I Totally Oulived Jesus

Well as you know by now, today is my birthday. A big happy birthday to me. Oh yeah! Everyone knows what this day means: Pabst Blue Ribbon at the Fuzzy Duck Inn. This year, I better see you there, because this isn't going to be just any birthday celebration. This year, my birthday will be a deeply meaningful almost humbling occasion. See, I've turned 34. That means I totally outlived Jesus.

You know, 33 was good. I had a pretty decent year, all in all. I started seeing a few people, I rented a house, and I solidified my position of authority in the office temp pool. But there was one thing that I couldn't say I had done, until today: outlived Jesus Christ! Well, check that into the calendar. See that circle around February 28th? See that '34' written there? In your face, Jesus!

Don't get me wrong. I'm not bad mouthing Jesus. He's our Savior and the Son of God, and He has all of those churches dedicated to him and books written about him. He did a lot of amazing things, like that walking on water business. I'm just saying there's at least one area in which the ol' J-Man failed to outpace a certain birthday boy speaking to you now!

Jesus and I have a lot in common, but we're different too. I know how to draw a crowd, but I'd rather tell my great stories from the summer I worked at the water park than talk about Adam and Eve. He liked wine; I like Pabst Blue Ribbon. What can I say. Patrick is a man of the people. At the end of the day, thought, I think my accomplishments, miracles aside, pretty much measure up to Jesus'. Jesus was a carpenter, right? Carpentry is pretty cool, but the installation of new software is cool, too. I know how to install this software into like a hundred different systems. So Jesus and I are pretty even there. And without question, I beat him, hands down, when it comes to not kicking the bucket before 34! Take that Jesus!

Oh! I didn't go too far; did I? I'm just kidding around! No disrespect intended there, young, dead Jesus.

I can kid, can't I? It's my day, after all! On my birthday, I'm like the king for a day, right? The king has come! Tonight, I'm going to score a big table for us at the duck, and we can all sit on one side, just like they did at the last supper. If it's good enough for Jesus, it's good enough for us old fogies, too.

I can put a little sign over my chair that says "INRI," just like the one Jesus had. No one knows what Jesus' damn sign meant, but mine will mean "I Need Ribbon Immediately!" Oh, but his sign wasn't over his favorite booth in the back, the one right by the jukebox. Nope, his sign was over his head when he died - Younger than Patrick!

Patrick 1, Jesus 0.

Okay, fine. He died fro my sins. Well, you can bet I've made some real good ones lately. Because I figured something out a year ago today: You're only as old as Jesus once, and then you're older than Jesus for the rest of your life!

Yeah, I outlived Buddy Holly, James Dean, and now, the big one: Christ almighty, Himself! That's no small thing. I might not have done as much good in the world, but if I want to, I totally have the time! Shit, I'm probably going to live twice as long as Jesus!

Boo-ya! Burn on you, Jesus!

Auditioning for the Role of Boyfriend

Realizing that I was turning into a compulsive masturbator, I decided I needed to take matters into my own hands (or should I say release matters from my hands?) and meet some potential boyfriends. That being the case, last June I participated in what has to be one of the most deplorable, reprehensible, degrading acts known to the human race, which none of my friends would join me in....so of course I'm going to share it with you. No, this wasn't an orgy, or participating in the production of a pornographic movie (but I wouldn't put it past me...I am broke), or even my working as a prostitute. This was delving into the world of SPEED DATING.

Whoever came up with this concept really needs to be shot! 90 "dateless and desperate" men show up at a predetermined spot, are put into a circle, and then spend 2 minutes getting to know each other (one minute for you to speak and one minute for the other guy to speak), before being moved onto the next person. If you like the person, you give them your number. They must take the number and say thank you. They are not allowed to give you their number in return. If they give you their number...the same rules apply. This way...nobody is rejected to their face. Instead...we just wait by the damn phone hoping that "he will call".

So I arrive, with an open mind, and right away take a mental survey of the group of people I am about to meet. This group looks a little promising, varying age ranges, sizes and shapes, all with hint of nervousness, which is understandable since this was the first time this event had be held in the area. I take my seat in the bar that was sponsoring the event and quickly order a beer, just to calm the nerves. We are explained the rules and the mating dance begins. Luckily I was assigned a chair (which will come in handy later).

When the bell rings, my first psychopath...I mean prospective boyfriend sits at the table across from me:

*******************

Patrick: Hi! I'm Patrick. I'm 33 years old. I work at a company in town as a systems administrator during the day, and as a Stand Up comic on the side. I enjoy most athletics, as well as anything that can keep me outside. I've gone bungee jumping, skydiving, white water rafting, and I'm hoping I can find someone that enjoys trying new things. (bell rings).

Steve: Hello, I'm Steve. I'm 37. I ended a long term relationship last year and my therapist says it's time to start dating again, so here I am. (.............................. VERY ................................................................. LONG ................................................................... PAUSE ..................................). (bell rings).

*******************

Patrick: Hi! I'm Patrick. I'm 33 years old. I work at a company in town as a systems administrator during the day, and as a Stand Up comic on the side. I enjoy most athletics, as well as anything that can keep me outside. I've gone bungee jumping, skydiving, white water rafting, and I'm hoping I can find someone that enjoys trying new things. (bell rings).

Bachelor: THIS IS MY CARD BOY! YOU WILL CALL ME AND SERVICE YOUR MASTER LATER!

*******************

Patrick: Hi! I'm Patrick. I'm 33 years old. I'M NOT LOOKING TO BE DOMINATED! I work at a company in town as a systems administrator during the day, and as a Stand Up comic on the side. I enjoy most athletics, as well as anything that can keep me outside. I've gone bungee jumping, skydiving, white water rafting, and I want to find someone that enjoys trying new things. (bell rings).

Michael: I'm Michael. I'm 34 years old. I'm a ENT surgeon, and to be honest...I'm just not attracted to you. No offence...you're ok looking, but I really want to meet that guy over there. (bell rings).

*******************

Patrick: Hi! I'm Patrick. I'm 33 years old. I'M NOT LOOKING TO BE DOMINATED! I 'm a Stand Up comic. I enjoy most athletics, as well as anything that can keep me outside. I've gone bungee jumping, skydiving, white water rafting, and I want to find someone that enjoys trying new things. (bell rings).

Rick: I'm Rick. You have got some really blue eyes. They remind me of my mom's. She's a former model for revlon (where's the damn bell?), and still keeps active by running daily (where's the damn bell?). She is allergic to cats. You don't have any cats do you? Because she could never come to your house if you did. (bell rings).

*******************

Patrick: I'm Patrick and I'm 33. I'm a comic. I like new things.
Dan: I'm Dan and it sounds like your getting burned out.
Patrick: You have no idea.
Dan: I understand. Lots of creepy guys here. I'm a little tired of this myself.
Patrick: So what do you do for a living?
Dan: I work as a fireman...but I'm thinking about going back to school to be a Vet..
Patrick: That's really fascinating (hope is beginning to spring forth).
Dan: I know were not supposed to ask this, but can I have your card, as I have a boyfriend at home and I can't really take calls there. (bell rings)

One after another, the evening went like this. By the time the night was over, I had given my number to two guys, and neither ever called me (Bastards). On the other hand, I received several cards from me over the age of 60, one from a blind man who told me I smelled good, and one from the guy arranging the event, as he wanted me to attend the next one in July.

Screw that...I'm going back to masturbation.

Birthday Wishes

A really sweet person asked me via email what I wanted for my birthday, which is a really difficult question. I have most everything I need of a material nature...but I guess we always want more don't we? But realistically...I've always been a utilitarian, getting things only as I need them. Last year was the first time I had ever had a birthday party (which in itself was a really interesting time), and I'm not sure how to top that. So what does a gay stand up comic want?

Patrick's wish list

• For CJ to get better!
  


• Brad Pitt, Colin Farrel, Tom Cruise, and Johnny Depp hot oil wrestling to see who gets to use me as a clean up towel. (I say shoot for the stars and you just may get the moon)



• Hope...hope that the economy turns around and I get a "real" job, hope that a marriage amendment doesn't pass, hope that both the California, New Mexico, and Massachutes weddings withstand the legal battles.



• An apology from the person who treated me very badly this last year. Most everyone knows who it is, and know that I have a better chance of getting the oil wrestling event to happen (WHICH IS A PERFECT CONSOLATION PRIZE).



• Health Insurance without having to drink the chocolate shake of hell. (see prior post)



• A real birthday cake. I've never had one. With my name on it and candles melting the damn thing.



• A clothing rack for my walk-in closet would be nice.



• An extremely romantic evening with someone special



• Someone special...should these two be reversed?



• A bowling ball might be nice.



• Bowling shoes.



• An instructional book on artist painting techniques with additional supplies. (Paint and canvas ain't cheap!)



• A comedy booking in Portland so I can meet this talented actor and sketch comedian



• A cool logo for this website.



• and lastly...a good hair day so I can get my picture taken!

As for this following image, I thought is summed up the whole marriage situation in San Francisco well. Thanks Paul for letting me know of its existence.

Ash Wednesday and Being a Lab Rat

So today was the second time I had to do the seretonin depletions for this medical study. For those of you who don't remember...I have no health insurance and working as temp employee, my contract company will provide me health insurance at the cost of $100 per week. That's a lot of money for me, so in order to get health insurance, I signed up for a medical study. This study requires that I take paxil for my symptoms of depression and every once in a while spend a day of hell on suicide watch, while they deplete the seretonin out of my head. I do it again next wednesday. Sounds like fun huh? So my day:


7:30 Arrive at hospital, park in lot and sneak my cell phone in.
7:45 Get the blood draw by Val...a sweet nurse that does a great stick. Figures the best "Prick" I get lately comes from a woman.


8:00 Drink chocolate shake of death. This is the worst tasting thing I have ever had in my life. Even hours afterwards, I still heave thinking about the gritty texture and bad taste, masked by Hershey's Syrup. Upon finishing this "shake" of death, I have to take 25 pills.

Would you drink this crap??

Does this mean I'm on the pill?

9:05 Boredom sets in. Take pictures of the city and some of myself. Having a bad picture day (I should have shaved.) Ask for a razor at which they laugh. This is a psychological study…

The rest of the day was spent sitting in a room, without any interaction with any people, sitting in lock down so I can be monitored. I think I fell asleep at 11 ish. Total work 8 hours. I get health insurance and $100. Not bad for a days work. Hope your day was better!

Can you guess which one of these two is me and which one is George Bush?

What do you mean you don't have any beads?

I found this picture on my computer, and it just cracked me up today. Can you say "Ham"?

Flowers for CJ

Along with many of you, I received an e-mail this weekend from CJ, who is going through a lot of fairly serious health problems. CJ...my thoghts are with you...Give those doctors Hell!

Why is Prostitution Against the Law?

I never understood this, but the way I understand it, it's illegal to pay for or accept money for performing sexual acts. I'm not the legal expert...that's Brent's territory, but something bugs me here. If both parties are paid, and we film it...it's called pornography. What's the difference?

And really...isn't somebody buying dinner, drinks, and admission to a club THE SAME THING? And if so, does that make all of us guilty of prostitution? Why is it illegal anyway? In Australia, prostitutes are state "licensed", and actually are legal. Is it morally wrong.

Happy Mardi Gras to all of you out there. We went to a club to celebrate this weekend, and beads were a plenty. The stripper of the bar gave me some beads, but only after I "earned" them. Lucky that no cameras were around as I would have been caught with my pants down...Literally. I guess I'm a prostitute for beads.

Who Can it Be Now?

Yes folks, I have tickets to see these guys in concert tonight. Talk about a blast from the 80's past. I need to find my zebra pants and neon t-shirts. I didn't even know that these guys were still producing albums.

Had dinner last night with the gentleman that is arranging the trip. We are thinking either Cancun, San Jaun, Belize, or maybe the Virgin Islands or Jamica. Hawaii is still on the table, although it would be nearly a 12 hour flight to get there.

I have tickets to see STING on Monday the 23rd. Now this man has aged like fine wine (thanks Holly for that analogy). I may just throw my underwear on the stage. Seriously.

Ass Wipe
-or-
Adolescent Humor

So while at work, I was in the men's room and I could hear the poor guy in the stall behind me. Now as I've said before, I have a problem using public restrooms for privacy issues. That being said, I realized, you can tell a lot about a person by the way they wipe. Now I'm not saying you should watch a person wipe their butt, but if you ask, and they truthfully answer, you could learn a lot about them. In fact, this information could be a weed out question for potential dates.

The Types of Ass Wipes

• The Wad Maker- This person could go through a roll of toilet paper in one visit. They grab the roll of paper and spin off a tree's worth of paper, wad it up into a tight ball and wipe one time. They then repeat. These people are known to have industrial plungers in their homes to clear the clogs they create. You will also find their house to be cluttered, but still clean.



• The Folder- this anal retentive person will take the needed amount of paper and fold it into several strips which will each be used for wiping. Usually this is done in preparation of the wipe with each folded tissue laying in wait on the owners leg. This person's home is immaculate. Often you could eat off the floor it is so clean. The person is a control freak, and likes things done her/his way.



• The Miser-this cheapo son of a bitch is someone to avoid al all costs. The Miser will split the two ply paper into a single ply and only use one square. The Miser will date you, but will only take you to McDonald's with a 2 for 1 coupon.



• The Heart Breaker This is actually every ex-boyfriend because really...aren't all ex's ass wipes?



• The Blotter-Often teamed up with a bidet, this users blots dry or clean. They are very tender people, who understand the necessity of a light touch at times. Excellent with wound care.



• The ScrubberThis person will either be a Folder or a Wad Maker. The technique they will use is to thoroughly wipe backwards and forwards insure that they truely are clean. These people have clean windows and waxed floors.



• The Streaker- who's underwear says "missed a spot"

Meet Tom, Dick, and Harry

According to this test, these are the men I would find most attractive.



It's like a man buffet! I'll have a spoon of #1, a taste of #2, a main course of #3, a side of #4, and #5 with little whipped cream. Can I go back for seconds?

Funny how they all sort of look alike? What scared me was the test was accurate and a little disturbing. Supposedly I am categorized into the "Very Picky" type, where other men my age had more choices. Basically the results informed me I need to lower my standards. Therefore, I'll be cruising the homeless shelter tonight. I'm going to find me a manly man...or should I say "homely man"?

Last night, I went to see the movie "The Miracle". A few notes about the movie that stick out. The movie is about the USA Olympic Hockey team winning the 1980 gold medal. Now I remember when this happened, and it was a big deal at the time. Everyone in the theater was near my age or older...so imagine my surprise when people started clapping after the United States would score a goal. I actually wanted to stand up and scream, "We won! You were alive then. What the hell were you doing that you weren't paying attention?"
On other thoughts Kurt Russell: Bad toupee! He looked like a wanna be Donald Trump. Length of movie...too long. I could have attended a live hockey game that would have moved faster. My ass felt like I was watching Lord of the Rings (all three of them). I honestly wondered if my ass grew an inch from spending so much time sitting after eating buttered popcorn.

I've begun preparing for my next show in March (Chicago once again). I can never get enough of that city (provided it isn't sub-zero tempatures). I'm trying to find a good theme to run for the show, but so far the two things that keep coming to mind are gay marriage and being single kinda sucks!

Any thoughts from the peanut gallery of some good themes to work off of?

Where the boys are?

Sunday's volleyball games were a six game losing streak, but as I've said before, it's not about winning for me. I just want to learn to play more. Our weakest area of play from Sunday, returning the serve. We also need to start working on some standard plays (spikes, dingers, etc). Any suggestions out there in blogger land on some nice plays for a bunch of mostly beginners? Hello? Is this thing on?

After the game, we went to dinner, and I mentioned that growing up I had never had a birthday party (in fact...I threw myself a birthday party for the first time last year). Everyone seemed surprised, but I always had to spend January to June with my father, and he didn't believe in celebrating birthdays. As for this birthday...no real plans. I'm really just hoping Brad Pitt calls me and says he's going to take me out for a nice romantic meal. I keep sending my number to him, but he's been so busy, he keeps forgetting to call.

Today, I woke up early and got dressed to go for a run. Took one step outside, and the boys suffered a severe shrinkage problem. It was too damn cold! Wind chill of 0 degrees, so I quickly turned around, "ran" upstairs and jumped in a hot shower. I'll consider that my aerobic workout of the day.

As I was driving in, I looked to my left at the lake and contemplated the vast frozen wasteland that stretches all the way to Canada (easy entry for an illegal immigration). Lake Erie reminds me of the Cleveland population at times. During the winter, so many people seem dead inside. I'm not sure why. Is it the cold? (I've read in other blogs where the weather is colder), or is it the grayness (Cleveland is second to Seattle in sunless days). It seems like right around this time of year the whole town dies. Especially the arts.

I've done comedy shows in the area, and I'm surprised how few people go to comedy clubs (what few we have). Here...it's rare that a club is completely sold out, unless the headliner is very well known. When I perform in Chicago, I've gotten sold out audiences even for unknown comedians or amateur nights.

False Start in the Rat Race

Last night, I had a date with someone. The plan was dinner and a movie, which means the getting ready for a date ritual begins.

Patrick's Dating Prep Ritual

• Sneak out of work early...as I want maximum preparation time for the date.


• Apply cologne


• Upon home arrival, immediately change into my eating clothes (x-large sweat pants with an elastic waist band). Proceed to raid the kitchen of all carbs. Open freezer and immediately eat all ice cream.


• Apply cologne


• Turn on radio.


• Apply cologne


• Shower (using scented shower gel), shampoo, condition hair, shave unnecessary hairs "down south" (figure it out)


• Apply cologne


• Dry off, arrange hair and shave face and neck


• Apply cologne


• Realize hair is unfixable mess, go back in shower, rewash hair


• Apply cologne


• Prepare perfect hair style...glue in place with styling gel, hair glue, hair wax, and hair spray (this is why I am gay)


• Apply cologne


• Raid kitchen once again as since this is a dinner date, I don't want to seem like a hungry pig at the resturant


• Run out of cologne


• Come to conclusion that I am begining to smell like a gay bar.


• Change into date outfit.


• Examine self in mirror, realize outfit is bad. Reject outfit and change clothes.


• Examine self in mirror, realize outfit is bad. Reject outfit and change clothes.


• Examine self in mirror, realize outfit is bad. Reject outfit and change clothes.


• Examine self in mirror, realize outfit is bad. Reject outfit and change clothes.


• Examine self in mirror, realize outfit is bad. Reject outfit and change clothes.


• Examine self in mirror, realize outfit is bad. Reject outfit and change clothes.


• Examine self in mirror, realize outfit is bad. Reject outfit and change clothes.


• Examine self in mirror, realize outfit is bad. Reject outfit and change clothes.


• Run out of clothes


• Call friend and ask to borrow clothes.


• Examine first outfit again and realize that it was fine.


• Change back into first outfit. Clean bedroom of all clutter, make bed, place lighter near candles, hide porn. (just in case)


• Leave for date

Of course this was all for a moot point anyway. Just as I was ready to walk out of the house, the phone rings and he has to cancel. Alas...I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go. So I call a friend and we go out for a night of Cosmopolitans. 4 cosmopolitans later, I get home way too intoxicated (I'll never drink again) and go straight to bed.

Woke up this morning without the alarm clock going off, got up, went for a nice long walk to clear the thumpa-thumpa-boom going on in my head. Sit down in the coffee shop and after ordering my usual, I ask the coffee person where the Saturday paper is. After thinking he is kidding when he says it's Friday...I bolt out of the shop, shower and drive like a maniac to arrive at work over 2 hours late. Scary part...nobody noticed! It's so nice to feel needed.


Alarm goes off at seven
and you start up-town.
You put in your eight hours
for the powers
that have always been.
'Til it's five-pm...

"Then you go..."
Downtown
Where the folks are broke. You go
Downtown
Where your life's a joke. You go
Downtown
Where you buy a token. You go...
Home to Skid Row.

A Moment of Extreme Bliss

I think I may have just had an orgasm. I'm talking wild, screaming, better change my underwear because I'm a mess now...orgasm. All because a friend has arranged for me to meet someone I think is an artistic genius. This person is a playwright, stand-up and sketch comedian, an art collector, and someone I never thought I would ever meet. His newest play that he has written is going to premier here in Cleveland and I'm going to the show as well as dinner after the performance.

I am going to meet
STEVE MARTIN!!!!!

Son of a bitch...what am I going to wear? Besides a shit eating grin?

This story is courtesy of my officemate Katie...love ya baby! That condo of yours is going to sell!

The 4 Types of Orgasms

Women and gay men have one thing in common...we are plagued by the oblivious bar creeper. You all know the type. The guy who doesn't understand what "I'm washing my hair every night for the next 5 years" means. Well Katie had him approaching her in a bar, repeatedly telling her inappropriate jokes, and Katie decided it was time to drop a tactical nuke. This was their conversation:

Katie: What's your name?
Guy: Steve.
Katie: Well Steve...Did you know that their are four different types of Orgasms?
Steve: What are they?
Katie: The four types:

1. Religious: It's where you scream (and Katie did this loudly) "Oh God! Oh God! Oh GAAAAWWWD!"



2. Positive: When you scream "yes...Yes...YEEEEEESSSS"



3. Negative: "no....no.....oh No....ooohhh NOOOOOOO!!!"



At this point most of the bar was looking, as Katie was making a spectacle of herself. She looked at Steve in the eyes and said "and the most important of all orgasms:"


4. The Fake Orgasm: "OH STEVE! OH STEVE! OHHHHH STEEEEVEEE!!!"
   
   

Katie = The Master!

Opportunities

So here's a question posed to all of you. A friend of a friend would like to take me on a trip with him. He has frequent flyer miles and hotel miles saved up and is looking for someone to be his companion for the week. So I'm getting a free vacation out of this. The question: Where do I want to go for a week? We both want something warm (winter has been a bear here) and could both use to work on the tan a bit. So if you could travel anywhere domestically during the spring, all expenses paid, and want to work on a tan line free tan (*grin*), where would you go?

Spent the other day shivering my butt off, modeling for an artist in the area. I don't have problems posing nude, but for some reason, my mind went blank when the artist was asking for posing ideas. So I don't think the session went as well as it could have. We'll see what he comes up with. My mother works in a completely different way, having tons of props to work with, she just holds a conversation with you while you play with the props. When she sees something she likes, she asks you to not move and sketches what she sees.

This artist works by taking pictures of his subjects and painting from the pictures. Some of his works were really remarkable. One that kept catching my eye was of a man holding an object. The artist had changed the model's eyes to stars, and the eyes compelled you to look at them. His other piece was a life size sculpture of a dancing woman. If I had the $2500, I'd buy it, as the piece was perfect.

Turning Crap into Crappe!

Well here it is Sunday night, laundry is in the washer, cheesy television is on the boob tube (this has a new meaning thanks to that wardrobe malfunction) and I am nearly finished with my latest canvas piece. I'm calling this new piece "Painting by Numbers". This was fun, as if you look closely at the piece, you can see the images of the numbers 1 through 8 painted over each other. The piece may be crap...but I painted it...so it's MY CRAP!



Volleyball game was good today, although we lost every game. For me...it's the process of learning this sport. I've never really had the need to win this game though, but I do realize that others on the team would like to win a few. Hopefully we can improve a bit more.

As for the weekend activities...well I went out of a first date with someone on Saturday night. A highly educated gentleman, who piqued my interest. We probably did everything we aren't supposed to do on a first date, including talking about our ex's, going to a gay bar, and a gay dance club...but the evening was just really nice. No pressure to have sex with him (at least none that wasn't self inflicted), no real lags in conversation, and he was just a pleasure to be around. So even if this doesn't lead to a second date....he renewed my faith in nice guys can exist and decent first dates do happen.

I have my reasons :-)

Does he love me? I want to know
How can I tell, if he loves me so?
Is it in his eyes?
Oh no, you'll be deceived
Is it in his signs?
Oh no, he'll make believe
If you want to know if he loves you so
It's in his kiss
That's where it is

Is it in his face?
Oh no, that's just his charms
In his warm embrace?
Oh no, that's just his arms
If you want to know if he loves you so
It's in his kiss
That's where it is

Hug him and squeeze him tight
Find out what you want to know
If it's love, if it really is
It's there in his kiss

How about the way he acts?
Oh no, that's not the way
And you're not listenin' to all I say
If you wanna know if he loves you so
It's in his kiss
That's where it is
It's in his kiss
That's where it is

Hug him and squeeze him tight
Find out what you want to know
If it's love, if it really is It's there in his kiss

How about the way he acts?
Oh no, that's not the way
And you're not listenin' to all I say
If you wanna know if he loves you so
It's in his kiss
That's where it is

It's in his kiss
That's where it is

Gay joke of the day

Because my mommy loves me, she calls me when she hears a good gay joke. Most of you will probably not get this one...and it is completely inappropiate...which is why I have to post it.

Q: What do you call a jaccuzi in a gay bathhouse?
A: Egg Drop Soup

Virtually Normal

Can someone tell me what the definition of normal is? This is something that I have recently been thinking about, and I'm not sure I know the answer. Why you might ask....Well I went to the doctor last week and he recommended that I stay on these little pink happy pills for up to 5 years.

Based on my history of depression, and my most recent severe depression episode, the doctor seems to think I've always been slightly depressed. So this makes me think about it...and wonder...aren't we all a little sad most of the time? Is this just me? If it is...just what the hell is normal?

I only went on these anti-depressents to get into the medical study. While in the study, I get free medical insurance (and free happy pills). The side effects of taking anti-depressents are a bitch. Paxil is prescribed for men who suffer from premature ejaculation, because it makes it more difficult to climax. Let's just say in my case...this particular side effect has boded well for my reputation in the gay community. Lasting for hours takes on a new meaning, and I've been getting calls from people I don't know....seriously.

So how does a normal person feel on an average day? I'm beginning to think this doctor is a quack, and when this study is over, I will be tapering off the happy pills and going back to my normal life.

Amy wins the posting suggestion for now, as she has the coolest blog title of "Rants in my Pants". Don't worry though...the waiting on tables bit does bleed into the rest of the paying my rent stories (including the public masturbation)...so they'll all get told here soon.

Servicing His Needs

Shortly after I moved to NYC in 1987, I found an apartment and began looking desperately for a job. I had no experience, no education, and no skills. So I became a waiter. Now has anyone else noticed that all the waitstaff of NYC is gay? I worked in a place called Chi-Chi's (which I'm glad to say closed in NYC). Chi-Chi is tits in Spanish. That being said I guess I should find it Ironic that I was a gay man working at a place named after a woman's breasts. Talk about a marketing campaign! Our gay waiters will serve you the best breast milk!

Of course I was fired a week later when I forgot to show up for a shift. No big deal, as I smelled like onions all the time. Being the resourceful (i.e. broke) homo, I applied and was hired at another restaurant, called Maggie Mae's. I stayed at this place for 2 years and left it upon leaving for college. It was while working at this place I learned exactly how to be a "practicing homosexual".

I love saying practicing homosexual as it just flies in the face of the religious zealots. I am a Practicing homosexual...I haven't been able to do it right. But I'm drinking milk, working out, and someday I know if I really try....I can be a fully functioning homosexual! I will learn how to decorate, cut hair, pick out the right outfits, cook, and will tell the difference between pearl white, egg shell, and winter white.

Well while working at Maggie Mae's I was allowed to order a meal before my shift on the house. I quickly learned their were certain things you never, ever ordered off the menu, as lord knows what was being served. For example, the other waitstaff told me of the infamous Pork BBQ sandwich.

The Pork BBQ sandwich was actually a processed pork mixture that came from the distributor. It was microwaved warm, then a piece of cheese was placed on top and it was put on a bun. One customer while eating it, complained that she had found a bone in it while biting it. She just pushed the bone aside and continued to finish the sandwich, telling the waiter that she had found the bone, and we should be more careful. The waiter, being intrigued, took a long look at the bone in the kitchen. It was a human tooth. It must have come from the plant as nobody in the kitchen was missing any teeth and I'm sure the customer would have realized if her own tooth went missing.

Now I had my own horror stories while working there. Of course the food was fairly decent, and the restaurant would get really busy on certain nights. This was always a problem as the kitchen was too small for the space. When the restaurant got busy, it took forever to get food out. I learned to slow down the pace of bringing my customers their salads, and bring rolls whenever the basket was empty. However, sometimes the food would take so long that I would get blamed. One particular customer really pissed me off that his 4 well done steaks weren't ready yet and his was angry. I got to the kitchen, and grabbed the steaks off the grill and threw them in the microwave, and cooked the suckers until they were well done. However the plate was hot when I pulled them out of the microwave and I dropped them on the floor. Using a steak knife, I picked them all back up, put them on a plates and walked them out to table #104.

My worst kitchen story by far has to be the BBQ bacon cheeseburger disaster(what is the deal with BBQ anyway?). This sandwich was a burger, with cheese, BBQ sauce and Canadian bacon. What do you Canooks call that stuff anyway? Ham? Bacon? What do you call American Bacon? (Besides a heart attack waiting to happen?) Not to mention...American Bacon? Who thought...mmmm...Fried pig fat....yum! But I digress again.

My customer, a businessman on a working lunch ordered a BBQ bacon cheese burger which I brought out when ready. Now it had been very busy in the kitchen that day, but the cooks were working very quickly. He got his sandwich very quickly and I came back in a few moments to check to see how everything was. My customer's complaint was that although the burger was very good, he was having difficulty biting through the Canadian bacon. I took it back and notified the manager that the customer was not satisfied with the food. My manager Thane (can you get a name gayer than that?) poked and prodded the sandwich, and turned a little green. The Canadian bacon had a used band-aid on it that had fallen off of the cooks finger. That poor customer had no idea that he was attempting to eat someone's bandages.

Needless to say...it wasn't long before I was laid off from that restaurant when they were losing their business. (yes...they are out of business now). Thus what led me down the path of degradation to exactly how far I would go to pay the rent.

Remember the days

I remember the days when I was so eager to satisfy you.
And be less than I was just to prove I could walk beside you.
Now that you've flown away I've see you've chosen to stay behind me.
And still I curse the day you decided to stay true to yourself.

I tried to meet all your desires
and meet your every need, while forgetting
I had my own desires also
and being with you left me unsatisfied
blinded by your beauty each day
I remind myself now, your looks will fade.

I remember the days when I was so eager to satisfy you.
And be less than I was just to prove I could walk beside you.
Now that you've flown away I've see you've chosen to stay behind me.
And still I curse the day you decided to stay true to yourself.

I look for what comes in the future
realizing I was left behind by a coward
losing the power of my hatred
gaining strength in my pity
It took so long to find my self respect
and I know now that I'm better than you.

I remember the days when I was so eager to satisfy you.
And be less than I was just to prove I could walk beside you.
Now that you've flown away I've see you've chosen to stay behind me.
And still I curse the day you decided to stay true to yourself...N.Furtado

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I been thinking of porn lately. Probably because a friend asked me to hold his stash while his mom is in town. Unlike my mother, who buys me porn, his mother would not appreciate seeing male on male porn...let alone some of the hardcore stuff he has. So last night I watched and made some observations.

If porn was like real life:

• The sex wouldn't last nearly as long.


• The guy doing the penetrating would have slipped out at least once.


• The participants would not be as attractive.


• The television repair technician would be the wrong sex.


• The telephone would ring during the middle of the act.


• The person calling would be the one person's mother.


• Someone would fart post coital incident.


• Someone would fake it.


• The penetrating (top for those that don't speak gay) person would complain that he is getting tired.


• The penetrated (bottom) would be disappointed because the Top's "unit" is not larger than 6 inches.

Is it sad that I can think of about 20 different stories to tell?

Ever have those days where you have so many topics that you want to blog about and so little time? That's been my dilemma today. So my thoughts of what I would like to blog about:

• My former job as a phone sex worker.


• Horrible things that have happened while waiting on tables.


• My worst sexual experience (Valentines day is coming up and I have a several bad experiences to choose from)


• How I have paid the rent (including a stint as an escort, masturbating in public, and having a rent party)


• I'm turning 34 at the end of this month. A reflection of my 33rd year and all the ups and down of it. What is missing in my life? What do I need to be complete or am I complete already?

So maybe it's better to just throw this out for every one else to pick a topic. I'll probably end up writing about all of them in the end.

Cowardice

One of the things I learned from another standup comic I've worked with is that most of your material comes from observing others. With that in mind, I try to pay attention to things that happen around me. A few odd things have happened this weekend that I found interesting.

Friday

I went to Steph's annual Groundhog's day party, which is her version of Christmas. Many of the people there I have met in some way or another over the prior year, but some people I didn't recognize at all. One woman said hello to me and mentioned my name...and I couldn't remember hers. I hate that. I've only seen her once before, but that time we didn't speak to each other, and I only observed her behavior in front of others.

Upon arriving, I saw Michele talking to a guy I've never seen before. She did the introductions (I found out later that he is the brother of the woman who said hi to me), and he asked her "is this the Patrick you were telling me about?" No explanation to me as what was said. It always makes me wonder...what was said? I always imagine the worst as well. "Patrick...oh he's the guy with the 7 inch scar on his ass, who is carrying around some serious emotional baggage from this past summer. He's a stand up comic who has a crazy mother that gives him sexual advice on a regular basis. He's also standing right there..." Color me paranoid...it's in my nature.

My buddy Shamus came to the party as well, which was nice as I'd like to merge my friends a bit more over the next few months. Expand my circles, consolidate and then when I have my next party...look out. Way too many people in my house and I can finish off the Vodka, Gin, and mixers.

Saturday

Went to the art supply store and picked up some acrylics for a piece I've been working on. Got home...around noon and fell asleep. Woke up around 5 not having done any work around the house (especially Mt. Laundry....How is it that I can make so many dirty clothes?). My neighbor Joyce and I went to the open house of our former neighbors Mike and Jim. These were the guys who helped me find the house I'm living in now. I miss them as neighbors, since the people that bought their old house just aren't very friendly.

Mike and Jim's new house...amazing what they've done with it. I'm only a little jealous as they do make the perfect little couple. They are cute together and compliment each other well, with one's strength being the other's weakness.

Sunday

Volleyball matches! I'm a little unsure of this team at times. This is a recreational league, but I am sensing a bit of animosity and resentment when we aren't winning the game. Some of us are "playing to win". For example...I've decided to try serving overhand, as I want to learn how to do this. My Team mate told me to continue an underhand serve. This seems weak to me and puts me in a position of being a weaker player. I have my own agenda...play to learn. I've never learned how to play this game, and I want to learn how to server overhand, and spike the ball.

There were some other things that happened this weekend, but those things aren't important right now, or are personal enough that I'll keep them to myself.

***********

What surprised me was something I've never noticed before, but noticed during my observations this weekend. We humans are cowards (some more than others). We are so afraid of saying something that may hurt someone, that we won't speak at times. We avoid confrontation at all cost, and when we make a mistake....we are usually the last to admit that we've made it.

But more importantly, we are afraid of making mistakes, or humiliating ourselves, or facing what could be a difficult situation. I myself have a hard time approaching someone I find attractive.

So I'm off to see the wizard today in hopes that he can give me a little more courage to fail with dignity than to not try at all.