Hudsonblick -- Life on the river

My friend Charles is blogging in Germany! Though not actually in German.

Windows on the soul

This weekend I finally got the other living room window chiseled open to wash it. It was painted shut way more firmly than the first one, but I persevered. Now it's clean and sparkling, and the spring sun pours into my freshly polished living room.

It wasn't all happy window karma, though. I seriously wrenched my back and right hip while bent backwards out the kitchen window, and now I'm limping. But I (the bendee) got off easy. When the window came loose and fell down on him, I think Bachelor #2 (the bender) might have cracked a rib.

Celebrity Skin

Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!

One of my own to play with

Wednesday night, I was seven different types of id on display. I know this is hard to believe from a blogger, but most of the time I hold quite a bit in. I don't speak my mind half as often as I'd like, and that's probably in everyone's best interest (particularly mine; see musician uproar).

But the other night at Daddy O, I was at ease among good friends, so I was telling stories that were, as TK puts it, surprisingly frank. I think that the comfort level, not the martinis, was how we got to talking about morning sex. Oh, and the fact that I was sort of trying to seduce Bachelor #2, or maybe just mess with him a little bit.

Back when I was first dating the cokehead alcoholic, he lived on the Lower East Side, in a nicely renovated apartment with a bedroom that flooded with morning light. My bedroom on the Upper East Side looked out onto an air shaft, and never got any natural light at any time.

Unaccustomed as I was to daylight, I was awake at the crack of dawn whenever I slept over his place. Accustomed as he was to the conditions of his own apartment, and usually sleep-deprived from the activities of the night before, he was most definitely not awake.

Oh, how I tried to be good.

I would cover my head with the blankets. I would look for something to read. I would repeat sleep-inducing mantras in my head.

But when I'm awake that early and next to the boy, there's only one way I'm going back to sleep, and that's post-coitally.

I'd start with the foot. I'd wrap my foot around his ankle, while still trying to keep my body away from his. I was turned away, but the foot would reach back. Slowly I'd creep back over to his side of the bed, trying very hard to be good, and failing miserably, until finally he'd say, without opening his eyes, and having given no indication of when he'd woken up, "You're not going back to sleep anytime soon, are you?"

Then he'd jump me.

Then we'd both call in sick to work (if it was a weekday), we'd have some breakfast, watch some cartoons, fool around some more, and eventually have a nap.

This one morning, though, when he woke up, he reached under the bed and handed me a wrapped box. In it was a strap-on, complete with harness.

I was lying in bed, in his t-shirt and soccer shorts, and I strapped it on right over the shorts. But I'd put it on facing upside-down, so I had to check his to see which way it goes. Then I turned mine around so it was right-side up. Then I was prancing around the apartment with this thing over my shorts. He just watched me and laughed a bit.

Finally I got back in bed. I lay there, flicking at it,
ping
ping
ping
and giggling. And he said, "See, that's why I gave it to you. Because I knew you just wanted one of your own to play with."

I know I totally forgot about him in the last post, and then what I appended wasn't too flattering. So let me say once, for the record -- I will always love him. When I see someone who looks like him on the subway, my heart still skips a beat. But I wish it didn't. It's more than the drinking, and the (probably continuing) drug use. We have different expectations from life, and I always felt like I was holding myself back by staying with him.

But he made me laugh, he gave me some drama to keep it interesting, and believe it or not, I was happy.

8, 8, I forgot what eight was for...

The other day, after I told Stan that I was done with all three bachelors (yes, I know I never wrapped up that story, did I mention the car accident? Give me a little more time!), he pointed out to me that I've had stories for him about eight different guys in this calendar year. Eight seemed a lot, but we counted it out and it was true. Scandal!

Well, not really, because of those eight, I only kissed four of them, and I only cared about two. The rest were flirtations, distractions, or speculations. To review:

1. the Musician. For those of you who thought my little weekly update on him was mean, let me assure you -- he is an attention whore, and he's probably more upset now that I don't write about him anymore. Exhibit A: When I stopped writing about him, he took me off his mailing list.

2,3. the London brothers. The Atlantic is really wide. Also, brothers? Such a minefield.

4. the 24-Year-Old. Yes, I dropped the ball on that one. He was sweet, cute, and attentive, and I sent him packing without giving him my number or getting his. Michelle has a friend who knows him from school, so I could try to pursue this further. Maybe after a little hiatus; for now I could use a break.

5. Bachelor #3. In the wake of the other two bachelors imploding last week, I have been tempted to resurrect this distraction. But I know I can't -- it's not right, not nice, not fair. Such a bad idea; I will be strong.

6. Bachelor #2.

7. Bachelor #1

Wait, that's only seven. I forgot one. If anyone remembers, please let me know. I'm worse than I thought!

Update: Stan finally remembered; the eighth was my cokehead alcoholic ex, who I got in touch with while I was delerious with bronchitis, had one dinner with, then never wanted to see again. Worth having forgotten, I'd say, and doesn't change the stats of 8/4/2.

FBI Identification Record Request

You know you've always wondered what the FBI has about you on file; why not just ask them?

BlogShares?

Can anybody tell me what this is about? Apparently my blog has been assigned a monetary value in some alternate stock exchange. Odd.

does this look like me?

Ooh, this is so much fun, a site where you can make your own avatars and icons. I've made a few, you'll have to tell me which you like best.





Yes, I should be giving you updates on the bachelors (down from three to none, and feel the better for it), and I should also tell you all the details of my traumatic car accident this weekend, but for now you'll just have to entertain yourselves with the pretty pictures.

The Pope was dope

Our former pope, John Paul George Ringo, had a marketing deal.

The Darth Side: Memoirs of a Monster

Brilliant. Almost as good as Pulp Phantom.

pompous prof gets sent up

You did hear about the prof who was really careless about his laptop with unsecured data? And then it got stolen? And then he tried to pass the buck and blame the thief for his own irresponsibility? He had this coming.

soft but strong

... and if you cry, he'll offer you a paper towel to dry your tears.

Habemus Papam

"I think this homily shows he realizes he's not going to be elected. He's too much of a polarizing figure," said the Rev. Richard P. McBrien, University of Notre Dame theologian. "If he were elected, thousands upon thousands of Catholics in Europe and the United States would roll their eyes and retreat to the margins of the church."

Airline Meals

Dinner on the fly.

Platonic ideal: the perfect man

Another chick blogger, Stephanie Klein, has been offered a book deal. While combing her site today looking for some perfect pearl of writing to justify that, I found a list of qualities her perfect man should have.

Gotta give the girl credit here, she makes some good points. Clearly, we have similar taste in male behavior, but from what I've seen elsewhere on her blog, we also have similar willingness to settle for less.

more soon.

Luxe glass tower planned for Prospect Heights

Richard Meier is planning a deluxe mid-rise, which will go up right across Grand Army Plaza from me.

Does this mean I will never be able to afford to buy something in my neighborhood? I'm still kicking myself that I didn't buy that two-bedroom with fireplace and new kitchen on Fifth a month or two ago, and now I hear that area is becoming good-grocery central, in addition to having all my favorite restaurants.

Oops, maybe it won't be so deluxe after all. But that raises new questions: Can I leave my beloved brownstones for a glass and steel tower? And how will I be able to get in on this deal? Will I miss out for not being connected, like I missed out on DUMBO seven years ago?

double, double, toil and trouble

Yes, there's more news about the bachelors, but I don't even want to get into it. Right now work is driving me nuts, and my parents are on their way down to Brooklyn to spend the weekend. We'll all be heading to the Walkathon tomorrow -- remember it's not too late to donate!

Signs of the coming apocalypse

Repent, for the Rapture is nigh.

the Quizmaster

You're allowed to feel brilliant if you get more than three correct (unless you use Google, of course).

Triple Threat

Over the past week or two, I've been, shall we say involved with three men (my hairdresser has been amused). It's probably easiest to identify them Dating Game-style:

Bachelor #3: First hooked up with him minorly and randomly. Hooked up with him again because I felt like having a guy around. There's no real connection or draw, and there's lots of potential for trouble. As it is, I've already been sort of dismissively rude to him about it once, and I don't want to be that person. So this absolutely cannot happen again.

Bachelor #2: Old friend, new hook-up. The first time, it was silly fun; the second time was way intense, but we laughed it off. After all, he's like my little brother, right? Well, maybe not. We had a date of sorts -- dinner, drinks, and a long chatty walk in the park -- that was sweet and fun and inspired admiring comments from park onlookers. And he's got a dark streak that could temper the little brother thing and make it interesting. Most importantly, we're friends, we're comfortable and honest with each other, and so we don't play those games that drive me nuts, but which I'm too often guilty of myself.

For all those reasons, last Thursday morning I'd decided to give B.#2 a real shot. I invited him dancing, and was going to ask how he'd feel about trying out dating. But he turned down the dance invite. And before I even had a chance to reschedule the proposal, Bachelor #1 called.

Ah, Bachelor #1: Love of my life, or just a Herculean trial visited upon me to test my fortitude (or stupidity)? I met him a few years ago, and was convinced early on that he was the one. None of my friends saw the attraction, which added the bonus element of "I'm the only one who understands and appreciates him" -- always good for soap opera drama.

Months of flirtation led to nothing but confusion, and a feeling that I'd made a big fool of myself. Then a few weeks ago he told me what had held him back in the past, and followed that up by taking a new job and nullifying the Coworker Complication.

Since then, it's felt like a holding pattern, just waiting to get this thing started. Not very romantic, I know, especially compared to the teen love OC plot lines I've been obsessively saturated with of late. With all the obstacles addressed and still no progress for weeks, is it any wonder I considered moving on and giving B.#2 a chance?

Thursday he called and asked if we could get together. Dinner and a fainting spell later, and we were snuggled on his bed. (-- redacted salacious details that are none of your business anyway.) By the time I left, we'd had some serious talk, made plans for the weekend, and he'd even said something sweet (seriously -- all my friends went "aww"; no one said "ewww") about growing old together. I really thought that all the games were over and a sane relationship was starting. I even dared to speculate that I might have a boyfriend.

And I haven't heard from him since.

Of course! Had she known, Eurotrash would have had a good laugh, really.

So tonight I'm getting my taxes done, then I'm going out with B.#2. Anyone care to hazard a bet?

Extra bonus drama: in two weeks, I'm supposed to go to AC with both B.#1 AND #2. And we're all sharing a room. Hell, at this point I should just invite B.#3 and make it an unmitigated disaster.

Not just a walk in the park

The Parkinson's Unity Walk is this Saturday, April 16 in Central Park. I actually don't walk it; I volunteer, driving a golf cart around the park, giving rides to Parkinson's patients who can't walk much, or who get tired out. But I still raise funds too.

If you want more info on the Walk and associated Parkinson's organizations, check out their website. If you'd like to sponsor me, drop me a line and I'll send you a link to the online form.

Finally

and I'm very happy.

Papacy 101

Everything you ever wanted to know about Papal Transition, including a link to a betting sheet with odds on who will be chosen, how long it will take, and what he'll choose for his new name.

Bonus trivia: I found out that my birthday saint, St. Charles Borromeo, was one of the few cardinals to be canonized, *and* he turned down the papacy.

Quarterly Report

Last night I fell asleep on the couch, and didn't wake up until 8:00 a.m., which meant a grand total of zero hours in the bed last night.

That may sound like a massive failure in my New-Years-Resolution efforts, but in fact, it was a huge victory. Why? Because that was the first time in as long as I can remember that I slept on the couch at all, let alone all night.
!!!!
You still think it was a failure, or at least a slip-up? Well, you may have a point, but this is why I'm happy about it: I felt like utter crap this morning, like I had a killer hangover (which I did not, have been very good since Martini Sunday), or maybe as if I'd been hit by a truck. And this is good news, because it means that my body has gotten used to sleeping in a bed, and was complaining! I have reconditioned myself! I never thought it would happen.

Seems like the new quarter is a good time to take a look at how I'm doing on all my resolutions. Let's review.

I resolved there should be more of:

• blogging -- Success. I've been posting several times a week, the stats are way up, and I even get an occasional comment.
  
• writing -- eh, not so much, aside from the occasional longish blog post
  
• honesty -- trying really hard. One avenue in which I'm doing really well is telling my friends that I love them, as often as possible. I may not always be too good at being honest with my feelings, but I should let the people I care about know that I do.
  
• boys -- Five so far this year, with varying degrees of involvement and success. (more news on them later, if it seems appropriate or necessary.)
  
• whiskey -- success. Jameson's on the rocks is my poison.
  
• dancing -- going out tonight, but I think it's the first time this year. Unless you count me occasionally being the only one dancing in a club or at a show.
  
• going to bed at a reasonable hour (possibly difficult re: the last three list items) -- I am regularly asleep before 2:00, which is pretty good for me. More importantly, my sleep pattern is more consistent.
  
• getting to work reasonably on time -- utter and abject failure.
  
• trips to the gym -- failure. But I have been doing sit-ups and push-ups every morning.
  
• new job -- well, my old job has become something completely different, but it's still the same job. Enjoying it more, though it's still in New Jersey.
  
• salary -- no such luck. Not yet, at least.
  
• organization -- did some major filing and sorting. Still have a lot more to do.
  
• eye makeup -- gave it a good shot, but have been slacking recently. I still maintain that I get treated way better when I'm wearing it.
  

I resolved there should be less of:

• negativity -- working on it. The telling my friends I love them helps a lot with that.
  
• self-doubt -- ditto.
  
• size of my ass -- have been on a diet for a few weeks and have already dropped a pants size. The ass has been getting particularly good reviews.
  
• sleeping on the couch -- total and utter success!
  
• smoking -- hah. Smoking more than ever.
  
• pouting -- doing okay, could use some more work.
  
• belittling gossip -- I only gossip about myself these days.
  
• criticism -- jury's still out, will have to get back to you next quarter.
  

Obviously there's still a lot of work to be done, but I think I've made pretty good progress in three months. More news next quarter.

I have to stop.

Seriously, I have to stop. I've watched 14 episodes of The O.C. in three days. Someone accused me of being on a bender because I drank twice last week, though only once to excess (and yes, I'm still feeling guilty, like I owe someone somewhere an apology). A least my pants are falling-off-loose. And I haven't even been to the gym in months!

April Madness

My vote is for Giovanni Battista Re, or maybe DUKE.

Drumroll, please!

I'd like to introduce you all to Haneway, our new contributing field editor from far across the raging East River. Take a bow, Hane!

Urban Fishing 101

So Dad is visiting this weekend, taking an early morning stroll (really an excuse to have a cigarette) through my very boring UES nabe. A pickup truck pulls over to an empty parking space in front of a hydrant on First Ave, and the driver reaches in the back of the truck and pulls out a hand-held fishing net and scurries down a side street. My Dad, ever the fisherman, figures there's some hidden stream that he doesn't know about and scurries after him. The guy walks up to a bunch of pigeons and the pigeons, being notoriously stupid, just stand there. Swoop, swoop, swoop, he *nets them*, and after he has 4 or 5, gets back in his truck and drives off!

Pigeon pie for brekkie, anyone?

John Paul II's other legacy

I consider myself a good Catholic, and yet I shed no tears for the pontiff. I have long felt that under his reign, the Catholic church has suffered greatly. he concealed and supported a long-term policy of abuse, and sheltered the criminal priests instead of tending to his flock, the victims of the abuse. I can never forgive this. In the past quarter century, Catholics have become hated, despised, and ridiculed, all on his watch.

Bernard Law was an evil, unholy criminal, a sinner of the highest order, who broke all his vows. I rejoiced to the high heavens when he left the Archdiocese of Boston. I am not alone in thinking this.

Here's hoping that the next Pope will clean house, right some major wrongs, and tend to his people with loving kindness instead of manipulation and oppression.

OD'd on the O.C.

Dave brought over the complete first season of The O.C. on DVD last night, and we watched over dinner and martinis. I'd never seen it before, and now I'm totally addicted already. Thank God I have the coop shift tonight, so maybe I won't stay up watching until 3:00 a.m. like I did last night.

the satisfaction of a well pressed shirt

And I thought I was fanatical about my laundry.

Schiavo Case a Chance for Journalists to Lead

Over at the Poynter Institute, Kelly McBride, the resident ethicist, has some interesting questions for us all to ponder. She's not telling us what to think, but rather how to think about it, and I appreciate that.

And by the way, it's pronounced SKYAH-voh, not SHY-voh. Please stop torturing my poor Italian ears.

The One Ring, the first mistake

Oh, dear God. Why on earth would anyone want a replica of the Ring of Power for a wedding band?! I've thought long and hard about the engraving (come on, sing along, you know the words):

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.™

and it seems to me that this would only be appropriate for polygamous cult leaders.
(thanks to Veiled Conceit. We love you forever!)

Office Gossip: more affairs of the heart

What is it about love and dating today? Everything I have read and blogged about seems to have led up to what just happenned.

My office crush, my thwarted workplace affair that never really went anywhere, is now officially over. He's got a new job; his last day is Friday.

Just a week ago, we reopened that file, and though I wasn't quite planning to make it an active project again, it was there. Then yesterday, I suddenly had this urge, this need, to have a man's hands on my hips. That's all I needed, hands on hips, maybe an arm around my waist. It was an odd craving, I'll admit. And I was all set to grab a snuggle, when the rest of the world decided to join us out back for a smoke break. So my hips went unsatisfied.

Today, I hear the news not from him, but from my boss in an official announcement. Immediately, the boy and I headed out back to talk, but it was snowing, so the security guard decided to show us all the secret passages in our Byzantine building where you can grab a smoke indoors (thinking that's what we were loooking for). Abandoned corners, secret nooks. That was great of him, but then he didn't leave us, instead hung around to make small talk. As we worked our way back into the main building, the boy whispered, "Now you know all these places where you can sneak off for an office tryst," and I would have grabbed him right then and there and put one of said corners to good use... were it not for the over-attentive guard. I didn't even have a clever response.

We lingered in the hallway outside my office until one too many coworkers walked by with an insinuating comment. Tomorrow he'll be swamped with meetings, and Friday I'm off for Good Friday, and will miss the goodbye party. We'll go out to dinner next week to toast him, and I know I'll see him again after he leaves. But right now, in this moment, my heart is surprisingly achy.

Update: I'm taking Easter Monday off instad of Good Friday, so I'll be here for at least part of any send-off festivities. I'll let you know what happens.

Love and the Too-Much-Information Highway

The blogosphere is a dangerous place for sweethearts, but you already knew that, right? You would never stalk a love interest online, never Google a guy you just met, right?

Eurotrash nails NY dating scene

Sometimes she's sad, but sometimes she's brilliant:

"Dating is boring and futile and all about pretending you don't want to go to bed with someone because you are a *nice* girl and not a *slut*. Or rather in New York, it's all about seeing someone once every six weeks for sex but not having to admit you're in a relationship."

That is a perfect description of my first New York dating experience, with the Idiot, also known as Roommate the First. We saw each other on occasion, but he really preferred it not to be on a weekend. The sex was phenomenal, but at least as sporadic as every six weeks. I was not to dare think that we were in a relationship, because that would be pathetic, sad, and somehow manipulative on my part.

Funny, the only time he finally admitted we were involved at all was after I started dating his roommate, the Idiot King (also known in other contexts as the cokehead alcoholic, if you're trying to keep track). At which point he got upset that the King was dating his "ex-girlfriend", and I got whiplash. Ex-what?

Nice to know that I'm not the only woman in New York who dates emotional fuck-wits.

power to the Peeps

...and joy to the masses. We can now make our own Peeps, right at home! I need to get one of these for the egg-coloring session with the nieces on Saturday, but I'll still let them get all stale and crunchy before I eat them.

Viva La Roombalución!

Ooh, now I want a Roomba more than ever. Because if Sars thinks she has a problem with cat hair out of control in her apartment, she should walk up the hill and visit me sometime. There's a reson the monkey has her stomach shaved, and it's not fashion.

Next stop, the Inferno

The DISCO Inferno, that is.

too late to tune your stereos

Oh, so that's the frequency! You know you always wondered.

Karma

Sometimes UserFriendly truly rocks. If you want to mete out the justice yourself to those Nigerian scam artists, try playing their own game back at them.

Senate Democrats Erect Shield to Obstruct "Nuclear Option"

Are you aware that we are on the verge of a Constitutional crisis? On the surface, what the Republicans are proposing sounds like a minor procedural point, but in reality it totally undermines the system of checks and balances that is inherant to what makes our Constitution so brilliant.

What amazes me the most is the implied arrogance. The Neo-cons want to give a type of absolute, unfettered power to the majority party. Do they assume that they will be in the majority forever more? Don't they realize that once the Dems take control once again, as always happens eventually, then they will have removed their own voice of dissent?

Oy, I hate our political climate these days. It boggles the mind, the bullshit that's going on and that we just accept like beaten-down dogs.

Mash it up

A Stroke of Genius is one of my favorite songs ever, and it even kinda made me a Strokes fan. Anyone else know any good mashups?

Ides of March

Yep, that would be today, folks, with all of its attendant foreboding. But what exactly is an Ides? Glad you asked.

A trivial matter

Last night my bar-trivia team, the Schoolhouse Rockstars, pulled off a third-place showing with a skeletal crew of pinch-hitters, and word around the Buttermilk environs is that we are a Team To Beat.

Clearly, this team still has glory writ large on its destiny.

Come back, young rockstars! Come back to the warm bosom of Trivia! Dr. Fact welcomes you with open arms.

Trivia takes a holiday in April. The next Night of Fifty Questions will be on Monday, May 9. Let's make a good showing and knock Steve Gutenburg's Bible (two-time winners) back to the Middle Ages! Cash prizes, free beer, and trivia groupies await. Mark your calendars now!

JO 101

I'm a journalist, you're a journalist, everyone's a journalist!

Office Husbandry

Is it possible to have a day husband if I don't have a real one?

a blanket of spring snow

This will be my third spring on Prospect Park, and this year I am determined to not miss one moment of cherry-blossom season at the Botanic Gardens. So I was thrilled to find, and bookmark, this handy Brooklyn Botanic Garden: Guide to the Cherry Tree Collection, and I'll be checking it often and spending as many afternoons as possible in my back yard (the Park itself is my front yard).

Speaking of cherry blossoms, check out this fabulous menu for a cherry-blossom dinner at the James Beard House. It's so incredibly lovely in concept, presentation, and collection of foods that I love, that I'll go alone if I have to. But it would be nice to have a dinner companion. Anyone interested?

And speaking of snowy imagery, the Ashes and Snow exhibit that just opened looks breathtaking, so I'll be trying to catch that this weekend, if I can squeeze it in between all the birthday parties.

Things that go "wha..?!" in the night

Last night, still wiped out and sleep-deprived, plus beaten down by a shift at the Co-op (that used to be an uplifting event), I fell asleep on the couch. I know, I'm bad, I broke my New Year's resolution. And I was doing so well!

When I woke up at 3-ish and went to bed, Siena was poking her head through a hole in my bedroom window. The glass was cracked when I moved in, but now it had fallen out of the frame and become an actual hole. A hole with sharp edges that my beloved monkey was putting her little neck way too close to for my comfort.

I grabbed a square of cardstock out of the recycling bag and taped it over the hole, and today I talked to my landlord about it. But after finding Seece risking life and limb in pursuit of the pidgeons in the airshaft, I wasn't going to sleep any time soon.

So I decided to clean out the nightstand drawer. You know, the infamous place where you store everything you need quick access to, but you don't want out on display? Well, after Sunday morning, it was in a general state of disarray.

First odd discovery -- an entire box of condoms was missing. Last I remembered, there were at least eight in there, and on Sunday we'd been using the stash of giveaways from Valentine season which were still on my living room floor, as I am in winter Slob Mode and haven't put anything away in weeks.

Next odd discovery -- the smaller travel pack was also empty. What the hell, had I gone on some wild orgy-vacation and didn't remember it? The last trip I'd taken was to London, which was chock-full of sparks and flirtation, but devoid of any actual hanking or panking.

The oddest discovery -- a prescription bottle, with four Viagra pills in it. Although I'd forgotten that I had this, this isn't yet the odd part. Remember the cokehead alcoholic ex-boyfriend? All that substance abuse was none too good for performance, but one night he came over and displayed all the stamina of a... well, of a 24-year-old. Uncharacteristic, to say the least. When I questioned him about it, he credited my good influence towards healthy living, and a chunk of time off the sauce.

By morning he had bolted so fast, he'd left his Dopp kit hanging in my bathroom. As I packed it up for him, I noticed the little bottle from an online pharmacy shop, the kind that advertise in spam mail. Healthy living my ass! Although I'd appreciated the effects, I wasn't too thrilled with the lying, nor what it meant about the actual cleanliness (or lack thereof) of his lifestyle. After all, if he didn't even get it from his real doctor, then I wasn't the only one he was hiding something from.

So I stole a few, and stashed them in an old Allegra bottle of mine. I planned to do some experimenting with the next boyfriend and see if that Sex and the City episode was true. And then promptly forgot, of course.

Here's the thing. I had stolen six, not four. So now there's about a dozen condoms, and two Viagra pills, missing from the goody drawer. What the hell? Had someone been partying in my room while I was at work, or out of town? Or maybe the 24-year-old had found the pills, and the 90-minute feat wasn't due to his youthful stamina after all?

Jaye pointed out that the condoms had probably expired, and I had thrown them out. This sounds plausible, and even familiar, and yet so incredibly sad that I don't even want to think about it. But she was at a loss to explain the missing pills. I'd blame the Monkey, but the bottle has a child-proof cap.

After all that excitement, mystery and drama, I had to read a few chapters of Brad & Jen: The Rise and Fall of Hollywood’s Golden Couple just to put myself to sleep.

speaking of young love...

How do I love 24-year-olds? Let me count the ways...
--they don't care if you have a better job, make more money, have a nicer apartment then they do.
--they don't feel competitive, because they know they're not on the same playing field.
--they don't think you're old, they just think you're cool.
--they love that you can teach them things, and they're eager to learn.
--they're very respectful and attentive.
--they have so much energy and stamina.

Okay, maybe that last one isn't exactly a plus, if it means you get no sleep all night. Seriously, at 9:15 in the morning, we were still going at it, and I thought I was going to break. He let me sleep for a little while, but was up for more by ten.

Clearly I need to get back to the gym if I want to keep up. And I do, so I will.

I know you've been dying for other boy news, so here's a quick recap:

The CB was under the mistaken impression that this here blog is all about him. He must have skipped right over my obsessive posting on Deep Throat and the Gates. So I put him on a me-free diet for a while.

As for the dinner at Tenement, not so much to say. He's still drinking, still smoking, still boring and still refuses to accept any responsibility for anything. Ever. He was exactly the same as when I left him three years ago, and he thought this was a good thing. "Isn't it great, we haven't seen each other in so long, and it's like we haven't lost a day!" Um, no, that's not a good thing. Please don't call me again.

In sum, bring on the young, smart, pretty, funny, worshipful boys. (Damn I hate it when Andrew has a girlfriend!) All I need is a steady stream of younger men to keep me happy.

The bipartisan romance continues

Yeah, sure, Clinton slept on the floor. Who are they kidding? We know they were all snuggled up together.

A Pint for St. Patrick

There was a time when I'd have spent St. Patrick's with my alcoholic ex-boyfriend. We first hooked up while we were plastered on St. Pat's, and after that I was always trying to keep him away from the temptations of excess.

Now that I no longer have that burden, I can drink all I want next Thursday. And since I still seem to have a thing for the nice Irish boys, as proven by this weekend's activities, I intend to be out in full force. Check out these suggestions, or give me some of your own, and let me know if you want to go out!

More insidious Saffron

The scandal over the doctored cover photo of Martha Stewart inNewsweek this week misses the real point. Look at those saffrom drapes she's clutching. Martha's out of prison! She went to see The Gates!

More on the Good Doctor's passing

So many stories about the details of HS Thompson's death, and none of them seem to agree. Rocky Mountain News says that his wife and kids were home with him, but in other rooms of the house, when he shot himself. The Boston Globe said he was on the phone with his wife, and shot himself in the middle of the conversation.

No butter, no lemon

You know how I love the lobster, but this is too much even for me. Sadly, he didn't survive the relocation. Looks like we should have made a vat of lobster salad after all; shame to let it go to waste.

"The Crackers"

Yet another riff on "The Gates". Sadly, as Christo's Gates start coming down today, the Somerville Gates are already gone, as the cleaning lady, she has come.

Abandoned Stations

Totally worth a field trip to check these out. I've seen a few already, and it's eerie cool.

Blogging the bloggers

Slate has started keeping tabs on the bloggers. Wonder how long it will take me to make it onto their radar.

I actually like Chuck

And I think that this stream of unfounded rants about Chuck Klosterman is fine evidence of what a trashy rag NYPress is.

so some French women do get fat

But apparently it's the Americans fault anyway.

Well, that's not allt he article is saying, to be fair. Yet, I have noticed over the past 10-15 years, in Italy, that they've started to eat like us, with frozen yogurt shops replacing gelaterias, and that suddenly everyone is on a diet.

Sad, isn't it?

No more fear...

.. no more loathing.

good night to the Good Doctor

Author Hunter S. Thompson was 67.

Bill Clinton is a Rock Star

And now even the evil old Number 41 realizes it.

Since New York Times stories expire, here's a snip for you:

White House Bond: Teamed by No. 43, 41 and 42 Hit It Off
By ELISABETH BUMILLER
...
When Mr. Bush went to the dedication of Mr. Clinton's presidential library in Little Rock, Ark., with the current president and former President Jimmy Carter in November, the 41st and 42nd presidents talked at times with such familiarity that former staff members were taken aback.

"President Clinton was walking with all the presidents, and former President Bush says, 'Bill, what are you doing with this property back here?' " said Representative Rahm Emanuel, an Illinois Democrat was a top aide to Mr. Clinton. "It only sticks with me because it seemed so 'friendlike.' "

More recently, Mr. Bush and Mr. Clinton, whom President Bush appointed last month as his representatives in raising money for tsunami relief, were seen joking with each other as they sat side by side at the Super Bowl, where they had been invited by the National Football League.
...

"Frankly, President Bush likes Clinton a lot," Roland Betts, a close friend of the president, said. "He says he thinks he's a terrific person. He's not judging his administration. He just likes being around him."
...

The warming trend continued a few weeks later, when the president unveiled Mr. Clinton's official portrait at the White House with such gracious words that aides said Mr. Clinton was stunned. Mr. Bush praised Mr. Clinton as a man "with far-ranging knowledge of public policy, a great compassion for people in need and the forward-looking spirit the Americans like in a president."

Mr. Clinton reddened and his eye teared as he acknowledged: "I had mixed feelings coming here today, and they were only confirmed by all those kind and generous things you've said. Made me feel like I was a pickle stepping into history."

By the time of Mr. Clinton's library dedication, he and the Bushes were falling over one another with accolades. But the 41st president spoke about the man who bested him in 1992 in personal and revealing terms.

"It always has to be said that Bill Clinton was one of the most gifted American political figures in modern times," Former President Bush said. "Trust me. I learned this the hard way."

Let's Get It Fugging

I can't believe this woman is sleeping with my "other" boyfriend. Just say no to Crystal Meth, kids!

For those of you who can't keep my fantasy life straight: my husband, my boyfriend on the side, and my other boyfriend. There, that's not so hard, right?

MS Guide to L33tsp3ak

Courtesy of Robb: A parent's primer to computer slang.

And thanks to Jenove: Fo-shizzle.

Pope v. Bono -- Who's peacier?

Now I'm a practicing Catholic, I ate fish today and everything. But so is Bono; he'd get my vote.

Gates in Space!

More Gates, evermore Gates.

See the Little Gray Book Lectures, live.

Next Thursday, the 24th. Do it, observe Presidents' Day, Observed.

deeper, throatier, yet still only occasionally pornographic.

deep throat

deeper throat

WoodStein's legacy

deep throatier

deep throat again and again, oh, god again

not really deep throat

Bush throat

RMV Express Lane - Thank You

I am once again a legal, fully-licensed driver:

The Requested License Renewal Transaction has been successfully processed on 02/18/2005 at 15:55:30.

Your renewed license will be mailed to you. If your current license has expired, you cannot legally operate a vehicle until you receive your renewed license, unless you print and carry this e-mail with you along with your expired license. The bearer of this e-mail has successfully renewed his/her Massachusetts license. The license is in good standing and is not currently expired, suspended, or revoked.

Thank God for that new-fangled internet!

A genuine hipster from Hell...

I still can't quite believe it myself, I'm actually planning on going to see Constantine.

dining in a tenement

I'm checking out Tenement Lounge for dinner tonight. From what I've seen on their site, it looks great. I'll let you know how it goes....

Saffron in the Bay State

Behold the beauty and wonder of The Somerville Gates. (Thanks, Jeff!)

Hey, hey, we're the Spongmonkeys!

They love the moon, they once loved the subs, and I still love them. And I'm not the only one. Seth Stevenson of Slate gets it too.

Unfortunately, Quiznos doesn't anymore. The Spongmonkeys have been fired in favor of a gruff-talking baby.

Omniscient or unreliable?

Some thoguhts on omniscient narrators, unreliable narrators, interminable death scenes, and other literary points of view.

Crazier than your average monkey

Definitely crazier than mine. Thanks for the link, Stan!

numanumaye

I can't explain it, but I just like it.

America is in the throes of a crack epidemic

Old, but oddly, still relevant. And still funny.

Celebrating the age of consent

Gee, so much loving to comment on today... Send your regards to the
happy couple.

hearts and flowers for the internet set

My friend Robb is very funny:

roses are #FF0000
violets are #0000FF
all my base
are belong to you

Even if he didn't write it, he sent it, and he made me laugh. Happy birthday, Robb!

Ah, those alluring Swedes

Swedish women shipped in to tempt gay men to go straight.

faint of heart

Courtesy of My Yahoo!, my Daily Scorpio Forecast:

"There's only one way for sensual, sexual you to celebrate Valentine's Day -- and it doesn't involve a single cent, or a cast of thousands. Be sure you're with someone who can keep up. You're definitely not for the faint of heart."

Good thing I'm heading out with a fellow Scorpio tonight; I just hope Jodi can keep up. Also, we've already got the cast of thousands arranged, and it would be a shame to waste them.

Seriously, we're off to the free vibrator party I mentioned last Tuesday. Then we might swing by The Delancey to check out LOVE BITES, a power ballad tribute party, where the lighters are included with admission ($12).

Happy V-Day everyone!

At The Gates

Consider it a Valentine to the city. Manhattan User's Guide devotes today's essay on how these streams of orange help heal our city. I'll have my own photos up soon.

Deep Throat, mostly the non-pornographic kind

This year marks the 30th anniversary of the Watergate break-in. Accordingly, there's been renewed speculation on the identity of Deep Throat.

That would be the informant, not the porn movie. Coincidentally, however, this week a Brian Grazier-produced documentary on the film premiered. It was a cultural benchmark, after all, when even Jackie O went to see it.

Anyway, back to the speculation. A few years ago, William Gaines, a former reporter who teaches investigative reporting at the University of Illinois, led his class in a project to decipher the riddle. The students assembled a list of candidates, contacted all who were still living (Woodward has said he will release the identity once D.T. dies, per their agreement, so from this we know that D.T is still living), and kept those who did not categorically deny it. They ended up with a list of seven possible candidates.

My favorite on that list was Pat Buchanan. I spent a lot of time with Pat up in New Hampshire in 1996, during the New Hampshire primary campaign (he even offered me a job!). Although we disagreed on absolutely everything, I found him to be a much nicer guy than you'd ever expect, and the idea that he may have brought down Nixon amused me. I also dig the fact that he would not confirm or deny, as Pat's not what you'd usually consider a man of mystery.

Recently, old 41 himself, George Herbert Walker Bush, has been floated as a possibility.

However, the latest word is that Mr. Throat is gravely ill, which means that the guessing game may soon be over. Woodward has alerted Ben Bradlee to this, and Bradlee, the only person aside from Woodstein to know the Throat's true identity, admits that he has already prepared an obituary, which includes the revelation.

Pat's been looking healthy lately, so I guess it's not him after all. Unfortuantely, our former Demon-in-Chief is also still hale and hearty, so no dice there either.

Nixon era White House counsel John Dean, himself a front-runner in many Deep Throat guessing games, and also feeling just fine of late, takes this opportunity to consider the constitutional implications of protecting sources.

Editor and Publisher is taking a more hands-on approach with: Early Returns in 'Deep Throat' Contest: Rehnquist Takes the Lead!

Place your bets soon, the clock is ticking!

broken hearted

See, it's true, you can die from a broken heart. Now I feel better for being cold and emotionless.

bird brain

Einstein's a superstar!

you know how I love monkeys

From nonsense nyc:
Monkey C Monkey Do

We proudly welcome you and your gaggle to Monkey C Monkey Do, the first
ever pub crawl/bar parade down Avenue C with the theme of monkeys.

We're meeting up at the Sunburnt Cow (9th Street and Avenue C) where
you'll be presented with your Monkey C Card, which will assign you to a
particular type of monkey and describes how you should act ... if you
were a monkey. For one night only you are that monkey.

Also on your Monkey C Card you'll have all the key information about
destinations, times, and pub crawl game rules. Monkey C Cards will only
be given out at the event.

There will be prizes awarded for the most in theme and the best monkey
in the jungle.

Attire is casual as always but please do come socially groomed. This is
a fun event and all are welcome. We strongly encourage you to be in
theme. That said, feel free to go bananas.

We've got 5 bars signed up and prizes already secured. There will be
Monkey themed drink specials at the bars. Pretension should be checked
at the door.

Crawl begins at Sunburnt Cow
9th Street and Avenue C, Manhattan
8:30p-midnight; $free, but you pay for drinks

Bigshot photographer

My work is on the cover of 24/7 this week. Uncredited, because they suck, but that's mine right there.

Wanna bet?

As previously mentioned, I was way sick with the bronchitis for about a week.

Last Wednesday, when I was well enough to be restless after six days on the couch, but not yet well enough to go out, I called the CB and asked him to come visit and bring a movie. He is my most geographically close friend, after all. He never even called back.

Stan has admitted defeat, and has paid up on the bet well ahead of the deadline. I say, if you can't be nice to me when I'm seriously ill, that's not even a lack of romantic intent, that's just unneighborly.

Open Gates, and a bit of naughty

To do this weekend, details courtesy of New York Magazine:

Stroll or cycle alongside the largest artwork since the Sphinx.
The brainchild of eccentric duo Christo and Jeanne-Claude, The Gates is literally 7,500 gates hung with billowing fabric, standing 16 feet tall and spaced throughout 23 miles of Central Park pathways. The exhibit's opening coincides with Valentine's weekend and tour groups are eager to get in on the act. Official park walking tours offer their take on the project's 26-year history, prior Christos endeavors, details on the Central Park itself and a few surprisingly salacious anecdotes (who was arrested at the zoo for pinching a woman's behind?). For the more ambitious, there's a four-hour, 10-mile bike tour; for the more romantic, here's a handy map for a do-it-yourself, after-dinner stroll.
Central Park Walking Tours
• Feb. 12, 1 p.m.; 2/13, 11 a.m.
• Reservations required, call 212-721-0874; centralparkwalkingtours.com
• $17; private tours available for $25.

Then, on V-Day itself, open bar and free vibrator!
Have a "One Night Stand" at Viscaya Lounge's Sex Show.
In case it takes more than a few cocktails to get your Valentine in the mood, plan your after-hours partying at Viscaya Lounge, where the club will host The Sex Show, the first in a series of art exhibits collectively titled "One Night Stand." Paintings, videos, sculptures and other forms of artwork will be on display throughout the club for your arousal. Be sure to snag a complimentary silver bullet vibrator on your way home (not necessarily your home).
• Feb. 14, 7 p.m.-4 a.m (open bar and hors d'oeuvres 7-8 p.m.).
• Viscaya, 191 Seventh Ave., between 21st and 22nd Sts., 212-675-5980; viscayalounge.com.
• $10 (50% of proceeds go to the American Federation for AIDS Research)

Follow the Money

When I constantly complain about how I can't make ends meet, this is what I'm talking about. So enjoy your cleaning ladies everyone; I still won't be getting one for myself.

Since New York Times articles expire after a fortnight, here you go:

Cost of Necessities Rises in New York
By JENNIFER STEINHAUER

A red-hot real estate market, high-priced orange juice and a ceaseless array of fare increases have combined to make it harder for New Yorkers to make ends meet than at any time in a decade, according to new federal statistics.

Facing prices on necessities that are growing faster than almost anywhere else, many New Yorkers have stopped buying books, hand creams and other discretionary treats, and have sharply decreased their charitable giving in the last few years. A New York family gave nearly 30 percent less to charity on average in 2003 than in 2000, the statistics show.

Between 2000 and 2003, according to figures released on Monday by the Bureau of Labor Statistics, spending among New Yorkers rose 4.3 percent, while price inflation went up by 5.5 percent. That is the opposite pattern from most of the rest of the country, where spending went up faster than inflation.

Economists say that when inflation goes up faster than spending, it indicates that consumers find it difficult to keep up with rising prices.

"Expenditures went up less than inflation because New Yorkers allocated a large percentage of those expenditures on necessities," said Michael L. Dolfman, regional commissioner in the bureau. "Basically, New York is getting too expensive."

It is the first time that imbalance has occurred in the region in about a decade, reflecting both the national recession that hit New York harder than the rest of the nation, and New York's endless ability to outprice other cities for basic necessities.

Among the cities the department looked at, Los Angeles had the biggest increase in inflation - 5.8 percent - but spending in that city rose 10 percent, reflecting the classic economic theory that spending usually drives inflation. "What makes New York interesting is that it didn't happen that way there," Mr. Dolfman said.

In nearly every category, people in the New York region spent more of their household dollar on essentials than other Americans between 2000 and 2003. Rental prices in the region rose 8.1 percent, while nationally, they went up 4.1 percent.

Food prices rose 9.3 percent in the New York region; nationally they increased 2.7 percent.

What residents gave up were the extras. Spending on clothing fell by 12 percent, and there were also cutbacks in buying meat, poultry, eggs, and tobacco. In 2000, New Yorkers gave $1,353 per family to charity, but by 2003 that amount had fallen to $949.

Don't be soft, man

Me, I actually prefer a little bit of hair on the chest. And I definitely believe that the mustache is making a comeback -- my boss, George Clooney, and the ultimate harbinger of style, David Bowie, all have one right now.

The Propaganda President

"And the two best ways to keep people stupid and nodding is by shutting down the information flow and by stiffing the press. At these chores, Bush excels."

The Emperor's New Hump

Lying, cheating bastard. Cowardly, too, as are the media for letting the story die.

Seriously, I feel one step closer to the regime of 1984 every day, and I don't know what to do about it. Learned helplessness.

back among the living

I've been ill, bedridden, coughing and wheezing and suffocating. Sorry no posting, but today's the first day back in front of a computer. Jane and Deb were wonderful, bringing me soup and ice cream and meds; I love them. Dave is afraid of my germs, but he called often to make sure I was okay. Other people who knew I was sick never checked in at all, but you know, there's just not enough love in the world for me! Apparently.

In my absence, my latest and greatest project at work got some national attention. I've just rolled out new photo galleries to our affiliated sites, and OregonLive.com used the new galleries to do a feature on the ravages of crystal meth. Lots of sites, including Memepool, linked to us, and our stats for the photo section shot up to over 600,000 hits a day! Pity when you link directly to a gallery, as these sites did, you can't really see the elegance of my design, but if you follow the direct link to the story and pop the gallery from there, it should look right.

Dying, going home. More tomorrow. Disinfected kisses.

Great Britain - The home of cheese racing since 1997

Gorgonzola Dave: a man after my own heart.

Safe, Legal, and Never

Hillary's got it dead on when it comes to the abortion debate. For years, I've been so angry with both sides -- one refuses to admit that abortion ends a life, and therefore is a terrible thing to have to do and should not be discussed as glibly as buying a pint of milk. The other side won't be realistic and acknowledge that if you don't want abortions to happen, then you have to do something to make them unneeded, like maybe sex education and accessible birth control.

This is not rocket science, people.

I love Hillary. She's got it exactly right, and she's got the stats and the rhetoric to shut up any opposition. Can we please have her for president in four years?

Some kind of muse

This Saturday is the oft-mentioned gig for which CB let me pick the setlist. He'll also be inflicting Miracle Baby, the song you may have heard at my birthday party, on the unsuspecting public, so maybe letting me pick my faves will make up for my MB embarassment.

Come on down to Freddy's and see what all the fuss is about. Of course, I'm dying of sudden onset severe flu (serves me right), so I might not actually be there to enjoy my dotage, but if you go you can tell me all about it! (bring soup, please!)

The All-Request Hour
featuring songs both new and old!
all about heartbreak and drinking!

Saturday, January 29, 2005
Freddy's Bar & Backroom
485 Dean Street, at 6th Avenue, Brooklyn, NY
no cover!

Directions to Fred's go here.

Lord of the Romulans

"Oh, and Merry and Pippen ride around in a tree for an hour. But, so what? Before Jackson got involved, the only people who cared about this crap were dudes who could speak Klingon. Now, my ophthalmologist is just as into it as any Romulan sub-commander."

The best LoTR review ever.

~*~ Secret Diaries of Middle Earth~*~

While we're looking back at the glory days of the LotR trilogy, let's not forget these brilliantly funny diaries.