Thought I was going boarding for my birthday, but those plans fell through. Somehow I still managed to scrape some entertainment together.
Last night, The People party at The New Parish was fun. The music at that party is always hit and miss, but it gets better every month. The patrons are good-looking. The men look as though they’ve put some thought into their clothing, but they also dance AND they’re not gay! I was talking to this woman out on the patio about that. We had a good laugh about the “and they’re not gay” comment. She said that she had seen her ex-boyfriend enter the club about twenty minutes prior and was nervous about how the night was going to end since she has a restraining order against him. I told her that she better be careful. A few minutes later, I ran into Killa B who was still looking hot as ever and now sporting a full lumberjack-style beard. I spent a relatively short time talking to him. I left him with Twin Peaks to go to the bathroom and when I returned he had moved on. I bumped into him once or twice more, but nothing exciting. ..Not that I was expecting anything. He gave me this weird look, but I don’t really know how to translate it because, well, it’s weird to run into your ex at a club. He could just have been feeling tense about it or something. It didn’t bother me to see him. I actually felt quite good about it.
Friday night was Triple Crown. David Harness didn’t go to Miami for the Winter Music Conference as he usually does, so I was lucky enough to have him spin for my birthday weekend – GO ME! Anyway, the usual suspects were there. He attracts the same people over and over again. I suppose I too am one of those people. That music was also hit and miss. That was a strange night for me because I barely drank at all. I’d planned on spending the night at a friend’s house in the city, but he was completely wrecked and couldn’t have given me directions to his house if his life depended on it, and my backup couch host was M.I.A. I didn’t want to get all messed up and have nowhere to crash, so I just made the best of it relatively sober. One of my dance floor buddies wanted a ride across the bridge, so I figured I’d hang out since I didn’t have anything better to do. I had a three hour nap that afternoon.
Thursday, now that was fun! I started the evening off at “Help the Healers”, a benefit for Doctors Without Borders at the Blue Macaw, where Tia Carroll sang a Happy Birthday song – the only song I danced to while I was there. There were a bunch of blues dancers there that night, friends of Emily’s (she had also performed). I felt a bit intimidated by them. I’ve never had a boyfriend who knew how to partner dance, and I’ve never had the nerve to learn it on my own. They were really good and having so much fun. I wished I knew how, but did not want to learn on the spot.
Twin Peaks and I left the Blue Macaw to go to the Aries Birthday Bash at this party called Pacific Standard Time located at Eve Lounge. I think I paid for two drink s that night – I probably had six or seven. I lost count. The bouncer at the door of Eve had a face like the guy from Ninja Assassin. He had shoulder-length hair pulled back into a ponytail and was wearing a black suit and black shirt with a red tie. In my head, I was all over that. He gave me a free drink ticket. I asked him if that ticket would get me into the back room where the real excitement was. I did mention that I lost count, right? Anyway, that was probably the most fun I’ve had on a dance floor in YEARS! We even did the electric slide! Yeah, that was a good party. They played hip hop flashbacks and some good dancing R&B tunes. My quads were on fire, but I kept going until I was too tired to move. On the way out, I told that bouncer that he was hot “like the guy in Ninja Assassin but without the scars”. He then showed me a couple of his scars. I told him that it wasn’t the same, but that I’d like to come back and flirt with him another time anyway. He says he’s there every Thursday. Maybe I’ll see him again in a couple of weeks. I haven’t decided if that’s a place I can enjoy by myself. Oh yeah, he also cupped my ass. I hesitated to write that because those guys are not supposed to touch female patrons, but it’s only harassment if it’s unwelcome, right? We don’t want to get a guy fired that we plan on potentially seeing again. Details… When I woke up the next day, it occurred to me that the scars he showed me could be stab wounds, considering their size and location. I also came to the realization that the movie star and the bouncer are not the same person. Therefore, I can’t expect to see a movie-worthy body when that black suit comes off. I don’t think Mr. Hot Asian Bouncer is eating clean and working out 6-8 hours a day. I still think it could warrant further investigation though, and I do have a soft spot for bouncers. I think it’s because they make me feel protected. I always flirt with them. I dated one once. His name was Will. He was another hottie. Years ago I frisked one at this club called Du Soleil. He said that he could lose his job if he touched me while on duty, but he invited me to “check him for weapons”. Yeah, that was a good night too. It makes me laugh just thinking about it.
Ugh. My back is covered with hives right now. This is day #3 without my allergy medication. I keep forgetting to take it before I go to bed. I can only take one per day, so it has to be at a time when I know I will be home every day. I’ve also been sneezing a lot.
Hmmm. I wonder what I would look like after eight months of eating clean with 6 hours of cardio and 2 hours of weights, 5 days a week. That’s what the guy Rain did to prepare for that movie. Eight months is a long fucking time to go without chocolate, bacon, sugar, pasta and just about everything else I enjoy eating. No thanks! Hell, if I did have that kind of willpower I could be a damn movie star too! Eight months... Yeah, that’s a long time. He did have a really great body though. It may just be worth it. On the grand scale of things, eight months really isn’t that long, right? Yeah, sure.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
I might be getting too old for this shit
We have two pumps in the shower stall; one for shower gel and one for soap. I didn’t realize there was such a huge difference between those two products. The shower gel is mint rosemary or something like that. Someone told the office manager that it was too strong. “It doesn’t feel good… down there.” She said. The office manager replied, “You’re supposed to rinse it off.” Yes, I work with some strange people.
My three favorite words these days are, “what’s the point?” I ramble a lot, and I’ve been getting sick of hearing myself. As a result, I have very little patience when listening to people. There are the folks who talk a lot and never really say anything, and they annoy me the most. The other day I found myself cornered by one for almost an hour. I was having a whole unrelated conversation in my head until he realized that I wasn’t listening. Then he proceeded to repeat everything I missed. Sighs. I wished I had a fast-forward button. It was torture. I couldn’t help but wonder if I ever make anyone feel that way. I certainly hope not. The worst part of the conversation was when he started to suggest ways I could improve my fitness. FIRST OF ALL, the MF is a fat and unattractive man with those crazy razor burn rashes on his face and neck. Every time I see him he looks greasy and smells like hair that hasn’t been shampooed in over a week. I wanted to let his ass have it, but then I thought, “What’s the point?” He’s lucky I was sober. The poor guy I met the night before at the Endup wasn’t so fortunate.
Trouble said the guy was eyeing me from across the room for a while before coming over. I know this is shallow, but he was too short. Hey, everyone has preferences. He was a good-looking guy, although he was a bit corny. He was persistent too, little fucker. He said he and his friend where both straight and in town visiting from New York. Naturally, all straight men visiting from New York come to San Francisco and go to gay clubs. Yeah, right! If the cynical expression on my face wasn’t enough, my sarcasm and my elbow jabbing Trouble in the ribs every time the guy said he was straight couldn’t have been a more obvious sign that he was getting nowhere. AND why did he have to keep announcing that he was straight? Yeah, ok little man. Finally, I decided to go in and dance. He noticed that I liked the song playing and said, “Oh would you like to dance?”
“Yeah, but I’m gonna go dance over there.” Conversation over. It may sound bitchy, but I tried being nice first and it just didn’t work. I sometimes admire people who are persistent, but not when they are harassing me. Oh well, at least he was cute. Trouble retold the story the next night and everyone roared. I didn’t think it was that funny.
I had hoped to run into Hot Fireman again, but I didn’t make it to the parties he said he was attending. The music was just a little too electronic for me. I listened outside the front door, before committing to spend the $20 entry fee, and it was like listening to the soundtrack to a really bad drug movie. I didn’t want to spend the evening performing the balancing act of trying to get toasted enough to enjoy it without getting so drunk that I fall on my ass. I was in no mood to play that game, especially considering that Trouble and I spent almost six hours at the Endup the previous night. When I’m tired, the line between sober and shit-faced gets too thin to decipher. The magic really only happens when you get as close as possible to that line WITHOUT crossing it. I wasn’t so confident that I could do that with how tired I was. The night ended up being a bust, and Sunday was recovery day instead of roller skate day. I guess Trouble and I got a little ahead of ourselves. And another thing – WHERE ARE MY WINGS, RED BULL? I must have consumed at least four cans of that shit Friday night. FYI, it makes hangovers so much worse.
My three favorite words these days are, “what’s the point?” I ramble a lot, and I’ve been getting sick of hearing myself. As a result, I have very little patience when listening to people. There are the folks who talk a lot and never really say anything, and they annoy me the most. The other day I found myself cornered by one for almost an hour. I was having a whole unrelated conversation in my head until he realized that I wasn’t listening. Then he proceeded to repeat everything I missed. Sighs. I wished I had a fast-forward button. It was torture. I couldn’t help but wonder if I ever make anyone feel that way. I certainly hope not. The worst part of the conversation was when he started to suggest ways I could improve my fitness. FIRST OF ALL, the MF is a fat and unattractive man with those crazy razor burn rashes on his face and neck. Every time I see him he looks greasy and smells like hair that hasn’t been shampooed in over a week. I wanted to let his ass have it, but then I thought, “What’s the point?” He’s lucky I was sober. The poor guy I met the night before at the Endup wasn’t so fortunate.
Trouble said the guy was eyeing me from across the room for a while before coming over. I know this is shallow, but he was too short. Hey, everyone has preferences. He was a good-looking guy, although he was a bit corny. He was persistent too, little fucker. He said he and his friend where both straight and in town visiting from New York. Naturally, all straight men visiting from New York come to San Francisco and go to gay clubs. Yeah, right! If the cynical expression on my face wasn’t enough, my sarcasm and my elbow jabbing Trouble in the ribs every time the guy said he was straight couldn’t have been a more obvious sign that he was getting nowhere. AND why did he have to keep announcing that he was straight? Yeah, ok little man. Finally, I decided to go in and dance. He noticed that I liked the song playing and said, “Oh would you like to dance?”
“Yeah, but I’m gonna go dance over there.” Conversation over. It may sound bitchy, but I tried being nice first and it just didn’t work. I sometimes admire people who are persistent, but not when they are harassing me. Oh well, at least he was cute. Trouble retold the story the next night and everyone roared. I didn’t think it was that funny.
I had hoped to run into Hot Fireman again, but I didn’t make it to the parties he said he was attending. The music was just a little too electronic for me. I listened outside the front door, before committing to spend the $20 entry fee, and it was like listening to the soundtrack to a really bad drug movie. I didn’t want to spend the evening performing the balancing act of trying to get toasted enough to enjoy it without getting so drunk that I fall on my ass. I was in no mood to play that game, especially considering that Trouble and I spent almost six hours at the Endup the previous night. When I’m tired, the line between sober and shit-faced gets too thin to decipher. The magic really only happens when you get as close as possible to that line WITHOUT crossing it. I wasn’t so confident that I could do that with how tired I was. The night ended up being a bust, and Sunday was recovery day instead of roller skate day. I guess Trouble and I got a little ahead of ourselves. And another thing – WHERE ARE MY WINGS, RED BULL? I must have consumed at least four cans of that shit Friday night. FYI, it makes hangovers so much worse.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Phew, we made it. Happy Friday!
I’ve been doing a pretty good job of catching up with people over the past week. Something about reclaiming my closet pace has given me some new energy to be social and genuinely interested in other people’s lives. It feels a bit like having a nagging issue resolved. Now if I can just get mom and her finances squared away, I can feel truly liberated. I am tired of her always asking for money, but it’s time for the shoe to be on the other foot. She had to put up with my hand out for more than eighteen years. It’s only fair.
I think about mom a lot because she’s the most prevalent unresolved issue in my life at the moment. She has so much debt, more than I could have imagined she would have, especially considering that she is retired and on a fixed income. At first I couldn’t understand how it happened. Then I moved in with Killa B. He and I have so many similar traits when it comes to over-committing and sheer enjoyment of living. It was like me living with myself five or six years ago. The transition from then to now was a hard one, and no one is going to do it on their own if they don’t have to. I’m not sure when or if he will. That part of my life was really fun, and I didn’t want it to come to an end. It was impossible for me not to be a buzzkill. I was becoming my mom and making plans for how someone else should be spending their money. That’s when it finally clicked and I understood where my mom was coming from. Although I was right (and she was right when she did it to me), that still doesn’t matter. I can’t control anything except what I do. To believe otherwise will only set me up for disappointment. I’m always pleasantly surprised when someone comes through for me when I need help, but I owuld be foolish to rely on it.
I picked up my brand new Cyclocross bike from Marin Bikes yesterday. She’s purrrrty. It’s so me – unwilling to commit to one side over the other. I want some respect AND some wild abandon. I rode to and from the BART stations today because I don’t own the tools necessary to lower the seat. Suffice it to say that the seat location was a tad uncomfortable – yikes. All I had to do was get it to the office, and I knew someone would be there to take care of me. We’ve got some avid cyclists and former bike mechanics working with us. There’s probably an athlete of every sport under the one roof. We get industry discounts on every sporting good imaginable…except skates of course. Now that the bike has been given the green light by the most trusted bike mechanic in the building and the seat is at a more appropriate height, I’m going to wander the streets to find my new commute route. That’s right, I’m semi-retiring my vehicle. She is also very lovely and sporty, but my knee needs to be strengthened by the cycling. The car will just have to understand. Ugh. I never thought this day would come. I can’t believe I actually WANT to run again.
Trouble T is in town for the weekend, so you know there’s adventure afoot. If I can manage to skip out and stay home, I’m going to use tonight to catch up on much needed rest while she roams the city with the boys. It has been a really long week, and my body is sore all over. It’s telling me that I’m not allowing it enough recovery between workouts. I've had Aleve with my morning coffee twice this week. Tomorrow night should be a hot mess for sure and Sunday will be hung over roller skating. I’m also hosting a dinner for five tomorrow evening and video games prior to the clubbing. Should be fun! Although I’m a little worn out right at this moment, I’m sure I’ll manage somehow.
I think about mom a lot because she’s the most prevalent unresolved issue in my life at the moment. She has so much debt, more than I could have imagined she would have, especially considering that she is retired and on a fixed income. At first I couldn’t understand how it happened. Then I moved in with Killa B. He and I have so many similar traits when it comes to over-committing and sheer enjoyment of living. It was like me living with myself five or six years ago. The transition from then to now was a hard one, and no one is going to do it on their own if they don’t have to. I’m not sure when or if he will. That part of my life was really fun, and I didn’t want it to come to an end. It was impossible for me not to be a buzzkill. I was becoming my mom and making plans for how someone else should be spending their money. That’s when it finally clicked and I understood where my mom was coming from. Although I was right (and she was right when she did it to me), that still doesn’t matter. I can’t control anything except what I do. To believe otherwise will only set me up for disappointment. I’m always pleasantly surprised when someone comes through for me when I need help, but I owuld be foolish to rely on it.
I picked up my brand new Cyclocross bike from Marin Bikes yesterday. She’s purrrrty. It’s so me – unwilling to commit to one side over the other. I want some respect AND some wild abandon. I rode to and from the BART stations today because I don’t own the tools necessary to lower the seat. Suffice it to say that the seat location was a tad uncomfortable – yikes. All I had to do was get it to the office, and I knew someone would be there to take care of me. We’ve got some avid cyclists and former bike mechanics working with us. There’s probably an athlete of every sport under the one roof. We get industry discounts on every sporting good imaginable…except skates of course. Now that the bike has been given the green light by the most trusted bike mechanic in the building and the seat is at a more appropriate height, I’m going to wander the streets to find my new commute route. That’s right, I’m semi-retiring my vehicle. She is also very lovely and sporty, but my knee needs to be strengthened by the cycling. The car will just have to understand. Ugh. I never thought this day would come. I can’t believe I actually WANT to run again.
Trouble T is in town for the weekend, so you know there’s adventure afoot. If I can manage to skip out and stay home, I’m going to use tonight to catch up on much needed rest while she roams the city with the boys. It has been a really long week, and my body is sore all over. It’s telling me that I’m not allowing it enough recovery between workouts. I've had Aleve with my morning coffee twice this week. Tomorrow night should be a hot mess for sure and Sunday will be hung over roller skating. I’m also hosting a dinner for five tomorrow evening and video games prior to the clubbing. Should be fun! Although I’m a little worn out right at this moment, I’m sure I’ll manage somehow.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
time stands still
Still remembering parts of last weekend. Damn alcohol. Why is it that alcohol is legal when it kills so many brain cells? How can pot be illegal while alcohol is legal? That's so stupid. An alcoholic can become a meth-head just as quickly as a pot smoker can. An intoxicant is an intoxicant.
Anyway, I headed out on Friday night with PS, one of my party friends that I never actually do anything with except for the club runs. I was convinced that I would stay home (or at least local) Friday and have a really exciting night on Saturday with the three parties I’d planned on attending. However, PS called me and I gave in so easy. We headed to Temple to hear David Harness spinning. I danced my tail off. We went on to the Endup afterwards, where I stood out on the patio talking to boys all night long. There was this one SUPER-hot fireman who swore he was straight, but you never really can be sure these days. I got my fill of looking at him and calling him a cutie. I talked to his friend Sean (made-up name of course) during the lull between last call and the time when PS was ready to go home. Sean is in love with a drag queen. He wants to know if that makes him gay. I’m sighing and shaking my head just thinking about that question. My first thought, and I believe most straight people would say, “hell yeah!” However, I could see that he was really upset about being labeled. I told him, “You like what you like. You don’t have to call it anything.” He seemed comforted by that. Oh good; I made a friend. Did I mention that Sean is a financial advisor? Yeah…
We gave this guy from LA a ride back across the bridge into Oakland, and he asked how PS and I became acquainted. PS blurted out, “the music.” There couldn’t have been a truer or more accurate answer. The guy thought it was really profound. His reaction made me think. There are these songs that are not really considered club classics, but are obvious crowd favorites. Most are just a basic electronically generated beat and some really annoying looped sound effect behind some guy talking. “Not everyone understands house music…” I’ve always thought of that as a rather dramatic view of any type of music produced by some guy sitting in front of a sound board in his living room. I guess I take it for granted. Living in the SF Bay Area (and through the magic of Facebook), I have access to decent house and a dance floor almost any night of the week. I’m spoiled, and it wouldn’t be the first time.
I stayed home from work yesterday trying to finally kick the sniffle I’ve had since Squaw Valley (yes that mystery sniffle that is somehow alleviated by drinking lots of alcohol but strangely unaffected by cold medicine). I figured it was just sleep deprivation, but I didn’t sleep any more than I normally would while I was home. I did clean the house, unpack boxes and run all the errands I couldn’t do with my debilitating hangover on Saturday. I also received a UPS delivery of a rug that I ordered online. Since I have no concept of measurements in my head, I was quite surprised at just how large 8’ x 11’ really is when I came home to discover it sitting by my door. The only thing I could think of was, ‘Wow that UPS guy must be pretty strong.’ I think I’ll send cookies to the drivers during the holidays. They work hard.
After my “recovery day at home”, I now have thermal curtains (on rods I mounted yesterday), a new color scheme in the bathroom and bedroom, clean laundry and dishes, a Windows 7 upgrade and a slow cooker with enough food for a week’s worth of new recipes. I watched a movie while folding laundry. In between dryer loads, I cleaned the kitchen and bathroom. Yes, I actually paused the movie to clean the kitchen and bathroom. It’s official – I’m addicted to being busy. I have no idea how some people do all of this shit in addition to taking care of children. That seems impossible to me.
On a sort of unrelated note, Killa B finally got a new place. I think he moves in mid-month. I finally get to have all my closet space! I can’t wait for the day when he calls and tells me that he’s ready to get his stuff. I figure he’ll probably need some of the basics too. Since I redid the bathroom, bedroom and kitchen recently, I have a bunch of odds and ends to spare. I also spent an hour or so packing up stuff to give him. I’m not using it anyway, so why not?
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