Friday, June 30, 2006


I don't have a whole lot to report. I'm a bit bored out here in Oregon, where I'm overseeing an event we're sponsoring. I don't have much of an olfactory sense, as some might know. So why did the public official with the worst breath ever--and the worst understanding of personal space--just come and talk to me (while breathing into my mouth) about Cherry Street in DC for the last 5 minutes!? I had to fake an appendix burst and run out of the room.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

"When exactly did your life become a sitcom?"

...asks AppleCore, whom I occasionally give a play-by-play of especially sticky situations as they are unfolding. Thank god for T9!

Back up to this morning, when I awoke in the nude embrace of my Man of Significant Importance. He certainly had better be, because I was in Reston, or as I like to call it: the death of modern civilization. [You'll eventually be able to trace the downfall of our society not to war or global warming or a dirty bomb, but to when Reston Town Center opened, but that's another entry.]

At any rate, we're out there because MOSI is dog/house sitting for his father's cousin, a middle aged woman with a well-kept home, a penchant for golf, and W'04 bumper stickers on her Lexus. Just at the point that we're contemplating frolicking or more sleeping, the doorbell rings and then in walks the cousin, who has apparently taken an earlier red-eye back from California.

SHIT! It seems that having guests over was not discussed... kind of like the way being gay wasn't discussed. Finding a man in her guestbed with her young cousin is probably not what she would have appreciated. One of the first thing she said, in fact, was that she wasn't sure if he'd be at home or at church at that hour. What he was doing was a far cry from church. So MOSI springs up to throw on pants, and I hide naked in the closet. Realizing that naked man in the closet might be even more traumatizing, I silently get dressed as MOSI chats it up with the happy homeowner.

While I hung out in the closet, MOSI bought us time talking with her, then slowly beginning to pack up our things--and hiding that which would indicate that her guestroom was debauched in her absence.

Thankfully, through it all I had my cellphone (on silent) and AppleCore mildly amused be my predicament but also offering logistical support via text if I needed saving. MOSI even missed the chance to be a bit of a jerk and have his cousin walk the dog; so he left the house with me secretly hoping to hear the sound of a bathroom door close--and contemplating whether she might have firearms. At one point while he was packing she even came in the room, surprised to see all of his stuff.

When all hope seemed lost--or at least that I might have to hang out until the lady left for the theater several hours later--she took her leave from MOSI's company for a quick shower. Thank gawd. After an hour and a half of being crammed in the closet we slid downstairs and out to the car, where everything had already been stashed.

A very grateful MOSI even drove me home, rather than dump me at the Metro. All is forgiven.

As AppleCore put it: "...and with that one more gay man successfully came out of the closet."

Tuesday, June 13, 2006


I'm currently obsessed. Lately, this has included Ask A Ninja, emo boys kissing, Kelis music videos, and now, Hope is Emo.

Check it out

Monday, June 05, 2006

When Outlook Attacks

I work in an agency of 500 people, spread across a dozen or so "offices." Today, someone sent this message to everyone, selecting office by office from Outlook:

The people listed below have been scheduled for Basic COTR training, August
7-11, 2006...
Fine, fine. Eddie, an unfortunate soul, used "Reply All" to say:

I requested to be added a while ago. How can I check to see if I am in the list for the next class? I am leaving the country soon and I would like to know before I leave.
No problem. Delete keys exist for this sorta thing. But then came the kicker from Susan, another of our 500 employees:

Eddie: Please remove my name from the above email addresses prior to sending any further communication on this topic.
WHAT? Seriously. And this went to all 500 of us. Such irony. Or at least an example of a rather self-important trogladite who then sticks her foot in her mouth. First off, is she just dense? Did she miss Outlook 101?

What if Eddie didn't have a date to the prom? This could have ripped that wound right open. I would have just cried and cried.

Oh yeah, and who's registered for Basic COTR training!? I am, biatch! I expect Aug 7-11 to be one, long, party cruise of an August week. Kill me.

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