The Lush Jungle Within

(Or: "Learning to Love Your Intestinal Flora")

You know, when the whole "ingest/digest/excrete" process is running smoothly, you kind of take it for granted. At least, I do. The past couple of weeks, however, I have come to greatly appreciate my ability to have a certain predictability to the cycle of taking in food and expelling waste in a comfortable and somewhat cleanly manner. In other words: I had the runs, and I had 'em bad.

I won't go into too much detail; honestly, if you're writing a blog entry about your digestive system, you're treading a very fine line to begin with, and details about how the predicament came about have a tendency to push you way, way over that line. Let's simply say that my inner jungle was the victim of deforestation, and leave it at that. And let me tell you, those little guys sure do serve an important purpose in life, overlooked and under appreciated though they may be. Between urgent runs (no pun intended) to the facilities and...erm...gas emissions that would put a herd of cows to shame, things were bad.

Fortunately, yogurt is the E.P.A. of the digestive system. With the help of corporate sponsors Yoplait and McNeil Consumer & Specialty Pharmaceuticals (proud manufacturers of Imodium A-D), a reforestation program has been initiated. I'm pleased to announce that, even at this early stage, the program has been a great success, and much of the affected area has begun to reach a level of functional normality. Though methane emissions remain somewhat above normal levels, the environmental impact of said emissions has been drastically reduced: an improvement which, I'm sure, will lead to much rejoicing on the part of my co-workers, friends, family, and the employees and customers of the local coffee shop I frequent.

In conclusion, I would just like to say this: In an era of increased environmental awareness, there is still vegetation that too often goes unnoticed, and that is unfortunate. I urge you, each and every one of you, to learn to appreciate -- nay, to learn to love the lush jungle within. Take good care of your intestinal flora, and they will take good care of you. Neglect them, and you will learn the hard way just how important they are.

I would like to close this treatise with a quote from famed singer/songwriter, Joni Mitchell:

Don't it always seem to go,
That you don't know what you've got
Till it's gone?
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot.

Indeed, Joni. Indeed.

Why introspect when you can just click swatches?

I rediscovered an old internet fascination of mine: Colorgenics. After clicking on a set of colored blocks in whatever order seems "right", it spits out a somewhat vague and generalized assessment of your current state of being. Here are my results from two "tests" tonight:

One

You have always been on the move seeking affectionate, satisfying and harmonious relationships. Your ultimate goal has been the realisation of an intimate union in which there could be love, self-sacrifice and mutual trust. It has often been said that 'True love is just around the corner' and - if you haven't found it as yet - you possibly soon will.

You are looking for something different. Your imagination has been working overtime and you are seeking adventure - and you'd like to share that adventure, the new experience, with someone like yourself: Imaginative, Enthusiastic and Sensitive.

Everyone has to compromise at times and circumstances are such that at this time you are feeling the need to do just that. Put all of your hopes on the back burner and let matters flow for a time - forgo some of the things you want. The good times are just around the corner.

As of late, you have been experiencing untold stress and this is a result of continuous frustration. You haven't been taking care of all your physical needs and it's beginning to show. It would seem that you have a need to find someone to whom you can really relate - someone perhaps whose standards are as high as your own. You want to be different - to be individualistic - to stand out from the common herd. Your inherent control of your sensual instincts is restricting your ability to give yourself to open up freely but this being on your own, being lonely, often makes you feel the need to give up some of your strict standards to surrender to the general flow - to be like everyone else; a part of the herd. Deep down you regard such instincts as weaknesses to be overcome. You would like to be loved or admired for yourself alone. You demand recognition and tender loving care.

You have so many ideas that you would like to revitalise but you need to realise a stable and peaceful condition to do so. Once you can free yourself from all the aggravation and tension around you, you will make strides that may amaze you. You will not be prevented from achieving all the things you so desire.

Two

Is it that you are working - or even playing - too hard? Because it would seem that you are experiencing a great deal of pent-up emotion at this time which could possibly take effect and lead to irrational behaviour.

You need an atmosphere of peace and quiet and you would like to share a bond of understanding with the 'right person' - you have the belief that with the right person, your stress and anxiety could be minimised.

At times one is burdened with more than one's fair share of problems and this would appear to be your situation at present. But you are adamant - you know what you wish to achieve - and by giving a little and taking a little you may well find that the realization of your dreams could become a reality.

You are holding back. You need to find friends in whom you can trust and once they have proved themselves beyond all possible doubt you will be prepared to give them your all. The existing situation is not of your liking - you have an unsatisfied need for mental stimulation with others whose standards are as high as your own. Trying to control your instincts the way you do restricts your ability to open up to others and the way you feel at this time is suggestive of 'total surrender'. This is not to your liking as you consider such thoughts as weaknesses that need to be overcome. You feel that only by control, controlling your innermost thoughts, are you able to maintain your air of superiority. You want to be admired for yourself alone and not for what you can do or for what you may have done. In essence 'you need to be needed' and at the same time 'you need to need'.

The need for admiration and to be regarded as 'someone special' is perhaps one of the foremost aims in your life at this time. You would like to perhaps do something outrageous or anything that will give you the chance to be recognised as someone special. This desire has now almost become an obsession and in your own way you are trying to fulfil this 'complex' by ensuring you are the centre of attention, both at work or play, or in the home. Stop trying so hard and you will find that people will like you for who you are - not for who you are pretending to be.

I suppose it's time for an update...

First, I'd like to state the obvious: "Well, it's been a while since I've made a post on here..." Now that I've gotten that out of the way, on to the update.

It's been a hectic few months. I wound up finding a job which I actually like (most of the time), doing what I actually wanted to do with my life. Shocking! I'm an in-house web developer for a company that will remain nameless, because I don't particularly want my coworkers to find this blog.

One thing I will say, though, is that the average age of the company's employees is shockingly low, and the work environment has a strange frat-house feel to it. And not in a particularly pleasant way (at least in my humble opinion). Basically, it's like being back in high school, with most of the company being the "cool jock" crowd, and IT being the "basement-dwelling D&D player" crowd. Except we enable the "cool jocks" to earn a living, so they don't give us wedgies.

That aside, I enjoy the actual work, I get along well with my fellow IT-ers (and a few of the older non-IT staff members), and I don't really have to interact with the employees who think we're lowly geeks. Plus I can work from home when I want/need to, and I get as much overtime as my little heart desires. Long-term, I'm not sure how permanent it's going to be, but for the next year or two it's exactly what I want and need.

Next week classes start back up for me, and to be honest, I'm dreading it. Full-time job + half-time academics = tired, no matter how often I can work from home. Beyond that, I just feel emotionally and mentally done with school. I've been at it 5 years. I've got my foot in the door of the industry I was hoping to enter. And at this point, I've gained about as much as I can from theoretical education -- at least for the time being.

I'm also nervous that it's going to interfere with my job. Like I said, it's not perfect, but I do enjoy it, and it pays the bills.

Time will tell, I guess.

Product!

While I'm on the subject of appearance and the massive debt academia is burying me under, I might as well talk about why these seemingly incongruent lines of thought have become tangled together in my mind right now. As mentioned in my profile, I'm finishing up my degree. That accursed piece of paper is taking me a couple of extra years to acquire, due to the fact that I spent several semesters going less than full time. Had I not done this, I wouldn't have been able to hold a paying job while going to school, and I'd be even deeper in debt than I already am.

Anyway, this was my first year without studio classes, which meant that I was able to go full time, since a studio course is about twice as time-consuming as an academic course.* Silly me, I thought this would allow me to finish up by the end of this summer. Nope. Turns out, the last class I'll need to finish my computer science minor is only offered in the spring. Because of technicalities with student loan grace periods, that means I need to stretch everything out if I don't want to be shelling out $1,000/month on top of living expenses while I'm taking that last class. In other words: an entire extra year of working and schooling. Joy does not begin to express my feelings about that.

*Note: They actually decreased the studio course requirements, starting this year, because they were so unreasonably high. Basically, full time studio when I was doing it entailed being in class 9AM-12PM and 2PM-5PM four days a week, with about 20-30 hours of out-of-class projects per week, if you took the projects seriously.

Last semester, I went overkill on the work thing. I did two part-time jobs that each paid around $10/hour. That was, to put it mildly, hellish. Particularly considering that one of them was a graveyard shift an hour's drive away. This semester I came off of the Federal Work Study waiting list, so I figured I'd try scrimping and just doing that. Turns out that $80 a week isn't enough to live on, even if you happen to live at home. Go figure. I think working two jobs and going to school full time was actually less stressful than trying to live on $320 a month.

So my strategy this time around is going to be different. I'm going to do my damnedest to find something that pays better. This will hopefully mean that I can build up some reserves for when the debtors come a-calling, and that I can get through the next year without borrowing from Peter to pay Paul. This also means I'm going to need to polish myself up into tip-top bourgeois shape for the interviewing process. Fortunately, I have a slight advantage in that area: not only in my taste-enhancing gay genes, but also in a couple of friends who work on Newbury Street. This means free top-of-the-line haircuts and free fashion advice. However, there's one area where my proverbial bases are not covered: skin care.

You see, my skin is something of a challenge. First problem: I'm half Irish and half Mediterranean. As a result, I have pale, sensitive skin and coarse, dark hair. Combine the two, and I wind up with a five o'clock shadow a full five minutes after shaving (along with razor burn from hell, if I don't follow a precise and esoteric washing-shaving-moisturizing ritual). Oh, and did I mention that my skin instantly becomes mottled if I so much as look out the window on a partly sunny day? Also: combination skin, though fortunately it stays closer to the normal spectrum than the extremes of dry or oily.

I've developed a pretty decent skin care arsenal at this point, but there's always room for improvement. So if anybody happens to read this and has some tips, please do share them. If you can't tell, I kind of have a thing for Aveeno.

The current line-up, including razor:

• Aveeno Positively Radiant Facial Cleanser, alternated with
• Aveeno Ultra-Calming Foaming Facial Cleanser
• Kiehl's Ultra Facial Moisturizer
• Aveeno Continuous Radiance tanning moisturizer
• L'Oreal Expert Circle Eraser Anti Dark Circle Eye Moisturizer
• Aveeno Positively Smooth shaving gel
• Gillette Fusion razor (I've tried electrics -- they shred my face without touching my beard)

Defunkification

I've managed to banish my funk somewhat using two techniques perfected by gay men over the last century: consumerism and saturation with (as well as mocking of) pop-culture. When reality gets a bit too unpleasant, there's always a product, a TV show, a movie, or a trashy novel to distract you from it. While it's not exactly a transcendental solution, sometimes a bit of superficial salving does the trick. And sometimes there just isn't anything that can be done beyond a bit of escapism.

As for pop culture, I discovered the amazingly catty world of "Top Design" blogs. Meow! My personal favorite is Pink Navy. Also? While I thought Carissa was both obnoxious and unimpressive in her design skills for most of the season, she definitely had the better loft in the finale. Matt's looked ugly, bland, cluttered and sterile. Of course, combining clutter and sterility does take a unique kind of talent, so maybe that's why he won.

I think the most amusing part of the entire season of "Top Design" was finding out how much the furniture cost. And how freakin' ugly a lot of it was. It makes me sleep better at night knowing that, while I may have accumulated over a hundred thousand dollars in debt pursuing higher education (in my misguided hopes of climbing out of the lower rungs of the socio-economic ladder) at least I haven't spent tens of thousands of dollars on a horrible couch or side table. Until "Top Design", I didn't realize such a thing was even possible. I do have friends with that kind of money, but they actually have taste -- which explains why they're my friends -- and so I didn't know that such hideousness managed to sell in that price range.

And speaking of money and taste... On the anti-Marxist side of things, I made a trip to Macy's and indulged myself in a bottle of Burberry London cologne. I'm completely infatuated with that fragrance - it's like Sexy Man in a Bottle. It's not as satisfying as having an actual Sexy Man to call my own, but a couple of spritzes is considerably easier to obtain and manage than a relationship. I also picked up a Kenneth Cole Reaction sweater for $10(!) and a thin Calvin Klein hooded sweatshirt for $25. I love the clearance rack. I also love rolled cuffs/hems, which are featured on both of my finds.

On Drama and Blogging

I've been having trouble coming up with things to blog about. It's not that there's absolutely nothing going on in my life, or that I don't have plenty of ideas swirling around my mind that I'd like to put into text. It's just that, well, I've been having a somewhat rough couple of weeks. As a result, most of the things I've thought to write about have been...well...not really cheery.

Now, I'm not one of those people who feels the need to put a smiley face on everything. I understand that not every lemon can be used to make lemonade. But I do think that it's very, very easy to let a blog devolve into melodramatic whining, and once it reaches that level it has a tendency to stay there. Some things are simply better shared one-on-one with friends who know the full back story, rather than than with the whole of the internet, most of whom have no idea who you are or why so-and-so's seemingly innocent comment would be interpreted as the worst insult/betrayal ever.

So if I've got a lot of crap going on in my life, yet I feel the desire to blog, how do I do that without being all "woe is me"? It seems to narrow it down to one possibility: the This Was My Day blog. I don't like This Was My Day blogs. If you can't turn an event into an entertaining anecdote, or some sort of interesting observation on life, you wind up with something like the following:

"I got up today and had a bowl of cereal. I really like cereal. Then I went to work. That girl I don't like got on my nerves. I had lunch around noon, and the rest of the day was pretty good, because I didn't see that annoying girl again. Then I came home, made dinner, and watched TV."

Some people can take that basic outline, sprinkle it with a few observations, metaphors, non sequiturs, and side-stories, and turn it into something really interesting/entertaining/insightful. I have a huge amount of admiration for people who can do that, and those are the kinds of blogs that I really love. I, however, am not one of those people. Especially when I'm in a bit of a funk.

The other problem with blogging in/about a bad mood is that it sticks around. A few days or weeks down the line, when whatever was bothering you is over and done with, you'll go back and re-read the drama. Either it leaves you feeling ridiculous for being so over the top with it, or it winds up sending you back into the funk. Neither possibility is particularly appealing.

So it may be a while before I have something amusing and/or insightful to say here. I don't think very many people read this anyway. But I figured that I'd explain. You know, in case someone stumbles on it and wonders why there are only about 8 entries (one of which consisted of a photograph and one paragraph, another of which consisted of iPod fandom).

And there you have it. A shitty couple of weeks, not enough energy to find amusing anecdotes from my life that are worth sharing, and a desire to spare random strangers from the rather tangled web of drama that I've become caught up in. I promise, as soon as I've untangled it all and gotten my head on straight, I'll have plenty of brisk witticisms suitable for the masses. Until then, this page will be a bit sparse.

My obsession du jour

I'm up way too early today. Why? Because I need Morrissey tickets. I NEED them. His last show sold out in like half of a millisecond, so I need to be on the ball when the Boston date goes on sale. I may even become one of those annoying fans who runs up onto the stage and hugs him, sobbing uncontrollably as security drags me away.

In other music news, I got me an iPod. Oh, I love the iPod. I was amazed to discover that its sound quality blew away my Creative Zen MicroPhoto. To the point where I heard instrumentation in tracks that I never knew was there. Apparently Apple's done a lot of improvement in the sound department over the past three years, because when I bought my last player iPod was universally bashed for its poor audio quality. Also? I love podcasts. I love podcasts soooo much. PBS and NPR to go? Sometimes in video form? Yes, please. Random people sitting in front of their computers making talk shows that run the gamut from insightful to laughably moronic? What's not to love? And they have What Not to Wear?? Shut UP!

I'm a bit ashamed to say that I'm so infatuated with my iPod, because on general principal I dislike Apple intensely. They steal ideas (more so than even Microsoft), wrap them in pretty interfaces and multi-million ad campaigns, and artists/designers are such frickin' snobs when they talk about their Macs (because the Apple commercial told them that you can only do boring business tasks on a PC, so it must be true). And working in a digital photo lab that runs on Apple equipment, I've come to absolutely LOATHE the hoops that you have to jump through to make certain things work, and/or figure out what's going wrong when something doesn't work.

But I have to admit, they got it right with the iPod. Totally intuitive interface, the aforementioned great sound quality, and a syncing system that I actually like and can trust not to leave me with five copies of every song.

And now I'm off to hopefully obtain the coveted Morrissey tickets. Wish me luck!

Note to self: shaving is not optional

My stomach and I had a brief disagreement this morning. Whereas I thought that a big bowl of Special K Red Berries was a wonderful idea, my digestive tract had a different stance. I believe that the disagreeable reaction was influenced by the cup of Green Mountain French Vanilla coffee I had at the same time, which was too sweet even for my taste buds. The resultant falling out was brief, but rather unpleasant.

Because of the time and energy lost to that intense inner struggle, I went out to buy non-French-Vanilla coffee without shaving. To anyone reading this who may been at the Bed, Bath & Beyond, I offer my sincere apologies for having to see me in my sorry, unshaven state. (I have one of those fancy-pants coffee pod systems, so I couldn't just run to the local corner store.)

In the cold weather, I look a bit unkempt even on my best days. Despite growing up in Massachusetts, I cannot handle temperatures below 50, so my fashion sense takes a back seat to warmth. I try to buy clothes that are both warm and stylish, but they inevitably wind up looking like something rejected by the Salvation Army outlet when I put them on.

Mind you, if I'm going somewhere or doing something important enough to warrant either half an hour of readjusting layers and/or shivering any time I step outside, I can look decent enough. As long as I shave, that is. Add stubble to the equation, and it's just not a pretty picture. But I figured the mall at 10AM would have a fairly lax dress code. Oh, how wrong I was. Apparently the employees of Bed, Bath & Beyond are not accustomed to seeing unkempt men without a female companion strolling through the aisles at 10AM on a weekday.

I was greeted, and asked if I needed help, by each staff member I passed, each time I passed them. They refrained from explicitly reminding me that items need to be paid for and that the homeless shelter actually isn't located in the mall. Their tones and facial expressions, however, managed to convey that message perfectly well with a simple greeting.

Thank God tomorrow is supposed to be warm enough for clothes that don't make me look like a homegoods security risk.

Is it wrong to steal a meme from someone you don't know?

I took this thing way too seriously, but I'm one of those people who listens to music and constantly thinks, "This would totally be the song I'd put in a movie in the scene where [something] happens." Plus I woke up way too early on a Sunday to do anything productive, so I had to do something to kill some time. Originally found it here.

The Soundtrack of My Life

Opening Credits: A Rush and a Push and the Land is Ours - The Smiths

Waking Up/Car Driving Scene: Close to Me - The Cure

High School Flashback Scene: Spit on a Stranger - Pavement

Nostalgic Scene: Beautiful Friend - Cranes

Bitter, Angry Scene: The Queen is Dead - The Smiths

Break-up Scene: By Starlight - The Smashing Pumpkins

Regret Scene: Release - Pearl Jam

Nightclub/Bar Scene: Mother of Pearl - Roxy Music

Fight/Action Scene: Golgotha Tenement Blues - Machines of Loving Grace

Sad, breakdown scene: Little Earthquakes - Tori Amos

Death Scene: Death of a Disco Dancer - The Smiths

Funeral Scene: Severence - Bauhaus

Mellow/Pot-smoking Scene: Homesick - The Cure

Dreaming About Someone Scene: You - Vast

Sex Scene: Heaven Sent - Esthero

Contemplation Scene: Do You Know Who You Are? - Texas is the Reason

Chase Scene: The Calendar Hung Itself - Bright Eyes

Happy Love Scene: Avalon - Roxy Music

Happy Friend Scene: Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town - Pearl Jam

Closing Credits: The Boy with the Thorn in his Side - The Smiths

But I Want a Performer at MY Party!

So I'm sure you've at least heard of MTV's latest trainwreck-on-video, "My Super Sweet Sixteen." I wish I could say that I only saw a couple of minutes, was immediately disgusted, and vowed never to watch it again. But actually, I have a sick fascination with it.

The whole time I watch it, my mind vacillates between the following thoughts:

• "Wow, that girl is one stuck up, self-absorbed asshole. Thank god I didn't grow up with money, because I would probably wind up like that, and ew."
• "Wow, that girl's parents are total pushovers. I wish I grew up with parents who would buy me a $40,000 car if I pouted. Damn, I wonder what kind of mileage that thing gets. How high are her insurance premiums going to be? Does Allstate have a rich spoiled brat discount?"
• "Wow, you'd think that with that much money she'd be able to buy some clothes that weren't totally awful. Or at least have a style consultant who would force her to throw out half her wardrobe. And oh my GOD is she really going to wear that to her party? In front of the cameras?"
• "Wow, it's going to suck for that girl a week after the party, when she realizes that people have been sucking up to her for a year to get invited, and now that the party's over they have no reason to put up with her little power/ego trips."
• "Wow, I totally wish they would show the footage of her walking around school a week after the party, with everybody ignoring her and throwing eggs at her brand new $40,000 car."

As you can see, I feel very conflicted about the whole show. But in general, my response is: so totally awesome. Because, really, sometimes it's just fun to watch people who have no real worries freaking out over nothing. "The streamers are PURPLE!?! Oh my [bleep]ing GOD! I said I wanted PINK streamers and now the party's ruined and all my friends are going to hate me and how could you do this to me mom I hate you I hate you I hate you!!!"

Anyway, the episode that's on now is even more over-the-top, because apparently there are two incredibly spoiled rich girls in this town, and they're locked in an intense battle over whose party is going to be better. And the girl whose party is first totally steals the other girl's theme, and the other girl's superstar performer, AND the other girl's fire dancers! And at the end they both watch the episode together (MTV has gone meta on us?), and they try really hard to be nice to each other for the camera. But the whole time, they have these looks on their faces like "You bitch!" as they exchange backhanded apologies. So awesome.

Top Ten Signs from my Childhood that I was Destined to be a Big ol' Queen

1. When I was 6, I spent hours playing with my friend's easy bake oven. And spent the next 6 or 7 years asking for one for Christmas. (Incidentally, I still want my damn easy bake oven. Cough it up, Santa.)
2. When I was 7, my favorite toy was a skip-it. And my second favorite toy was gimp. (You know, that flat plastic string used to make lanyards and bracelets. What exactly is a lanyard, anyway?) My favorite colors of gimp were glitter, neon pink, and purple.
3. Also? When I was 7, my favorite song was "From a Distance"...by Bette Midler.
4. When I was 8, I watched Ghost with my family. This, in-and-of itself, is not a dead giveaway. However, when my mother noted that Patrick Swayze was cute, I said, "Yeah, he is!"
5. When I was 9, I watched "The Golden Girls" and "Murder, She Wrote" religiously.
6. When I was 10, I was in the cub scouts. Again, not a notable sign of the homo-ness to come. Until, that is, you take into account the fact that I repeatedly got into trouble at meetings for getting into "pinch fights" with one of my troop-mates. The same one each time, actually. Does that mean we were a couple? If so, I think that may qualify as my least dysfunctional relationship of all time.
7. When I was 11, I quit the school band, because the other children just couldn't learn the songs fast enough. I was such a diva.
8. When I was 13, I borrowed my girlfriend's nail polish, and spent about 3 years with painted nails. Did I mention that the aforementioned girlfriend (the only one I ever had) now has a girlfriend of her own, and they're engaged? (Hi Crystal!)
9. When I was 15, I wore blue glitter (and occasionally silver) lipstick, eyeliner, and eye shadow. I also bought a custom-made shirt that said: (Front) "Yes, I'm Gay" and (Back) "No, I wasn't checking you out".
10. Finally, when I was 16, I painted "I ♥ MEN" on my book bag.

(I promise, not every post in this blog will be homo-centric. I just felt like reposting this from my myspace page, because I get a kick out of it.)

Wherein I make myself look like a bitchy queen

So, I was out for a drink on Tuesday with Josh and Aalon. We decided to go to a kind of dive-y gay bar out in Cambridge, because sometimes you just don't want to be surrounded by muscle queens. Or former muscle queens, who've had thousands of dollars in plastic surgery. They always want to tell you about their fabulous condo which they just renovated, and how the neighborhood is really great too, if you just ignore the shootings and gang fights at 3 a.m., but those won't be a problem once that developer buys out the housing project down the block and turns it into another luxury condo complex, so it really isn't that bad, and it was such a great investment, and those poor people can find somewhere else to live easily enough.

Can you tell that I really don't have a fond place in my heart for the South End overly-moneyed fags? (And I get to say that, since I'm gay, so nyah!) They're Boston's equivalent of NYC's Chelsea Boys. And, for the most part, they make my skin crawl.

Anyway, we wanted to get away from the trendy gay spots, and venture a bit off the beaten path. I was thrilled as soon as we sat down and I found out they had Sam Adams on tap. Is there anything better than Sam Adams draught? (I guess in some ways I really am a Beantown Boy, as much as I hate to admit it.) We had a fun night of chatting, laughing at the ridiculous 80's porn that was being shown, and making fun of Josh's froufrou drink selections. Then, things took on a bit of a Sex in the City vibe. I swear, I must have fallen into some sort of parallel universe based on the misadventures of Carrie Bradshaw.

First, I was outside having a cigarette, minding my own business. (I know, I know, it's disgusting. But oh boy, did I suffer for that cigarette.) All of a sudden, these two straight girls came out of the bar and started asking me what kind of men I liked, why I wasn't putting money in the male strippers' speedos, and whether I was really gay. Then one of them told me that I was the best looking one in there, and asked me to show them my "goods." (She didn't phrase the request so politely.) What?! I'm wearing bootcut jeans with embroidered embellishments, I have Morrissey hair, I'm standing in front of a gay bar, and a woman is asking to see my "goods"? Granted, she at least complimented me first, but still. What!?

So I ran inside to tell my cohorts what had happened, when I discovered that one of those 50 year old guys who's had too much botox -- and thus looks like a plasticized version of a badly aged 30 year old -- had taken my seat, and was hitting on both Josh and Aalon. I waited for him to get up, took my seat, and told them about the trauma that had unfolded outside.

Then, just as I was finishing my story, some guy came up behind me, started rubbing my back, and whispered in my ear "Hey baby, you like how that feels?" I reacted with a facial contortion that can only be produced by an unseen guy rubbing your back and whispering in your ear after you've had a few beers. Then I turned around and saw that it was the plastic-faced guy who had taken my seat. Aalon and Josh instantly burst into uncontrollable laughter and I tried desperately to give him a nice, "Sorry, but I go for guys who are a bit more on the chubby side of things," without finishing it with, "and by the way, WHO THE HELL rubs a stranger's back without permission?" Clearly, not somebody who was very successful at come-ons. So I really wanted to be gentle about letting him down, despite the creep-out factor.

Unfortunately, when I meant to say "chubby", I instead said "bigger". Which wouldn't have been a faux pas, if not for the fact that he was *ahem* a bit on the short side of things. He kind of fumbled with his drink, mumbled something and walked away. And I felt like a gigantic asshole. But seriously -- seriously -- why would you do that to a stranger?

The thing is, if he hadn't been trying so desperately to look younger than he was and to act suave, he actually would've been kind of cute. I like older guys. I especially like older guys who aren't afraid to come up and start talking. I don't, however, like older guys who try to refuse the aging process, or any guy who starts groping before he starts talking. Especially if they start groping before you're able to see who's starting to perv out on you.

So, to Creepy Plastic-faced Back Rubbing Guy: I'm sorry, I really wasn't trying to insult your height, and I didn't mean to be rude. But next time, say "Hi" before putting your hands on a stranger's person, and maybe approach them from the front so they can actually see you. And for the love of god, go easy on the Botox.