My Friday Fun

A haiku for the clueless gentleman I was speaking with on Friday night.

My nipples are not
bottle caps. Remove your hand.
They do not twist off!


Unfortunately, I don't think he'll get the point of this. Thank God I didn't go home with him.

The Dentist

Ever have one of those days where writing the post you want is like pulling teeth? The kind of post, where your thoughts are just running and you aren't able to complete any of them.

Welcome to my day.

Oh what a night.

What do you get when you mix 9 gay men, big heavy balls, and beer?

Bowling night in the Port Authority Bus Station. Now as I write this post, I know that I have friends in Cleveland who will look at me with disgust. Yes...my scores sucked, but seeing that it's been 8 months since I've been bowling, I'm not that upset. Game 1 was a 129.
Game 2...uhhh...was not as good.
But seeing one of the players take a swan dive down the staircase and give me great blogging material....well worth that third pitcher of beer.

Then came getting home at a wicked 1ish in the morning. This is the hard part about going out at night in NYC for me. My only nights off are Wednesday and Thursday. Since my day job is Monday through Friday, I don't have the next morning off to recuperate and sleep in. The majority of the people I know all have off on the weekends, so they are able to go out late on a Friday and Saturday. This is temporary...but still frustrating, as it makes it difficult to make friends and join social groups.

Until the day comes I can have weekends off...I'm going to have to just live without sleep. Of course...I could just sleep at work.

Don't Be a Dick

The Setup of this story:
Over the past summer, I dated someone who's name I going to protect. I'll just call him "Dick". I met Dick on one of my few shifts off of work and we hit it off immediately. We had both been to Africa extensively, most of his belongings were in storage as his apartment in NYC had been flooded, thus he needed to find a place when he got back, and he and I have both freaky families. It was a strong match. We had dinner and drinks on our first date followed by breakfast (figure it out).

At first I thought it might be a one night thing, until he started visiting the bar on a nightly basis. We spent the rest of the summer getting to know each other better, culminating in a discussion of our feelings for each other the night before he left to come back to the city (cue romantic music). Unfortunately, being a school teacher, he had to leave Provincetown earlier than I did. We kept in touch via phone and made plans for when I arrived in the city.

I arrived six weeks later and we had a date for the Friday after I had arrived. We had dinner at a local restaurant, followed by a walk in the park. His friend in the village had offered to let him share his apartment while looking for a place of his own. I was living on the floor of a friend and could completely understand. I called him the day I started working at the restaurant and left him a message on his phone to see if he wanted to go out again.

I never heard from him again.

Last Saturday I went to the Central Park to go running with a local running group. At the meeting point, I was introduced to a group of about 20 runners. The organizer went around the group introducing me to everyone...including Dick. Yes, Dick was a runner. So was his boyfriend of 5 years. The boyfriend he lives with.

They asked me to give a short bio of myself, including where I was from. I answered that I had come from Provincetown, MA.

"Oh, you're from Provincetown? Do you know Dick? He spent the summer there." The leader of the group asked me.

I looked at Dick, who was sweating, and thought about what I should say. The choices:

• "No...I don't know him at all."


• "Dick? Hung 9x6 and has a pierced right nipple. He loves to suck and swallow. No...I never met him."


• "Intimately."

I took the high road and said that I knew him as a customer at the bar. At that point, we started the run, and I'm sure he ran the fastest he has ever run in his life...just to get away from me.

I told my boss about it last night. His response..."Hey. At least you have good blogging material."

Dick is lucky I'm not posting his picture here...fucker.

My Birthday Present

Recently, someone asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I said I wanted a blonde pole dancer.

Ask and I shall receive. Good thing I didn't ask for a hung blonde.

It's All About Me!

In the last 12 weeks, I've taken some beatings to my self esteem. Things that normally don't bother me have suddenly bothered me lately. Seriously, I've just about had it. Next freak that inadvertently or intentionally insults me is going to get an ass kicking.

Years ago, around the age of 13, I was getting on a bus and as I sat down, I heard a couple of people burst into laughter. Immediately, I thought they were laughing at me. Who else would they have been laughing at? I can still remember my back getting stiff, my staring forward so that the people behind me couldn't see the look on my face. In my mind, it had to be the way I looked, or walked, or sounded that the people were laughing at. It couldn't have been that they were being silly, or that they were joking with each other. I knew it had to be me.

Insecurity is an amazing negative feeling and its product of low self esteem is one of the most powerful weapons we have against ourselves. Feel insecure about something and suddenly every joke you hear is a joke at your expense. And when someone makes a joke that you find offensive...you make it about yourself.

For me...I find mass quantities of chocolate and burying myself under the covers to be an excellent antidote. Please excuse me...I'm going back to bed with a chocolate brownie.

Getting it Good

February approaches, and with it, the day I hate more than any other. No...this isn't my birthday where I'm turn 29 again (which happens February 28th). This is Valentines day. The day single people everywhere are thought of as less than human.

Walking into the store the other day, I was already bombarded with a sea of red and white Valentine's day propaganda. "I love you", "Kiss me", and "Your mine" messages are everywhere, and I have to admit...it makes me bitter. Granted...I'm not sure I want a significant other in my life, but Hallmark and American Greetings seems to think that I am a loser if I don't.

For what? For not having someone to give me a gift on this corporate created holiday? I can give myself a present. And that's what made me think. Why not create a Valentine's Day Gift Guide for Singles. A guide that people can use to buy themselves something on

Valentine's Day Gift Guide for the Single
$0 - $20

• Condoms - Granted...this is usually a two person gift, but think of the satisfaction you will have when you blow them up into balloons, only to pop them later when you think of the last asshole you dated.
  
  
• Itunes Gift Card - Yes, you could just go and buy them online, but by buying the card, it looks like you have someone to buy for. Not to mention, you can hit on the checkout person.
  
  
• A jock strap - Finally...a pair of underwear you don't have to remove in order to use the bathroom!
  
  

$21-$100

• A romantic dinner for one - Who says you have to go out with someone on Valentine's day? I say go to a nice romantic restaurant and sit down. Stare at all the happy couples and remark to them which ones you foresee divorce court.
  
  
• A bottle of Champagne - Not only can you drink the alcohol, but you can throw the empty bottle through the window of the asshole who last dumped you!
  
  
  

$101-$500

• A prostitute - Hey if you have $500 to spend, you don't have to be alone on Valentines day.
  
  
• A venereal disease - Technically this is free, but if you spend the money on a prostitute, you could keep a memento of the moment
  
  
• A cell phone - one that you can use to drunk booty call your ex after contracting the venereal disease. Why not get back at the Son of a Bitch properly!
  
  

$501 and up

• A gym membership - because the next time you date a low down, stinking, dirty, lying to your face, thinking he is God's gift to you, cheating man, not only can you show him the curb, you can throw him there!

My Mannerisms

When I was a small child I was taught a lesson very early on. When riding public transportation, you get up and offer your seat to the elderly. This is just a common courtesy, plain and simple.

Last night I was riding on the subway (which was a bit crowded at 10:00) and noticed an old African American lady getting on the train at the 59th street station. She was pushing a cart and wearing a huge coat as well as multiple layers underneath. The woman was dressed for the cold.

As the subway doors opened, she pushed her cart onto the train and looked for a seat. Now I would have offered her mine, but I was standing. However a woman of about 20 was sitting in the seat right next to the door (the closest to the old lady). What shocked me was that the younger woman didn't offer her seat to the old lady. Instead she just watched this old woman try to maneuver her cart and grab a hold of the stability pole.

As the train started to move, the old lady nearly fell over trying to maintain an upright position. I grabbed her arm to stop her fall and helped her stand upright. Indignantly, I looked at the young girl and said "Move your fat ass and let the poor lady have a seat!" Yes...I got pissed off. Few people have really heard me raise my voice, so when I do, people take notice. The entire train took notice...Including the girl. She looked at me with a slack jaw. "I said... MOVE... YOUR... FAT... ASS... AND... LET... HER... SIT!" I was doing this for chilvary. I was doing this for manners. Damnit! I was doing what is right! I heard another black woman in the car go "ummmm-hmmmm" in agreement with me. The look on my face said "Bring it on little girl. I've been through hell this last year, and taking your snotty nosed ass to church is the best thing I've done all day. I have no problems giving you a good coming to Jesus...Bitch!"

The young girl sucked her teeth at me and stood up for the old lady to sit down. The old woman sat down, looked up at me, smiled and said "Got any spare change?"

Apparently I had a chilvary moment for a homeless person. Still...I say she should have given up her seat.

The Benefits

Hot Chocolate from Fresh Direct -- Free
Laundry pick up, wash and fold, and delivery back to the apartment -- $13.00
Not having to go outside in 25 degree weather -- Priceless.

I've moved a lot in my past...way too many times. Dropping out of one life and entering into a new one ranks up there with going to the dentist on my list of fun things. I love the newness of everything, but it's always the developing of "roots" or a support system that is the most difficult. It takes about a year...one that tests your resilience. During that time, you spend the majority of the time looking at your past, wishing you could relive it in your new present, and knowing it isn't possible.

When I was a child, I would join every club and organization I could, just so I could make friends. Both my parents spent a lot of money on my friend making efforts (scuba diving equipment, downhill skiing, horseback riding lessons, gymnastics...etc).

As an adult, I'm not about to spend a small fortune on a new hobby. Hell...I haven't even purchased a sofa yet. However I still find the first year the hardest, and I now understand why so many people won't move far from the families they grew up with. A support system is a very powerful thing to have, and facing life without one is a very scary moment.

So I wonder what my next hobby is going to be?

Snatching What You Want in Life!

Yesterday evening, I was speaking to a fairly successful woman about getting what we want in life. From succeeding in business to just getting a man to hit on you and buy you a cup of coffee. People it ain't easy.

Monica Lewinski gets a million dollar book deal for sucking off the president. I'm lucky if I can get my date to pay for dinner. Seriously...The last guy I dated actually asked me out and expected me to pay for the meal. Now that we don't see each other any more...Should I post his naked picture on this site? Oops...My bad.

Anyway, this woman told me that she can get most anything she wants by doing one thing. "Patrick, whenever I want a man to do something or to hit on me, I just concentrate on one thing. While talking to him, or sitting next to him, I just concentrate on clenching my pussy."

***Blank stare***

"I don't know what it is, but if I do that it works every time."

So I thought about it and figured what do I have to lose? Seeing I don't have a vagina, I was going to have to modify this slightly. I had two choices...Clench my butt or keep my "spirits" up. Seeing that clenching my ass didn't seem as appealing as "lifting my spirits", I decided to try it out on the subway.

I walked onto the C train this morning, and very quickly staked out my prey (a 30 something business man. Dark hair, brown eyes, rim glasses, about 5'10", and dressed in a nice gray suit. He was someone I would go after.

I leaned against a pole in the center of the train, made sure my coat was open, and started to stare at this guy. Now "lifting my spirits" is always been fairly easy for me. Granted...In high school, my spirits would lift on their own, like it or not. Now I have more control. I let my mind wander to Brad Pitt and Sam Tyson giving each other a massage. Brad walks in with a towel around his waist and Sam removes that towel for him.

***give me a minute***

Ok...Back to the subway. I check out this guy, who (standing about 5 feet away) looks up from his paper at me and smiles. "Damn...This is working" I thought. I smiled back and imagined the massage oils pouring out of Brad's hands onto this guy's chest.

The guy looked up again, blushed and looked back down at his paper, but did another quick glance before looking back at his paper.

"I have the power!" I thought. The train stopped at the 59th street station and more people boarded. He moved to be a little closer to me. "How cute...He's making a move" I thought.

In my mind, this guy and I were now using Brad as a mattress. This guy was on his back and I was doing things I've only done...Well things I never done before.

I looked back at this guy and smiled slightly. He looked at me smiled back and said "Excuse me. Your fly is down."

******

I've decided to leave women to their own powerful devices.

A Modest Proposal

While sitting in the bar with BARF and friends, one of the patrons decided to tell me I was very attractive. After kissing me for the third time and fawning over me, I thought he was getting the picture that I wasn't that interested. He's a nice guy...but I'm just not attracted to him.

That of course didn't stop me from having a conversation with him. He told me of his dissatisfaction with his job and that he is thinking of leaving it. He had a house on the beach of the Jersey Shore, and after hearing about my summer in Provincetown, he would like to do the same.

I encouraged him. "All you would need to make is your mortgage payment and basic expenses".
"I bought my house in cash. It's paid for." He answered.

***blank stare***

He suddenly is very attractive to me.

My Newest Dilemma

Saturday, I had my first order of Fresh Direct delivered. For those of you who don't know, Fresh Direct is a grocery store that allows you to order your groceries online and have them delivered to your home.

On Friday I ordered:
Milk, Swiss cheese, bread, a dozen eggs, a few cleaning supplies, a pork tenderloin roast, jelly, oranges, trash bags, soap, and peanut butter. The total came to just over $45.

Saturday morning my order arrived. I received:
milk, Swiss cheese, bread, a dozen eggs, a few cleaning supplies, a pork tenderloin roast, jelly, oranges, trash bags, soap, 4 yellowfin tuna steaks (valued at $18.99/lb), 4 filet mignon steaks, a fully cooked lasagna, an apple pie, 2 additional dozen eggs, a roast chicken, garlic bread, and a bottle of wine. Additionally, they only charged me for what I ordered.

My dilemma? Do I call Fresh Direct and tell them that they forgot my peanut butter?

Weight Gain 2000

Remember how much fun it was getting stoned in college? You remember. We would just laugh and laugh pondering if they actually paid someone to blow the bubbles into the Pepsi bottle. No? Short term memory is the first to go.

I don't get stoned anymore, for a number of reasons (drug testing from employers, lung cancer, and the short term memory loss). What was I discussing? Oh yeah...Since I don't get stoned anymore, my mother has a hard time relating to me. Maybe this is why I haven't heard from her. She's forgotten she has a child.

The last time I was stoned was when my Ex and I went to visit her for the holidays back in the early 90's. I had taken a job at the energy company and informed my mother before we arrived that I didn't want to partake in her favorite hobby. She of course understood and informed me that she had made me a batch of her special brownies, and maybe my Ex would like them. My ex is fairly straight laced and would not have been happy with that particular gift, and since he hasn't gotten high since he was a teen, it was safe to assume he would not be joining her in a toke on the bong. This would also be the first time he had ever met my mother, so I was more than a bit nervous as to what was going to happen.

Every person gets worried when their significant other is about to meet the parents. The basic rules always apply. Don't put your feet on the furniture, always use a coaster for your drink, don't take a hit off mom's bong without her offering it first. The usual stuff.

We arrived on Christmas Eve and I think I was more nervous than he was about this meeting of my two worlds. We made our way through security, and as we looked through the crowds, my ex said "Check out the Stevie Nicks Wanna-be". I looked over at the hippy skirt and without even meeting the woman's eyes said "that's my mom." The Holiday was going to be real fun.

In the VW Bus, we had my mother in the passenger seat, my "father of the month" driving the car, my ex and I in the back seat, and our luggage all behind us. As soon as we had gotten out of the parking lot, my mother blazed up her pipe and started puffing away. She offered it to both of us, but we both politely declined. Led Zeplin playing on the tape deck, I realized I was really into the version of "Stairway to Heaven". I turned to say something to my Ex, but my vision lagged behind 5 seconds.

Now had I been sober, I would have realized at that moment that I was getting baked. Instead it took looking at my Ex, and the weird smile on his face that said I was on the road to major high. I looked towards the front of the bus to see that we had a small hazy cloud hovering over the stick shift. Like a low pressure system, the cloud was moving into my Ex and I because my mom had the air vents on.

My Ex told the funniest joke at that moment.
"Do you know what's great about corned beef?"

***blank stare***

Well it was funny when he said it.

My mom announced on the way to her house that we were having dinner with her neighbor down the street, who always had a traditional Jewish holiday meal. This was my mom's way of trying to include my Ex into the Christmas events. Of course...my Ex had never even been to a synagogue, but her thought counted. Not to mention, I think he was speaking in Hebrew at that moment.

Have you ever tried to hide the fact that you are high while around sober people? It just isn't easy, and I'm experienced at it. My Ex was not. We met Mrs. Goldberg and her family upon arrival. She offered us a drink of Kosher wine, which is normally awful. This though was the best wine ever, and after slamming a glass, I was quick to pour another as my throat was very dry.

We sat in the living room and I noticed my ex was staring at the floor, not making eye contact with anyone. In fact, if someone asked him a question, he would look startled as he realized he hadn't even listened to them. Thankfully, dinner was announced and we sat to eat.

My Mom, her husband, my Ex and I grabbed huge helpings of the brisket, took the latkes and split them up between us, and took enormous helpings of all the items on the table. As I was grabbing for a couple of rolls, my mom stopped me. The rest of the guests had not even sat down yet. Apparently we jumped the gun on the dinner.

The worst side effect of getting high is that eventually you will get the munchies, and you will eat everything you get your hands on. My ex and I had at least 2 plates each, before working on dessert. I think our hosts were more than happy to get rid of us, after we had finished all the food on the table and were still looking for a snack of pickles.

The remaining majority of that weekend was spent with me telling my mother to smoke outside and having my Ex avoid her at all costs.

Now I don't condone drug use...but if you need to gain weight...I've got a great weight gaining product.

Admitting the Problem

Hello. My name is Patrick, and I'm not really sure how to go about doing this. My friends are making me come here because they think I've got a problem, but I don't agree. I can stop at any time, but I just don't want to. You see...I'm a sportsaholic.

I love watching and playing sports. My community doesn't seem to understand that, and therefore I am shunned. Tactfully put back in the closet, my fellow queers will tell me that I am just trying to be straight when I watch football, but I actually enjoy it.

And last night was a big game. The Rose Bowl pitting Texas against USC, I knew I needed to see the event, but being a person without a television, I had only one option. Go to a bar that would be broadcasting the game. Now most bars that show sports have the one thing I have difficulty relating to. Straight men. You know the type. Beer swilling, explosive belching, lugi spewing, troll like types who will only loose focus of the game to make a fag joke or because some woman with an enormous rack just walked in. I usually only notice her because she is carrying the Prada bag and the Louis Viutton open toe shoes.

I was dreading the experience until I saw that gay NYC has a sports bar. "Finally...I thought. A place where the lesbians and I can hang out!" I was about to be mistaken.

I arrived in the bar to see that the place was packed with an after work crowd and a young lesbian couple that were each rooting for a different team. After Texas lost the ball on a fumble (that's dropped the ball and the other team got their hands on it first for those who I am confusing), the two charming womyn starting fighting until they both walked out. I quickly snagged one of the chairs.

As the game went on, the majority of the bar rooted for teams strictly for the uniform colors. "Go Red Team!" I heard. "Go White Team! It shows off the tan better"!

That was when I started to notice my seat neighbor at the bar. He was one of those gay troll types. Beer swilling, explosive belching, farting (yes...he did that and laughed about it.), talking to the tv type who only lost focus on the game when a guy with a hot ass walked in (I noticed the guy because he had a hot ass. I'm not sure if he was wearing shoes).

As the game went on and USC began losing, this freak of gay culture actually began banging his barstool on the floor, cursing at the players and "flipping the bird" to any of us in the bar that cheered for Texas. During half time, he actually performed a "farmers blow" into his beer bottle as he was out of tissue! Sadly, it was during the 4th quarter's final moments that he noticed me.

"Who are you rooting for?" he slurred.
Fuck, I thought. "Texas."
"Damn...and I was going to fuck you!"
The familiar waves of warm rage spread up from my chest as I stared at this pathetic, overweight, slob of a homosexual. "How do I answer this mother fucker" I thought. But it wasn't necessary, as at that moment...he puked on the bar.

I looked up at the game to see that Texas had won, looked back at the mess of a guy and said "USC lost...looks like you're the one fucked."


Maybe straight sports bars aren't that bad afterall.

Getting Things Resolved

Every year around this time, I hear the question that always makes me apprehensive. "What's your new year resolution?"

Let's review my last year's accomplishments.

• Got laid off by bank.
  
• Sold nearly all of my possessions (a three bedroom's house worth) and moved to Massachuttes.
  
• Got laid.
  
• Found a bartending job in Provincetown.
  
• Got laid.
  
• Found a second job in Provincetown.
  
• Got laid.
  
• Was fired from 1st bartending job in Provincetown.
  
• Celebrated by getting laid.
  
• Got laid off from final bartending job in Provincetown.
  
• Moved to the floor of a friend in NYC until I could find work and a job.
  
• Found a restaurant job in NYC.
  
• Took an office job with benefits. (woo hoo! Health insurance!)
  
• Found and actually rented an apartment in Manhattan.
  

Something is missing.

My grandmother (AKA Grandzilla) called me yesterday.
"I've made the resolution to go to church 3 times a week. What's your resolution?" She asked.
"To find someone to fuck" I answered.

2006
The year to piss off grandma.


Anyone want to help me out with that resolution? I need to christen the new apartment.