep checking back - there's a possibility I'll come at you from a far-off destination. Assuming I can kick those little f*ckers from their networked games at the cybercafe. Not an easy feat, I promise you.

Until then, take care of yourselves. And others. By doing lots of shots. Lots.

UM, LOOK BEHIND YOU...

So the boy and I were leaving an end-of-the-softball-season drink at our sponsor's establishment, Washington Tavern, late last week when on the drive home, we passed three suspicious persons lolligagging behind parked cars on the way home. In one of their hands was a baseball bat and they were waiting for the cars to pass.

There was no one behind us, so as soon as we passed, they spread out into the street and resumed their game of street baseball. At 1am.

I should mention that less then thirty feet behind them to our right was a softball field. No one was playing on it. If you had a choice, would you play in the street or on the field? I mean, am I the only one who finds this slightly odd?

Hmmmm... Albany.

WHY ON EARTH ARE WE SURPRISED?

Any self-respecting fag hag could tell you. Hell, I knew from the minute I saw him that my gaydar, honed over years and years of collecting gay men like shoes, went off like fireworks. In fact, I think the reading was: "Gayer than Liberace's Underpants".

The thing is, who cares? And his bandmates are supportive, though it's for their sakes he kept in the closet. It is interesting to find out that Joey Fatone found out when walking in on him and his first boyfriend, though...

Now if Lance Bass would just take the time, go back into the closet, through the underground railroad, grab Clay Aiken's hand and a host of other closeted gay boys I can think of and lead them to the light, that would be a news-worthy accomplishment.

THE TIME HAS COME...

For a rant.

This is a plea for all those drivers out there. If you decide to go the speed limit or just slightly above, that's fine. Just stay in the right hand lane.

It's just that simple. Because the left lane is the passing lane. If there's a car behind you, looking like it's ready to ram you in half, you might want to think about travelling in the right hand lane when you get a free pass. Because you're driving all those people in a hurry absolutely crazy.

I'm serious. I just spent the better part of four hours getting back to Albany from NYC and I'm pissed off as hell at those left lane ho-hum-not-paying-attention-look-at-the-pretty-scenery-so-I'm-going-to-slow-down-drivers.

Please. For everyone's sanity. Consider it an act of random kindness. We'll thank you.

UM, DIDN'T THEY GET THE MEMO?

Frankly, I'm a little disturbed.

So I just took my mother to see The DaVinci Code as a present for taking such good care of me this past week following my tonsilectomy.

P.S. - trying to do absolutely nothing for a week is maddening so the minute I felt better, I took advantage. Recovery is hard. Seriously. Try sitting through that movie for the second time, I know you won't!

Right.

So it's not the movie that disturbs me (surprisingly) but after the movie, I found I had to use the ladies' room. I suppose that not being able to really eat for a week except for liquid for the most part will do that to you. That was probably more information that you needed to know for the purposes of this story. So...

Here's what disturbed me:

In the bathroom, not one, not two, but three ladies walked out of the stall, passed the sink and walked right out.

Um.

Didn't ladies stop just walking out of the bathroom without washing their hands in the early 90's? I want to say it was pooh-poohed pretty loudly when I was growing up - and when you live with an infection control nurse for the better part of your life, you wash your hands every five seconds and notice when others don't.

Am I the only one taken aback by this? One, that happens. Two, that's a coincidence. Three? That's just wrong. Didn't these ladies get the memo? It's good to wash after doing your business in the bathroom to prevent the spread of germs/disease/right-wing conservatism?

Is it just me? I got the memo. And I'm pretty sure that a good 94% of women out there got it, too. Because I haven't seen a women not wash her hands after using the restroom since before puberty. I'd say these three women were like finding unicorns in the forest, but no matter which way you slice it, I was just grossed out.

Seriously. Is it just me?!

UNDER THE KNIFE. AGAIN.

In less than three days, I am officially going under the knife. Again.

No. It's not serious. At least, I can't imagine it would be.

I mean, really, the only surgery I've ever had is my wisdom teeth out. So I anticipate this one will hurt a little bit more. And no, I'm not nervous. Just not interested in the healing process and pain that will come with it.

Right. I realize I have yet to tell you what surgery I am undergoing. Well, this should help:

See, I've always wanted this to happen. Because ever since I was a kid, I used to get frequent strep throat and then I don't think I spent a month in college without an ear infection. Seriously.

It wasn't until I was in an emergency room in Buffalo last November with strep throat so severe I couldn't swallow water (and my first case of strep throat since 8 years old) that I realized the time hast arrived for me to bid a not-so-fond adieu to my enormously large tonsils and hopefully, the adenoids that accompany them.

You know how they go through phases where the medical community says, "Yes, take them all out," or "No, we stopped doing that!" Well, I fell right after a phase of "Take them all out." Meanwhile, I suffered through more than 22 years of strep throats, ear infections, developed allergies, and sore throats. The time has come for me to say, "no more."

So I shall endure this latest procedure on Friday. And miss 4th of July, perhaps. But then again, I will be accompanied by Vicodin and scores of other pain-killers. And no, I'm not anticipating being the next Rush Limbaugh, but I'm sure it'll make the time go much quicker. If not less painful.

Okay. So maybe I'm a little nervous. But it's the pain that mostly makes me nervous. I know this will pass. But I'm really hoping that I'll be back to feeling functional by Independence Day.

Dare to dream. I know. Don't laugh at my dreams. Punk.

WHOA THERE.

I realize I have been neglectful. But that's sort of the way things go lately.

In short, I have no complaints. Work is enough to keep me busy and though I miss all of my friends dearly, I'm becoming much more comfortable up here in the Albania area. Partly because I'm spending time with new people and making friends. Which, my loyal readers - all three of you - is half the battle.

But this is a short post. Not intended to give you a blow by blow account of what I've been up to. Because I barely remember what I did yesterday.

You know that website, Overheard in New York? It's fabulous, no? Well, I heard something by sitting on my stoop in Albany yesterday that made me wish there was an "Overheard in Albany", though I doubt it would attract much attention...

Guy walking angrily away from woman: She hit me. Do you
understand, she hit me!

Woman: You're a pussy.

Guy: What the hell was I supposed to do?

Woman: What do you want from me?

Guy: I want the video back! You stupid bitch! The
video!

Now, not only am I wondering what is on said video, but I can totally see how she would automatically know he wanted the video back.

-or-

Guy on cellphone walking down street: Yo, son. Did you bring the
midget porn?

Yeah. Smalbany has its advantages. Sometimes.

WHERE HAVE I BEEN?

That's a very good question.

Things for me have been moving along at a pretty good clip. Work's been busy. Very busy, actually. But it is that time of the year. Budgets and legislatures in session. Trying to get stuff done by June. So I expect to be busy until then.

In the meantime, I've come to rather enjoy Albany in a strange sort of way. It's like a nice mix between Syracuse and Chestertown - it reminds me of both. Which is weird, but what can you do? I'm meeting new people and getting involved in things. I have a great building of neighbors (I came home to a Cinco De Mayo Stoop Party last weekend and had a blast), I love my neighborhood, the weather is getting nicer, I'm playing on a softball team with folks from work, I'm doing quite well at sitar lessons. Everything is what you make of it. And I choose to make my new living situation as pleasant as possible.

You know, I need to start travelling with a camera everywhere I go because I keep seeing strange things that are just harder to explain. For instance, I forgot to mention that Mad Dog and I saw some dude on a seven foot tall bike in DC. We were hoping to take a picture with my cellphone, but we were stuck in traffic and by the time we had moved, the biker was gone. A shout out to Mad Dog - I miss you in Albany but hope to go to Portland and/or Seattle soon. Just find some crepes and I'm soo there.

Yesterday, in NYC, I was trying to find parking when I saw a kid no larger than three feet tall holding the leash of a giant St. Bernard as it was pooping in the street. It was really funny, strange, cute, and gross at the same time, but I wish I had a camera.

But watch. I'll start carrying one and then I'll stop seeing such funny things. Murphy's law.

So I'm sorry this isn't more exciting of a post, but that's what I've been up to. I shall commence with the funny and strange or maybe even a rant in my next one. Until then...

...take care of yourself. And others.

YET ANOTHER RANT

I find myself in New York City for the week for work. And yes, I am still torn about how much I miss this city. After a long day at work and yearning for some sort of entertainment, I decided to see what the great city has to offer.

Since I plan on going to the Tribeca Film Festival Drive-In tomorrow, I opted for the arts. I debated going to TKTS since I'm a block away. I entertained Yankees tickets (good thing I didn't go since they lost). I remembered that Lincoln Center isn't too far away, so I went to see what was up there.

Turns out they had the Akram Khan Dance Company performing in their New York premiere- a fusion of modern and kathak (one of the six major classical dances of India) dance. For those whom I haven't spoken to in a while, I happen to be embracing my South Asian neighbors - I've been a serious fan of Indian film, music, and culture for, well, my whole life, but really getting into it with fervor over the past six months. I'm even learning sitar, which is pretty damn cool and I'm sure I'll tell you all about it soon.

So, obviously, I was drawn to it.

After finding out that they still had a good deal of tickets left, I hopped over to the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle - which, P.S., is a fantastic place to spend some time because it's a cool damn place.

I was rather excited, given that I was finally going to a live Indian performance. Imagine my surprise when I bought my tickets to find out that they also had a late performance of Sapthaakshara in their U.S. debut after the dance performance. They perform Indian classical percussion. So I bought two of the best seats left for both performances, preparing for a night of sublime Desi culture.

In getting the best seats, I neglected to think about the particular sight lines of this theatre, having never seen it before. Sure, I was in the second row. But the lip of the stage was high, they had monitors and lights in the way, and a majority of the performance involved the dancers rolling around the floor.

The opening of the show paired two dancers in an elaborate yoga pose telling a rather funny story. They were soft-spoken, but mostly due to the very strange position they were in - both arms extended to the ground, one leg lifted to a diagonal across the body - basically as if they were about to get into a head stand and got distracted by something shiny halfway through and froze. It was cool to see.

I noticed the audience was an interesting mix of Lincoln Center regulars (you know, older folks with some serious money of the pale persuasion) and a good mix of South Asians.

The woman directly behind me happened to be an older woman with her husband and during the entire opening, she kept whispering, "I can't hear you!"

When I say whisper, I mean normal voice. She was disrupting the show, interrupting the story, and eventually the entire second row turned and loudly shushed her. At which point, she whispered something inaudible to her husband, though the whispering was still enough to distract us - at which point her husband loudly hushed back, "I'm sorry."

Neat.

I admit the performance was rather strange, but terribly interesting. There was some really amazing parts to it - and I think if I had been further back in the audience, I would have really really really enjoyed it.

All of us in the front had to crane our necks and move our heads at various points to see, so it was really very distracting and unideal. At which point, I notice a couple sitting in the middle of the front row.

I should mention that when this couple entered the space, the girl was like, "Oh, I don't want to sit there." And the usher calmly told her she couldn't change seats. Well, it was obvious why since the sight line was so bad, but it became apparent that she didn't really want to be there at all.

Because all the couple seemed to want to do was make out during the show. It was really obnoxious and annoying - I really don't give a damn about PDA, but if you're in the front and center of a show, have some damn restraint. They got it about 40 minutes into the show when they got up and left in the middle of a number. Yeah. Great.

Another pairing got up and left halfway through, but I suspect it was because they were getting frustrated they couldn't see properly. At least they waited until a blackout. Those are good theatregoers.

Between the shows, I hopped into a room they had where they had set up a really amazing jazz listening room (I was at Jazz at Lincoln Center, after all). That relaxed me again.

Sapthaakshara was next and I found out that I had again thought wrong when getting the tickets. This time, however, the theatre was amazing. It is settled in the front part of the Time Warner Center with high glass windows (all the way from the bottom floor - and we were on the 5th floor) overlooking Columbus Circle and Central Park. So I had an amazing view of the park. I just didn't have a great view of the show. They were sitting in a circle and one of them was directly in my line of view from watching the amazing percussion.

See, I'm a really really huge fan of Indian percussion instruments. Vikku Vinayakram (who is the head of the merry group) is considered the greatest living master of the ghatam, an ancient percussion instrument of South India which is basically a clay pot. He was breathtakingly amazing. The entire show was fun and fantastic - and I couldn't really see how they were playing it. And for all of you that know me, this was obnoxious to me, but at least I was in the front row, listening to amazing music and sounds, and overlooking Central Park.

So my night ended on a really great note. My soul feels great. But damn those audience members.

Right. Oh, and please tell me someone else thinks this picture is funny:

I know it's not a clear picture, but it's a NYC sewer cover (I think you can make it out).

But it reads: "NYC Sewer" in the middle and "Made in India" along the bottom. I find it highly amusing.

Just a great way to cap my Indian night, I suppose.

Holla.

WISDOM EXTRACTION

So I recently had my wisdom teeth removed. I thought this would be an experience that would be chalked up under my Traumatic Experiences files, given what they had told me before the surgery.

I was wrong. I don't remember a damn thing. Drugs get a bad reputation.

Yeah, I have holes in my gums. And my jaw, for that matter. The worst pain was when the novocaine wore off. That was awful. But they sent me home with a medicine cabinet that made everything good. And happy. Except that I had dull pain for two weeks, which I was content to do because I was intentionally under-dosing myself so I don't pull a Rush Limbaugh and get the shakes and sweats when it's all gone.

I'm doing well.

But my favorite part of the whole process is when the Oral Surgeon sits you down, explians what's up, then says something like, "Now, you may lose feeling in your jaw, lips, and mouth because of the proximity of the teeth to the nerve that runs alongside the under of your jaw. For the most part, it will go away after a few weeks. But given your age and the development of the teeth, there's a chance that this situation will be permanent. Okay?"

You sort of numbly nod your head, thinking, "Permanent? Seriously? I'll need a bib everytime I drink?"

Then they shove a clipboard with a disclaimer in front of your face and say, "This is just to acknowledge that we had this conversation, you understand the risks, and are going ahead." They start to leave and turn and say, "Oh, that we're not liable for loss of feeling in your mouth/gums/lips area."

Yeah, 'cause I went in and drilled the holes myself and thought it would be a good idea to personally re-enact the end scenes of The Princess Bride as Wesley - for the rest of my life.

What is that all about?

JUST BECAUSE

I know that last blog was long. It's what I've been up to and mama's been quite busy.

It's 2am. I'm in NYC. I got bored. So I started surfing the links I have to the right.

I stumbled upon my old friend, Big Daddy Sung's blog. And I got to clicking around to find a page full of postcards he has made. And I'm reminded of why he is brilliant.

So this post goes out to my good friend, Johnny, with kudos for still ruling the world all the way on the left coast and a reminder that I really need to get in touch with some of my old high school friends because hell, we had a good time and we're all quite crazy.

I mean, honestly, this one had me rolling on the floor for a good hour (click to enlarge):


Or this juicy number:

I mean, brilliant!

So go and see for yourself. I promise you'll laugh your ass off. And I'll be sure to link it on the right soon.

WHY I AM AN ASS-A-MA-HOLE

I somehow managed to spill soda on my work laptop and while it's working now, I can tell it's just not quite the same. Looks like it's tech time for my computer.

I'm quite annoyed at myself. Because this sort of thing happened to my mother's friend and ever since, I've been so good at being careful about spillage around the technology.

One distracted second and an cup of Sprite between the phone and laptop proves that I'm a sacca douche. Sigh. I had hoped it was only a phase.

LOOK! A NEW POST!

In the immortal words of Johnny Goodtimes, "Ho-ooo my goodness."

Yes, I have been under a rock. Or at least circling it a few times. Life has been full of travel and craziness since the last post waaay back when. So let's do a quick "what-the-hell-have-you-been-up-to" list. I've learned a lot in the past month. And I have much to share, as you'll see. This is long, I warn you. You may want to grab a snack. Or come back periodically. It has been a long time:

1. Work has been kicking my ass. Figuratively and literally.

2. I have now only spent two weekends in Albany since I moved here in December. This must end at some point. I can't believe I'm saying it, but it's true. All this travel has kicked my little monkey ass.

3. Where have I been travelling to? For work? NYC. And not just day trips, hoo no. At least two days a week. I know, I'm bitching. I did, after all, used to live there and you bet your pants that I miss it like the Dickens. But having to travel back and forth between the Capitol and the City every week for over the past three months is exhausting. INSANITY!

4. I've also spent a fair amount of time between DC, Philly, and Southern Jersey. Hey, I figure I might as well see my friends while I'm at it.

Moral of story: I miss living close to all of my good friends.

5. The weather in Albany is pretty lame. It gets nice, then cold. I understand it's happening all over the place. I would like to personally thank Global Warming.

6. I spent a couple of days in DC a few weekends ago (it's all starting to blend together since I went to California). It was absolutely gorgeous. The weather was a warm 70 degrees. It was fantastic hanging out with MadDog and Corsica and having lunch with the Divas - except that once I crossed south of the Mason-Dixon line, my throat started to swell, my eyes started to burn, and my nose started itching. If there's anything I DON'T miss about the good 'ol state of Maryland, it's the pollen count.

Moral of story: carry Allegra at all times.

7. That same weekend was the Big East Tournament and I'm happy to say Syracuse kicked some serious ass at Madison Square Garden.

Moral of story: Gerry McNamara kicks ass and I'm gonna miss him.

8. Once I stopped being distracted by the Syracuse/Georgetown game that evening in DC, we had a fantastic night out in Chinatown, Adams Morgan, and Capitol Hill. The last stop of the night was at a bar I'd been to before, Hawk and Dove. Except that I didn't know that there was dancing on the top floor. Cheesetastic. I haven't seen that many tube tops and sweaty boys trying to rub up against girls since I went to a frat party in college.

Moral of story: I think I'm getting older when I can't appreciate a dance party, no matter how cheesy it is.

9. Mad Dog and I went shopping the next gorgeous day in DC. Surprisingly, I didn't spend a lot of money.

10. We did, however, see lots of minis (children, in our speak). One of the minis had on this huge hat to match the one his dad was wearing. It was very Amish-looking. He was holding his dad's hand as him and his family walked down the street. The hat wasn't as strange as the fact that every three steps, the mini opened his mouth to scream. Three steps later, he'd scream again. His family didn't pay a damn bit of attention. Another mini was carrying a shovel as he crossed the street with his mother on their way to a park. It wasn't a real shovel, it was a plastic one. But I urge you to think. How many times have you seen a mini wielding a shovel? Probably not too many times. We also noticed he had on little gardening boots. Adorable. I wonder if the parks department cares.

Moral of story: minis are wicked cute. But if your child insists on screaming while walking, you need to rethink your parenting skills.

11. I find myself being too exhausted to finish unpacking my apartment when I get home at night from work when I actually AM in Albany. Yes, it is March. Yes, I moved to Albany in December. Yes, I still have about six boxes to finish unpacking a lot of things to find places for. Yes, my delicate Feng Shui sensibilites are being shart upon. Trust me, this won't last much longer. I just need a day and an afternoon. I shall settle soon.

12. Last week, I joined Boom-Boom for St. Patrick's Day events in NYC. It's tradition. There's so many events to go to. All work-related. Seriously. They've found a work day to turn into a party where you're seriously running into everyone in the NYC Labor Movement as well as elected officials. Needless to say, you probably don't remember much of the work you did that day since it starts at 7am at the Mayor's Breakfast.

Moral of story: I wish I was Irish sometimes.

13. Boom-Boom and I knew we were going to be in the city together, so we shared a room at my usual hotel. This time, instead of giving me what I asked for (I did make the reservations that week, so I can't really complain), they gave us a king-sized bed in a usual-sized room. Which isn't a problem. Until I got there. After assessing the situation, I immediately called Boom-Boom on the train and explained that because I was her friend and I loved her that she need to know that a. I was a spooner and that b. our room faintly smelled like urine and I did not pee on the floor and/or the wall. Seriously. It smelled like pee. But whatever, it was St. Patty's Day and I noticed there were three firemen from California checking in when I was. And they were cute. So I quickly forgot about the pee-smelling room until I got wafts of it every now and then. Neat.

14. Needless to say, given our work schedules, Boom-Boom and I opted to miss the first two events on St. Patty's Day and go to the 10am event to start off the day. Within minutes of arrival, I had a beer and breakfast. In short order, I had another beer and a shot or so of Jameson on our way to the next event where I had another beer. We made our way over to the Roosevelt Hotel where I continued my beer-drinkery.

15. They do this big thing at the Roosevelt where they have the bagpipers and drummers play inside the hotel before the parade. McMai (my Japanese hero) and I couldn't resist going over to watch. We debated jumping in the middle of the bagpipers and doing a geisha-like dance before running away while laughing in a high-pitched tone complete with hand over mouth, but decided against it.

16. I still think the idea was funny.

Moral of story: Not everyone thinks my self-inflicting Asian humor is funny. I hate those people. Not really. Or do I? Ah, being the inscrutable Asian stereotype. ("I'm not inscrutable! You can scrute me!" - regards to Christopher Durang and Drama Mama and mindy.)

17. After a few hours and beers, McMai and our other labor/Coro friend (we're all over the place), decided to go to the Fireman's event at the Armory.

18. There really is nothing like being surrounded by 2,000 firemen in full dress uniform from all over the country.

19. Absolutely nothing like it.

20. We grabbed beers and then downed them quickly when I realized that firemen were carrying pitchers of beer. So we were halfway through our first beer when we met Ed, a fireman from Costa Mesa, CA who had a full pitcher of beer. This was pretty much what we did for a while.

21. It actually took us a good hour before we found an actual FDNY fireman. We realized how much we love New Yorkers in that instant because instead of the usual small talk, we actually had a debate about the proposed West Side Stadium (thank you, McMai) and NYC politics. Niiice. Did I mention that firemen are hot?

22. Scariest part of the day: almost being accosted by an older gentleman fireman (think Chester Child Molester Creepy). It happened to be the same fireman we had met at the 10am event where McVranich (we're all Irish on St. Patty's Day) actually had touched this older fireman's rear (long story). After he tried to make out with both McMai and me for beads, some other fireman said he needed for us to show him our boobs for his beads. I asserted that he needed to buy me dinner first before anything would be shown. It was like a meat market in there.

Moral of story: they're just beads. And they're cheap. I ain't showing nothing for that or making out with you unless they're diamonds or pearls. Or both (regards to Prince or whatever he's calling himself now).

23. But firemen are hot, so it's okay. And for the most part, they were polite and gentlemanly. At least the married ones were. Actually, the FDNY firemen where pretty good about it. The other firemen were like dogs in heat.

Moral of story: Did I mention firemen are hot?

24. After this, we went to another bar where it was starting to get super crowded because it was the beginning of the next wave of revelrers: those who had just gotten out of work. We managed to find some space at a pub in midtown. I noticed that with the large amount of firemen in the room as well as the large number of people in the room, no one seemed to particularly be paying attention to the fire code. Oh well.

25. We then left the bar where we had space (albeit quite limited) for another bar where we were practically on top of each other. It was exactly like a frat party. I haven't seen a crowded place like that where everyone's drunk and trying to rub up against each other since the weekend before at the cheese-tastic dance club at Hawk and Dove.

Moral of story: I hated frat parties then and I still hate them now.

26. Given the situation noted in number 25, I decided to call it a night. McVranich had enough as well. Ten minutes after arriving at the pee-smelling hotel room, I got a call from Boom-Boom saying she'd be home in a minute. 10:30. More than 12 hours of drinking. Lots of stuff. And I was sober all day. I guess the legendary tolerance has returned with a vengence.

Moral of this story: iv's of beer do nothing to me. I need to do more shots.

27. The next day, we headed to Philly where I was directing a reading and then Fabs and Jilly-pants had their birthday party that night.

28. QUICK SHOUT OUT: HAPPY BIRTHDAY FABS AND WALSH - THE TWO BEST FRIENDS A GIRL COULD ASK FOR.

29. The reading went quite well. I think I actually might like the play now. I hated it before the reading, but now I have a new appreciation for it.

30. The birthday party was a lot of fun. It was a crash of worlds for me, college friends, high school friends, NYC friends, and Philly friends. And yes, the birthday girls had a great time, too.

31. The rest of the weekend was quiet, relaxing, and I got a lot of work done. Surprisingly. The past week has been busy with work, but nothing to really write home about.

Moral of story: I need more quiet and relaxing days.

32. Last night, I went to an AFL dinner. The girls from work went since we had the tickets and we were representing AFSCME. It was fine. Sort of boring, actually. But the food was fantastic. The most interesting part of the night had to do with the priest who gave the blessing. Instead of saying, "This goes out to all my homies," he insisted on listing as many sorts of people as he could. "For all of those who are underpaid; for those who are greedy; for those who work hard; for those that coast by; for those who have tongues; for those who don't..." I'm serious. And he had a lisp and substituted "W's" for "R's". After his litany of every possible person in the world, we wondered why he couldn't have just said "everyone." Oh, and we didn't know all the folks at our table. Except that the 90's called and they want their parted-hair down the middle back from the guy sitting across from me. And Ricki Lake called, too. This woman across the table had the exact same hair.

Moral of story: never allow me and my co-workers to sit at a table together and a formal event. We will find ways to amuse ourselves.

33. I thought that would be the last post until I got onto the train to come to NYC this afternoon. Oh yes. More interesting happenings.

34. Since when is it socially acceptable to stare at a person while they are getting their things ready? And to lean your seat as far back as possible so that no one can sit behind you? I swear, this guy sitting across from me was the most obnoxious guy I've seen in a long time. He kept coughing and sneezing without covering his mouth, he found every possible way to take up space, talked loudly on his cellphone, and found it okay to stare at me the whole time. I mean, I know I'm cute and shit, but Jesus. If there weren't as many people, I would have moved.

Moral of this story: don't be that guy.

35. Then I ordered some food from a Korean restaurant near the hotel. I should have known there would be problems when the woman on the phone kept saying "34th Street?" and I kept saying, "No, 31st Street." After half an hour of waiting, I got a call from the delivery man who said, "34th Street?" It took at least twenty, "No, 31st Streets" before he finally figured out that my hotel was on 31st Street. And no, I'm not being an asshole, they were not from the same continent or country for you to label me an ignorant bastard on this. OH! And then, when the delivery guy finally did show up, the bill was $16 and some change. I handed him a $20 and asked for a dollar back. He promptly said, "A dollar?" I said yes (I need the change to add to the money I was going to give the housekeeper tomorrow). He asked again, "A dollar?" I nodded. He then stuck his hand in his pocket and turned on his heel and walked away. Eh?

Moral of story: I can walk the block away to Koreatown next time. I was just too tired to think it was going to be a problem. I know better now.

So yes, I've lived and learned quite a bit. And now you know what I've been up to. And what I've learned, for that matter. I hope you did enjoy this installment.

I hope it'll be sooner the next time I blog. So that it's at least shorter for all of us involved. I shall work on it.

Until then, I hope this blog finds all of you well. Thank you for your continued patronage of my twisted little blog.

Cheers,
Keeza

MINNESOTA IN ATLANTA?

So this past weekend, I found myself in California for my grandmother's 75th birthday with my two North American uncles, their families, and my mother.

My grandmother moved to LA to help my uncle with his three kids (one of whom is my Godson) in August of last year when they moved to CA from the Philippines. I haven't seen her since my father passed away and she was always worried we wouldn't all see each other for a long time. So my uncle and his wife came in from Toronto (his three daughters stayed at home, read: they threw a party), my mom and I came in from NYS, and we all met up in Ontario, CA.

It was a nice weekend, reconnecting with family. My cousins are getting bigger. And cuter each time I see them.

We decided to go to Vegas since my uncle and his wife from Canada had never seen it. And we were only three hours away. Why not?

So after spending lots of money and cruising up and down the strip, we headed back to Ontario, only to get up an hour later for my mom and I to return to New York.

It was exhausting. I was in NYC last week for work and then left Friday morning to come back to Albany to get my stuff, swing by the office, and get on a plane to California. Then we were there Saturday, went to Vegas on Sunday, and got back on a plane on Monday.

Tomorrow I'm going to NYC. Again.

Sheesh. I'm going to need another vacation soon.

But on the way home, my mom and I stopped in Atlanta before heading back to our respective homes (me, Albany - her, Syracuse). So we separated in Atlanta and I found myself with a couple of hours to kill. So I decided to get some food.

As I sat to eat, I was people watching and listening to conversations of folks.

I didn't realize Atlanta would be such a popular stop for folks headed to Minnesota and Wisconsin. At least that's what their accents seemed to tell me. Every single person sounded as if they were from Drop Dead Gorgeous. I was highly amused. Especially by the children and their ridiculously strong Minnesotan accents.

After an exhausting day of travel, I found myself at a Budget Briefing at 8:30 the next morning. I'm still in the office now and it's almost 8pm. I still have to go home and pack for New York when I get home. Oh, and clean my entire house because somehow my cat managed to get a tapeworm. Gross.

So eventually, I shall settle down. I am looking forward to this weekend. Since I'm going to be halfway there, I'm headed to Delaware on Friday to register my car and then to Philly to hang out with friends. Very exciting.

I plan on stopping by Ikea on my way home to finish furnishing my home. I finally got a new tv. The only question for me is when I will finally get a chance to review my budget. Perhaps I'm putting it off.

So this isn't really an amusing post. But trust me, I'm sure I'll have something really funny to say very soon. Lots of funny things happen on the road.

Until then, keep commenting - I'm surprised at how many comments I've been getting lately. Whoot!

LOTS OF NEWNESS IN THE NEW YEAR

I find myself lacking sorely in my blog duties. I apologize. I've been busy.

Before I give a general blog update, I would like to address the myriad of comments I've received on this blog since I last posted. Would you believe that despite the comments asking you for your email that I cannot access it? So I can't answer y'all back.

That being said, here are my responses:

* Jeff, if you're out there, I'd love to commiserate with you. Hell, I have friends I haven't met yet. If you'd like to email me, click on "About Me" and drop me a line. How 20 something I am? Well, I'd be offended, but I can hardly be. Since I am in my 20s. So... um. Yeah.

* Kate, you hear my pain. Be sure to heed Jill's advice, though. Seriously.

* Jill, I miss you and Quizzo like a monkey misses crack. Or, well, you know what I mean. Tuesday nights and random Thursday nights just aren't the same without the girls. Sigh. Hopefully I can make a cameo on the team sometime soon.

* Mad Dog, I'm all about the gay cowboys. And the pedis.

* Maichan, one of these days I'll reference the strike. When my members end up paying more for their health insurance because of the standard the TWA set. I still don't know how good that all is. And Stegausarus has plates and spikes.

* Petey, where have you been all my life? We should get together before that time of the year when we can't talk to each other. Especially this year since it seems us New Yorkers added a very interesting lead-off hitter. You can hit me when you see me.

* Dave, testicle tap is a fun game that my friend created when drunk. I think you must be drunk to engage. Well, that's not entirely true, I guess. And all of these gay men are adorable as you all are and some of them were taken. And living in Philly. I kind of remember how it started, but testicle tap probably sounds much more fabulous that it is. It is simply a game where gay men allow the women and other gay men at the table to tap their testes. It's cheeky fun. That's all.

Now moving on to our regularly scheduled program:

So besides a new year, a new apartment, a new home, a new job, we can add new car to that list.

Yes. I got a new car. I realize I bought a new car a year and a half ago. Well, it was used. But I had to part with my Jeep when it became evident that with the events of late last year I had acquired my father's Nissan Quest. So four cars between my mother and I do not equal happiness in the wallet. I decided to trade in two for new (a phrase I have coined in the past week). And got something completely unexpected.

It's extravagant. It's huge. And it makes me nervous because it's new and I've never ever owned a new car in my life. I've always had hand-me-down cars or used cars that I drove into the ground (even the Liberty was no exception to this). So now I have a completely new car to drive into the ground.

I have a new, fully loaded 2006 Limited Dodge Durango. It's fairly amusing. But I got an AMAZING deal. Partly because of the trading two for new thing, but also because I negotiated like a pro. I had intended to get a new and fully loaded 2006 Limited Jeep Liberty. Or a smaller car that I wouldn't have to pay much on. But I basically got this car for the same amount I paid on my Liberty for less time and with everything thrown in. And because I'm union, I couldn't even look at many cars, I was keeping within the UAW list of built cars for 2006. Solidarity, friends.

So if you see a little brown monkey driving around in a huge car, it's probably me. It's really funny. And I'm getting used to it. It still makes me nervous, though. I hope I get over it.

Other than that, there seems to be nothing to write home about. Except that I've been busy. Especially now that Session has started and there's nothing but events and receptions to go to. Which would be fun. Except the whole time I've been out there, I find myself distracted by a singular, nagging thought: I hope to hell I get home in enough time to find parking for my tank.

Yeah. My life is complicated. Ha.

Oh, I'm really serious about doing this whole Asian excursion at some point. I hope someone will join me for the trip. I need a spiritual cleansing. I picked up learn Hindi the other day. I've reclaimed my Dhammapada, my Bhagavad Gita, and my Upanishads. I have been searching for interesting locales in India, Japan, Nepal, Tibet, mainland China, Singapore, Malaysia, Korea, and yes, the Philippines. I have netflixed foreign movies out the ass lately (specifically Chinese Kung-Fu movies and Bollywood). It's time for mama to get in touch with her Asian/Pacific Islander roots. Who wants in on the fun?

Right. Now off to do some budget analyzation. Whoot.

LOST IN THOUGHT

I write this first blog of the New Year in a rather introspective time of my life. I have been pontificating and musing for the last week, at least. I'm in deep pontification and muse-ation, I suppose. I can't really put my finger on why, but I suppose such things happen from time to time and I find it rather healthy and at least a yearly happening.

I can look back over the past year and understand why I am in such a thoughtful phase in my life. Like Volansky, I feel like I have fallen down the rabbit hole, though I don't oppose company. I just don't know if I keep it well these days. I suppose the first holiday without my father and dealing with all the life changes with family, work, and even living environment can bring about such times and I can say that perhaps it is well deserved. I never took time off to deal with anything, was overwhelmed at times during the year, but now I find myself at the beginning of a new year and it's time, I guess, to take a little "me" time. I'm starting a new phase of my life and I look forward to it. I just need a good breather and this past week has sufficed.

But besides my mental and emotional state, I have a bone to pick. No, I shall refrain from the soapbox on this first post of 2006. I think this past year, in political terms, has been quite played out and very well picked-apart already. Like many in my party, I shall simply allow events to play out. It seems people have begun to wake up and are starting to pay attention. Let's hope it continues.

But I choose to pick away at a bone that has been bothering me for a couple of weeks now and came to a head this past Friday: PEOPLE NEED TO LEARN MOVIE AND THEATRE-GOING ETIQUETTE. NOW.

Let me break it down by category:

WHEN GOING TO A MOVIE:

1. I know it tells you to turn your cell ringer to silence. I wish we could go one further to turning it off. But since people haven't quite even grasped the "silence" mode, let's at least try not answering it in the theatre. If it's that damn important, take it outside, mmkay?

2. Just 'cause the seats recline now and there's more room still doesn't give you the right to put your feet on the seat in front of you, especially if I'm sitting in front of you. I can still feel it.

3. Don't throw food. This works for the dinner table, too.

4. One or two comments to your friend/girlfriend/boyfriend/family member is okay as long as it's whispered. Full conversation is still a no-no.

5. This goes with the previous one, but pay attention. If you're talking, you miss something. And it's definitely still not okay to ask your movie-going companion(s) what you missed. Especially if you ask loudly.

6. Please refrain from speaking to the actors on screen. They can't hear you. You won't be able to change the storyline, I don't care how good your magic is.

7. If you're gonna make out or do other things in the theatre, please sit in the back. Or far away from people. I didn't pay $10+ for a show, I paid for a movie.

8. Unless your name ends with Ebert, please do stop criticizing the movie before the credits roll. I don't care what you think.


WHEN AT THE THEATRE:

1. If you are 20 minutes early to the theatre, please take the time to go to the bathroom before you sit down. Especially at a show that is closing the next night. Yes, the theatre is packed. Especially on Broadway. Do not make us get up when you find your seat only to have us sit down and then make us get up again five minutes later when you decide to go to the bathroom. The funny thing about Broadway and entertainment in general is that they are trying to make a quick buck. So the theatre seats are usually much closer than comfortable. Please remember this as you make us sit down, stand up like yo-yos. If you have time, pee or whatever before you find your seat.

2. Do not bring food to live performances and then expect everyone to not look at you funny when you open it in the middle of the show.

3. If at a musical, it is not okay to talk during the Overture or Entre' Act. They give you a hint when the performance begins:they turn off the house lights. Just because no action is happening on stage does not mean you can talk.

4. Remember what I said about the seats being close together in a theatre? Right. Draping your jacket or coat or cane over the arm rest I must share with you is not neat. I did not pay $100 to sit cock-eyed because you can't put it in your lap or in front of you.

5. It is customary to clap after musical numbers. It is not customary to start up your conversation where you left off until the actors start speaking again.

6. As at movies, pay attention. I know it's a little different because in live theatre there's a lot more happening, but because it's live theatre, it's especially important not to discuss the plot. For one very good reason: I cannot rent a performance of a show to watch at my lesuire because you were too busy yapping away to pay attention.

7. As with movies, turn off your cellphone. You'll put off the actors. And piss the hell out of everyone because theatre costs a hell of a lot more than movies.

8. At musicals, please wait until the musical number is over before getting up. In fact, if you are five minutes from the intermission, wait. Cork it. I don't care what you do. Especially if you're in the middle of the row. Forcing an entire row of people up in the middle of the 11 o'clock number or even the number before the intermission, or any number whatsoever, is just wrong and rude.

9. The actors and actresses are getting paid a lot of money to act and sing and dance. I'm paying a lot of money to watch it. So please refrain from singing along or humming along to the numbers.

10. Just because you've seen Phantom of the Opera, Cats, Les Miserables, or any of the current shows on Broadway does not make you an expert. I have a goddamn degree in Theatre and you don't hear me saying things like, "Well, it's what to be expected at a show like this. I mean, I know I see more 'classic' musicals, but you just can't compare this to Phantom." You really don't have a clue, do you?

Seriously. And there's more, I just hit the highlights.

Since the holidays, I've seen lots of movies: Harry Potter (twice), Rent, Elizabethtown, Walk the Line, Memoirs of a Geisha (twice), The Producers - and every time, I am reminded why I prefer DVDs in the comfort of my own home on the couch.

And last Friday, I saw Sweet Charity with Christina Applegate because it's closed Saturday and I had been wanting to see it. And yes, Christina was amazing. And outside of the theatre, I wanted to say, "Look, there's Jesus!" but it was really difficult since she wasn't speaking much because she was saving her voice for the next night and because we had to rotate quickly after she signed programs or whatever. Jill wanted me to say "Why don't you go back to your home on Whore Island?!" but I opted against it for obvious reasons, as well as the reasons I outlined above.

But despite how good the show was, I found myself plenty annoyed at the theatregoers my mother and I were surrounded by. Besides talking, being rude, acting like pretentious theatre snobs (I mean, really, I think I have a legitimate bone there), getting up in the middle of numbers, or singing along, I thought I was going to go out of my mind. I made the best of it, of course, but the Christ.

I would also like to say, as a fan of Fosse and "Rich Man's Frug", I was amazed at the choreography for that number. I think I had my mouth open the whole time. That is, when I wasn't killing my neck trying to see around the woman in front of me who was bobbing her head around like a liver on a stick.

I mean, come on! I can't seem to find any sort of live entertainment I can enjoy anymore without someone mucking it up for me. And that even includes concerts. It's becoming unacceptable. I'm spending far too much money being annoyed at things that I used to enjoy.

Sigh. I'm happy that's off my chest.

Best wishes for the New Year, loyal readers. 'Till the next blog inkling...