Overheard at DCA
Now I'm used to the hassles of air travel so I put my game face on when I travel. It's the little loopy grin I put on that says, "Yes this all sucks, but we're in it together so we might as well all get along." And I had it on when I get to the check in kiosks at US Airways. While I'm waiting in line, I've heard a little bit of unpleasantness, but I've got my travel smile working. I get up to the kiosk and there's a problem so I have to wait for help. In the meantime, I stand there listening:
Woman: "What's going on here. Why are we sitting apart? We're supposed to be sitting together."
Attendant: "I'm not sure Ma'am. But something must have happened."
Woman: "I booked my seats FOUR months ago to make sure we would sit together and NOW you're telling me there's been some changed? Why do you EVEN give people the option to pick seats if it doesn't matter ANYWAYS?" She says sharply. And loudly.
Attendant: "Ma'am, I'm not sure. Sometimes the aircraft type is changed without our notice, so I'm not sure why you aren't sitting together."
Woman: "Are you meaning to tell me that my MINOR child is going to have to sit by herself 20 rows behind me? Are you saying that my 16 year old daughter is going to . . . . ."
I'm really not sure what she said after that. I'm just stuck on 16. Are you frakkin kidding me? She's 16 and she can't sit in a plane by herself with you a mere 20 rows away? How the hell deos she get to school? I'm thinking that if you're 16 and you can't sit apart from your Mom for the 2 plus hour flight to West Palm Beach then something is seriously wrong and bitching out the attendent who has NO control over the situation is just simply crazy! Get a grip you silly woman!
Labels: travel
Death To America?
Well it's been a busy week for me including an oh-so-fun trip to central New Jersey and I'm about to head off to Nashville (yee-haw!) shortly. So I've barely been able to keep up with the political blogs I read, or even many of the personal or religious blogs (and yes I read several religioius blogs). But between what I've seen on the news, read in the MSM and in the blogs, I have to wonder whether if there is some sinister plan to destroy America. And no I'm not some conspiracy freak, but I think about of all of the stuff that has come out about the Bush administration and how it's basically undermining everything America stands for.
To quote
Joe Klein: "The three big Bush stories of 2007--the decision to "surge" in Iraq, the scandalous treatment of wounded veterans at the Walter Reed Army Medical Center and the firing of eight U.S. Attorneys for tawdry political reasons--precisely illuminate the three qualities that make this Administration one of the worst in American history: arrogance (the surge), incompetence (Walter Reed) and cynicism (the U.S. Attorneys)."
But that's just the stuff that has risen to the surface. If you look deeper you can see the blatant cronyism and corporate welfare is undermining what America stands for as well.
It used to be: "Go to school, study, work hard, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, and you can succeed in America."
But now it's go to
Regent University, have some political connections, and get some sweet
government job where you can help sustain the corrupt system that put you there. Or maybe you'll end up in a
position where you can use government funds to keep your party in power. Or maybe you can give some money to a
guy in a fedora and he'll help you get some sweet government contracts. And don't get my started on the no-bid contracts. How can that be construed as anything other than corporate welfare?
Is there some masterplan to completely undermine the basic foundations of America? It's hard for me to think that there isn't at this point. But one would think if they could come up with a masterplan like that, they would have figured out a way to get out of Iraq. So maybe they're just getting lucky.
Rage. That's what I'm feeling these days. Rage that this is happening in America. Feel it with me. Doesn't it feel good?
Labels: politics, rage
"Well We Can Still Be Friends . . . . . . ."
It's an almost formulaic response that's uttered as part of the break up saga. Usually after the: "It's not you, it's me" portion of the discussion.
And sometimes it's true and sometimes it's not. I know I've said it a few time and not really meant it. Usually when I've dated someone once or twice and figured out that not only am I
not attracted to them, but that they really aren't that interesting and I'm not sure there's anything to base the friendship on. Yes, that's kind of harsh, but I'm being honest.
I will say that I do have a rather good track record of turning dates into friends. Most of my friends I met via Match where one of us (and sometimes both) decided that there wasn't any chemistry, but we had some things in common and thus a friendship was born.
Which brings me to my last romance which happened last fall. In a strange twist of fate, I met someone who I was not only attracted too, but also found funny, interesting, smart, etc. So we dated a bit (4-5 months ish). After a New Years Eve alone, I kind of pulled the "where are we" conversation and he said that he wanted to keep things casual, that he wasn't interested in a boyfriend right now. And I said cool, casual works, and . . . . wait for it . . . . well we can still be friends.
But apparently it was not meant to be. And I'm kind of bummed about not only the break up, but the fact that we couldn't even be friends. I've sent him a couple of emails, and nothing. And I guess the saddest thing is that I kind of thought more of him, kind of expected that it wouldn't be this way. There was no ugly break up, no scene, just a fade away into deafening silence.
Labels: Dating, friends, gay
Friday Night Mistakes
So I've had a long, and pretty crappy week. But I got home early yesterday and instead of doing more work, I laid down for a nap. But it wasn't very good and when I woke up at 630PM I wasn't feeling in the best of moods. But I've been such a hermit lately I forced myself to go out even thought I wasn't really feeling like it. Mistake #1. Then instead of going to Woof @ TITAN where I figured I'd end up getting rejected by real bears, as well as by Bear411, I decided to go to
Halo. Mistake #2. So I get cleaned up and I head to Halo. It's packed to the gills with all of the pretty people, and the wannabes. Like me. I keep getting cut off in line by twinks of various age and I'm starting to get mad. Yeah, like that's a good attitude to have at Halo. I finally get my drink and I sort of walk around and look to see if I know anyone. As I'm scanning the crowd I recognize John Aravosis who runs
Americablog.com. I go over and introduce myself and tell him how much I like the blog. Actually I think I said, " I LOVE YOUR BLOG" while pointing at him repeatedly. Anyways, nice guy and we chatted for while. But then I realize that he's there with friends and now I'm afraid I'm turning into some cyberstalking fan so I excuse myself quickly and leave. And as I'm leaving Halo, I start to get depressed. So I decide to eat through my emotions and I go over to
Stoneys. Mistake #3. Where I order the buffalo chicken pizza to go. Mistake #4. Which I take back to my condo where I proceed to eat the WHOLE THING. Mistake #5. While watching Queens, which is very cute, but all of these happy endings make me want to puke (or is that the pizza) and I get depressed even more. So I finally end up going to sleep only to be punished for my many mistakes with acid reflux all night. Nice.
The good new is that according to
EW, depression is so 5 minutes ago and apparently rage is now in. Which is good, because I've got some healthy rage issues I'd like to work on as well.
Ego Much?
So I went to a Nats game last night. And I remember why I like baseball, other then inherent gayness of it all with the pitchers and catchers. It's just a very social sport. You don't spend 60 minutes screaming at the top of your lungs. Sure you shout every once in awhile, but you can also just sit and chat and have a conversation. You're kind of forced to just slow down and enjoy the game. Of course, the beer and the really bad for you but-oh-so delicious snacks are just icing on the cake. My CEO asked me to go with him and he's got SWEET seats. Plus we got to eat dinner at the "Diamond Club." Trust me, it should be called the "Cubic Zirconia Club." Oh, the food was okay, but it's not really a "club."
Anyways, we're watching the game and I know NONE of the players. Hey, I don't like it that
much. Anyways, out comes some guy and you know how they play a little snippet of a song picked by that player. Well the song was: "
This Is Why I'm Hot!" Hello! Ego much? And um, sweetie, I hate to break this to you, but you just aren't all that. Well, to be nice, compared to some of the other guys on the team, maybe Ryan Zimmerman is sort of hot. But I think he may be gay fat.
Labels: gay, nationals, nellie's sports bar
Rejected by Bear411!
No seriously!
I had a couple of friends in town and some guy told them to check out his profile on
Bear411 so we looked him up on my computer. Well the profile didn't say much, and we thought maybe you need to be a registered user to get additional info, so I went a head and registered. Filled in the little questionnaire (and no I'm not sharing what I put in my profile), posted a pic, and then waited to get the confirmation email saying that my profile was approved.
Well I got an email, and it said, "no thanks" and recommended that I join Male411 (aka
Gay411).
Now I'm not sure what to think. Was I rejected because my picture wasn't bear enough? I posted one without facial hair, was that the requirement I failed? Or am I looking too slim (as if!) in my pic and so don't meet the weight requirement?
I'm confused.
And should I be offended or happy
Labels: bears, gay
Bathroom Etiquette
Men don't talk in the bathroom. That's just a general rule. Oh sure, if it's only a guy and a co-worker or a buddy, they may chat briefly. But if it's a bathroom with other people there, everyone is quiet. They do their business (so to speak) and then they leave.
So you're standing at a row of urinals doing your thing. Someone walks up to use the urinal next to you. And while you are standing there, they emit the loudest, longest, fart. What if it's someone you know?
Do you say anything, or just keep your mouth shut?
Does what happens in the bathroom, stay in the bathroom?
What would Miss (or Mr.) Manners say?
Labels: random
Fat
I know I am but what are you!
But seriously.
So I've been watching
Work Out on
Bravo. LOVE IT!
During my weekend spent in bed trying to suffer through migraines, I watched a couple of episodes. In one, Jesse is talking about how he's probably in the worse shape of any of the trainers on the show. "I'm not fat. Well, I may be gay fat," he said. And that just killed me. It's true. You can be in "normal" shape and be considered "gay fat". It really is quite strange/sad. Body Dysmorphic Disorder is just rampant in the gay community.
The other episode I watched Jackie is talking about a lesbian couple who want to lose weight. And I think it's Jesse again who says, "They aren't fat, well they are nesting fat. Happy fat." That I've found someone who loves me and it's alright if I have dessert more than once a week kind of fat.
I wish I was either.
After losing almost 14 pounds, I fell off the diet wagon and then rolled downhill. Today was the first day in probably 3 weeks that I've been to the gym. I did 50 minutes of cardio. Which didn't completely suck. I want to do some cardio for a week before I get on the scale. I'm afraid to get on the scales. Very afraid.
Labels: diet, fat, Health
The Schism Comes Home
So I've not blogged about this. But I've thought about it a lot. My parent's church in Colorado Springs has left the Episcopal Church and petitioned to join the Nigerian Anglican church.
This saddens, stuns, angers me. And to have it all done amidst allegations of theft, embezzlement, etc only clouds the issues and makes it harder to distill the real forces at work here.
My mother lives by the church. Born and raised an Episcopalian, she's been involved with the church all her life. Even now she's a member of the alter guild and works in the thrift store. The separation, and the ugly situation there, are just killing her.
I've sat by, waiting, making no comment. I keep telling myself that it doesn't really effect me. That I should let them make their own decisions on which group they should go with. It obvious to me that chosing the vehemently anti-gay Nigerian church is the wrong answer, but they do have a lot of loyalty to their rector. But if there was a misappropriation of funding, is that loyalty deserved? If the rector is going to take them down a path of hate and "partial orthodox", then they need to question whether that loyalty is deserved.
I wonder if I write to them, tell them how I feel, whether it will make a difference? I'm almost convinced that nothing will persuade my father short of a clear declaration of wrong doing by the rector. Which will never happen. My mother might be swayed by logic and reason, but I'm not sure. And to mention that my passion behind my concerns has to do with the being gay will surely kill any chance I have of convincing them to think about the issues before they make a decision.
So do I write to them, and tell them how I feel, knowing it might not make a difference. Or do I maintain my silence and let them do as they please?
I'm going home in May to visit them. I won't go a Nigerian Anglican church. I won't. And I'm sure that will be an issue. But I guess I can deal with that then.
Labels: Anglican, Episcopal Church, Nigerian
Paris Pics!
Been a crazy week, but I finally got a change to download my pics and play with them a bit. Enjoy!
Labels: Paris
The Ole Rock Climbing Injury
That's my new story.
See back in the day I was backpacking through Patagonia with some friends. We had just hiked over into southern Chile looking to climp up into Torres Del Paine National Park. We had crossed several mountain passes, waded through cold rushing streams, and were climbing up the face of a steep rock wall to get to the top of the mountain when one of my ropes slipped, I fell, only about 20 feet or so, but landed on my foot badly and tore my achilles tendon. I was lucky, but to this day it still bothers me. Some days more than other, but hey, that's the kind of guy I am.
The truth?
OH MY GAWD my foot hurts. It's fricking killing me.
I think it's THE GOUT! Part DEUX!
So I had the problem with my foot (mainly in the toe area) before I left to go to Paris. I take drugs, and like in a day or so, I'm fine. I stop taking the drugs. I walk all over Paris. No problems. Yesterday I start to notice that it's hurting again. Today, oh yes, it's hurting alright. It's f&cking killing me. And I've been hobbling around like a stupid gimp and I hate it.
Sure I get a little bit of sympathy, but then when I tell people it's the gout, they look at me kid of funny and just sort of shake their head and walk away.
So, the next person to ask me, it's just the ole rock climbing injury acting up again.
Labels: Health, pain
Versailles, Paris, and Home Again
Friday I got up early and went to Versaille. The BNL helped me navigate the RER (local trains)
and I got to Versaille a little after 1030. My foot was feeling better and I walked under the grey and drizzling skies to the front of the palace. Holy Cow! I just hadn't realized how huge it was. And it was amazing how crowded it was that early on a cold, rainy Friday morning. The line for people with tickets was easily 200 people long and I stood there for a good half hour before I got int. I was worred that it was going to be like the Louvre where a gazillion people are there and every one is jostling each other and I was right. Luckily the ticket also included the audio-tour guide so I could use that to drown out the noise from the masses. And I just tried to ignore the constant bumping from the masses. Lots of kids, and some of them were definitely not interested in listening or learning, it was more like a sprint to get through the museum so they could stand outside, under some of the archways and smoke th
eir stinky french cigarettes. But I took my time and enjoyed it. Afterwards, I walked down into the gardens. The fountains were not on, and it is still early spring there, but the gardens were pretty and huge. I walked all the way down to the Grand Trinon and the Petit Trinon. These were the "summer palaces" when they (Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette I think) wanted to get away from Versailles. Pretty cool. As I walked back up to the main palace, they turned on some of the fountains and I got some cool pics. I'll try to download them later this week. I got back on the RER and made it home just about the time the kiddos got home. So more quality time with them.
My time in France is weird. It's good because I'm not rushing myself. I'm very relaxed. There's no pressure to see everything in 2 or 3 days. No insane schedules. I get to spend some great quality time with my niece and nephew. Kind of like when I went to LA to visit them, I really don't go out much. I do dinner with my sister and her family. I play games with the kids, we watch movies. All kind of relaxed. I did end up going out once to a french gay bar. With a very interesting downstairs cruising area. But I don't know, between the basically unattractive French guys, the smokey bars, the jet lag, the crappy weather, I just don't see the point in going out much. I'm getting old, aren't I?
The other thing that is weird about my time in France is that I sleep like a rock. Every time I went to sleep I had such great restfully sleep I never wanted to get up in the AM. I'm not sure if it's the mattress, or if I'm not thinking about work at ALL, or what. But it was amazing.
My last day in Paris, we took the kiddos for haircuts (which are EXHORBITANTLY expensive) and then to the Paris Air and Space Museum. It was cool and you got to go inside a Concorde. For some reason I thought they were bigger, and the seats looked really small. I think it's good the flight was so quick, becuase I think being on those seats would have sucked. It rained again most of Saturday and for my last night we went out to dinner at the local equivalent to the Olive Garden. Hey, it was cheap (for Paris), the food was decent, and they put up with the noise of the kiddos. So that was good.
My flights back were the usual. My foot is hurting again. This time not the toes, but the heel. I'm taking the gout medication again and I hope that's what it is. If not, it's back to the Dr. Oh joy.
Labels: Health, Paris, sister, Versaillies
