Saturday, March 25, 2006

Marriage's Hidden Consequences, Part Deux

I can't stop bleeding from the waxpaper cut I got opening La's wedding invitation.

Marriage does not agree with me.


A while back, I ended up hanging out with an old HS aquantance, now that he is gay and living in DC. We actually went to the prom together, but as the plutonic dates of other people. So, at the risk of incuring the rath of Signe, my acutal prom date, we'll just call him PD for now. And boy is the kid cute! Three Thursdays ago, I was a bit tipsy and thrust my tongue in his mouth. DOH. I don't recall a favorable response, so I assumed it was unappreciated.

Two Thursdays ago I sent a message to apologize, and to my surprise he called and said he was going to be out that night, and that it was all good. But then he showed up and I was awkward so I avoided him the rest of the night. :)

Last week I called to see if he was going to be there, and he never returned my call or showed up.

This brings us to this Thursday, when once again he calls to see if I'm there. When he arrives, I invite him to join our group and he does. Sone flirting, but not much. Later on we were all on the dance floor, but at this point random drunk gay (RDG) starts hitting on him and is much more aggressive than I. Meanwhile my partner in crime, Plutonic Boyfriend, is interested in RDG. So its amusing to see us trying to keep PD and RDG apart and paying attention to us.

Anyway, bar closes, and we all walk out. I linger, but soon realize nothing is going to happen with PD, when out walks the Smiler, a guy I had been joking with in the bathroom (at the sink) but whom I hadn't properly met. Turns out he's a friend of PD's and we all chat. The Smiler lives near me, and offers company walking home. HOT!

Out of nowhere, PD was like "no, let me drive you guys home." To which I responded: "um, [PD], its like 2 blocks away." But I figured I'd let him drive us and see who he dropped off first. This was his final chance. So he TOTALLY dropped off ME first--the prick. At this point, cute Smiler got out of the car and was like "I'll just walk from here," and PD was like "no, get back in the car, I'll drive you." So Smiler walked over to me and planted a nice, solid, long kiss on me (some tongue), and then he got in the car and left. PD is SUCH a cock block!

OMG, that was such a valley girl entry, I know.

Meanwhile, Trannie Luver and Plutonic Boyfriend veto Prom Date. He was apparently too full of himself and pretentious. Plutonic Boyfriend says Prom Date is still hook-up material, cause he's cute, but then again Plutonic Boyfriend is a whore.

Thus, Prom Date is now officially on my shit list.

Monday, March 20, 2006

"Keep banging on the door, cause we can't hear a thing!"

After discovering the Go! Team in an independent music store on Philly's South Street in October, we finally got to see them when they came to the Black Cat last night. This was my first Black Cat concert, because the bands are often too obscure for me. It was also sold out, but thankfully not packed. For $12 and two blocks away, how can you go wrong!? Tranny Luver, Ms. BLM, Ms. BLM's roommate (not yet nicknamed), and I got there early and sat in the bar, trying to fit in with the disaffected hipsters. I thought it appropriate to ponder modern-day handling of our electronic identity post-mortem. Like, what happens to your Friendster profile? If I give a friend my password, can they login and switch me to "deceased"? Or, as Ms. BLM suggested, "at least 'married'"? Same difference, right?

As for the Go! Team, their performance was awesome. The seven or so of them kept us entertained with songs we knew, and songs we hadn't heard yet. The lead singer and MC, Ninja, was a highly energetic black girl who bounced around for her entire performance. The rest of the band was indie-looking white guys, with the exception of a female Asian drummer and guitar player, both vocalists on occasional songs bringing their diminutive voices out as instruments the band plays with. Also noticeable in several of their songs was the use of a harmonica, a recorder, and several other "toy" instruments. The best part of the night was a very energetic--and pretty attractive--guy in front of us who could not stop dancing for joy.

They didn't go on until 11pm, but I was home to watch Grey's Anatomy and still get to bed at a reasonable hour. This morning, I'm busy trying to play down my once-again-blackened hand from all the club stamps that I couldn't fully get off. Its my equivalent of track lines--I'm a junkie for concerts!

Saturday, March 18, 2006


Last night I attended a "For Those Who Can't Make it to Dublin" party, thrown in the swanky lobby of a friend's apartment building by he and two neighbors. Drinks, friends, and snacks were a plenty, but the true highlight of the party was a limerick writing contest.

For those unfamiliar with limericks, you've probably heard something in the "There once was a boy from Nantuck't..." variety. More specifically, they are made up of five lines of verse, with an aabba rhyming scheme, a distinctive anapestic rhythm, and range from humorous to bawdy. We debated anapest for a while, and determined it to be a three-syllable foot consisting of two unaccented syllables followed by an accented syllable. In the above example, "was a boy" and "from Nantuck't" are both anapests.

I'm very proud of my three entries, two of which were collaborations. My personal effort did not make the cut, but I'll share it with the world here:

Congress was calling for quorum,
But absent was Rick Santorum.
Was smoking some grass,
Had a plug in his ass,
While surfing a gay net forum.

Making the top 5 was my joint effort with Ms. Blue Like Mine, done mid-evening while awaiting arrival of two of our friends:

We saw a hot person walk in.
Sultry...and hinting of sin.
We thought it was Darin,
Turned out to be Erin,
Slipped a roofie in her tonic and gin.

Finally, making the Top 5 and then winning the crowd's favor--and New Gay and I a bottle of Hennessey--was our very first effort, when we dove straight for the gutter:

The boy from last night was a dud,
But whoa, did I wish he a stud.
He unbuttoned his pants,
So I took a chance,
And my knees hit the ground with a thud.

Needless to say, I feel very creative and witty this weekend. Per 2005 Goal #3, I think its time for another art date.

Monday, March 13, 2006


I'm in PR Training. This stands for Procurement Request, but also "Process Rapidly!" Everyone likes to be reminded of the urgency of the acquisition process. Thank you, PR training. Purchasing of items, from staples to million dollar oversight contracts, all use the same PR Form. But we have a snazzy program that you go through, for hours, to generate that form and track the progress of the procurement.

Training is seven hours. SEVEN. Hour one was devoted to figuring out how to sign the entire class of 12 into the system. It's been pretty downhill since then. On top of "training," I did work e-mail, read the WP, and caught up on blogs. Now I'm blogging.

I'm not sure what this entry was going to be about (other than showing my ability to learn how to attach a document and check e-mail at the same time), but I was inspired by NYC Rouge. NYC Rouge is, of course, a hardcore lesbian. After a three-year dry spell, she's was all over a new girl with kissing and then more. Turned out new girl sucked, but at least the dryspell was broken.

And this makes me think of my recent escapades. The escapades began a few weeks (nay, months) ago. First there was the boyfriend of my platonic boyfriend's roommate. Did you follow that? Don't worry. It was sweet and didn't have to mean anything. Then I went to New Gay's birthday party last month, and met Teen Wolf (aka Wolverine; we couldn't really settle on a nickname). This isn't a slight on him, but the kid was built like a truck, with Teen Wolf hair to match (although not hairy). I toyed with Trunk, but found that to sound wrong. Let's just say the boy was built thick. I'm going into way too many details about such a sweet person, but you, dear reader, are a lesbian in Brooklyn, married in New Haven, are my saintly gay twin, or are a slut in Philly, so it doesn't really matter.

Anyway, Teen Wolf got to date #3, mostly because I wanted there to be a spark and because I was incredibly attracted to him. Sadly, date #4, as always, was elusive. I'm proud of myself for telling him right up front, though, instead of leading him on like, oh, every faggot in DC is prone to do. ["What are the chances I'll run into HIM again?!"]

And then, to cap it off, there were some embarrassingly pathetic text messages sent to Buffalo, which lead me to delete him entirely from my electronic devices--I truly no longer have his number. Well, at least 2005Goal #5 is finally closed. That took just a little more than 6 months--who suggested I won't be processing rapidly my procurements requests!?

Shamrock THIS

First off, I stole this picture from Aimee, who I don't even know. First your pissed off at the HR office so you're checking your alerts, then you're reading about Metro testing new street-level signs telling you when the next train is leaving, then you're clicking on someone's funny response to see who he is, then you're viewing his friend's blogs. I hope Aimee doesn't mind my appropriation of her photo, but it took me to a happy place (two days ago).

Yes, two days ago was much better than today. First because there was beer involved. Since Tranny Luver moved in two weeks ago, I have been woefully bad at working overtime. She got Shamrock Festival tickets for Grace and I, so we started with a beer at the apartment, then switched to Red Bull & vodka in a plastic cup and headed from DC to...*gasp*...Ballston. It's a metro stop, look it up.

Thank god we had tickets, because the line really was hours long if you didn't. And twice the price. Inside we ran into every 20-something white professional we've ever known. Apparently Ballston is their breeding ground. Many of Tranny Luver's co-workers joined us, as did several of Grace's. My co-worker was stuck outside, unable to get in, but I did run into my Director who, unlike I, was not inebriated. Then we did what everyone at outdoor festivals do--drank in the street, interspersed between waiting in line for more beer or a porta-potty. It was wonderful.

Happily (for them), everyone else we ran into even got laid that night. People paired up in droves, apparently. The three of us, instead, had sushi and went dancing, and passed out shortly after midnight. And its not even St. Patty's day yet!!!

Friday, March 10, 2006

Rough Trade

As if I need a quiz to tell me this. I do, however, need a quiz to show that I'm a supreme failure even at cutting and pasting html code. What's wrong with this thing?

You prefer Rough sex!

You like it ROUGH. Hard, great, wonderful slamming sex is your type of sex. More the product of lust than love - and utterly horny - rough sex is what satisfies you.

'What is the best type of sex for you?' at

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