I now work for John Deere...

Wow. So, long story short, I am now an employee of John Deere Credit. I love it here, already (though it doesn't pay as much as my stress-inducing gig), and will have much more to say soon. I have a lot to catch up on! However, wanted to pop by and assure you all that yes, I am still alive and well (and writing).

More soon!
~Aeffchen

My God...

I have dropped the ball. I promised I’d be writing more, and find myself, instead, writing less and less. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I’m not drinking so much right now, which tends to bank the creative fires. This is due to my frequent mood swings of late caused by job stress, and my need to hoard money like some sort of little Midas (very little, in fact,) preparing for stagflation. My job is genuinely in trouble at this point, the John Deere opportunity may not pan out, and I don’t exactly have much in the wings. I am worried, and have had to be very careful not to take it out on Orpheus. He has been amazing through the entire process, and we are still working out well despite my frantic pleas last week to break up with me so he wouldn’t “have to worry about what comes next.” I hate panic attacks. Especially suicidal panic attacks. They make me feel less than classy. And, frankly, haven’t I been through enough?

My Mother would respond that it is all part of God’s plan, and she feels for me and prays for me, but that I should just keep trying. It’s hard for me not to tell her that’s hogwash. I want kids someday, but frankly, life sucks so much so often, I don’t know if I want to lie to another human, one that trusts me implicitly for even a short time, that everything will, in fact, be OK. We get a spare modicum of pleasure in this life, and most of us (me included,) squander the shit out of it. The rest of our time is spent working like slaves. An entire race of beings shouldn’t have to pay the fare for bad decisions on diet made by two semi-divine simpletons and one angry god… Or, you know, any of the actual sins of our in-fact ancestors, like being poor, getting exiled from this or that land, etc., etc., ad nauseum.

I suppose that the point of this rant is one that you’ve all read before. I’m really, really tired. Exhausted. And I just have to keep going, because if I stop it’ll make everyone that I love and everyone who loves me at least a little sad, a little empty, and take some speed off their rat-races. These are people who have been there for me, so it’s only fair that I’m there for them. I guess I just need to figure out the mental equivalent of DM’s coffee.

In the meantime… Bleh.

The Dress of Michelle Obama and sundry...

It seems that the “I’s” have it… The Nation has walked out on George W. and his cadre of insane, inane Neo-cons. Despite the fact that I am still not entirely comfortable with Barack Obama, I couldn’t help feeling good about the way all that voting went, yesterday. For me, the outpouring of faith in the power of Democracy by countless youths and minority groups signals the beginning of the end of the tyranny of scared, small people over the fate of folks (like me,) who’ve made alternate decisions about they way they live their lives. This could mean anything from a biologically driven difference like sexual orientation (it’s not a choice, breeders, any more than it is for you,) to the hard decision that you are not ready to have a child that “just happened,” whether in our out of the bounds of a relationship. This is the end of the era of being scared that, yes, my neighbor will gladly strip me of my rights due to fear of using them him-or herself, the end of being afraid of the long, slow backslide through women’s lib, racial and sexual equality legislation. But it’s only the beginning of a new era…

What scares me, now, is that we are in a terrible economic situation that we will have to willfully spend our way out of, with little hope of putting a good muzzle on Senate and House Republicans who will complain to high Heaven above about taxation without representation and all that kind of rot. Worse yet, as Obama is trying to forge a new pact in a Washington broken by the Young Turk Republicans in the ‘70’s, we have to put up with it and give said assholes more concessions than their actions will ever warrant. Our Supreme Court is literally lousy with the kind of radical conservative legal revisionists that would make a Shari’a Mullah blush, a problem more than worth its’ own weight in fat Mid-Westerners. Eight years of mismanagement under Fearless Leader, and more years of retrospectively unwise deregulation under Clinton have left the leadership of our business community stupid, spoiled and degenerate in profit motive. Further, the middle classes have all but disappeared, education is on the wane, and the average work week has gotten so long that maybe, just maybe, Conservative freaks have a point when they talk about moral decline in today’s youths… I mean, if parents can’t spend any time with Jr., strike the fear of whatever into him/her, then of course the little shit’s ‘gonna act out!

My point is, we have a lot of work to do. I wish our President Elect well, and hope to find a way to help going forward. We'll all have to swallow our pride to get underway. Our country has been divided for too long, has forgotten how to talk across the aisles, make gentleman’s deals. Don’t give up, cheering crowds, when you finally see how much you’ll have to sacrifice, please… Otherwise you’ll be letting everybody who saw these costs before you even got excited, like me, down. We can’t do this without the energy and hope you brought to the great undertaking of electing, GASP, a progressive!

On a completely unrelated topic… Did any of y’all SEE Michelle Obama’s dress? Damn. Hire a stylist. I mean, if Sarah Palin, a CC (Christian Conservative) cow from Alaska can dress like she dresses without any of Michelle's poise or intelligence, what's your excuse, First Lady Elect?!?!

Skipping towards Gamorrah...

I am a living ball of stomach acid every day. Last night, I went to the bar with Orpheus, and had a neat conversation with the bar tender about beer. There’s a new place in town, apparently, that has over 15 rotating Belgian Ales on tap, and no crap-beer, either. I’m a little titillated, honestly. And my alcohol consumption is up, so there’s that. It was a good night of snuggling, and more sleep than usual, but I still woke up around 6 AM. Plus, Aries got her one-month warning yesterday, and that’s horribly upsetting... Especially since I’m probably going to go on an action plan today or tomorrow, myself. However, she and I are doing dinner tonight, so that should be slightly palliative.

I wish I got comments once in awhile. I wish I could fly. I wish that I had several hundred million dollars in an off-shore account, or at least some bullion stowed away somewhere. (I figure, if I’m wishing, I might as well wish big, you know.) Really, though, I just want enough to keep going as good or better than now. I’d prefer better, but with the country going down the shitter, that might be asking too much. Good luck to you all. Hell, good luck to me. It can’t hurt to wish it of oneself, can it?

UW Homecoming Sucks...

The noose is drawing tighter. I am more tired than ever just walking in the building here… But today, I didn’t need any help to feel like crap before braving the door to my workplace. I woke up at 4:30 AM, and didn’t officially get back to sleep. I just stayed in bed dozing for two and a half hours, waiting for the alarm to sound. The cruelest aspect is that, as per routine, I hit the snooze button once before getting up, and got so close to falling back to sleep I could almost taste it. Right now, I’m sitting zombie-like before my computer, wishing to God for something to happen that would get me out of the building. I can’t wait for 1:30 so I can take a nice nap over my lunch break! The one weird thing was the tense sci-fi dream I had while dozing.

It was some f-ed up b.s., too let me tell you. It was a near-future type setting where nothing was really different except a single piece of game-altering technology that makes almost anything possible… Practically cost-free long-distance teleportation. And I’m talking over stellar distances, too. In the dream, my Mother was, for some reason, set to teleport into the orbit of a distant planet in a shuttlecraft that looked suspiciously like a late-model Honda minivan (Lay aside your cries of “H. Ron Hubbard!” for the time being, please… At least my spaceships aren’t in the form of ‘60’s cargo planes). Given that Mom’s primary talents are musical performance, teaching, and making people physically ill with her lame mom jokes, the plot seems a bit fishy, but bear with me…

In the dream, I was a violinist of note. For some odd reason, I was in the control booth when Mom’s shuttle was to teleport, and it just never arrived. However, the personnel in the booth didn’t ever admit that she’d just teleported, or that there was anything wrong. The rest of the dream was an action-packed bureaucratic paper-chase type drama in which I eventually forced the Grand Poobahs of teleportation to let me follow Mom on a rescue mission… Yes, that’s right, I was a “violinist of note” in a silver space-suit driving a Honda Orbital Shuttle. And that’s when the alarm rang.

Just when I was having a real Solaris of a dream… Actually, given that particular resonance, maybe it’s better that I never finished dreaming. I don’t like blood or madness too much, overall. The weekend itself was pretty cool, though, weird dreams aside. On Friday night, I went out with my co-workers for a couple hours, and it was a neat night. I drank too much. After that, I picked up Orpheus, and we returned to my place. The worst that I can say is that traffic was HORRIBLE all weekend long. Every time I drove, I ended up in a foul mood afterwards. Friday night was no exception. We settled in for the night, and didn’t get to bed until really late… Unfortunately, for no great reason. I made quiche for gaming on Saturday morning, and will likely be repeating that particular method of prep again. I sautéed the onions and red pepper before adding to the pie crusts. It made the quiche tastier, as the onions had time to carmelize and soften… it also made the quiche less wet, which is a good thing, overall.

Gaming was fun, as we all video-conferenced with Bulgaria before starting to play. It was nice to see him in person. He’s already lost weight being at home! The quiche was a massive success, even if I couldn’t roll well to save my soul. Goddamn gaming! ;-) On Saturday night, O. and I just kind of hung out and did nothing, as scads of drunk, nut-job pedestrians ignoring walk signs had made it their duty to try and get killed by my vehicle at various points in the day… Homecoming crowds are rarely on the best-behaved. Sunday was nice… I made chorizo and eggs with potatoes for breakfast, skipped lunch, went to a reading of a kind of pastiche of “best of” posts from Craigslists’s personals and missed connection letters put on by Basso, then cooked a highly successful dinner for O. We had a lot of sex afterwards. Hopefully, this week will bring better things. Otherwise, I may just consider giving up. ;-)

Interview Two, Current Job Zero…

Today, I had a real awful scare. I had a phone interview for a great job at John Deere Credit lined up when a meeting was switched up on me, time-wise. I had to call HR at JDC, let them know what was going on, and wait nervously for a new time to be phoned back. Fortunately, the supervisors were free at noon, but that still meant I had to go to lunch AT NOON. I never go before 1:30 PM if I can help it. The meeting I had to rush back into the building for, of course, was cancelled with absolutely no warning! That has meant I’ve been stuck on the phones since 1 PM, literally a slave to the dial. However, when I think about it, I have two fifteen minute breaks coming. I think I’ll take one sooner than later… That should redress me for time lost!

The interview went OK, but not as well, I think, as my face to face a couple weeks ago. I hope I get the job. It may be a significant pay cut, but I think it’s worth it if I can think about work and not want to throw up. At least, I hope that will be the reaction I have to the job. I’m fairly confident that I have all the required skills that they seek, and should fit it well at John Deere. There are a lot of folks I used to work with there, already! Here’s hoping I get the damned job.

Tonight after work is finally over, I’m headed to the bar with work friends here. Somebody left the company for a better job in my department, and it’s a well-wishing trip. I think my immediate boss, Cigar, wants to talk to me there. Hopefully, he has good news about JDC giving him a call re: me. Who’s got two thumbs, is nervous as hell and is on the verge of tears about his work situation? This little monkey!

F*$! 'em!

So, it’s kind of funny… I was just talking to my immediate supervisor. He’s the guy who hired me on here as a temp almost two years ago. Poor Cigar (he smokes one almost every day on his 45-min. drive home,) has suffered more than almost anybody else since the new ownership came in. They took away his Sales Management position, broke him to supervisor, forced him to collude with the CS trainer to create a training program for the new sales team, and almost completely ignore his wise suggestions for survival in this particular industry… The environment under Cigar was wonderful. We all felt like a big family, and everybody was there to help. Now, I’m not saying that I loved it here, but I did like the people, and at least the workplace was a supportive environment. You know the current story. Every day is a long slog full of self-loathing and desperation at the moment.

Anyway, I was talking to Cigar, and he told me that he’s had three jobs on offer in the last month. He’s narrowed his options down to two possibilities, and would like one more than the other, but is just waiting to see who gives him the better offer. I told him about my flirtations with John Deere, and he promised me a good recommendation, thank God. I don’t know how much more nail-biting I could possibly do before drawing blood at this point. Either way, it’s nice to talk about exit plans when your day is this bleak.

I hope the new owners burn in hell.

Tonight, tonight... On the West Side.

Last night was fun, except there was still no sex in the champagne room at O.’s. It was nice to just snuggle a bit. It seems like he’s coming down with something… At least, he smells a lot more than normal in the morning, which usually means that something’s off. He worked late last night, so I had a long evening at home before coming downtown. First time in a long time I used my 8” (21 cm.) knife. It was nice to get reacquainted! It was freezing in the apartment (we haven’t yet turned on the heat), so I made something a little fatty… I browned a chicken breast with pepper and paprika in olive oil, about six minutes a side. I then added onions, turning constantly until a touch carmelized, turned down the heat, and threw in a coarsely chopped tomato. A couple minutes later, when it had given up some water, I salted, and added minced garlic. After that had all been cooking for a few, I put in thinly sliced cremini mushrooms, a chiffonade of fresh basil, and a splash of lemon juice. I let it all cook until the mushrooms were done, then served on a bed of fresh spinach with freshly grated parm.

Now, next time, I’m going to put in more basil, and seasoning in general. I’ll probably also grate a little carrot into the sauce, to sweeten it up a touch. There will also be about half-again as much mushroom going in. But DAMN was it good!!! Tonight, there will be a little tomato sauce experimentation at Casa de Aeffchen. I’m basing it on shallots, and this time, I’ll seed the damned tomatoes, too. Other than that, nothing much to report. I anticipate that it’ll be another freezing-cold night at home, as today’s a “day off” with Orpheus. I hope he gets some stuff done. Hell, I hope I get some stuff done… It’s been a bad month for that. Also, I’m going to masturbate until something dies (either my libido, or me… Whichever gets off the bus first). I figure it’s time for some self-love, if my man isn’t dishing.

Knock-down, drag-out tired...

Orpheus and I had a rough night yesterday. It’s more of the same argument where I say something’s wrong, and he says it’s OK on his end. The problem is, it’s not OK. I’m tired of having to talk about the same things over and over, nothing ever changing. I wish I could say that I think things will change, but that would be a lie. That joke where the bum asks for change, and the Buddhist quips, “Change comes from within,” isn’t terribly far off the mark. Some of us are restless, and others are wasting our talents, our lives, our educations just to settle for second- or third-best. O. isn’t second- or third-best, but his job and attitude on art currently are. He no longer has the excuse of classes to force him to write, which means that he’s paying student loans off for training on skills that are atrophying. I may not be in a great place myself, but I’m trying to get into a better one, both for me and for him. I want to march forward with my bard, not look back, but it’s difficult when he’s stalling in place. There’s only so long to wait before I’ll be forced to move for myself, and the clock is definitely ticking.

Because of the fight, there was no sex, because there was no sex, I didn’t sleep terribly well, because I didn’t sleep very well (and, let’s face it, because there was no sex), I feel like a pile of dirty change rather than the million bucks I should be blinging to the rafters. Plus, we had flu shots in the office today, and that nurse stuck me like she was holding a long-standing grudge. My delt is sore, my head aches, it’s too warm down in this subterranean hell I call a workplace, and I’m busily expecting a call from the good folks at John Deere Credit regarding a position that will make a bad dream of this job. I want to go home and pull the covers over my head, wake up employed elsewhere with a huge savings account, a paid-for car, better clothes, no fat lesbian roommate, and weekly maid service. That would help immensely. Oh, yeah, while I’m busy fishing for universal peace and happiness, I could also stand some credit debt relief!

Furthermore, I made the most awful “tomato sauce” last night… I peeled the tomatoes alright, but didn’t seed them. And I added bay and rosemary instead of just going for the basil. It tasted like really bad ratatouille, god(des) forgive me, and there’s really nothing good about that. O. did make a delicious garlic bread to go along with the pasta, though. He just softened a ¼ c. of butter, blended with pressed garlic cloves, and spread it on bread. Wrapped the bread, cooked it for about 10 min., and then broiled after grating fresh Parmisano Romano over it… The one problem was the flimsy baking sheet, which “popped” in the oven, putting the edge of one half the garlic bread to the broiler directly, which edge caught fire. I blew it out before there was any real damage, but there was a little scorch on an otherwise perfect dish.

Hurry, hurry, hurry, I’ve got rice and curry!

Wow. So, yesterday wasn’t bad. I’m wicked pissed at Terra Firma, my roomie, for the way she ignores me in the apartment, but couldn’t bring myself to be mean yesterday, as she fell and hurt her elbow pretty badly… Right on the selfsame spot that I drove gravel into my right palm in the summer of 2007. So, instead of bitching her out for completely filling the freezer (excepting for a single bag of green beans and one package of meat that belong to me), I gave her a blueberry lager with an absurdly high alcohol content. I feel like I’m being too nice, lately. She still hasn’t cleared out the goddamn boxes in the living room, either.

Anyway, O. continues to be so very sweet. But he’s not writing much, and he still hasn’t found a circle to write with, and the documentation for his loans remains missing. He did post yesterday night regarding his disappointment with the Booker Prize and and Nobel Lit winners, which he explained whilest I puréed roasted eggplant as a sauce supplement for my curry, which itself turned out as lackluster as a Dungeons and Dragons serial novel. The one high point was the tofu I used instead of my normal pork. I drained, pressed, and froze the small pieces before marinating with peanut oil w/a touch of roasted sesame oil, and hot sauce. While it was frying, I added a bit of tumeric. I fished the pieces out when just golden and firm on both sides (they were thin pieces, so cooked through instead of needing to be cooked on EVERY side of a cube), and added them back to the curry to warm through while waiting on the rice. The curry stank, but the tofu was harmonious. I’ll have to try it with a simpler sauce in the future!

After we were done with dinner, O. and I headed downtown, to his place, as he works today. We watched the sequel to the Rocky Horror Picture Show, which sucked rocks, but happened to have the dude from Dame Edna as a main character sporting a German accent. Afterwards, still in something of a daze, we watched some ‘Dame Edna Experience’ episodes, which were far and away more entertaining. We got to sleep pretty late, and Orpheus forgot in the morning to hit the snooze button the right way. I was seconds away from being late for work as a consequence! At least I got a little more sleep than usual, which was VERY nice.

Please excuse the title of my post… I came to know “Dr. Bombay” during my horrible club-music phase in college. My roommate at the time gave me all his trashy euro-pop mp3s after discovering I liked them so much. He said, “You listen to so much serious music all the time, it makes sense you’d love this trash on some level, even if you hate yourself a little bit for it!” Unfortunately, he was correct. And I find myself, like the main character of the song, unable to foist said terrible curry off on anyone. Pray for me…

Slipping dangerously...

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m wickedly depressed, and that I’m wallowing down instead of reaching up for help. I’m attempting to spur Orpheus to action, and feel as if that’s getting nowhere. My job search, though I had an excellent interview yesterday, is languishing, and it becomes clearer and clearer every day that I won’t be here much longer. Desperation isn’t romantic, nor is it productive. Desperation drives stress, drives angst, drives disunity in body and mind. I’m going mad, I’m horny all the time but am too lazy for sex more than twice a week, and I find myself increasingly not cooking! Further, I am again entering a phase where I ignore important documents coming in through the mail, or, more disturbingly, forget that they came for a time. I’ve been here before, and it is, overall, NOT GOOD.

The drinking is mostly curbed after a horrifying weekend of being sauced with the ex-f-friend on Friday night, then sauced with O.’s work friends on Sunday. Last night, I made delicious chicken stuffed with bread crumbs, crushed pistachios, minced shallots, and raclette, seasoned lightly with paprika, and the whole wrapped in bacon. It tasted marvelous, especially when served with honeyed roast mashed potatoes, but I nearly lost it when, about half-way through the process of putting the wrapped breasts together, I tried to open my knife drawer and the drawer stuck. I ended up yelling at it, and repeatedly yanking it to the stick point so hard that a couple of the lighter knives jumped out of their slots in the wooden drawer-bloc. O. came into the kitchen to stop me, I was making such a fuss. Worse, I’m snapping at him all the time, and having creepy-ass mood swings. I want security. Is that so goddamn much to ask!?!

I’m tired. Tired of working for nothing, tired of being horribly dissatisfied with life because of my job, tired of just about everything. Tired as SHIT of not being able to work up the energy to clean my goddamned bedroom. What the fuck is the point, anyway? And anti-depressants will just make me fatter. Life is fucking cruel. About the only good things I have going right now are, of course, my Orpheus, and the show he just introduced me to… ‘Pushing Daisies’ is amazing, and a small spot of brightness in the fucking car wreck that is my existence.

Love Sucks…

This week has unequivocally blown donkey balls. Work gets worse every day, and Orpheus and I seem to be floundering. We had a very uncomfortable discussion online Wednesday, which ended with O. offering to make me feel better, but still really wishy-washy on what HE wanted, yet again. I, of course, spent the night with him even though it was supposed to be our night off, and nothing changed, despite his promise to do a couple things immediately (that never, incidentally, got done). Who knows… Maybe he completed his mission today. Either way, we’ve agreed that tonight is to be a night off, if only because a former f-bud of mine is in town to visit, and Orpheus really doesn’t like him. The one good thing about all this is that he trusts me to sit down with said former f-bud without taking off clothes, so that’s good, but I abhor taking weekend nights with O. as off-time…

After work, I have to rush home, quickly clean things up a little, and start making dinner… This for a guy who is in the hospitality business, and had an excellent culinary education. Hopefully, the wine I picked doesn’t suck, even if it is supposed to be a good pairing for a savory chicken pie. At least I know that dinner itself will be wonderful, but after this week, I have to say, I just hope I don’t make the filling I’m caramelizing into a savory marmalade of despair, a-la the pickle-making wife in Midnight’s Children. Then, it’s off to the bars. Blech. I don’t need any more alcohol, I think… Possibly ever.

Monday, I have an interview… At John Deere (no, I’m not kidding). Wish me luck. I think we’ll all need it. I wish you all luck, and hope you haven’t already lost your shirts and/or retirement funds, like my parents.

Viva la Monday!!!

This weekend was odd. Friday during the day was a waste of time and space and space-time overall, but when I got out of work it got better. I went to Orpheus’ place, and prepared for the arrival of Bulgaria’s BF’s roommate, who deigned to go to gallery night with us downtown. We had nothing to eat first, which kinda sucked, but there was a beautiful gallery we went to last which is a working space for the artists exhibiting as well as a sales floor. The talks we had with artists there were awesome! I’d love to go back with money (when I have some again) and buy a couple small pieces. Most of the galleries stank, though, which wasn’t terribly surprising. Corporate art/boring late-middle-aged guest room décor, throughout.

Afterwards, we took “Roommate” to Opus, which is worming its’ way back into my heart as a viable nightspot. Overall, it was a fairly tense night, as he had to work overtime all weekend, and Friday night was his only HIM-time, and given away, to boot. I don’t think O. will get his wish for a three-way. Wish I could say “more’s the pity,” but I’m really a bit relieved. Though R. is a wonderful guy who I’d love to have as a friend, I’m not terribly attracted to him physically.

Saturday started off with a bout of sickness in conjunction with the failure of my phone battery, putting me close to an hour late for roleplaying. I was forgiven, fortunately, without having to explain exactly the state that had made me late. Short session, but we leveled, even though our wizard died (first casualty!). I want to go back to D+D 3.5… Though 4.0 is easier to play, it’s easier overall to stick with an established product. I really dislike change, I find. The rest of Saturday was nearly ruined by O’s need to nap. It was a two-hour snooze-fest that left both of us feeling off. We did, eventually, shake it off, but my yuckiness early on left me feeling unable to bear up to a long-overdue session of the nasty. Though disappointing, we slept, and that was that. I slept very poorly, due to the shitty two-hour nap.

Sunday was packed with adventure! I made amazing chorizo eggs served on a bed of perfect breakfast potatoes, and sprinkled with fresh-grated Parmesano Romano. I then rolled up my sleeves, and built a beautiful Gallician Pie for lunch, which ended up being an indoor picnic at Orpheus’ place. Aphrodite was back in town this weekend, and she agreed to lunch cooked by me before she left town for the Twin Cities. It was very nice to see her, even if it was only for a little bit, and she lauded lunch, as per usual. Afterwards, O. needed another nap, which I stayed up through, and then we got together for drinks with his work friends, who I adore. After a couple hours there, we went back to his place, and got around eventually to some rooty-tooty, rompin’-stompin, good-time sex. Then I passed out.

Today, per par, sucks. Viva la Monday!!!

EvilGenius’ Evil Doctor’s Bag…

Last night was lovely. After I got home from a horribly punishing day at the office, Orpheus made me a nice heavy martini, and we just vegged out until QuakerNoOats called and asked us to show up around 6:30-7 PM. Apparently, EvilGenius was VERY excited about us coming to her birthday dinner, and even consented to put on underpants when it was made clear that she couldn’t have us over if she didn’t! We brought over some New Glarus tart raspberry ale, which compares well with a basic fruit lambic from Belgium, and some Strongbow Cider, as QNO’s mother loved Woodchuck when we were over on Saturday. I cooked the meat for fajitas, and cooked down the onion and peppers in a pan. There was a neat salad dressing that QNO made, and good corn torillas. Dinner was fun, but conversation and present time was better.

As I think I mentioned before, O. and I got EvilGenius a doctor’s kit for her birthday. She had gotten her flu shot that very morning at the doctor’s office, so I was a little uneasy regarding the reception of her gift, but she loved it. A lot. She even started walking around, giving everybody shots, and listening to their heartbeats. The best part, though, was when she hooked the little battery-operated pager that came with the kit over her training pants to make rounds… It was so cute I wanted to barf a little, inside my mouth. It was such a good night, my spirits lifted a lot. I needed it. This morning, I had a telephone roleplay that I nailed to the floor. It felt good, even if this place does suck rocks!

Tonight O. and I have off. I know it’s just my insecurity coming to bite me in the ass, but we haven’t been having nearly enough sex lately. He’s easing into his comfort zone regarding the thing he didn’t used to do willingly, but he’s not doing the opposite to me nearly as much anymore. Though, given how thorny I’ve been lately, I can’t say as I blame him. Hopefully, I can make a resolution to start fresh, and try to be more upbeat. I have to try. I don’t want to lose my guy!

Holy F-ing S...

The last few days have passed by in a semi-pleasant haze. Gaming on Saturday was plenty of fun, and I think that we’re finally getting our “sea legs” where D+D v4.0 is concerned. God knows I’ve started to kick ass and take names, although I’m the first to collapse in a given situation, too. Plus, the entire “you heal fully overnight” thing really sucks ascot. However, the game itself isn’t bad, though magic kinda sucks now. We’ll see how things work out, though. Magic may end up being cooler in the end of things, but I seriously doubt it.

After gaming, BakedAlaska invited Orpheus and I over to help celebrate the 2nd birthday of his daughter, EvilGenius. Really, though, we’re going over tonight, too, which is actually her birthday, so I think it was really all about keeping the adults sane. QuakerNoOats’ mother is in town. They are notorious for not getting along, though she is FAR more pleasant than QNO ever led me to believe, just rather, umm… Tightly wound. Really, though, if I had been the Mom in a house chock full of kids with overlapping but individual food allergies, I’d have gone nuts and murdered the whole lot in preparation for offing myself. SCM (SternCatholicMamma), however, did it all with just the slightest edge of mania, including taking on two foster kids. In any case, we helped to keep the peace and distract SCM from QNO (and vice-versa). We’re performing the same function tonight, but this time giving EvilGenius our birthday present, which is a fancy doctor’s kit for kids 2+. When he first saw it on Saturday, BakedAK commented that we aren’t ever allowed to buy a present for his daughter better than his, again.

I also bought Brsinger, the final book in the Eragon trilogy, on Saturday morning. I’ve been annoying the hell out of O. reading it every free second. It isn’t terribly well written, just like its’ predecessors in the series, but the story is more or less sound. I just want to be over with the tiresome structure and be done with the story.

Sunday was interesting, if a bit boring overall. I went to an instance of the concert series they run every school year at the Chazen museum, on campus at the University of Wisconsin. It was the staff string quartet performing two rather experimental works (at the time they were written, anyway), by Janacek and Ludwig Van… I liked the Jancek for one reason, that being that all rhythmic drive, and many first statements of theme were made by the viola. It was very odd and cool, kind of turning everything on its’ head for me throughout the piece. I like Janacek’s music when it sounds most modern and discordant, so I only loved about 10% of the quartet in toto, but it was neat. The Beethoven recycles discarded themes from then 9th Symphony, amongst others of Ludwig’s greatest hits, and is both overlong and overmeandering, with little to no point in the most “serious” third movement. Said movement, in fact, accounted for about half of this monster’s 45-minute run, flopping about like a dying peacock, stripped of its’ feathers. I kind of threw a bunch of shit into a pot with rice for dinner, and it ended up being quite good. Go figure!

Yesterday just sucked abjectly at work, and afterwards, Orpheus kept taunting me in that joking way he has that feels light and teasing to him, but just annoying and ill-will-begetting to me. We abandoned a speech were were to see at the University for a mall walk and a lovely dinner made with apples from our expedition to the Epplegarden a full week ago. I did a braised pork loin with apples and cranberries. It was delicious last night, but made even better leftovers for lunch today. Plus, O. downloaded some really kickin’ pornos, so you can tell how the rest of the night went. ;-)

Hire me. Please...

Anyone hiring in Madison, WI? I mean, anybody with taste and discretion, who needs a highly capable, fast-learning worker to fill just about any office role (hell, if you’re here, you’ve SEEN what I’ve been through physically, lately… NO MANUAL LABOR!!!), at over $18/hr, leave me a comment… In fact, somebody please leave me a comment, even if you’re not hiring, as nobody seems to read my blog. Ever. Or, if they do, they just laugh to themselves. Unless you’re really mean, I won’t repress your comment, I promise! ;-)

Gomeroke, hibernation, various points between...

So, last night was wicked fun. I didn’t think that the birthday party of, essentially, a new friend (who shall heretofore be known as RPGirl,) would be nearly that entertaining, especially given Orpheus’ general feelings of malaise over the last few days. When I got home from work, yesterday, he was still napping, and smelled like a barn, as mildly ill sleeping grown-ups tend to do. He was well-rested, however, and we watched a little TV while I made a snack of bacon and martinis. After that, he showered, and I got to pull my very special trick on him, which led to long-overdue (and wholly welcome), if not overtly spectacular, sex. We bundled up and drove downtown, on the way nabbing more lube, and eventually reached the Roman Candle, a pizza joint on the near-East side where the initial leg of the birthday celebration took place.

It was a good group, mostly grad students. Even though O. didn’t talk much, he did speak more than at most gatherings of people my age, which was encouraging. He declined to follow us to the High Noon Saloon, as he was feeling tired, so I dropped him off at his place, and continued on to Gomeroke (a band called the Gomers provides live backing for Karaoke). It was fuckin’ hot. I got a free drink ticket during the first set for my smokin’ rendition of ‘Sweet Transvestite,’ even inspiring the birthday girl (RPGirl,) to sing ‘Tainted Love’ in the process… And she’s never even done Karaoke once before! I had a great time. When I returned to Orpheus’ place, he was somewhat recovered, and happily popped in an episode of the Dame Edna Experience, which he’d been watching while I was at the bar. He’s so sweet and expectant when he shows me something that he knows I’ll like, and like it I did! It was uproariously funny, especially considering how old the episodes were.

We didn’t sleep terribly well last night, unfortunately not due to further sexual energy expenditures, but there was some very satisfying snuggling. It’s starting to get colder at night again, and that means awesome opportunities to snuggle whilst hibernating. Mmm… Actually, a three-month nap sounds pretty good right now…

Woo!

The past few days have gone by in a largely undifferentiated blur, except I find myself constantly worrying about money, picking on Orpheus, and being a generally nervous Nellie. I’m also horny as hell, all the damned time! At least unidentified lip thingie has gone away in less than a week… This makes it less likely (though not impossible) that it’s herpes, greatly lessening the pressure I’m feeling on that front. Work continues, as ever, to suck. And last night, despite a recipe not altered a whit from what appeared in the magazine, dinner sucked donkey rocks.

Fortunately, O. and I went on a Target-walk, got some booze, went back to my place and just relaxed. With my lip all better, I might even get laid tonight, before going to a new gaming friend’s less formal of two birthday soirées at a local pizza joint, to be followed by a session of Gomeroke, which I have never before experienced (but am, admittedly, quite excited about). Her birthday present will likely be dinner for herself and her boyfriend (a gaming friend of much longer acquaintance), cooked by me. It’ll be a challenge, as they’re both vegetarians, but will be nice. I like both of them, and really have to expand the number of people who I liked first with whom Orpheus will break bread willingly.

Anyway, there’s really nothing else for the time being, except that I get to go home tonight and snack on apples from the Epplegarten, and salt-n-vinegar potato chips from Target, and have martini with a touch of pomegranate Jones soda (which comes from a Dracula-head themed 8-oz. can), and possibly make the two-backed beast before pizza. And gomeroke. Woo… Tonight is looking better already!

Dirty, dirty Pirates...

In honor of International Pirate Day, or whatever it’s called, a poem… Well, it’s a Limerick, and that’s a kind of poem, so yeah…

There once was a cur from Nantucket,
Had a peg-leg so thick it filled buckets.
With a kiss and a grin,
All the fishwives gave in,
To unspeakable sins for a ducket.

All bow before the might of my filthy verse! YAR!!! Actually, it's kind of funny... The secretary in my department, who is totally AWESOME, dressed as the dread Pirate Anne Bonny, niece of Bluebeard, for the second year in a row. The bosses are treating her gingerly today. She loved the limerick, btw. Hope you do, too.

Manic much, yo?!?

Yesterday evening was far better than expected. Orpheus was very kind despite my post-work grumpiness, and we watched the first episode of ‘The Venture Brothers: Season 3’ while snuggling after I got home from work. It involved the origin story of The Monarch and his far superior partner in villainy, the gravel-voiced Dr. Girlfriend (who is the hottest cartoon walking-trannie joke EVER). I told him what the doctor said about my stupid lip, and he maintained cheerfulness, even giving me a little of the Chinese food he’d gotten for lunch down the street from my place as a tide-over snack to get me through the Philip Roth interview… Which, I found out on the way over, was a teleconference interview. He wasn’t at the bookstore at all. I just spent the entire time in Borders’ luxurious cookbook section, salivating over the expensive pretties, and silently deriding certain recipes and volumes heartily.

When O. was ready, after he’d gotten bored with the lengthy interview re: what Philip read about the Korean War to get himself ready for this project, we headed downstairs and eventually out. Now, Borders is close to one of my favorite liquor stores ever, Steve’s Liquor, this particular location of which also has a cheese case/delicatessen area. I ordered a pound of unsalted Amish butter, and got a handle of vodka for Orpheus’ place, then we went over to Noodles (a nice slow-fast food chain,) for dinner, as O. had a two for one coupon. I’d forgotten how much I like pesto, and it’s really easy to make, so… Voila! Dinner idea!!! After Noodles, we went back to O’s place, proceeded to get silly drunk, and watched ‘What’s Up, Tigerlilly?’, the Woody Allen dub based off a bad Japanese espionage-type movie. He manages to turn it into his own personal paean to yellow fever, unsurprisingly.

I had weird dreams all night long, ones I don’t fully remember. I slept remarkably well, considering. All I can really remember is that I need to call Leo. It’s been about a month since he disappeared to San Diego, and, being that I helped him learn to write like a liberal arts freako, I feel I deserve an update. Orpheus and I have tonight off, as I’m having the first big roomie night with Terra Firma in a long while. Wish me luck on that count! Here’s hoping I can get the boxes out of the damned livingroom.

Lippy...

Tonight, it’s off to Phillip Roth’s reading at the bookstore… with more mystery lip-thingies. I went to my doctor over lunch today, and he says that the sore doesn’t present like herpes, and since it’s so early, it’s very hard to tell. It hasn’t wept yet, and even if it had, he’s not sure that I’ve produced antibodies, so I might not test positive for anything. He says it’s highly unlikely to be any of the other usual suspects, either, but urges me to come back for testing if it keeps happening. Nice. So, no more sex for another week while my lip heals, then just wait for it to happen again (if ever) to get a chance to find out I have herpes, or maybe something worse. Yippie-ki-yi-yay. All I need now is to find out that Orpheus has had it all along and hadn’t gotten around to telling me, or that I picked it up from my dirty whore ex back when the stress wasn’t bad enough to force me to break out in hives.

I don’t have the energy to cook, tonight. I don’t know what the fuck we’re going to eat. Last night, I made Galician empanadas for O. and I, and they were bloody delicious. Next time, they’ll be even better, as I won’t make the mistake of estimating the time it will take the onions to turn into a carmelized goo. Also, I’ll properly fold over the crust-edge. Other than that, damn, was it delicious. I have a neat idea for a dual dish… I’d make a “Greek Turnover” using red onions, red and green peppers, cooking down as for the empanadas, then, instead of adding tomato, putting in the innards of a small roasted eggplant. After cooking down further, I’d spread it on the puff pastry (or phylo… Hmm…), and sprinkle with feta, serving with nicely grilled or olive-oil sautéed wine-marinated lamb. Or kabobs. Yummy!

Anyway, I’m not looking forward terribly much to the Phillip Roth. Mostly, I’m doing it for Orpheus, because he wants to see Roth give a reading and an interview. I could take or leave Roth. I kind of liked Operation: Shylock, but found it rather too pat, honestly. Good writing, though. I was far less than happy with Portnoy’s Complaint, and was so disgusted by the main character’s self-loathing I had to stop reading. Goodbye, Columbus I could take or leave, honestly. There’s just too much ugliness in Roth’s writing, and I don’t see the point of spending time on things so Operatically disgusting, building unpleasantness upon unpleasantness to a wholly noxious conclusion when life is already startlingly less than beautiful. I prefer my fiction not to eviscerate, as I’m reading for pleasure. For blood and violence, I go to the movies. It’s the kind of thing I don’t care to imagine myself. We’ll see what happens. I heard an interview of Mr. Roth on NPR a year or so ago that I found utterly charming, so who knows? Wish me luck…

Lots and lots and lots of the nasty

This weekend was quite odd… In several ways. First, O. and I took his crush from the mysterious activity several months back to go see ‘The Full Monty’ at the Bartell Theatre. This, after I cooked a lovely dinner of sautéed salmon served on a bed of wilted greens with roast potatoes, all of which was doused with a bit of the cooking juices and balsamic vinegar. Next time, slightly more balsamic vinegar will be used to do the trick. The show was OK. We saw plenty of people that we’d slept with in the distant past, which was a little sketchy. We also, afterwards, went back to Crush’s place, and attempted to seduce him by mutual agreement. It didn’t quite work. Hopefully, we haven’t ruined the friendship completely, especially considering that Bulgaria’s BF now lives with Crush. Meh. Either way, it was 4 AM by the time we got back to my place, and collapsed into bed.

Saturday morning, it took me forever to get ahold of BakedAlaska, just to find out that he wasn’t going to be making it to the weekly dungeon crawl, as QuakerNoOats (his wife,) was very ill, and so he had to take care of their adorable rugrat, EvilGenius. Since one other guy was already missing, this meant role playing was cancelled, so I just used the excuse that I was “going back to bed” with Dungeon Master, as a board-game day didn’t sound like fun to me, at all. O. and I kicked around after an excellent breakfast of free-range eggs, eventually having some really great flip-flop action that left us both breathless and sticky. We then headed back downtown and hit the Monroe St. festival (an annual sale-extravaganza on one of the main shop-drags near campus), getting back to O.’s before three so he could nap before working until midnight. While he was gone, I watched ‘In Bruges,’ which is possibly the yuckiest film I’ve seen in a while. I like violence in cinema when it is 1) obviously legendary in scope and/or nature, and 2) When there’s a decent point. Think ‘Kill Bill,’ and you’ve got the kind of wacky b.s.-type violence I like in my movies… Utterly removed from reality. ‘In Bruges,’ on the other hand, was full of pointless, music-starved, gritty blood-spattered scenes featuring firearms ueber-alles… Unforgivable and just plain gross, not to mention depressing. Orpheus drove us back to my place, and we crashed.

Sunday was a sleep-late day. There was very little to say about it except that O. picked a recipe from my Spanish cookbook to try for dinner (beer-based beef pot-roast, essentially), we went to the Mall and to see ‘Hamlet 2,’ and had more mind-blowing sex. Dinner wasn’t that good. I have no idea what to make for dinner tonight, and work has me wanting to put a bullet in my brain-pan. Le-sigh!

d'oh!

Jesus. It’s been a busy week. Last night sucked rocks. I ate some delicious cheese burritos of my own concoction, however. I won’t tell you what was in them, except that it wasn’t spicy so much as it was cheesy, and wasn’t a burrito so much as it was several different cheeses with sour cream in a tortilla with a couple other ingredient x-es. Dairy delight. I also drank entirely too much… By myself… Meh. No more alcohol for awhile, maybe. I want my job to end. Now. I want to go home, and be rich, and retrain through further education for my real career. You know, the one that might have a chance of making me feel not like a ton of bricks at the end of the business day. Or, the one that makes me feel like a ton of contented bricks. I don’t care which, as long as I don’t feel like a ton-pile of shit anymore. On that note, had a really sleazy interview today, that was really nothing more than a vetting session. I have to go to the info session to find out what is really going on. It might still hold water, or I might walk out halfway through laughing. The interviewer said, “it takes a lot of a four-letter word to advance here… w-o-r-k!” I nearly laughed in her face. Work is good, but only if it has a point. We’ll see…

Wierd, wet weekend

Wow. It’s been a long weekend, and generally disagreeable by many standards, albeit very pleasant by others. Both Orpheus and I were exhausted on Friday, and didn’t do anything, really, but sleep. I made my curried apple cider braised pork chops, and served them over sautéed veggies (green beans, sliced carrots, celery, chopped banana pepper, garlic and ginger. O. did some laundry at my place. We watched “Company,” the Sondheim musical, on DVD from the library. The main character, Bobby, is hot. Saturday morning, I had to get O. back downtown to work, then, with great trepidation, went off to DungeonMaster’s new apartment for roleplaying. Dungeons and Dragons 4.0 isn’t a system I’m yet comfortable with… As we created characters, I became even less comfortable, but think that, after playing once, and nearly dying twice, I’m on the road to OK, now. My new character is Nathalion Ten’ethriil, an elven blade ranger who is a newly minted member of a secret society. Let’s just say that I think this will get interesting really fast, especially with a few new players in the mix. I’m already playing the mutual foil game with the new mage in the group. Our characters mix like oil and water. It should prove fun. Now, I just have to start the massive work of creating a back-story for the character. Which, given that I hardly know anything about the world (we’re playing in the Forgotten Realms), may prove difficult.

In any case, I really like DM’s new place! It’s a beautiful top-floor apartment in a three-floor house that was portioned out. He has a huge, beautiful kitchen with a dishwasher, and even in-unit washer and drier… These things are exceedingly uncommon in his neighborhood. I got the chance to chat up his girlfriend, which was a delight. I like her a little more every time we get to talk. She fits with him, well, I think, even if I don’t always approve of the way he jokes with her. That’s their affair, after everything, anyway, and some joking is private joking, even when public. I look forward to visiting them in their home more in the future, at least, which is a great boon in RPGing… To be comfortable in the environment is key.

Saturday night, Orpheus and I had some super-fun non-penetrative sex, followed up early Sunday afternoon with some wild penetration. With Terra Firma’s blessing, we had decided to invite Bulgaria’s BF over, as well as O’s crush, to dinner. We spent a good deal of the afternoon cleaning, and I cooked for about two hours total to make a simple but multi-course meal. We started with bruschetta, then had the same delicious Martha Stewart pasta salad as I made for O’s birthday, then American potatoes with my executive kibbeh burgers. Finally, O. made some scones, which we served with whipped cream, and sliced strawberries in honey w/vodka, salt and a touch of pepper. The vodka was just a dribble… Enough to volatilize the flavors. It was delicious. I think BF is doing OK, considering. He had a three hour chat with Bulgaria on IM before he came over, and things seem good for the time being. Let’s hope that they stay that way.

This weekend, O. and I will probably attend a production of “The Full Monte” on Basso’s recommendation, with Crush (Bulgaria’s BF’s roomie, Orpheus’ crush,) in tow. I think I’ve made it clear to O. that I don’t really want to pursue a threeway with Crush, and also that C. has never HAD a threeway, anyway. I got this little tidbit of info at Bulgaria’s going away party, when everyone was a couple drinks in and it was safe to fish for information without seeming an ass. My poor boyfriend seems to be taking the news fairly well, and we both enjoy hanging out with C., so I think we’ve added another gay friend without benefits to our network (thank god). I don’t necessarily want two friends with benefits to know each other well, as Crush was good friends with Basso well before either O. or I knew him from Adam. That would probably be kinda creepy.

Autumn? Really?...

It’s fall. Suddenly, after over a month of hot, dry weather where rain came a drop at a time, once every other week, the sky broke. Yesterday was an eternity of grey skies, cold weather, and water falling from the sky steadily, at a medium pace. Something shattered in the air, and summer evaporated like a long, sad dream. My mood matched my mien matched my energy matched the sky. My best friend gone, a mediocre sales day at best, too tired to feel excited even about my impending trip to see Chris Thile and the Punch Brothers, I was very pleased when I finally got to Orpheus’ place. He offered to use his discount at a local restaurant chain associated with his place of work before the concert.…

I understand that this sounds kind of sketchy, but it’s the kind of chain that’s run by restaurateurs, and no two of the places has the same menu, or even price points. What they share is management, buying power, and a commitment to higher-class kitchen technique, local produce sourcing when possible, etc… I had a lovely open-faced breakfast sandwich. It was an English muffin bearing up butter-sautéed “Mediterranean” veggies (tomato, caper, artichoke, olive, onion, etc.), in turn shouldering beautifully poached eggs. This whole was served with a side of Mornay sauce, though I have never heard of a mornay with mustard added. Despite said heresy, however, it was delicious, and the copious amounts of coffee I consumed alongside dinner did help immensely with my little problem re: wakefulness. However, the kitchen was so fast, that we felt like no sooner had we warmed our seats than we were back out on the street, cold and wet, and still waiting for the theatre to open up the street about a block.

We took a walk, and got back about the time the doors opened. The crowd was very small, probably because the Punch Brothers have a very odd following for a band as modish as they happen to be. It’s half ancient bluegrass hippie-types, and half hipsters that tend to make it out to see Thile in his scarecrow-like glory. And no self-respecting hipster is going to show up on time to a concert, as that would be too too, if you get my drift. Also, one benefits from not hearing the caterwauling of what is usually already a local scene band for acts of this size. Unfortunately, this meant the show started with a depressingly empty theatre, and as there was no opening act, little energy. However, the Punch Brothers being as talented as they are, drew from some deep well in themselves, and really pulled out a great show. This was helped when the younger, rowdier, more standing-capable trustafarians in glowing cashmere and filthy denim showed up and began giving some energy back to the band.

Now, if you haven’t heard the Punch Brothers, think Nickel Creek, but purer, closer to the Thile bluegrass ideal, albeit quite modern. Think brilliant arpeggios, deft single-line melody, stunning rhythmic reversals at the end of phrases, and perfect balance between instrumental elements. It’s a string band, and the closest they get to percussion is a standing bass, but are vibrantly rhythmic nonetheless. Also, think mind-numbing, Enlightenment/Baroque/Clockwork/French cooking-style precision laced through it all. Plus, the violinist is a really hot bearded guy stuck in the attractive place between otter and bear, who occasionally throws in gratuitous little pelvic thrusts while playing. O. and I find him utterly au charmant (sp?). I didn’t get to the concert anything but full and sleepy, but by the end, I was energized. We took a walk, as it had cleared up and cooled down a little, then watched some third season Drawn Together before going to bed. Unfortunately, by the time Orpheus decided he wanted to spelunk in my underworld, I was too far gone, and had to refuse, which sucks… He rarely initiates sex. But I think that falling asleep while my lover was inside me would’ve been more traumatic than a simple refusal of services in the first place.

Tonight, we may go dancing. It’s been awhile. Fortunately, we first have a date to nap through rush-hour at his place. The season is changing, I start roleplaying in D+D’s new 4.0 edition tomorrow, for the first time in Madison without Bulgaria as a companion. But it’s cooler and more pleasant, and I’ll see him again. Change is just change, and I’m damn near permanent… At least, relatively… Fuck.

I’ve Said Goodbye

Being an adult sucks. When I was younger, I was never the type to make friends easily. This problem lessened as I aged, gained a modicum of experience in personal interactions, and generally loosened up between the ages of 16 and 22. These days, though, I’m working at a very demanding job, have a wonderful relationship and excellent links to good friends, but my best friends keep dropping on me! It’s tough to meet new people now, and maybe one in ten work friends can realistically make the transition to real ones. Worse, the day has finally come… Bulgaria is hopping on a plane as of Friday, and I had my last get-together with him yesterday evening. His BF’s car is having transmission trouble, and worse, since B. hasn’t been able to work legally in some time, his man’s been working several jobs to make ends meet, pay for the plane ticket, etc… Even get him a cheap laptop so that they can do video chat. I picked them up at BF’s new place, and took ‘em to Target so that Bulgaria could get some last-minute packing implements. Then, we went over to the grocery store, and I got the ingredients for a simple, fast meal. I didn’t let them help to cook, but it was done in 30 min. flat, anyway. BF’s new roomie is the guy Orpheus has a crush on from his mysterious activity of a few months ago, and he’s a good sort. I fed him, too. We all tried to be optimistic while watching the RNC. We drank too much. I had a good time, despite the finality of it all. I hated hugging B. goodbye. I nearly cried. And now, it’s over.

The friendship will go on, but it’s never the same without face-to-face interaction. With a busy day in front of me today, all I can do is mourn. That’s no good. Tonight, O. and I are headed to a Punch Brothers concert, featuring good ‘ol Chris Thile. This was part of Orpheus’ birthday present, and should prove a good distraction. I just want to find the hollow between his arms and sleep for awhile, though, which isn’t any good when it comes to concert going. A pox on all assholes who don’t support gay marriage!!! If it were legal, there’d be no problems. Bulgaria and BF would’ve gotten hitched, Bulgaria would be happily working, and the two of them wouldn’t be overtired and anxious.

Holy Top Chef, Batman!!!

Wow. Yesterday was really fun, but started out rather embarrassingly. See, I forgot that I took a day off at work. I knew Top Chef was coming to Madison, but figured that since Orpheus and I had not been successful in getting online tickets, we were not going to get into the show. Apparently, however, I asked for the time off before tickets became available. So, I came in, and thirty minutes into a day I was sure would be one of the hardest I’d ever done, my supervisor comes up and says,

“So, Aeffchen, why are you here today? Come over to my computer… See? It looks like you have today off.” I played it cool, asked to go upstairs and call around…. Cleared spending the day together with O… And then, got the hell out. Once I reached O’s place, we quickly decided to hit Gotham for bagel sandwiches for breakfast, and signed up for overflow seating beside the Top Chef trailer on MLK St. just off the Capital Square. We didn’t get into the first show, and then had to walk all the way back to Orpheus’ place, and move my car… We went back, wandered around the small Wednesday Farmers’ Market taking place on the drive leading up to Monona Terrace (the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed, but not FLW-executed, disaster of a convention center on Lake Monona), and didn’t get into the second show, either… So we went back to O’s place after moving my car, then tromped back out for the third show. After a great deal of finger-crossing and nail-biting, my name was called from the overflow list, and Orpheus and I mounted the steps into the mysterious Top Chef Tour trailer… And climbed into a very comfortably air-conditioned, miniscule hall with 40 production chair set up so the audience could see what the two presenters were making inside the tiniest kitchen area I’ve ever seen.

The celeb chefs we saw yesterday were Dale and Stephanie, from the third and fourth seasons of Top Chef, respectively. Dale, of course, is a sexual interest for both O. and myself, and, as he entered the kitchen, Orpheus undid a gratuitous couple of buttons on his shirt… I never liked Stephanie much on the show, but in person, she’s pretty cool. They had worked together before Top Chef, and are both Chicago-based chefs, so it was really neat to hear their kitchen banter while they cooked. Nothing terribly juicy came out, but apparently Hung was a smug chump in real life, too, though they did say he wasn’t nearly as asinine as the production team made him out to be. Really, most of the time, they were just talking about how they didn’t know their own schedule for the next day while filming, and how less than 2% of what was filmed ever made it on-screen. The camera crews were with them until the last person went to sleep every night. How horrible! Oh, yeah… And they totally had no-sex clauses in their contracts.

The neat little tomato/fruit salad with half-homemade ravioli (made with wonton wrappers, as they didn’t have enough room for a pasta machine) and shaved goat cheese in a balsamic vinaigrette was quite good, especially considering that they were chatting it up and taking questions the entire time they were cooking. Afterwards, we hung out in line, and got autographed photos for free of both of them. Orpheus asked Dale to sign his chest, which Dale, prudently, I think, refused to do in public with so many kids around. Stephanie signed O’s photo “Orpheus, I TOTALLY would’ve signed your chest!!! Love, Stephanie” It was really cool. Plus, pretty early in the day, O. had found a wad of cash on the street corner with over $60. I felt a little bad about it, but we drank pretty damned well, yesterday, so all wasn’t lost. Plus, we went out to dinner at my favorite bar/restaurant, and had my fav. pulled pork sandwich in town. Yay, Nottspil!!! Unfortunately, our order was f@#$ed up by the waitress the first time, and they rushed our order for the correct sandwiches through the kitchen… Mine was perfect, but O’s gave him indigestion as it was swimming with pork fat. They usually press the meat to drive out as much of the grease as possible.

When it got time for him to live-blog the DNC last night, Orpheus kicked me out of his apartment. I wandered up to the square AGAIN, and read at the Torando Room for a bit. O. got me a book called World War Z: An Oral history of the Zombie War at the library, yesterday. It has me super-excited, and I even got hit on (I think) by the world’s hottest over-forty bartender because of the book. He engaged me in a smoldering discussion of zombie cinema. It was nice. Oh, and Orpheus and I actually managed to have some short-winded but much needed buttsex yesterday, thank God. It was, all told, a pretty awesome day.

Hooks Set... Ready, Set, ANNOY!!!

Last night was pretty interesting, if a touch miffy on my part. Orpheus live-blogged the Democratic National Convention. Rather, I should say, he live-blogged the annoyingly Olympic COMMENTARY thereof. I found it freakishly annoying to be hearing brain-dead reporters, still tired from Chinese jet-lag, pulling the least relevant shit out of their asses while you could hear good speeches going on in the background. Note to NBC: If you’re going to televise a convention, TELEVISE THE CONVENTION!!! I don’t want to hear your hack, idiot, jet-lagged journalism monkeys squawking over the floor show, no matter how distinguished their educational pedigree. But all that didn’t happen until later in the night. Let’s back up together…

I headed downtown following work, and braved a particularly idiot-laced road-riot of a driving situation before parking suspiciously easily near O’s place. Upon picking up the keys, I force-fed myself at Orpheus’ apartment, as Chemie and her two really cool Indian (like the Asian sub-continent,) roommates had gotten a cable modem, but couldn’t get their wireless network operational. So, after finally getting her computer to somewhere approaching copasetic on Saturday, I headed over after O. returned, and set up the ‘net for them while Orpheus listened to all the most annoying music channels on digital cable and they all danced around the apartment, making far too much noise for my taste and level of necessary concentration. The network is now set up, and other than a rancidly stupid password, as secure as it could possibly be given the girls’ inability to ‘fix’ any technical ‘problems’ that could occur were the network any more secure (like my brother-in-laws… He has it set up to only work for their computers, and is just lazy enough that, when you ask him to set your computer up, too, he’ll just say “I’ll do it later, please use my computer in the office for now!” Needless to say, he never does).

So, we finally leave there about an hour and a half later, and despite my sense of accomplishment, O. is EXTREMELY hungry, and dinner will take at least forty minutes to put on the table. It doesn’t help that he’s excited about live-blogging the DNC, and is spending all our travel time inside his head reflecting on the kinds of cutting witticisms he’ll employ to degrade both me and those unlucky enough to be speaking, later… I’d have been in a better mood had he paid some attention to me on the car-ride home. Then, we get back, I start cooking apple cider-curry-braised pork chops, and O. starts typing away, clickety-clack. I’m forced to spend yet more time listening to things I don’t particularly want to listen to while doing something that, while I take pride in my cooking, was a rather half-hearted task, given the late hour. This is when I started getting horribly annoyed with the networks for putting on commentary. If I’m going to be forced to listen to empty promises of schlock to come anyway, I’d rather be treated to good oratory. Senator Kennedy’s speech was glorious, for instance… Then they spent the next thirty minutes picking it apart half-heartedly, whilest I browned boneless chops, cooked down onions, added a wonderful curry powder, deglazed with vermouth, and began cooking down the cider. Fortunately, this a sweet dish, so my bitterness didn’t come out in the sauce.

This kept going, through dinner even, with Orpheus mostly ignoring me, even when I told him point-blank my meal had better be more important to his hungry butt than the pathetic interview then going on with Carolyn Kennedy, moderated by interrupt-ey, tired anchor-monkeys. After dinner, he wouldn’t stop blogging to help with dishes, and thus, to keep myself from being really nasty and saying something I’d regret, I did the damned dishes myself. Michelle Obama’s speech was pretty good, though it started out with the most disingenuous crap about her “faith” I’ve ever heard. I don’t want to hear about her faith. I don’t go to Baptist churches for a reason, and wish my Grandmother would STFU regarding God when I visited. Mrs. Obama’s relationship to some possible higher being is none of my never-mind… Conversely, my faith is mine, and anybody who tries to talk to me about it, unless they are very respectful, and very careful, will get a ridiculously profane earful.

Also, putting up Hillary as the first person she mentions as a shatterer of glass ceilings might’ve been more effective if the expression on her face hadn’t been so pinched as she said it, or if she’d apologized for the really incendiary comments she’s made in the past regarding Frau Clinton. I, like many others, am forced into the distasteful situation of supporting Barack, a candidate who I do not believe is ready for the Presidency, because of Hillary’s ouster from the bosom of her party. With ill-defined “change” promised after little substantive explanation of the mechanisms thereof, I’m precious little closer to waving an Obama flag now than I was a month ago, when it became clear it was all over. The least his wife could’ve done was wipe the stigmas she’s painted onto his campaign clear in her otherwise solid speech, and dispense with the fucking faith-crap. She’s a high-powered bitch with a law degree. She doesn’t any more believe in a caring creator than I do, and it sticks in my craw to hear her say what she said. Barack better bring it later this week’s all I’ve got to say.

The worst part of last night was after Orpheus and I had gone to bed. He said something that was really snippy when I asked if I could read the post. Instead of kicking his ass out of bed, I demanded my pillow while stealing a blanket, and informing him I’d be sleeping on the couch… It was my place. I felt irritated, powerless, and used. Fortunately for him, he showed appropriate flags at that point, rubbed my back, and got me chocolate. The shit he said about me was more or less balanced, despite being hopelessly tow-headed… Fucking English majors don’t understand politics any better than Southern Baptists. We had a nice session of mutual masturbation, and I got a wonderful night’s sleep. He’s still at my place, and after a phone call over lunch, aware that I’m still residually pissed about yesterday. It’s funny how I can be mad at him, but still feel a little sad that we’re not able to meet for lunch, or take a walk together or some such. Love sucks as wonderful journeys go, but it can be a lot of fun in addition to being a lot of work. Too bad about last night, but we’ll see about the next ten years…

Randomly woven thread

This weekend sucked rocks. Well, not really, but it wasn’t terribly interesting, either. I developed the weirdest sore on my lip, which I was assured by my doctor wasn’t an STD (post-testing), but he’ll be damned if he has any idea what it actually is, either. There’s another culture that should be coming in, soon… Thrush, maybe? That’s what I get for falling asleep without brushing my teeth after drinking wine or beer one too many times. I’m getting hits left and right for my new resume, but most of the jobs aren’t the type that I have any interest in, whatsoever. Orpheus hopes fervently that I’ll get a good call regarding a new job, as I’ve been rather a prickly pear for the last few weeks, and am drinking too much. Oh, yeah, and I’m getting fat.

The one plus (given everything else, including the [contagious?] sore, no decent job hits, the imminent exodus of Bulgaria from the US of A, etc), despite my clear preference for oral/anal/makeout to whacking off, is that I’m really hitting O’s buttons with the mutual masturbation. Until we’d established our basic interface rules early in the relationship, the sex was VERY awkward, and sometimes off-putting. For me, because Orpheus likes to be edged, and my hand would fall asleep before he was ready to cum. For him, because I like frottage, and it used to freak his shit out. Nowadays, these are rare activities in aggregate… Lately, they’ve been constant. One, two, three times daily. And he’s starting to have that happy, Mooney expression in his eyes every time he looks at me. This is nice, but I can’t wait to find out about mr. weird-sore so we can get back to the butt-sex. As he gets Mooney, I’m getting irritated. Plus, he’s got a condition where he gets multiple cankers inside his mouth when he is stressed or eats something too spicy, and he can’t eat my ass, either, so I’m not bottoming until he’s rated to ream full-bore. Boo, weird mouth sores, BOO!!!

Saturday was odd, as Bulgaria threw his going away party… He’s in the US until September 5th, but wanted to see everybody one last time. I’m supposed to be making dinner for Bulgaria and his BF next week as a last hurrah for us. It’s so depressing, and I can’t be negative about it, but when one’s best friend in a city leaves, it’s painful and distressing. Especially given the role B. played for me, getting me through the divorce. Sunday was just all-around crappy. I was at Orpheus’ place downtown while he worked, and I spent most of the day sleeping. I also slept all night last night, and I’m tired as hell today. I’ll be sleeping through my lunch break for the first time in forever. Also, it’s FREEZING in here, and I just can’t get warm. My fingers keep fumbling they’re so cold and grey with purple at the tips… Poop!

Prospecting...

Yesterday, when I woke up, I was cranky. This was odd, because the night before, I’d cooked with Aries. She made a lovely gazpacho, and I’d tricked myself into believing that tofu was, perhaps, low-quality chicken in my old walnut pork recipe. This, with the addition of a reconstituted-dried porcini duxelle in the last five minutes, and a butter-reinforced reduction of dried-mushroom-soaking-juice, dry vermouth, and thickener (corn starch, to my great chagrin), applied as a marinade to the tofu. It took about five times as long, and I don’t think the orange works as well with the heaviness of meaty mushrooms, but I was pleasantly surprised that my evil plan paid off. In any case, though, it had been a good night, and an interesting dinner with fun conversation, so it was a surprise when, upon opening my eyes, I couldn’t stand the thought of working.

I showered, I masturbated, still no will to work. So I called in. I called in, then got to work at updating my resume again, and applied to ten jobs. I also managed to get three solicitation calls today at work, in addition to one last night. The one from last night sucked, though, when I got in touch with the guy… We’ll see how things pan out. Orpheus was very kind yesterday, and even gave me a high-five when he found out I’d skipped work to do prospecting. Oy.

Roux-thickened beef stew, booze, and impotence

This weekend was an odd tapestry, all told. Orpheus and I spent a good deal of time together, and I finally got Chemie's computer set up right, more or less. There was probably some minor damage to the installation of Windows I had to re-do when I used the installation utility to partition the SCSI disk to make way for Ubuntu, but it seems like that should be easy enough to repair… And it'll probably
only mean doing something with the drivers so it recognizes the Ethernet port, again.

I cooked a cheap version of Coq au Vin with chicken breasts and instant stock (Julia forgive me), which yielded enough sauce to make a nice high fat/protein treat last night whilest O. and I were getting wasted and watching Barbarella: Queen of the Galaxy. Before Sunday, I never had any idea that, 1) such an absurdly fan-service-oriented sci-fi flop could exist, and 2) Dino de Laurentiis was such a freak, though Dune really should've clued me in… Also the fact that Giada is Giada, for the Foodies amongst you. I also made a minor-league unfortunate decision in cooking a vegetarian version of my orange walnut pork as the principal dinner dish for dinner that night, and it didn't work out terribly well. I think the addition of a nice duxelle of portobellos to the sauce may do it, or soaking dried mushrooms, reducing the resulting mushroom-y water and adding it to the thin, large strips of tofu to marinade. It just needs a slightly meatier flavor. The texture was spot-on.

Incidentally, this post also takes care of last night, which was a mixed thing, all told. Orpheus had to work late, and I wanted to get things done at my place after cooking a wonderful meal with Bulgaria… But Basso, he of the super-flakiness, wanted to come over and “watch a movie.” So, we congregated at O.’s place, popped in Barbarella, and got to poppin’. Unfortunately, I had been drinking rather heavily, and wasn’t exactly up to the task, which is quite a shame… Let’s just say that, usually, I get to be the guest of honor at these little gatherings in terms of the active role, and, as in Hamlet, too much alcohol may increase desire, but it takes away certain abilities to perform. God, how I hate booze right now.

Bingo, dingo…

Wow. Last night, I joined a few work friends in one of the most singularly off-putting (initially, anyway,) yet fascinating and fun social activities I’ve ever participated in… Bingo at the East Side Club in Madison, WI. I went with Aries, E. and G. (who are secretly dating, both also in the industrial sales department like me), and even dragged Orpheus along for the field trip. First off, it’s the last place left in Madison that I know where folks can smoke indoors. Secondly, there’s a bar abutting the bingo hall. Finally, the place is full of oxygen-tank-toting smokers-ancien (for those of you who are non-Francophones, or folks offended by my lack of proper punctuation, that’s ancient smokers,) on mobility carts, all of whom looked at O. and I as if we were baby-killers when we walked into the room.

“Oh, my stars… There are GAYS here!” was written plainly across their plastic-masked, gasping, piggy faces. Needless to say, we made a beeline for the bar, where the younger, hiper, drunker bingo-ers were already destroying their livers and lungs concurrently. Fortunately, the bar tender, while deeply stupid, was rather easy on the eyes, and the drinks were cheap. One by one, my work companions trickled in, and the conversation started. We were adopted by a really nice girl (I say girl like she wasn’t 21 already, and nearly done with her associates’ degree… And smoking like a chimney… And effectively driving two huge sheets of bingo grids w/nine games on each whilst the inept caller did his thing… And still had time to take a sip of her drink between calls… And tell us how to pull our heads out of our asses and play right,) who shall heretofore be known as BingoVirgil. She certainly led us out of a dark wood, wandering, while proving most entertaining, to boot.

Anyway, by the end of the night, after only three beers, yours truly was wasted. I’d had nothing more than a single scone for breakfast, and a packet of instant high-fiber oatmeal for lunch. We were all doing things like calling “WOO!” when O-69 was called, while the old folks’ more understated bell-ring accompanied the call of B-22. That in itself became a joke for us neophytes at the corner of the bar, putting away by far more liquor than wins. Finally, after the second round of play, we gave it up, and gifted all our extra cards to BingoVirgil, with whom we all exchanged hopes she’d see us at some point in the future. I was so far gone, O. and I just went to Qdoba for dinner. It was delicious, and has me planning braised pork shoulder with smoked chorizo, onions, peppers, lime and cilantro. Mmm…

Julie & Julia & Aeffchen, a Man Unhinged…

OK, so Orpheus got me Julie & Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen, by Julie Powell, from the public library. I started the book yesterday, having just finished The Omnivore’s Dilemma (a remarkable non-fiction read,) last Friday. Now, I’m usually not one for lightly fictionalized memoirs (oddly enough), but after about 50 pages and thirty-odd minutes of reading, I’m bloody well hooked. Perhaps its’ the niggling similarities between myself and the author… We were both partners adrift in our respective marriages, both bookish at an early age, and found Mom and Dad’s sex manual stashes at startlingly similar times and in similar fashions. This, however, wasn’t enough for Julie. She had to go and 1) successfully save her marriage, 2) discover the joys of cooking at a stressful nexus in her life, exploding into said activity instead of just puttering about, and 3) write about all this in a manner decidedly superior to mine. I’m so jealous I could scream, and pretty sure she could out-cook me without breaking a sweat.

Bitch. Marvelous bitch.

What makes it worse is, there is now no hope for me to create a break-away genre of cooking diary, because it’s already been done. There goes my Booker Prize, and, incidentally, any hope of being played by Moby in a movie version of my so-called life. A real shame, too… I’d love to know who would play an Orpheus convincingly sexy enough to live up to the fleshly beast. ;-)

I really owe Orpheus a steak dinner

This weekend, Orpheus and I nearly parted ways. I say “nearly,” and it sounds so dramatic… Really, neither of us wants to break up, but there are certain pressures having to do with our sex life that I probably need to see a therapist about. The long and short of it is, we’re still together. Much of this all has to do with my severe phobia re: sexless relationships. My ex and I didn’t scrump for over a year before our separation and divorce. With O., the type of sexual deprivation is different, and leaves me feeling like I have half a sex life (albeit a really mind-blowing half… got to give credit where it’s due). We’ve been working on it, and until last night, there hadn’t been any breakthroughs. Still, I know he resents me for the conversation, a little… He’s feeling shame because he wasn’t fulfilling my needs, and worse, the whole shebang’s not an overriding reason for him. If our positions were reversed, he wouldn’t end the relationship over it. Orpheus, being who he is, though, accepted my distress, did his best to understand, and simply tried harder. Immediately. He is the most remarkable, tender man I know under pressure.

All’s not happiness and ginger, though. The blow-back, if there’s one, is yet to come. Generally, it takes O. awhile to come around to hurt or anger. We still haven’t had our first screaming match a year and a half into the relationship. Sure, we’ve shouted at each other, but never for protracted periods, and never for more than irritation over minor rubs. It’s easy to talk through that kind of thing later, and eventually curb the behavior that caused negative emotions. This project is, to put it mildly, a larger change in behavior that involves new patterns of dominance and submission, in an area that is highly sensitive to upset. But it’s important to me, and a necessary component of the relationship. The nickname Orpheus isn’t for naught… O. has meant more to me than anyone, romantically speaking, since LaGrippe. Really, he’s begun recently to feel more important than she ever was. I think, maybe, that’s why this whole thing suddenly became so important to me. And now it’s out there.

I really owe Orpheus a steak dinner.

The whole weekend was more or less uneventful. I did get to hang out with Bulgaria a bit, and check out his new Dell, which he got to make communication with friends here more probable while at home. It’s the home stretch before he leaves, and I’m trying very hard not to mourn him already. The time we have left is very important, very precious. We cooked together again, a delicious chicken and chorizo dish, with potatoes, lemon and gremmolata. Afterwards, B., his boyfriend, O. and I all went to see ‘The Dark Knight’ again. It was a good time.

Yesterday was, of course, the date of the big talk. Afterwards, he just wanted to be close to me, touch me. This isn’t normal for Orpheus. We watched movies all night long while I was, umm, “backing up” an amazing performance of Handel’s Giulio Cesare, starring a fantastically manly Mezzo in the title role, and a hot little number cross-trained as a dancer (who’ll soon be singing in Madison,) as Cleopatra. We talked a little more, and snuggled, and had sex twice. Weird. Good sex, though.

Happy Birthd... Wait, did I lose a digit in the salad?

So, Orpheus’ birthday was lots of fun, but it didn’t go off entirely without a hitch… First off, I had a LOT more cooking to complete than I had before thought. We had to take another trip to the store in order to get a couple odds and ends that had been too disgusting to buy at Woodman’s the day before… And we didn’t get the chance to go to a movie in the morning. In fact, we didn’t even fit in O.’s birthday doink until last night. No… Instead, whilst I was half-heartedly chopping two huge, heartbreakingly beautiful leeks, my concentration slipped and I nearly sliced off the tip of my left thumb. Through the nail, I cut down into the nail bed. It was such a clean cut, I didn’t believe it (or feel it,) at first. I managed to get my thumb compressed under running cold water before it even started to bleed. This did not sever part of my finger, or expose bone, or even clip part of the nail off. Instead, I have a long clean slice in the nail, that I’ll have to develop the balls to repair with glue and a tea bag patch, then file. I’m not looking forward to this task.

Anyway, all the rest of the chopping had to be done by Orpheus, but after I’d staunched the flow of blood, taken my last remaining vicodin, and dry-dressed my half-severed digital terminus with packing left over from my unfortunate brush with driveway gravel last summer, I finished the cooking part of the deal, and helped to pack up the feast. After everybody finally showed up (minus, of course, Basso… He had to go to dress rehearsal for something he’s in early), the picnic went swimmingly, and we even got to go out afterwards with Aphrodite, which was really nice. We hit the Orpheum, which is a big, pretty old theatre that’s been transformed into a kind of art movie-house that doubles as downtown’s least seedy mid-sized venue for good bands coming through town. There’s a restaurant/bar set up in the lobby, and one of the first bar waitresses I ever developed a rapport with in Madison (at a different bar, of course,) is now the general manager. It was a pleasant evening.

Yesterday was nice, too, and though the sex wasn’t fantastic for me, that wasn’t the point. We got to do some things that O. had really wanted to do again, or try for the first time. All in all, I think he had a good time on his birthday. I get the impression that nobody’s ever really bothered to throw him a party like that, before. Plus, as I’d envisioned the dinner, I got some spill-over ego stroking from all attendees to compensate for the fact that It wasn’t my birthday. ;-) And tonight, Orpheus and I get to spend the evening naked at my place. I’m looking forward to that.

Bend until you…

I had my first session of physical therapy this morning. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d imagined it would be, given my now-deceased Grandpa’s one-round bout with his therapist some years ago. The problem was, this guy wouldn’t listen to G-pa when told it hurt. Floyd being as out of it as he was at the time, brain riddled with Parkinsons and all, the PT didn’t think it necessary to be considerate. So he got punched. Hard. Hard enough to send him flying across the room. See, Grandpa may not have been able to balance enough to walk on his own anymore, but he was a veritable Franklin Roosevelt in the upper body strength category. My experience, fortunately, was much nicer. The lady who took care of me, we shall call her T., was amazing. She listened so well, and explained things just so, giving physical examples beautifully. I still stick with thanking god(dess-or whatever,) that I’ve never had to do this kind of work before, but would not hesitate to consider PT again in the future, if necessary.

The best part, though, was that I took a whole half-day off, just in case I was in a great deal of pain after the session. Since I started the appointment at 8 AM, this left me with a wide-open expanse of day. I jiggered it so that if I wanted to, I could come back in to work early, but didn’t… Begging “soul-wracking” soreness, I went home, had a leisurely breakfast cooked in my newly spotless kitchen (as of last night… I ignored Orpheus through the whole of Muppet Treasure Island to sterilize said isle of culinary delight), then fucked the living shit out of O. on the couch, to the accompaniment of Kathy Lee and Hoda on the Today Show, MC-ing an underwear model walk. Terra Firma is spending this entire week in the U.P. (Upper Peninsula of Michigan, for the uninitiated,) at some all-chick music festival with her girlfriend, so public-area screwing in my apartment is both feasible and deliciously permissible right now. Until T.F. returns, the policy on nudity is, once the main door closes, you’re naked. Orpheus likes it, as do I… Nudity in multiple rooms hearkens back to very early in our relationship, when I had my own two bedroom apartment, and we could have sex against any surface without worrying about grossing anybody else out. Now that I have a roomie, we are using a towel, and I’m cleaning again before Sunday… Stop making that face.

Tomorrow is Orpheus’ birthday, so after I am done at work, we’re going shopping, and I’m cooking up a storm. I have Wednesday off, and we will picnic with much pomp at dinner time, hosting Chemie, Basso, another friend, and possibly even Aphrodite, who may be back in town for the event. I’m to make pasta salad, a green salad, peach salsa, garlic/parmesan dip, fruit salad, and Faux-Chinese Chicken, which was specially requested by O. For dessert, we’ll buy a pie from L’MNO Pies, an AWESOME place near my apartment where you can get freshly baked pies, quiches, and the best pasties during lunchtime… They give you 40% off a pie on your birthday if you sign up to receive e-mails. Orpheus, of course, made sure he was on the list. We’ll also be seeing Hell Boy, if I have anything to say about it, and checking out a few fun things to do during the day. My gifts are, in reverse order of absurdity, a singing Sharpay doll a-la High School Musical (he’ll shit his pants, I swear…), a 600 mL SIGG bottle with an amusing design, and two (2) Punch Brothers’ Tickets. They’re coming back to town in September, and the last time we saw Chris Thile’s new band, it was amazing. Plus, I have to let him have me anywhere in my apartment he wants, at any time, for anything… Where did I put the poppers, again? j/k! I’ll tell you more about the party later.

Breath of Fresh Beer

Let me just say, I’m very glad to have a friend like Aries. She helped me talk through my Orpheus-angst last night over dinner (which was delicious), and I think that I’m formulating some positive relationship goals of my own as a consequence. More on that, later, when I’m done with RelationshipRes 1.0. The one problem with last night was the consumption of mass quantities of alcohol. Aside from feeling akin to a Cone-Head, my noggin feels as if it’s both 10 lbs. heavier and lighter than normal, with a tintinnabulation that so musically wells from my dust-dry, over-exerted circulatory system. Three beers and 2/3 of a bottle of wine BAD. But, with the help of the natural miracle that is caffine, (and plenty of water,) I’m winning through. Hell, I’m even managing to not be so down in the dumps today. Just don’t tell anybody… I might get a reputation for positive thinking.

Vanilla Pride... And Prejudice

My work friend A. found a new job, and today she gave notice early, and was sent home by 9 AM. I’m really sad, and not only because it’s so quiet here, now. She and I kind of depended on one another for support, and she gets to start over. I’m still stuck here, though, which sucks. I’m glad for her, but damn… This makes it that much harder to come to work in the morning. On the upside, Aries and I are having dinner again this evening. I’m teaching her to make fat-free cream of asparagus soup w/vegetarian stock, and marinated, pan-seared salmon with orange-dill sour cream. Paired with a nice white Bordeaux, I may just be able to forget about all this bullshit for the evening. Here’s hoping, anyway…

Orpheus and I seem to be at an impasse, but he doesn’t see it yet. He reacts to this situation by attempting to change something (anything,) about our diet and (lack of) physical activity level… Maybe it will help to jump-start things. I certainly hope so. But I’m not sure. Something feels very sunset about us right now. Hell, maybe it’s my inability to figure out anything to do about said feeling, my rage at feeling trapped in this god-forsaken job, trapped in choices I can’t undo. But O. is either a better person than me, or just younger and not yet defeated by life. Alternately, he could be dumb, but I seriously doubt it. Nobody who fucks like he does, reads like he does, and just plain lives like him is stupid. He’s so amazingly energetic regarding literature, music, culture. I wish he were a little better at cleaning up after himself, too, but then I fail on that point as well. I guess the deal is, I feel odd about us right now, but if he’s willing to put up with me, I’ll give at least as much as he does, because I love him and want him to thrive. You can’t thrive if you’re the only one giving in a relationship. I won’t let him do that to himself again, not with me. He deserves better than his other two longer-term boyfriends, and even if we do go our separate ways, I will embody better.

Speaking of long-term anything, the process continues to get Orpheus invited to Thanksgiving at my sisters’ house. She’s currently talking to Komponist about the possibility of turning suburbian St. Joe into a Nichols-family abbatoir for the holiday, given Dad’s inflexibility on the subject of my sexuality. Maybe, given what I’ve said above, it’ll be better than I think (aka, Orpheus and I may not still be escaping the underworld come November), or it’ll just GO better (if we are still a we). If Dad isn’t in his context, he’ll be nicer. Mom just wants to meet O., and would love him because I love him. This is how Mom works. Komponist doesn’t have any reservations about me being bi, but I’d understand not wanting a drunken former band director, beet-red in the face, hurling mashed potatoes in the dining room while making the neighbors blush with his screamed curses. That would be something I’d fear, too, honestly, and I’m not afraid of Dad anymore… But then, I can’t do good patchwork with plaster and paint, and neither can K.

To bring the tone back up to zero, I should share that I’ve just found the most freakishly over-marketed thing hanging from the outside of a co-worker’s cubicle… It’s a pine tree shaped car freshener, imprinted with the stars and stripes (it looks like a cutout of the bottom corner of the star-field, catching some of the stripes), and printed with the legend, “Vanilla Pride,” reeking like the Candle Barn at low tide. It made me laugh for a good five minutes. I needed that.

Weekend of Wonders, Elbow of Limitation

So, this weekend was pretty rockin,’ overall. Friday was a death march at work, as we had to call zero activity accounts and attempt to entice them with yet another bloody promo. Needless to say, that with near 30 of us doing our thing, this push only generated one sale. Nice, right? And we have to do it again tomorrow. It’ll be horrifyingly painful, but hey, no pain no gain. Anyway, after work, I was demoralized and dejected. I figured I’d just pass out, which didn’t happen, and then figured that Orpheus and I would just bicker all night about what we had planned… Fortunately, this didn’t happen either. The only real negative was that we had to eat at McDonalds on the way to the movies, as we didn’t have enough time for real food. Once we got to Star Cinemas, however, we saw…

BATMAN: THE DARK KNIGHT. And it was hot. White-hot, even. Folks really weren’t lying when they said it was a tour-de-force performance by Heath Ledger. Hell, if said disturbed hottie had survived his suicide attempt, everybody would still be excited by this performance… He’d still be on the short list for the Oscar. Heath took all the best things about Jack Nicholson’s Joker, made them his own, then expanded the role, tilting it crazier, more chaotic. Then there was the dirty and menacing, dangerously unstable angle. This joker wasn’t a kingpin. He was a visionary dabbler, a sadistic plotter of one-offs cleverly crafted to cause maximal chaos.

Poor Christian Bale got to do all the character development he’d ever be allowed in the last movie, and is now locked in the role of every legend of members of the gentry who want to help despite the social order… Zorro, Robin Hood, etc… These guys have wicked cases of Noblese Oblige, a lot of money and even some influence, but not enough of any of it to make a difference without a mask. They are strong, tortured albeit boring figures. Ledger’s Joker, on the other hand, didn’t grow up with money or parents responsible enough to teach him the Dog/God dichotomy… Therefore, the role had so much possibility. Oh, well. Bale’s been the bride before, so he’ll just have to play matron of honor stiff-lipped this time. Hopefully, they will figure out a way to give him more options in the next movie. The only thing that disappointed me was the Two-Face story line. I honestly think it sucked.

On Saturday, while Orpheus worked, I cooked with Bulgaria in preparation for Opera in the Park, a big promo that the Madison Opera does each year as a seasonal preview. They bring in a passel of principals from the upcoming shows, who each do three or so numbers and a couple big group sings with some annoying Three-Tenors type pop-crap for “flavor.” Either way, there are always some great favorites sung, and the small show this year is Cosi Fan Tutti, so we got to hear the initial female duet from the opera executed beautifully by a stunning Mezzo with earth-shattering control and rich, smoky tone, and a marginal blonde diva. It was a good picnic, and it was nice to cook with Bulgaria. It’s been awhile since we’d seen one another external to roleplaying, which we also discussed at length in the kitchen. B. is headed home at the beginning of September, so time is short. O. and I collapsed in a heap on my bed and just slept. It was nice, but sexually frustrating.

Sunday morning was rushed, with a quick fuck fitted in sensibly yet somewhat unexcitingly before a hasty breakfast of underdone eggs. We had to rush, pick up BakedAlaska and Bulgaria, drop off O., and get to ROLEPLAYING for the final installation of our two year campaign!!! We defeated Kyuss the Wormgod fairly easily upon his emergence from the monolith in which he’d been imprisoned, but only because Patrick, our lynchpin character, sacrificed himself to consume the god’s essence. Otherwise, Kyuss would’ve played with us until we were all dead. He’d already killed one of our number, and was well on the way to getting another. From there, it was a short trip to all of us littering the ground (or, worse yet, rising up off of it as undead), and consumption of the multiverse. Anyway, DungeonMaster was kind enough to tell us what transpired over the next fifty years of our lives. Cunegonde apparently went back to the mountain freehold of her clan, and founded a great center of higher learning. Eventually, she left to fight primitive, powerful evils throughout the mult-iverse at the behest of Bahamat, one of the five progenitor gods. After the game, we gathered at The Great Dane to say goodbye to Bulgaria and Leo, both of whom are moving soon. Leo is starting grad school in San Diego next year, and will be moving in two weeks. A good time was had by all.

Unfortunately, both Orpheus and I were too tired for more satisfying sex last night, which means I have to wait until he’s done working at 11 tonight for more of him, warm and sleepy next to me in bed. Sleepy being the operative, I’d imagine. More sex, less sleeping. This shall be the order of the evening!!! Hopefully, Chemie will also get back to me, as I emailed her earlier asking if O. would like tickets to the only performance in WI of She & Him on the 8th of August for his 24th birthday, along with his High School Musical collectors dolls (which are being bought as a half-joke… He really likes the movies, and yet turns his nose up at early Andrew Lloyd Webber… Hmmm). I’m also still planning the dinner. Perhaps Trout Meunierre Amandine, or somesuch. Also, I want to find out where all of his friends are hiding so I can invite them to dinner. Dumb fuckers are all out of town. O. is starting to get really depressed, because everyone he knows is gone. We’ll just have to find him more friends, I guess.