Pull out the stopper, lets have a whopper

My friend "G" recently told me that he had discovered the secret to developing relationships with women. Remember these are his words NOT mine. He said the secret lies in not complimenting a woman until after you have developed a relationship with them. The logic being that a compliment will let them know that you are interested, and then they have the upper hand…Interesting theory…but let's see how it plays out with me and my last date…But before I get into the specifics of the date let me just say MY theory about internet personal ads and the like. The photos and information therein should always be accurate and up to date. If it's not, then tell the person before meeting them. You are going to see you in person and that's when they will realize that you no longer have a Mohawk or you lost 75 pounds. But anyway… That initial meeting leads to what I call the "Damn" moment. Inevitably, when meeting someone such as a blind date, both parties say "damn". Now the inner monologue can be "Damn, you are one major hottie!!! I lucked out" or "damn, what disease am I going to have a bout with so I will have to escape this Hell as early as possible?" Both parties have these thoughts, and hopefully they are both the same and everyone either lives happily ever after, or goes home and wallows in gin and misery…
















I met W through an online dating service. Now I realize that the internet is really a subculture of life with good, bad, sane and whacko people online and in the real world. So we decided to meet. Let's just say our Damns didn't match.com. Not to blow my own horn, but I was the one trying to think of the symptoms of cholera. Anywho… as we are sitting there chatting,W randomly blurts out, "I won't f*ck you on our first date, just so you know…" No worries about that pal… but as the evening dragged on and our discussion was brought back (for like the third time and not by me) to what we were looking for in a husband, I was told that I was everything that Andrew is looking for in a partner and asked if I was interested in being his husband. And it wasn't in the "ha ha this is going well, would you like to be my husband?" kinda way… It was in the "say the word and we'll be Ozzie and Harriet within the week" kinda way…Needless to say, my Alien Hand Syndrome was acting up (it usually does this time of year) and I called it a night… He had emailed me by the time I got home, telling me he was going to make dinner for us the following night (the second date… so we all know what that means!!!) and if it was ok if he referred to me as "baby"….















As a public service, I have included this link….





http://www.smh.com.au/news/health-and-fitness/my-brother-is-an-alien/2006/02/08/1139379562020.html?page=fullpage













Things that Rock:



My friend Jeff…



Working with competent people



NOT BEING THE MIDDLE MAN (No don't be pervy)

we're the random number generation

It always amazes me when I hear that people actually read my blog. I keep thinking “Why?”… I mean, its not that I feel that I don’t have anything to say. I personally think that I have a distinct point of view, am pretty witty, have a decent writing style, and am outstandingly modest. What I really wonder is, what series of events lead you to discover my blog. I have blogged ad naseum about this, so what is a little more. The randomness of the universe has been a fascination of mine for some time. Years actually (The real inspiration comes from an episode of the X- Files. The one with Peter Boyle...Check it out!!!) I have driven my self to drink (a short trip admittedly) trying to determine what past events had to happen simultaneously for a certain event to occur in the time space continuum. Take for example, something as simple as my writing this blog. Ok? This will be an easy example. For me to be able to write this, at the very least, the following events had to have occurred.

1) I had to have a light patient load at work

2) I had to have my current job

3) I had to have had my previous job (and hated it)

4) I had to relocate to my current area

5) I had to have grown up in the area that I did, in order to have relocated (see #4)

6) I had to be born to my parents

7) My mother had to have taken the “right” train so as to met my father

8) My parents had to have the right jobs that required them to take the train

9) My parents had to live in an area that would require them to take a train to get a job

10) My parents had to be born to their parents.

Ok. So, that makes sense, right? Pretty straight forward. But when you factor in that every step above has it own set of subsets, the process grows exponentially. If you want a mind boggling example, think about why Tom Wopat has a career at all…

The other concept of randomness that amazes me is what I call the “ketchup phenomenon”. I was eating lunch one day with a cute co-worker, and he was dipping his fries in mayonnaise. Like a bolt out of the blue, it struck me. Why, in the name of all that is holy, do we put ketchup on fires and not mayonnaise or Tabasco, for that matter? This immediately led to the query, “So what possessed the first guy to eat an egg?” Did the thought process go something like “Gee… this just fell out of my chicken’s ass…must be tasty with some fried up pig meat?” And don’t even get me started on cheese!!!

I guess the point comes down to control. If there are so many events that NEED to occur to make another event happen, there is no possible way that we can control or bring into being to fruition. So do we try, and be happy when the “stars align” and miserable when they don’t, or let ourselves be mother natures chew toy and just sorta wipe her spit off when she is through?

Things that Rock:

My Friend Michele and her mayonnaise vs. band-aid story

Being out of, in my opinion, the shit hole known as the Colonial Inn

Cloud Nine at the Front Porch  in Ogunquit(even better when it’s with great friends)

How do you measure a year in the life ?

There are certain questions that I just don't want to hear. Some of the bigger ones are:


1) "Is that it?"

2) "Mr. Lyman, why were you naked when you were frying chicken?"

3) "Excuse me, but aren't you Tom Wopat?"

4) "Why does this taste like blood?"




Now, my initial thoughts were that the questions bothered me; then it was the answers. But as I pondered more on the subject, I realized it was the sorta grey area in between the answer and the question. Let's call it the choice. The choice is really how we answer the question and not the answer at all. The answer to those questions is already known to person who has to answer them, and more than likely, also to the person posing the questions. So why ask it? There's the rub. It's the choice. If we don't like the answer, we either outright lie, or color the truth with vague expressions. If we do like the answer, then we usually go mad with hyperbole.




And so I guess therein lays the excitement in life. The colorful embellishments are what make life worth living. Either how far we can take it while making them, or trying to figure out how much the "answerer" has embellished. If everyone's answers were straightforward, where is the challenge?




FYI, the answers to the above questions in no particular order are:




A) "Umm, Duh?"

B) "Oh, please… Why else why I would be here?"

C) "Its Sunday morning isn't it?"

D) "Well then, I guess I am wearing the wrong underwear"





Things that Rock:

Forbidden Broadway

Pink sequined spandex

Being bold

Even Rock Hudson Lost his hear to Doris Day

In light of recent events, I have decided that I am Tony Randall and Vivian Vance. And I am sick of it. Those of you who do not know who Tony Randall was, either are seven years old, are senile, or have been cloistered away in some temple where no mention of sixties pop culture or television are allowed. Tony Randall was an actor who probably most popularly known as Felix Unger on the TV series The Odd Couple. I related to this character because he was fastidiously neat, and as we all know all gay men are anal…well, at least when it comes to neatness. He was also in a short run series called Love, Sidney. I related to the title character in this show, well duh, cuz he was gay. As I said, recently I have come to identify with a different side of Tony. That would be as Rock Hudson's best pal in movies like Pillow Talk, Lover Come Back, and Send Me No Flowers. And Vivian Vance, for the same reason. And if you don't know who Vivian is, you should be shot…You see, they were sidekicks, supporting players. Oh yes, they had their days in the sun and their moments to shine above, but their endings aren't really happy endings… they're just sorta neutral endings. They never ended up walking into the sunset with the leading man (or getting the girl, as the case may be). But they're sharp as a tack (UGH how old am I ?), and are always good for comic relief. And there is nothing really wrong with that I guess, but my question is, how do you live your life knowing you'll always be Ethel or Jonathan? How do you deal with knowing that even trying your hardest will only get you that one special episode that focuses on you, YOUR moment in the sun? That's a wonderful thing to have and certainly should be celebrated, but in some ways is even worse. Because when the credits roll, you go back to being support, back into the shade.



Things that Rock:

Kharma

Good surprises

Arugula Salad with steak tips

And fly down the street, on the chance that you'll meet

Contrary to popular belief, I am not a slut. Well, lets say that I am as much as a slut as most everyone else. I have had my share of one night stands just like anyone else…and I have also had relationships that burned out very, very, very quickly... But I guess I haven't studied Sex and the City deeply enough to know the proper etiquette when meeting a former part time lover on the street.



There is a handsome young man in town that I dated very briefly and we just sorta went our mutual ways. No name calling or knife throwing was involved when we parted. Our "relationship" just faded away…calls weren't returned and emails never responded to. And I was disappointed a little, but it was far from the end of the world. Then recently, I saw him on the street. And he completely ignored my ""hey" with the obligatory head nod. "OK", I thought to myself "he's with someone and I may be awkward to explain". But now, I am seeing him everywhere by himself. I have spoken to him "Hi there, Faded Away Guy! How are you?" and nothing…Personally, I think that if any part of my body, has been in any part of your body (or vice versa) then I deserve a "Hello" So I guess my "relationship" with FAG (HA) was really less than what I thought it was…and this made me realize that this is what I do with all my relationships.. Make more of them than there really is.




Things that Rock:



Being appreciated

Eating like a grown up

The Prettier the flower, the further from the path

Ok like any good franchise, you have to rerun the originals before you debut the newest piece...


The Obligatory Adult Fairy Tale



Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess. Her name was Dorothy and she lived in the palace with her parents, the king and the queen. Everyday, Dorothy would get up and be served breakfast by one of her servants, and then proceed through the day doing all sorts of princess-like things such as playing the harp and practicing her wave. Dorothy had a wonderful life. Well, wonderful was a little strong. You see as much as everyone thought that the royal family had an ideal life, it really wasn't. Dorothy's fingers hurt from playing from playing the harp, and you can only take so much waving in day. So, Dorothy snuck out of the palace and ran away.

She walked for several days, and came upon the obligatory cabin inhabited by the obligatory childless, but loveable couple. As Dorothy was tired, and the couple childless, they decided it was best if she stayed with them and acted as their daughter. Knowing as much as they did about raising children as the childless couple did, they thought it best that they use her for manual labor. Dorothy, having been a princess all of her life, reveled in being used for manual labor. Dorothy's chores included shoveling cow shit, washing dishes, and her most favorite of tasks, and really the only thing she was good at, gathering the eggs. Dorothy would carry the eggs in two baskets, one in each hand (which worked out nicely, because she had two hands). Apparently the childless couple was on the Atkins Diet, because they had close to 400,000 chickens and needed the extra egg whites. As you can imagine if you have ever been near a chicken coop, the aroma from chicken is, well, less than pleasant, so the childless couple made sure that the coop was a good distance from their cabin.



One day, while in the middle of gathering eggs, Dorothy saw something moving by the edge of the coop. It turned out to be the obligatory wolf. Having never seen a wolf before, Dorothy picked up her baskets (one was serendipitously one egg shy of full, one was serendipitously empty) and went to meet the wolf.



"Hello Mr. Wolf"

"Hello Little Girl", they read from their scripts.


Dorothy found the wolf more than charming. Dorothy also found that wolf made certain parts of her body react in a very un-princess-like way. So after tossing her hair, batting her eyes, and flaunting her basket of eggs in front of the wolf, Dorothy felt that Mr. Wolf was completely enraptured with her (and not in the way that most people were enraptured with a princess).



"Yeah", said the wolf, "your eggs are okay, but really, I'm here for a chicken dinner"



This enraged Dorothy and she hurled her empty basket at the wolf, hitting him squarely in the head. Laughingly, the wolf picked up the basket (it really hadn't hurt because after all it was an empty basket), and started to walk away. This of course enraged Dorothy even more.



"YOU FUCKTARD!!!! HOW DARE YOU NOT LIKE MY EGGS AND THEN HAVE THE AUDACITY TO STEAL MY BASKET!!!!" she screamed and ran after him.



"I thought you were giving me the basket for my chicken dinner. No?" he asked.


She grabbed her basket, went back to the coop, and started to gather more eggs. When she went to put an egg in the empty basket she noticed that the basket was covered with wolf spit. "I am not putting eggs in that basket, what a douche-nozzle, stupid wolf" So, she over filled her basket and returned to the obligatory cabin.


She recounted the story to the childless couple. The childless woman said "Oh my!" The childless man said," Screw the wolf, screw the basket. I love your eggs" And with that the childless man killed the childless woman in an appropriately gruesome manner, and "married" Dorothy right there on the obligatory hearth in the obligatory cabin. After the brief "ceremony", Dorothy realized to her horror that she just "married" a chicken farmer.



"I'm a fucking princess, what am I doing???" she thought.



She promptly called for her obligatory fairy godparent. The obligatory fairy godparent then turned the childless man into a well hung, handsome prince, who listened to Dorothy's every word, serenaded her, and enjoyed the occasional bubble bath with her. The obligatory fairy god parent then magically killed all the chickens, packaged them, and placed them in the obligatory cabin's now state of the art walk in freezer. Actually there was one chicken left. It was the one that laid the obligatory golden egg. Everyone lived happily every after including the fairy godparent. Who, by the way, met another fairy godparent, moved to a castle (which they magically redecorated monthly with very tasteful wolf skin accessories) by the ocean.


THE END.

I am what I am, and what I am is...

Given what has happened to me over the past few weeks, I've been in thinking mode. Actually I'm in hyper drive thinking mode. It's driving my co-workers insane, and scares them a bit. But it's all good. It makes them think too… and as we all know, misery loves company...

One thing in mathematics that gets me is the term, "undefined". Most people know that x/0 is undefined. That makes sense. How can you divide something into zero parts? Ironically, I am having trouble with the definition of undefined.

According to Google:



1. Having an unpredictable (and not necessarily valid) value.


2. A special value given to variables after they are created and before a value has been assigned to them.


3. In mathematics, defined and undefined are used to explain whether or not expressions have meaningful, sensible output. These are also known as "well-behaved" and respectively "ill-behaved".


I especially like number three (it's a math thing and its funny, but is also fueled by my recent "binary" epiphany). I am certainly "well-behaved", but do I have meaningful and sensible output? So, I started thinking. How do I define myself? I started asking around (to the annoyance of some, I'm sure). How do we define ourselves either as individuals or groups? Invariably, when asked, "What do you do?" the answer is "I'm a cardiologist", "I'm a flamenco dancer", or "We are a philanthropic organization". This implies that we define ourselves as our actions. I have trouble accepting that. If that is true, then every cardiologist, flamenco dancer, and philanthropic organization would be the same as every other one. And every mediocre actor would be Tom Wopat. At any one moment that maybe true, but as a defining attribute, the argument doesn't hold water. (If it's not our actions that define us, then what does? It seems like a hop, skip and a jump from here to a belief in the big "B" being which opens up an entirely new can of worms.) I guess you can argue that it's our beliefs that define us, but to me that's a matter of splitting hairs. I mean believing something is an action. So I come to the conclusion that our actions do not define us, ergo, what we do does not matter. So if nothing we do matters it follows that the only thing that does matter is what we do. (At least in my mind it does, and I'm sure that to some of you this will sound familiar, and if it does…look it up yourselves.) It took a long time for me to grasp this. If you were playing a game with no rules, the game would be defined by what you did. It's not a great analogy, but if you really think about it (esoterically) you should get it. If not let me know. I'd be happy to have further discussions about this…


Things that rock


Peggy... and she knows why

Integration

Letting go of things of which you need to let go.

Moebius strips

Pickled Python, Peppered Sheep Spleen

Lately, my life has been, at the least, interesting if not soap operatic…As my degree is in playwrighting, (which now I am pissed off because spell check is not recognizing playwrighting…but it recognizes wheelwright how many fucking wheelwrights have you heard of ?... but whatever) I decided to show just how my life is in a short piece…



Scene:

A busy, but small restaurant in a popular destination community for honeymooners such as Aruba. The well dressed Maitre D stand behind his lectern taking reservation on the phone on stage right. Stage left is a busy bar. Center stage are a few tables all with patrons. There is one booth wedged up beside the bar, stage left.


As I approach the lectern, he hangs up the phone.


Maitre D

May I help you?


Todd

Yes, I have a reservation. It's under Bitter.


Maitre D

(He checks)

I am sorry I don't see anything under that name? And when did you make the reservation?


Todd

(Sighs deeply) Yesterday about this time…I think I spoke to Seemingly Competent


Maitre D

Oh yes… let me double check with him

(picks up the phone and dials…)

Yes I have a gentleman here who claims to have spoken to you yesterday.. a Mr. Bitter…yes..Oh I see..Oh yes yes yes….now I see it… Thank You Seemingly…

I am so sorry Mr. Bitter…You see Seemingly is the Manager and rarely takes reservations…but we do have you here Mr. Bitter, table for one. It will be just a few moments; if you'd care to wait in the bar we will call you when your table is ready…



Todd

Thank you. (He goes to the bar and tries to get the bartender's attention with no avail. He leans up against the wall. After several moments of watching couples enter the bar and restaurant, the Maitre D' returns)







Maitre D

(in a distinctly loud voice)

Bitter, table of one…Bitter table of one?



(Todd goes to the maitre who escorts him to the booth crammed into the bar. He sits and looks at the menu for a few moments. A Waiter approaches)


Waiter

(Pouring water) Good afternoon…My name is Nearly and I will be your waiter today. We do have some specials today. Did you see them on your way in?


Todd

I did, tell me a little about the fulfillment…It sounds perfect.



Waiter

We have fulfillment that is served with a side of belonging, but unfortunately I just sold our last portion of that…But we do have contentment which is marinated in very nice tangy purpose sauce.


Todd

(Sighing over the fulfillment) No, I am allergic to purpose. I think I will have… let's see… happiness and could I get that without the commitments?


Waiter

Yes (pointing to the menu) its right here…"Perpetual disappointment"



Todd

That's perfect. I'll have that and a glass of straight gin to drink.


Waiter

I'll be right back with your drink, and it will be about 30-40 years for your meal.


(Full Black out)



Things that Rock:
Katie's Cafe in Ogunquit Maine
Hot summer days at the beach with friends
nights filled with peaceful slumber

Then we went into the woods to get our wish and now we're really blind

I was having a really goofy conversation at work today…It started out, oddly enough, about multi-dimensional calculus and suduko. It was a logical progression to things that people didn’t understand, as I am sure that those are two things that many people don’t really understand. I do and I guess I am proud of that. What I don’t understand is crocheting. I can knit and exact replica of the Mona Lisa but crocheting is as foreign to me as Multi-D is to many people. Another thing I don’t understand is signs (The movie by the same name is equally perplexing but that’s another story) More specifically- Braille signs. The hotel that I worked in has signs on every door so that you can tell what room number it is. Duh…But also on this sign is the same information, but in Braille. Now, if you are blind, how do find this information? Clearly, you can’t see where the sign is to read the Braille numbers…If you are with a sighted friend, are they gonna put your hands on the signs and wait for you to find the right room number? Thanks! What a pal! I mean otherwise do you just randomly feel around hoping to find a room number? That may be a great way to meet people, but it’s not really gonna get you into YOUR room. It’s almost as bad as the "Braille menu available" sign at the McDonald’s Drive thru window…almost… somehow on some level that makes more sense to me. While pondering this over a tasty Gin and Tonic, I realized that maybe there is more to this than, well… meets the eye. How do we find something if we don’t know if there is anything there to find? How often do we find ourselves stumbling in the dark, looking for something that just isn’t there? And I guess the corollary is just as true. We can stare at something for years, and miss something big.

Can you see the arrow ?

So where do we even begin to look for the light switch? I think it has something to do with not relying so much on our vision (or sense of smell, taste, touch, or sound), and develop our other senses more. We look for things that aren’t there, because we want something to be there, not even knowing what could be there (Like Tom Wopat does with his career). We ignore obvious things, because we don’t want the familiar and safe, to change (Like the bad relationship). The problem with developing these senses is that we don’t know where to look for it. Again, stumbling in the dark for something that we are guessing may be there. So, I guess it comes down to a matter of trust. If you truly believe that there is something there to find, you’ll keep looking until you find something. You just need to trust that when we find whatever it is, that we actually see it for what it is… and if it’s not what we need and want, then we need to keep looking.

Hopefully this will make it more clear....

Things that Rock:

Working for a doctor
The Front Porch in Ogunquit Maine
Having great friends when the chips are down
The Color Purple