Yesterday was kind of neat… After I got out of work, anyway. First, I got to make something a little bit new, which is always fun, but I kept experimenting throughout dinner-time, and got some better ideas for the next incarnation! I started out with pork loin chops, and decided to use the tart cherry/cranberry/vermouth/shallot/honey/black walnut sauce that I make to glaze my tart cherry-stuffed pork loin. My mistake was using the thick chops, and not stuffing them. They tasted too “pork-ey” when done, if that makes any sense… Being so thick, they just weren’t redolent of cherry all the way through, which made this particular attempt at the dish a bit less than harmonious flavor-wise. However, I couldn’t help but think I was missing something when it was done and I was working my way through the chop on my plate. Then it hit me: gorgonzola! I ran through it in my head. Walnut, tart cherry, tang of blue cheese, and fairly ran to the fridge, scaring the crap out of Orpheus, who was similarly grazing. When I told him what I was up to, he made a face (not being the world’s biggest blue cheese fan). I sprinkled the precious crumbles over top, and the first bite was even better than imagined. After a few orgasmic face scrunches, even O. wanted to try, and was similarly smitten. Next time, there’ll be some butterflying, and stuffing with wild rice, shallot, cranberry, cherry, walnut and gorgonzola… And some oven time post-sear. Otherwise, yum!
After dinner, we took a quick trip to Target and got an extra laundry basket, as O. figured out that many of the clothes “stealing the floor space” in his efficiency were mine. That done, we proceeded to the theatre, where we saw ‘Kung Fu Panda’ in lieu of the old people/choir movie, much to my relief. It was funny as hell, if predictable. Afterwards, on recommendation of Terra Firma, we went to see Sister’s new boyfriend play at an open mic downtown at the Brocach (pronounced like famed anchorperson Tom’s last name), our “fancy” Irish-themed “pub.” I don’t usually like the place, as it tends to attract tourist assholes, but it was a weeknight, so things were pretty fly. Most importantly, when they’re not besieged, the staff is really nice! I think it was the first time that O. has actively engaged Sister or TF in conversation, and I was proud of him. I did feel a bit bad for Sister, though. Her guy is neat, but he’s much older, and almost never stopped talking about his old partner (female,) who he was with for 20 years. He’s a great guitar player, and a passable singer, probably better when he’s not got a cold. I was so tired when we got back to O.’s place that I fell asleep while he was getting ready for bed. Too bad, as we were supposed to watch a little of a brand new Sean Cody featuring double penetration… Mmm… Now that has to wait for tonight!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Multiple blessings, minimum comfort…
So, this weekend was odd. I felt like I was sleep-walking through it, and the other end has been… well, disappointing. First off, Orpheus decided to go to a cast party by himself on Friday, not least of all because he had to work super-early on Saturday, anyway, and wanted to give his co-stars in the play the opportunity to shine as human-beings. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t like them very much. O.’s not amazingly generous, socially speaking, and if people don’t fit a pretty constrictive mold, aren’t “smart” enough, or have the temerity to disagree with him, he kind of holds a grudge. We’ll move along, for now, past the fact that this is his only quality that I find absolutely repellant, and just continue the story… Orpheus hated the cast party, but tried to stick it out, for which I am proud. It’s not normal for O. to put effort into socializing unless I’m doing all the actual expenditure of energy. Unfortunately, Basso, who was also at the party, decided it was a dull scene and left without an adequate explanation of his whereabouts, which only served to make O. cranky for a good little bit of the weekend.
Saturday, since Orpheus had to work early, then be in the play, I had mostly to myself (except around dinner time, for which I made a picnic that ended up being eaten indoors due to shitty weather). It was a very simple picnic, comprised only of a delicious gingered chicken salad served on toast, two dips, roasted red pepper and hummus, and bread to rip off and dip with a very easy spinach salad as a side. All was to be served with prosecco, which was quite refreshing. Unfortunately, I completely forgot the dips at home, and we ended up eating only salad and chicken salad with sweet bubbly. Odd, but still pretty good. When O. succumbed to his curtain call, I joined Bulgaria and his BF at the Sundance theatre (remarkably pretentious, peopled by snooty asshole upper-middle-class middle-agers who think they’re better and/or more sophisticated than everybody else in their limited circles,) to see The Fall, which was quite good. After the movie, they gave me my belated birthday presents (I tried to tell them that, after throwing me a dinner, they didn’t need to give me gifts, but they didn’t subscribe to that at all), a Dean & Dalucca cook book, and a neat novel called The Historian. After Orpheus got done with his play, I picked him up, and we went back to my place, where we had no sex. Meh.
Unfortunately, I also managed to step on my phone Saturday morning, and it’s been acting quite oddly ever since… it works, more or less, and hasn’t yet dropped a call on me, but its’ days seem to be numbered. Fortunately, the 3G iPhone is debuting early next month, in fact, while I’m home at S.’s wedding! I’ll just pop over to the Mac Store, and buy one there before starting with Wedding shit for the day. Unfortunately, it’s going to cost me at least $200.00… Which sucks. But I’ll only be spending $10 more/month on my cellular plan, and will get unlimited mapquest while in the car, as well as access to e-mail, etc. from anywhere WITHOUT paying extra.
Sunday was neat, got to roleplay, and Cunegonde (my dwarven whore/virgin/arcmage) was devastatingly effective due to her new powers. Unfortunately, Dungeonmaster received the copies of Dungeons&Dragons v4.0 that he pre-ordered for us from amazon.com… Normally, I’d be really excited about this, but I don’t like the new system much. My copy is currently pissing me off with all the revisions every time I take a break. I like version 3.0 (and, slightly less, v3.5). They’re more fun than this unitized shit that belongs in a crappy online “character-driven” game. Whatever. I’ll survive. I like playing with these guys, and the system doesn’t necessarily matter, as long as the character interaction is fun.
Anyway, tonight should be OK. I’m making pork chops in a dark sweet cherry sauce with shallots and black walnuts, then O. and I are to go see some art house documentary about old people in a choir that does rock covers. If it doesn’t put me to sleep, I should at least be able to demand sex for making me sit through it.
Saturday, since Orpheus had to work early, then be in the play, I had mostly to myself (except around dinner time, for which I made a picnic that ended up being eaten indoors due to shitty weather). It was a very simple picnic, comprised only of a delicious gingered chicken salad served on toast, two dips, roasted red pepper and hummus, and bread to rip off and dip with a very easy spinach salad as a side. All was to be served with prosecco, which was quite refreshing. Unfortunately, I completely forgot the dips at home, and we ended up eating only salad and chicken salad with sweet bubbly. Odd, but still pretty good. When O. succumbed to his curtain call, I joined Bulgaria and his BF at the Sundance theatre (remarkably pretentious, peopled by snooty asshole upper-middle-class middle-agers who think they’re better and/or more sophisticated than everybody else in their limited circles,) to see The Fall, which was quite good. After the movie, they gave me my belated birthday presents (I tried to tell them that, after throwing me a dinner, they didn’t need to give me gifts, but they didn’t subscribe to that at all), a Dean & Dalucca cook book, and a neat novel called The Historian. After Orpheus got done with his play, I picked him up, and we went back to my place, where we had no sex. Meh.
Unfortunately, I also managed to step on my phone Saturday morning, and it’s been acting quite oddly ever since… it works, more or less, and hasn’t yet dropped a call on me, but its’ days seem to be numbered. Fortunately, the 3G iPhone is debuting early next month, in fact, while I’m home at S.’s wedding! I’ll just pop over to the Mac Store, and buy one there before starting with Wedding shit for the day. Unfortunately, it’s going to cost me at least $200.00… Which sucks. But I’ll only be spending $10 more/month on my cellular plan, and will get unlimited mapquest while in the car, as well as access to e-mail, etc. from anywhere WITHOUT paying extra.
Sunday was neat, got to roleplay, and Cunegonde (my dwarven whore/virgin/arcmage) was devastatingly effective due to her new powers. Unfortunately, Dungeonmaster received the copies of Dungeons&Dragons v4.0 that he pre-ordered for us from amazon.com… Normally, I’d be really excited about this, but I don’t like the new system much. My copy is currently pissing me off with all the revisions every time I take a break. I like version 3.0 (and, slightly less, v3.5). They’re more fun than this unitized shit that belongs in a crappy online “character-driven” game. Whatever. I’ll survive. I like playing with these guys, and the system doesn’t necessarily matter, as long as the character interaction is fun.
Anyway, tonight should be OK. I’m making pork chops in a dark sweet cherry sauce with shallots and black walnuts, then O. and I are to go see some art house documentary about old people in a choir that does rock covers. If it doesn’t put me to sleep, I should at least be able to demand sex for making me sit through it.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Stupid me
Orpheus was brilliant last night at his new leisure activity, but Basso was kind of a turd… And all because I didn’t bring one (well, two,) stupid things downtown. Oh, well. It’d be slightly better if O. weren’t still being kind of a turd today. He’s decided to leave me home tonight while he goes all by his lonesome to a party that, until early this morning, I also was invited to. Furthermore, this means that, in order to see me before shit spins up, he wants me to come downtown immediately after work for a light dinner. Nevermind that this clashes with the collective work-drink planned tonight, no…
Really, I’m just jealous of his time. And I need to get over it. He’s fine with letting me do my own thing occasionally. In fact, he encourages it. I’m the one who has trouble letting go of his naked body for a passel of minutes every day. Yes, this clingy, clutch-y little monkey needs to learn some restraint, and not be so fucking pouty. Wish me luck. I’m-a gonna need it.
Really, I’m just jealous of his time. And I need to get over it. He’s fine with letting me do my own thing occasionally. In fact, he encourages it. I’m the one who has trouble letting go of his naked body for a passel of minutes every day. Yes, this clingy, clutch-y little monkey needs to learn some restraint, and not be so fucking pouty. Wish me luck. I’m-a gonna need it.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Unemployment, ho!!!
Today is a complete waste of my time. We’re doing a super-stupid contest where we’re expected to make an unrealistic “minimum” number of calls, get an artificially high rate of contact on said calls, and, though the sales number expected isn’t terrible, it’s after noon and I’m only up $400. Thanks so much, loyal customers!!! In case you can’t tell, I was being facetious. Either way, it seems like everybody else in the department is actually talking to enough people and even making enough dials. However, they, too, seem to be stuck in no moo-lah land. Thank god. Otherwise, it’d be unemployment line, ho!
Later should be better. I have to go see O. do his special thing tonight, and then it’ll likely be movies (and possibly a doink) with Basso. I saw Orpheus in his final ramp-up yesterday evening, and he didn’t perform as well as he’d have liked, so I made him moan for a long while before bed last night. Hopefully, that’ll get him motivated. God knows it has me motivated to fuck his socks off. Anyway, more later. Have a good night!
Later should be better. I have to go see O. do his special thing tonight, and then it’ll likely be movies (and possibly a doink) with Basso. I saw Orpheus in his final ramp-up yesterday evening, and he didn’t perform as well as he’d have liked, so I made him moan for a long while before bed last night. Hopefully, that’ll get him motivated. God knows it has me motivated to fuck his socks off. Anyway, more later. Have a good night!
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Mysterious tales of the thyroid…
So, today I had to take a very early lunch to deal with some medical testing. I had an ultrasound ordered by Dr. K., as during my last visit he found what might have been a lump on my Thyroid. Dr. K. isn’t my normal doctor, but a member of the same practice who graciously saw me, anyway, while the other Dr. K., who IS my normal doctor, was on vacation. I prefer alternate Dr. K. to permanent Dr. K., and will therefore be attempting to switch primary care physicians. In any case, the Ultrasound tech who took me back today was very calm, very soothing, and an excellent explainer. She talked me through the process, even answering my off-color question re: the ultrasound goop and its’ provenance. ;-) I mean, if it were formulated just a little differently, it’d make a fantastic lube! Long story short, no lump, thank god(des?). I may be getting fatter by the minute, but at least I don’t have cancer.
Last night, it was very sad to say goodbye to Aphrodite. At least she’ll be visiting about once monthly (like a freezing auntie flo from up north). As his best friend in town, I don’t really know what kind of effect this will have on Orpheus. I hope not as great as I think it will, but we’ll see. He’ll find new friends, it’s just harder for him than it is for me at this juncture, and I worry about him. More later!
Last night, it was very sad to say goodbye to Aphrodite. At least she’ll be visiting about once monthly (like a freezing auntie flo from up north). As his best friend in town, I don’t really know what kind of effect this will have on Orpheus. I hope not as great as I think it will, but we’ll see. He’ll find new friends, it’s just harder for him than it is for me at this juncture, and I worry about him. More later!
Monday, June 9, 2008
Airport delays and sleep deprivation...
4:53 AM, 6/9/08... Update: My plane finally left Philadelphia at around 11 PM EST. Though the flight should've been a scant one and a half hours long, we had to skirt storms to get to Chicago safely, and we didn't touch down until nearly 2 AM CST. I have been roaming around O'Hare for several hours, finding no open establishments selling food, and finding not a one place to sleep. Unfortunately, to get the bus schedule I needed, I had to leave the terminal where I debarked... Otherwise, I'd at least have access to slightly more comfortable seating upon which to curl like an animal. More later, when I actually have the internet access necessary to post this. O'Hare, unlike Philadelphia, doesn't provide free access, and I'm still waiting for that goddamn replacement debit card to come in.
6:30 PM, 6/9/08... Update: I got home at around 9:30 AM, and Orpheus took good care of me. Good, good, good care. Which was a great idea. I didn't get to have one off at the wrist once this weekend. Then, we went out for Indian buffet for lunch. Yum. Afterwards, I collapsed into a food coma for several hours. O. had a really funny disk from NetFlix, and I fell asleep for the nap while watching Moral Oral. This show is a claymation deal featuring a kid who really wants to "do the right thing" by God, but has to deal with the scary influence of an alcoholic (and probably closeted) father, inattentive, dithering, stay-at-home mom, retarded little brother who isn't weaned at seven, and a religiously conservative town out of one's worst liberal nightmares... I mean, this place makes home look sane (and Grand Rapids, MI is kind of a NeoCon hellhole). It made me very, very happy, 'cause it was quite mean-spirited on the subject of everyday Christian-conservative hypocrisy. I'm staying with Orpheus tonight, as Aphrodite was totally ejected by BF, and this is her last night in Madison. I gate to say I saw it coming (say that ten times fast), but I also see the makeup in about a week and a half, and again not being able to trash BF to A.'s face. Boo. More tomorrow!
6:30 PM, 6/9/08... Update: I got home at around 9:30 AM, and Orpheus took good care of me. Good, good, good care. Which was a great idea. I didn't get to have one off at the wrist once this weekend. Then, we went out for Indian buffet for lunch. Yum. Afterwards, I collapsed into a food coma for several hours. O. had a really funny disk from NetFlix, and I fell asleep for the nap while watching Moral Oral. This show is a claymation deal featuring a kid who really wants to "do the right thing" by God, but has to deal with the scary influence of an alcoholic (and probably closeted) father, inattentive, dithering, stay-at-home mom, retarded little brother who isn't weaned at seven, and a religiously conservative town out of one's worst liberal nightmares... I mean, this place makes home look sane (and Grand Rapids, MI is kind of a NeoCon hellhole). It made me very, very happy, 'cause it was quite mean-spirited on the subject of everyday Christian-conservative hypocrisy. I'm staying with Orpheus tonight, as Aphrodite was totally ejected by BF, and this is her last night in Madison. I gate to say I saw it coming (say that ten times fast), but I also see the makeup in about a week and a half, and again not being able to trash BF to A.'s face. Boo. More tomorrow!
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Cross-country junkets by planes and sundry
So, it turns out the wedding was not a wedding... As I think I told you last time, E. and N. were already married several years ago. This was just their first opportunity to finally throw a reception! I thought that there would be vows restated before the ceremony, but that was just dispensed with. It's not legal in PA, but both of their families live here, so that made it more convenient then holding the ceremony in Massachusetts. Also, rooming with the pocket-sized, middle-aged, Bridge-and Tunnel V. was fuckin' awesome. She's the sweetest thing, and just so open and honest. She's a very accepting person, and as close to being an apolitical lesbian as I've ever seen... Ever. Plus, she was short enough that, in one pic, I had my arm around her back, and she my waist. I leaned my head over at 90 degrees, resting it on top of her head! Pocket pal, indeed!
The car ride with N. to the reception site for hangout was great. N. is a butch sweetie, and we had so much to talk about. We really hit it off, which was important to me. Her friend D. was the hostess of the reception, which was held at her beautiful home in po-dunk Pottsville outside of Phili. I got to meet her family (4.5 year old Co. (male), 1 year old Cl.(female), and husband J, who was kind of a jackass. We went to a wonderful place that the very verbal Co. called the “moo-cow” store, where they sold locally made ice cream. The cows who thoughtfully donated their milk were directly across the road, just roaming about, grazing. The night was spent meeting a lot of old and new faces. I have known most of E.'s family for awhile, and it was really cool to get re-acquainted with her younger brother, M. He was still about 15 the last time I even saw him, and he grew up pretty cute. (Don't get any funny ideas, he's straight.) Plus, it was very nice to see E.'s mom, who directed me in Amahl and the Night Visitors when I was 11. I was, naturally, in the title role. After a group dinner at a semi-cute but cheap bar, we got some hooch, and partied until the wee hours. I won a shit load at poker, because when I'm trashed, I apparently have a good poker face.
On Saturday, I got up early and helped with setup. It was fun, but the temperatures were absurd. By the time I got back to the hotel to clean up, I was exhausted and so sweaty it kind of hurt to think about going back to the house. But, I rallied. My linen came out of the roll looking very good, and the party itself was wonderful. I got lots of pictures, reconnected with a lot of friends and friendly acquaintances, and generally had a grand old time. There was a decent catered dinner, pretty amazing, considering it was a hot-tray dinner, and the cake was divine. While the frosting work itsself wasn't great, there were brilliant painted sugar flowers (see pic above). After the party was over, V. and I showered again (not concurrently,) and did more raucous drinking with the brides. The best joke of the evening, told by V., went as follows:
Q: How did the Dairy Queen get pregnant?
A: The Burger King blew his Whopper.
Today was great to start, albeit hot as hell. We dropped M. off at the airport after some prologned goodbyes with friends, then drove into Phili. As a thank you for all the rides, I bought the brides cheesesteaks without provolone (look up the terminology... It's a little interesting). I ordered a cheesesteak with provolone, but ended up with a cheesesteak without whiz... That's cheesewhiz for the uninitiated... At first, I was pissed. Then, I took a bite. It was fuckin' sexy. We walked around a bit, and I got a beautiful ceramic Buddha statue for Orpheus, as well as a laughing Buddha statue for my work-colleague J., who lent me his parking space downtown. The only two fuckups this weekend have to do with 1) Orpheus being really weird on the phone when I called, and 2) the delay/cancellation of my flight, necessitating some interesting negotiations with United to rectify the problem. I fucking hate air travel. Oh, yeah, and my half-squeezed tube of toothpaste was confiscated here for being .5 oz. too large for carry-on travel. Do they teach these fuckers anything? THAT WAS WHEN IT WAS FULL, you ignoramuses!!!
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Non-Euclidian Geometries, indeed...
This week I’ve been silent. I’m very sorry! This little monkey has been getting over the influenza, and attempting to pack an attractive/vaguely stylish weekend’s worth of clothes, sandals, his laptop, digital camera and iPod, along with all the chargers for these things, toiletries ‘n medicines, in a small Jack Spade messenger bag for the lesbian wedding he’s attending on Saturday. The Greene Street bag itself is unremarkable in all respects except color (fire-engine red,) and vertigo-inducing odd angles greater than 360 degrees under the cover-flap. These non-Euclidian geometries are inherent only to its’ internal cargo area… For cargo berth it is. I’ve spent most of my free time for the last week doing advanced calculus, figuring out how to warp space around my packed clothing, and it seems to have worked. The bag bulges only slightly, and will be more-or-less attractive to lug around despite its’ ton load of fey crap. This is fairly important, as I won’t be checking bags at O’Hare. I’ve lost airline luggage before, and it’s not pretty. Especially when the contents include ones’ favorite Calvin Klein summer-weight outfit, and all the electronic files on current role-playing characters.
Orpheus has been most generous in his time this week, trying to spend every free moment with me. I don’t think either of us likes being apart for more than a couple days at a stretch. This will be about four in total. Our second longest separation in over a year together. We usually spend the weekends lazing about, naked (mostly) when at his place, cooking and clothed outside the bedroom at mine. We do fun stuff on the weekends, and I’m missing Jazz Fest in good ‘ol Madison for this joyful occasion. I’m also shedding money like friggin’ water. The nice thing is, I’m getting back around 1 or 2 AM on Sunday, and took Monday off. So O. and I will have Monday to sleep in together, and generally have a mini-weekend together.
When it comes to Phili, I’ve been berthed with a middle-aged lesbian who is apparently so cute that “one wants to put her in ones’ back pocket,” according to my friend E., one of the brides. And, really, all the transportation in Philadelphia is taken care of, so I don’t have to spend on that, either. They know this is a huge expenditure for me, and are trying hard to take care of things when they can. Plus, it’s the first time I’ll be meeting E.’s wife N. in the flesh, though we’ve spoken quite a lot on the phone in the past. I’m really looking forward to this, despite the expense and hassle. It’ll be wonderful to see E., who is, I realized yesterday, one of my oldest friends. I’ve known her since we were both seven. 21 years is a long time, and I haven’t seen her in five (though we talk at least a couple times a month on the phone).
Overall, the little mini-break will likely be good for Orpheus and I, as well. He’s finally getting back into having a life of his own separate from me with his acting… And I’m glad. I’ve always had my role-playing as an escapist pursuit, while he’s always felt adrift since graduating. I’m glad to be an anchor, but am more glad that he seems to be putting down roots, and that I’m just one root of many. It speaks well for both his stability, and ours long-term.
Anyway, I should be off. There’s plenty to do here, believe it or not, other than write for YOUR amusement. I’ll try to get in a couple short posts this weekend!
Orpheus has been most generous in his time this week, trying to spend every free moment with me. I don’t think either of us likes being apart for more than a couple days at a stretch. This will be about four in total. Our second longest separation in over a year together. We usually spend the weekends lazing about, naked (mostly) when at his place, cooking and clothed outside the bedroom at mine. We do fun stuff on the weekends, and I’m missing Jazz Fest in good ‘ol Madison for this joyful occasion. I’m also shedding money like friggin’ water. The nice thing is, I’m getting back around 1 or 2 AM on Sunday, and took Monday off. So O. and I will have Monday to sleep in together, and generally have a mini-weekend together.
When it comes to Phili, I’ve been berthed with a middle-aged lesbian who is apparently so cute that “one wants to put her in ones’ back pocket,” according to my friend E., one of the brides. And, really, all the transportation in Philadelphia is taken care of, so I don’t have to spend on that, either. They know this is a huge expenditure for me, and are trying hard to take care of things when they can. Plus, it’s the first time I’ll be meeting E.’s wife N. in the flesh, though we’ve spoken quite a lot on the phone in the past. I’m really looking forward to this, despite the expense and hassle. It’ll be wonderful to see E., who is, I realized yesterday, one of my oldest friends. I’ve known her since we were both seven. 21 years is a long time, and I haven’t seen her in five (though we talk at least a couple times a month on the phone).
Overall, the little mini-break will likely be good for Orpheus and I, as well. He’s finally getting back into having a life of his own separate from me with his acting… And I’m glad. I’ve always had my role-playing as an escapist pursuit, while he’s always felt adrift since graduating. I’m glad to be an anchor, but am more glad that he seems to be putting down roots, and that I’m just one root of many. It speaks well for both his stability, and ours long-term.
Anyway, I should be off. There’s plenty to do here, believe it or not, other than write for YOUR amusement. I’ll try to get in a couple short posts this weekend!
Friday, May 30, 2008
Shameless begging for valid comments...
Sometimes, I think that writing here is a hopeless, helpless, unnecessary task… This is mostly due to the folks who attempt to leave comments on this hallowed space to advertise products and services. Needless to say, I am an asshole, and any such crass advertisements, even if they come with a “love your blog!!!” will not be published. My heart is hardened, yes sir! However, (very) occasionally (in fact, only twice), I receive comments that I post without reservation or editing. I do this because they are actually referencing anything I’ve said in a post. As much as I may seem merely a judgmental jackhole, I really do need to know I’m loved. Or hated. Or an enviable mixture of both. Love/hate me, repeatedly, textually… Just don’t be indifferent!!!
Anyway, now that my shameless internet-wide plea for comments is done, you should know that this man, the ever-hot, the freakishly talented, and recently published, is still on the road, getting high on the love of others… And perhaps on meningitis, as well, as is pointed out in his most recent blog post… Y’all (yes, YOU, my non-fictitious readers,) need to get his books (see the links on the website,) immediately, read his blog in its’ entirety, and fall in love, too. The fact that he was Orpheus’ pen-pal before I’d ever heard of him only makes me like O. a little more… In addition to making me freakishly jealous. ;-) Read his stuff. You won’t be sorry.
Today itself sucks. It is very slow, sales are awful, and I can’t force myself to dial out. I was always told when younger that I could do whatever I wanted to do, and that I’d be great at anything, and important/powerful/charismatic to boot… What everyone forgot to tell me was that it takes a long time to get there, and you have to bow, scrape, nod yes incessantly re: stupid ideas, and generally suck a lot of dick before you actually get to make any dumb choices of your own. Also, that this humbling package comes with a lot of pointless shit-work you couldn’t give a fig about if you tried. Kindness to children is the dumbest thing ever. I say let the little bastards see reality for what it is. A horrifying fuck-fest of douche-baggery! Neither adolescence nor the first decade of office work would be so horrible. It’s easier to get through a thing if you know what’s coming, after all. Alternately, cold reality could end up scaring more kids into the useful sciences and engineering school instead of pointless liberal arts programs nationwide! I may not have been any happier as an engineer than I am now, but I’d sure as hell be a lot wealthier.
Hopefully, Orpheus feels good, tonight, as I’m about to vibrate out of my skin. I want to be snuggled, cuddled, and fucked into submission. Is that such an awful thing? He told me this morning, while sluggishly casting about my clothing-carpeted room for my errant glasses, that he felt pretty darned good. Hopefully that translates to a meeting of the genitalia tonight. While I don’t want to sound sex-crazed, it’s fairly certain that I am, and when I have a lot of a good thing just lying there ripe, the natural conclusion is to take a bite. Fortunately, O. seems to be changing ripe odor for ripe’n’ready now that he feels more human. Mmm… Firm and juicy.
Anyway, now that my shameless internet-wide plea for comments is done, you should know that this man, the ever-hot, the freakishly talented, and recently published, is still on the road, getting high on the love of others… And perhaps on meningitis, as well, as is pointed out in his most recent blog post… Y’all (yes, YOU, my non-fictitious readers,) need to get his books (see the links on the website,) immediately, read his blog in its’ entirety, and fall in love, too. The fact that he was Orpheus’ pen-pal before I’d ever heard of him only makes me like O. a little more… In addition to making me freakishly jealous. ;-) Read his stuff. You won’t be sorry.
Today itself sucks. It is very slow, sales are awful, and I can’t force myself to dial out. I was always told when younger that I could do whatever I wanted to do, and that I’d be great at anything, and important/powerful/charismatic to boot… What everyone forgot to tell me was that it takes a long time to get there, and you have to bow, scrape, nod yes incessantly re: stupid ideas, and generally suck a lot of dick before you actually get to make any dumb choices of your own. Also, that this humbling package comes with a lot of pointless shit-work you couldn’t give a fig about if you tried. Kindness to children is the dumbest thing ever. I say let the little bastards see reality for what it is. A horrifying fuck-fest of douche-baggery! Neither adolescence nor the first decade of office work would be so horrible. It’s easier to get through a thing if you know what’s coming, after all. Alternately, cold reality could end up scaring more kids into the useful sciences and engineering school instead of pointless liberal arts programs nationwide! I may not have been any happier as an engineer than I am now, but I’d sure as hell be a lot wealthier.
Hopefully, Orpheus feels good, tonight, as I’m about to vibrate out of my skin. I want to be snuggled, cuddled, and fucked into submission. Is that such an awful thing? He told me this morning, while sluggishly casting about my clothing-carpeted room for my errant glasses, that he felt pretty darned good. Hopefully that translates to a meeting of the genitalia tonight. While I don’t want to sound sex-crazed, it’s fairly certain that I am, and when I have a lot of a good thing just lying there ripe, the natural conclusion is to take a bite. Fortunately, O. seems to be changing ripe odor for ripe’n’ready now that he feels more human. Mmm… Firm and juicy.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Sore-throat Meh...
I lost my debit card on Memorial Day. I’m still sick. I want to have my debit card back instantly, not be sick, and have candy for my trouble. I find this attitude, while infantile, to be immensely self-satisfying, and am therefore sticking to it. I also wish death and destruction on my enemies, including (but not limited to,) phone-girl at the credit union, who tried to argue with me regarding the virtues of meaningless security questions that I was never asked to enter answers for in the first place to access my account via the web branch. This is all part and parcel with today, which rather sucks.
Yesterday, though it started out sucky, ended pretty well. Despite being rather cross with me on the phone during the day, Orpheus was kind and gentle last night. Though still sick himself, he spent a lot of naked cuddly-time (though not naked sexy-time… Grrr,) with me, and we went for a walk during which he purchased gelato, and I saw an ugly ex and got to smirk a lot while showing off my hot “new” boyfriend to many eye-rolls and scowls. ‘New’, of course, is a relative term where ugly x is concerned… Let’s just say it’s been a long while. And he’s gained a lot of weight. Ha! In any case, O. also got a book for me to read out of his work-locker, since I’ve finally finished 'Swish: My Quest to Become the Gayest Person Ever' by this guy, who is probably the funniest, most insightful (not to mention hottest,) fey personal essayist I’ve ever read. Also better than the straight ones, to be clear.
The new book is 'The Guerrilla Girls’ Bedside Companion to the History of Western Art'. Though it’s kind of meant to be a fun-time romp, and it does make quite a few pertinent points, it’s not exactly spot-on history-wise, and is hopelessly “radical” in viewpoint. The best thing I can say for it is that it presents neat facts through fun and occasionally shocking graphic design, co-opting the visuo-political language of the group’s member artists. The worst thing to be said is that it frequently pisses me off with un-informed BS like “If Roman MEN had done textile work, then would the Louvre be full of silk undies instead of Kraters?” The answer, in case you were wondering, is NO. Purpose-built textiles don’t tend to last that long, dufus… Every blanket, after all, ISN’T the Bayeaux Tapestry, no matter how much Europeans are currently paying for Amish-made quilts. Said artifacts, while quite beautiful, complex, and skillfully made, still have to be cheap enough to use. And if by some miracle Roman fabric did survive, you couldn’t put 2,000-year-old binkies under display lights, anyway (let alone silk underpants). I’ll lay dollars to donuts that there are whole books, in fact, on textile art AS DEPICTED on pottery, etc… It’s just that nobody but archaeologists ever wants to read said tomes of forgotten lore, because they’re too involved and/or posses the power to tranquilize the uninitiated on sight.
Speaking of tranquility, the doctor prescribed more Tussionex, and despite the fact that it is, in fact, evil, I’m at least getting great sleep. Orpheus refuses to use the stuff on principal, which is too bad. He might be getting better sleep if he would take it, thus being less cranky, and possibly putting out more, though sick. In the style of my new favorite essayist (see above,) I’d have to say that boinking with Orpheus makes me feel cared for and loved. Since there really hasn’t been anything but masturbatory play since we’ve been sick, this means I feel most vulnerable and freaky right now. Therefore, we have to GET WELL so that I can get my freak on, or I’m likely to explode soon. Wish me well.
Yesterday, though it started out sucky, ended pretty well. Despite being rather cross with me on the phone during the day, Orpheus was kind and gentle last night. Though still sick himself, he spent a lot of naked cuddly-time (though not naked sexy-time… Grrr,) with me, and we went for a walk during which he purchased gelato, and I saw an ugly ex and got to smirk a lot while showing off my hot “new” boyfriend to many eye-rolls and scowls. ‘New’, of course, is a relative term where ugly x is concerned… Let’s just say it’s been a long while. And he’s gained a lot of weight. Ha! In any case, O. also got a book for me to read out of his work-locker, since I’ve finally finished 'Swish: My Quest to Become the Gayest Person Ever' by this guy, who is probably the funniest, most insightful (not to mention hottest,) fey personal essayist I’ve ever read. Also better than the straight ones, to be clear.
The new book is 'The Guerrilla Girls’ Bedside Companion to the History of Western Art'. Though it’s kind of meant to be a fun-time romp, and it does make quite a few pertinent points, it’s not exactly spot-on history-wise, and is hopelessly “radical” in viewpoint. The best thing I can say for it is that it presents neat facts through fun and occasionally shocking graphic design, co-opting the visuo-political language of the group’s member artists. The worst thing to be said is that it frequently pisses me off with un-informed BS like “If Roman MEN had done textile work, then would the Louvre be full of silk undies instead of Kraters?” The answer, in case you were wondering, is NO. Purpose-built textiles don’t tend to last that long, dufus… Every blanket, after all, ISN’T the Bayeaux Tapestry, no matter how much Europeans are currently paying for Amish-made quilts. Said artifacts, while quite beautiful, complex, and skillfully made, still have to be cheap enough to use. And if by some miracle Roman fabric did survive, you couldn’t put 2,000-year-old binkies under display lights, anyway (let alone silk underpants). I’ll lay dollars to donuts that there are whole books, in fact, on textile art AS DEPICTED on pottery, etc… It’s just that nobody but archaeologists ever wants to read said tomes of forgotten lore, because they’re too involved and/or posses the power to tranquilize the uninitiated on sight.
Speaking of tranquility, the doctor prescribed more Tussionex, and despite the fact that it is, in fact, evil, I’m at least getting great sleep. Orpheus refuses to use the stuff on principal, which is too bad. He might be getting better sleep if he would take it, thus being less cranky, and possibly putting out more, though sick. In the style of my new favorite essayist (see above,) I’d have to say that boinking with Orpheus makes me feel cared for and loved. Since there really hasn’t been anything but masturbatory play since we’ve been sick, this means I feel most vulnerable and freaky right now. Therefore, we have to GET WELL so that I can get my freak on, or I’m likely to explode soon. Wish me well.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Headline: Never-ending Weekend OVER!!!
Orpheus and I kind of bottomed out this weekend. There was, granted, a great deal of cooking, and we actually were out of the apartment quite a bit, but both of us were (and are still,) fairly miserable with that horrid virus I updated y’all on yesterday. The upsurge of the story, though, is that we’ve actually slept enough this weekend to kind of catch up to ourselves, so perhaps we’ll have a good week coming up.
Yesterday, we actually got quite a bit done. I posted early, as O. was abed and incapable of rising until noon, which suited me fine. Did a little reading, a little cleaning, a little cooking… Then we picked up Chemie (Orpheus’ middle sister,) and went to Brat Fest for a scant half-hour. It was terrible. The world’s biggest brat fest, and it was, as expected, populated mostly by fannie-pack-wearing, fat-assed trailer trash. Plus, this year there was a moving carnival as part of the attraction… The entire fiasco was horrifying. We high-tailed it after a quick walk-about, and hit Target and Copps for Chemie’s sake (she doesn’t have a car). We also had a brief layover at Old Navy, where I got the most unlikely combination of shirt and shorts for the equivalent of a song. Usually, they wouldn’t work… Loud electric blue shorts with a green and orange plaid, with a white vertically striped shirt in blue and green… Of course, the colors match. As Terra Firma put it, she saw me coming and thought “ouch! Plaids and lines… Oooh, he rocks it!” Gay trendy grandpa, indeed…
I also, while O. slept the sleep of the exhausted consumer post-trip, cooked my famed ratatouille from scratch last night, accompanied by a nicely (and simply) marinated mahi-mahi, sautéed in butter with shallots, and dressed with a nice pan-sauce made with quickly reduced voignier. Next time, to make the fish more closely match the side, I’ll put a little fennel in the marinade. I think that will tie things together quite nicely. We also did a lovely improvised trifle for dessert, as there were some lovely strawberries on super-sale at Copps! It was low-fat vanilla yoghurt, whipped, a layer of fruit, more whipped yoghurt, then whipped cream. Yummy!
The one area that I wish were doing better in is the sex area. Big surprise, I know. Orpheus isn’t constantly ill, or asthmatic, or impaired by his allergies to everything natural on the planet, so he just doesn’t get suffering. He’s probably, if anything, doing better than I am in terms of the progression of the virus, and I’m the one stuck doing all the heavy lifting. This means, of course, that he’s even more sluggish than usual in his need for the nasty… Not that he’s a slug on that count… He generally wants it at least three to five times a week, himself. I just want it several times, every day. I drop to wanting it once a day when I’m feeling really low, but he drops to not wanting to do it at all, and can’t even force himself to perform due to guilt. It’s a very sad situation, and it’s driving me up a wall, sideways. I’ll just have to over-medicate and sleep the sleep of the dead. Wouldn’t be the first time! ;-)
Yesterday, we actually got quite a bit done. I posted early, as O. was abed and incapable of rising until noon, which suited me fine. Did a little reading, a little cleaning, a little cooking… Then we picked up Chemie (Orpheus’ middle sister,) and went to Brat Fest for a scant half-hour. It was terrible. The world’s biggest brat fest, and it was, as expected, populated mostly by fannie-pack-wearing, fat-assed trailer trash. Plus, this year there was a moving carnival as part of the attraction… The entire fiasco was horrifying. We high-tailed it after a quick walk-about, and hit Target and Copps for Chemie’s sake (she doesn’t have a car). We also had a brief layover at Old Navy, where I got the most unlikely combination of shirt and shorts for the equivalent of a song. Usually, they wouldn’t work… Loud electric blue shorts with a green and orange plaid, with a white vertically striped shirt in blue and green… Of course, the colors match. As Terra Firma put it, she saw me coming and thought “ouch! Plaids and lines… Oooh, he rocks it!” Gay trendy grandpa, indeed…
I also, while O. slept the sleep of the exhausted consumer post-trip, cooked my famed ratatouille from scratch last night, accompanied by a nicely (and simply) marinated mahi-mahi, sautéed in butter with shallots, and dressed with a nice pan-sauce made with quickly reduced voignier. Next time, to make the fish more closely match the side, I’ll put a little fennel in the marinade. I think that will tie things together quite nicely. We also did a lovely improvised trifle for dessert, as there were some lovely strawberries on super-sale at Copps! It was low-fat vanilla yoghurt, whipped, a layer of fruit, more whipped yoghurt, then whipped cream. Yummy!
The one area that I wish were doing better in is the sex area. Big surprise, I know. Orpheus isn’t constantly ill, or asthmatic, or impaired by his allergies to everything natural on the planet, so he just doesn’t get suffering. He’s probably, if anything, doing better than I am in terms of the progression of the virus, and I’m the one stuck doing all the heavy lifting. This means, of course, that he’s even more sluggish than usual in his need for the nasty… Not that he’s a slug on that count… He generally wants it at least three to five times a week, himself. I just want it several times, every day. I drop to wanting it once a day when I’m feeling really low, but he drops to not wanting to do it at all, and can’t even force himself to perform due to guilt. It’s a very sad situation, and it’s driving me up a wall, sideways. I’ll just have to over-medicate and sleep the sleep of the dead. Wouldn’t be the first time! ;-)
Monday, May 26, 2008
KNIFE!!!
It came on Thursday. Needless to say, even though I missed the UPS delivery, I picked it up after the trucks came back that same night... And cooked with it while Orpheus was at play practice. Yes, I made a roast vegetable salad that was to die for. Basically, this thing is ground about as thin as my santoku, and has approximately the same edge angle... And anything that I ever heard about polished edges being inferior was hooey... At least, while cutting veggies. Oddly, chicken doesn't seem to like the polished edge so much, especially not near the tip. But all cuts are cleaner with this knife, and I find myself easily able to be super-lazy with it, too... I can use it at almost any point on the blade, and the overall thinness makes even mincing possible in the lower half! Yakuza-schooled German, indeed.
On Friday, I went to the doctor, because I've been feeling quite under the weather for the last week, and the fact that O. was starting to feel the same way clued me in to the fact that it isn't just allergies. Long story short, I have some sort of horrid virus that is making people miserable. As an asthmatic allergy sufferer, I tend to catch anything that comes my way during peak pollen season, so here we are! And Orpheus, poor dear, shares a bed with me most of the time, so he got it, too. The doctor gave me an antibiotic course to take "if I started to feel worse." Imagine! Just giving away anti-biotics! Unfortunately, he also felt a lump near my thyroid. He said not to worry... A test has been ordered and scheduled, some sort of ultra-sound. Dr. K. also said that, if it's anything bad, it's so early that there won't be any problems. Additionally, since I'm sick as a junkyard dog, it could just be a swollen lymph node poking its' way past the thyroid. Therefore am I not lying awake at night, hyperventilating at the ceiling.
One more day off this weekend, thank god... O. and I will sneeze and cough and hack our way through, and try to have fun. Wish us well!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
It slices, it dices… Mmmm… A cutting edge…
I’ve said it before. I will likely say it again. I have a major problem with things that slice, things that dice. Things called knives. I can’t stop buying them. And now, I have another on the way. It’s the first I’ve ever bought online, without feeling the heft, first. It’s another Wusthof, and it’s my first “professional-quality” piece of cutlery. It’s a 23 cm. Wusthof Le Cordon Bleu Chef’s knife. Thin like Japanese blades, but with slightly more heft than most such dragon-esque gyutos of hard-sharpened fame. Drop-forged steel near the length of a short-sword. 17 degree polished bevel, whippy like Harry Potter’s wand, and sharper than DM’s math skills. Oh, yeah, baby… It’s fuckin’ ON. Sweat starch, potatoes… Fall into julienne, carrots! Turn to dice like Chessex d6, tofu! That’s right, there’s a new German enforcer on the cutting block, and he’s a Japanese-speaking badass who was totally schooled by Yakuza.
I am SUCH a pathetic loser.
The nice thing is, this knife is on wicked-clearance. Discontinued on the US market in favor of the IKON Classic line, of which I own three particularly fine specimens, this is the less-pretty but performance-for-the-professional-kitchen line developed for use at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. It started at a whopping $205.00, and I got it for $75, no tax, free shipping. I keep expecting to get a phone call telling me I’m under arrest for the steal of the century. THANK GOD FOR CLEARANCE SALES!!! Also, because of the wicked-cheap prices, I’m considering buying a three-knife set for my friend S. whose bridal party I will be part of come July. Along with a sharpener and steel, it’ll be the kind of wedding present one can pass on, still very much functional, to one’s firstborn in 25 years when moving on to the new battery-powered super-sonic de-pinkifier of the future. It’s the gift that keeps on giving, man!
On a totally unrelated note, working in the safety industry carries certain threats for the practicing pouf. For instance, one has to grin and bear it when it occurs that the signs you’re hocking to a customer, “DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE” need only a second repetition of “danger” before all you can think of is a retro pastiche involving sexy construction workers. Plus, the humor is more gallows-savvy than at a poppers-scented bare-backing halfway house. If only I hated it a little less! There are definite comic possibilities afoot, but nobody sees the irony except yours truly. Imagine the sad little monkey, clickety-claking at his computer! Yes, that sad little monkey knows for whom the keys clack… They clack for me.
Pray, mes bonne enfants! Pray for the immortal soul of safety monkey me, with my German kitchen knife fetish, through a dark wood, wanderin’.
I am SUCH a pathetic loser.
The nice thing is, this knife is on wicked-clearance. Discontinued on the US market in favor of the IKON Classic line, of which I own three particularly fine specimens, this is the less-pretty but performance-for-the-professional-kitchen line developed for use at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. It started at a whopping $205.00, and I got it for $75, no tax, free shipping. I keep expecting to get a phone call telling me I’m under arrest for the steal of the century. THANK GOD FOR CLEARANCE SALES!!! Also, because of the wicked-cheap prices, I’m considering buying a three-knife set for my friend S. whose bridal party I will be part of come July. Along with a sharpener and steel, it’ll be the kind of wedding present one can pass on, still very much functional, to one’s firstborn in 25 years when moving on to the new battery-powered super-sonic de-pinkifier of the future. It’s the gift that keeps on giving, man!
On a totally unrelated note, working in the safety industry carries certain threats for the practicing pouf. For instance, one has to grin and bear it when it occurs that the signs you’re hocking to a customer, “DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE” need only a second repetition of “danger” before all you can think of is a retro pastiche involving sexy construction workers. Plus, the humor is more gallows-savvy than at a poppers-scented bare-backing halfway house. If only I hated it a little less! There are definite comic possibilities afoot, but nobody sees the irony except yours truly. Imagine the sad little monkey, clickety-claking at his computer! Yes, that sad little monkey knows for whom the keys clack… They clack for me.
Pray, mes bonne enfants! Pray for the immortal soul of safety monkey me, with my German kitchen knife fetish, through a dark wood, wanderin’.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
A Week of Solitute (Eat it, Gabriel)...
Update... I am a tool. I have ignored my (possibly non-extant,) audience for near a week. Worse, there's been so much to talk about! So, we'll start at the very beginning... Last Friday at Bulgaria's. Following is the post I was writing on Monday... Then on Tuesday... And finally gave up on sometime around Wednesday. Afterwards, I'll continue with the saga that is THIS WEEK IN THE LIFE OF AEFFCHEN!!!
The weekend started off well. Decent sales day on Friday, got off work, then went to a quick “take my crap—please!” party thrown by a coworker. This is the coworker who, upon the occasion of our first departmental after-work booze up a couple months back, had a few, then told me that she loved me. Not in the creepy way, but in the “you're a dear” kind of way. In any case, it was kinda fun. I took Orpheus along, and we had a lot of free beer and hotdogs, as well as taking a good deal of the free crap which was, after everything, the reason for the party in the first place. Then, it was over to Bulgaria's for a belated birthday dinner, where B. dropped a pretty big bomb...
Well, it was actually his boyfriend who dropped that Bulgaria is, essentially, being deported within the next couple months. He went from being a full-time doctoral student at the university to a full-time worker... His new department was supposed to handle the visa change, but there was a bureaucratic fuck-up, causing his status to lapse before changeover. When Legal was approached to fix their own problem, the lawyers told him to find his own representation. Bulgaria doesn't have an estimated $20K lying around to mount an effective stay and reversal of his situation. I have to admit, it was difficult to hear this at a dinner thrown for my birthday, and keep a stiff upper lip. I love B. like a sibling, and he may not be able to come back to the US for 10 years after being deported. The dark-humor side of things is, since he's applying for scientific actuary-type jobs (whatever those are,) in Western Europe, I have a perfect excuse to jet to the continent once a year and stay for free.
Orpheus was very supportive afterwards, but we somehow missed having sex for the rest of the weekend. This meant I was worked up about Bulgaria's plight, and denied the best palliative for such upsetting news. Fortunately, O. stayed at my place Sunday night, so after work on Monday, he pounded me mercifully... I mean, mercilessly.
Tuesday was more-or-less unremarkable, as O. and I spent it apart. On Wednesday night, I attempted Porco (p)Roso once more for my friend Leo (He who annoys Orpheus to no end), who'll be moving away, himself, come the end of the summer. L., though, will be going to grad school as opposed to a government-imposed exile lasting a decade. I made a beautiful cream of roasted asparagus and leek soup, low-fat, believe it or not, and a gorgeous, super-tasty bruschetta. There was also a roasted veggie salad consisting of potatoes, leek, asparagus, tomato and sliced pickled beets, tossed with a little grape seed oil and Spanish sherry vinegar. The pork, once more, was ever so slightly overcooked. I'll have to do more experimentation. It was nice to talk to Leo, as he's been so busy in the last year or so. He was definitely involved in keeping me sane through my divorce, and to let him leave without spending at least a little time with him would be awful.
Thursday I spent waiting for O. to get off work. He was there until about 11 PM, so I just laid around his apartment for most of the night, took a big nap, and was generally bored. We did snuggle, though. Friday, last night, after a very long day at work, I had to wait for him again. However, Basso's second to last show with a non-traditional company of sorts was on, so I went to that for a change. It was quite good, considering! Afterwards, my allergies had me gasping for air. Naturally, every downtown pharmacy was closed, so I just drank, and went to bed with O. Now, I've just been to the farmer's market, and bought a great deal of shit. Yum!
The weekend started off well. Decent sales day on Friday, got off work, then went to a quick “take my crap—please!” party thrown by a coworker. This is the coworker who, upon the occasion of our first departmental after-work booze up a couple months back, had a few, then told me that she loved me. Not in the creepy way, but in the “you're a dear” kind of way. In any case, it was kinda fun. I took Orpheus along, and we had a lot of free beer and hotdogs, as well as taking a good deal of the free crap which was, after everything, the reason for the party in the first place. Then, it was over to Bulgaria's for a belated birthday dinner, where B. dropped a pretty big bomb...
Well, it was actually his boyfriend who dropped that Bulgaria is, essentially, being deported within the next couple months. He went from being a full-time doctoral student at the university to a full-time worker... His new department was supposed to handle the visa change, but there was a bureaucratic fuck-up, causing his status to lapse before changeover. When Legal was approached to fix their own problem, the lawyers told him to find his own representation. Bulgaria doesn't have an estimated $20K lying around to mount an effective stay and reversal of his situation. I have to admit, it was difficult to hear this at a dinner thrown for my birthday, and keep a stiff upper lip. I love B. like a sibling, and he may not be able to come back to the US for 10 years after being deported. The dark-humor side of things is, since he's applying for scientific actuary-type jobs (whatever those are,) in Western Europe, I have a perfect excuse to jet to the continent once a year and stay for free.
Orpheus was very supportive afterwards, but we somehow missed having sex for the rest of the weekend. This meant I was worked up about Bulgaria's plight, and denied the best palliative for such upsetting news. Fortunately, O. stayed at my place Sunday night, so after work on Monday, he pounded me mercifully... I mean, mercilessly.
Tuesday was more-or-less unremarkable, as O. and I spent it apart. On Wednesday night, I attempted Porco (p)Roso once more for my friend Leo (He who annoys Orpheus to no end), who'll be moving away, himself, come the end of the summer. L., though, will be going to grad school as opposed to a government-imposed exile lasting a decade. I made a beautiful cream of roasted asparagus and leek soup, low-fat, believe it or not, and a gorgeous, super-tasty bruschetta. There was also a roasted veggie salad consisting of potatoes, leek, asparagus, tomato and sliced pickled beets, tossed with a little grape seed oil and Spanish sherry vinegar. The pork, once more, was ever so slightly overcooked. I'll have to do more experimentation. It was nice to talk to Leo, as he's been so busy in the last year or so. He was definitely involved in keeping me sane through my divorce, and to let him leave without spending at least a little time with him would be awful.
Thursday I spent waiting for O. to get off work. He was there until about 11 PM, so I just laid around his apartment for most of the night, took a big nap, and was generally bored. We did snuggle, though. Friday, last night, after a very long day at work, I had to wait for him again. However, Basso's second to last show with a non-traditional company of sorts was on, so I went to that for a change. It was quite good, considering! Afterwards, my allergies had me gasping for air. Naturally, every downtown pharmacy was closed, so I just drank, and went to bed with O. Now, I've just been to the farmer's market, and bought a great deal of shit. Yum!
Friday, May 9, 2008
Assumption makes an ass out of me
So, yesterday I was working on a polemic about how all my relationships are the same, and Orpheus has as little regard for my friends as LaGrippe did, etc… I’m almost glad my formerly happy Mac was hijacked, as that’s the only reason said polemic didn’t get published was my scramble to call folks vulnerable to computer-based stupidity (Grandma, Auntie Dearest, Mom, Dad…) and tell them not to open two particular e-mails. After everything, it may have just been my e-mail that was ‘jacked, as I can’t find a record of the offending e-mail being sent from either of my computers. Anyway, the password on my e-mail has been changed without being updated in the e-mail clients I work with. That, and the more suspect computer (left on all night with a video loaded off a Chinese server… Yeah, I’m a total rube,) is spending a great deal of time offline and undergoing virus scans.
The reason for my aborted polemic was as follows… Wednesday night, O. called me downtown early. He was supposed to get off of work and take a nice, restorative nap. However, after work he had to stop quickly by the library, and saw friends of his who he hadn’t talked to in a month. They ended up getting a drink, which segued into dinner. Since I hadn’t seen them in quite awhile either, and O. realized it wouldn’t be polite to blow me off, he asked me to high-tail it downtown for a little dinner alfresco at one of our favorite bar/restaurants. During the conversation, we eventually turned to my innate dorkishness, which most of Orpheus’ friends find fascinating… You know, like a car-crash. Of course, I good-humoredly played along, making fun of myself in the kind of way that both entertains, and makes people a little guilty for being assholes in the first place. During this, though, O. interrupted, and made it clear that he wasn’t terribly fond of my friend Bulgaria.
Now, to remind you, Bulgaria is probably my best friend in town. It was he who kind of took it upon himself to make sure that I survived my divorce. He got me interested in cookery, and has just all-around been there when I needed someone to talk to, no matter what. After LaGrippe, who was perfectly clear (and hostile,) on the point that she loathed pretty much everyone I liked under my own steam, this “revelation” really shook me. I looked at slightly declining rates of copulation over time, clung to the apparent fact that O. hates everyone that I like, came to the hasty conclusion that Orpheus was beginning to correlate over time with LaGrippe, and hence, that my life was over. Fortunately, before this was put online, I talked to him about it, and it turns out that he likes Bulgaria, but only in small doses. The problem is prolonged exposure in a canned situation with limited alternate interactions… Which isn’t abject hatred, or even actual dislike, he was careful to point out. He just finds the man too… intense.
Further, O. was careful to say, he’s changed his mind about folks like BakedAlaska and QuakerNoOats recently, and is looking forward to meeting my friends from home at the wedding I’m to be in, if he can get the time off. So this, I guess, is kind of a lesson to me. DON’T JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS!!! Especially when stressed about other things, take time, and talk first. I keep forgetting that Orpheus and I are past the part of the relationship where he bristles when I ask him about his feelings. This little monkey would do well to remember such blessed things in the future. Oh, yeah… And guess what’s on the menu, tonight? A belated birthday dinner with Bulgaria and his boyfriend. Meh!
The reason for my aborted polemic was as follows… Wednesday night, O. called me downtown early. He was supposed to get off of work and take a nice, restorative nap. However, after work he had to stop quickly by the library, and saw friends of his who he hadn’t talked to in a month. They ended up getting a drink, which segued into dinner. Since I hadn’t seen them in quite awhile either, and O. realized it wouldn’t be polite to blow me off, he asked me to high-tail it downtown for a little dinner alfresco at one of our favorite bar/restaurants. During the conversation, we eventually turned to my innate dorkishness, which most of Orpheus’ friends find fascinating… You know, like a car-crash. Of course, I good-humoredly played along, making fun of myself in the kind of way that both entertains, and makes people a little guilty for being assholes in the first place. During this, though, O. interrupted, and made it clear that he wasn’t terribly fond of my friend Bulgaria.
Now, to remind you, Bulgaria is probably my best friend in town. It was he who kind of took it upon himself to make sure that I survived my divorce. He got me interested in cookery, and has just all-around been there when I needed someone to talk to, no matter what. After LaGrippe, who was perfectly clear (and hostile,) on the point that she loathed pretty much everyone I liked under my own steam, this “revelation” really shook me. I looked at slightly declining rates of copulation over time, clung to the apparent fact that O. hates everyone that I like, came to the hasty conclusion that Orpheus was beginning to correlate over time with LaGrippe, and hence, that my life was over. Fortunately, before this was put online, I talked to him about it, and it turns out that he likes Bulgaria, but only in small doses. The problem is prolonged exposure in a canned situation with limited alternate interactions… Which isn’t abject hatred, or even actual dislike, he was careful to point out. He just finds the man too… intense.
Further, O. was careful to say, he’s changed his mind about folks like BakedAlaska and QuakerNoOats recently, and is looking forward to meeting my friends from home at the wedding I’m to be in, if he can get the time off. So this, I guess, is kind of a lesson to me. DON’T JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS!!! Especially when stressed about other things, take time, and talk first. I keep forgetting that Orpheus and I are past the part of the relationship where he bristles when I ask him about his feelings. This little monkey would do well to remember such blessed things in the future. Oh, yeah… And guess what’s on the menu, tonight? A belated birthday dinner with Bulgaria and his boyfriend. Meh!
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Virus, central...
So, I think my Mac has a virus. I fucking hate this shit. Last time I buy that "ooh, UNIX is soooo secure!" shit.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
My Head Hurts… But Not As Much As Basso’s.
Last night was off the wall. Orpheus, Basso and I met just after work for happy hour at a bar that has a very well-appointed buffet so I could say ‘hi!’ before they went to rehearsal. I went on a consumer rampage, buying an old game that I very much wanted so that when my friend Leo moves to SoCal in a couple months, I’ll still have access to it. I also bought a new set of D+D dice, and the expansion pack to the aforementioned game. Afterwards, I went to the store and got veggies for dinner, which was just leftover burgers from Monday, and a kind of zucchini/red pepper/carrot/onion stir-fry with red wine, salt and pepper. It was very good. Basso called while O. and I were eating, and asked to come over for a drink. He wanted sex, but we weren’t feeling it. However, we did all go out for queer-ass karaoke at the Shamrock.
There, I proceeded to get wicked-drunk and grope the f#*k out of Orpheus, while Basso groped both of us. It was interesting. Turns out Basso likes Cake so much, he does karaoke to it… Too bad about that, but it was fun to watch. I got screwed out of the good version of Summertime, and did the slow one. Crappy! However, I did the German version of ‘Amadeus,’ which made me quite happy. O. did some hot stuff, including a Ricky Martin number and a couple rap dillys. When we left, Basso was talking to a guy one sees online a lot, we’ll call him S. Things seemed to be going well. Orpheus and I went back to his place and wrapped up some drunken groping fairly quickly, at which point I fell asleep with earplugs in, and went completely dead to the world. Apparently, around 2 AM, Basso called my phone and asked to come over and crash. O. answered, said “cool,” and thirty minutes later, no B. A cop called using Basso’s phone a few minutes later, and asked if he could drop the poor dear off. He was found unconscious, bashed over the head. Basso had been mugged on the way over! To my great regret, I was so completely passed out, I couldn’t help make sure he was OK when the police officer dropped him off, which meant that Orpheus had to do all the worrying, clucking, and general mom-type crap.
Worse yet, I was so out of it that I didn’t know there was a third body in bed when the alarm was going off, and kept yelling at O. to hit the snooze. In fact, when I finally rousted, O. had to explain the situation slowly and clearly. I didn’t even get the fact that Basso was on the other side of Orpheus until half-way through the bit where a cop had dropped him off! So, yeah, I totally feel like a heel at this point. O. is wicked-cranky because he got so little sleep. I’d love to baby him a bit tonight, but he’s still not sure if he’ll be in any shape to do anything tonight except nap. And Basso! I texted with him a little early on in the day. He’s in one piece, which is the most important thing, but may have a bit of a complex over all this after he’s had time to process. Anyway, that’s about it for now. That and the fact that the hamster on the exercise wheel in my head seems to have run out of steam for the day.
There, I proceeded to get wicked-drunk and grope the f#*k out of Orpheus, while Basso groped both of us. It was interesting. Turns out Basso likes Cake so much, he does karaoke to it… Too bad about that, but it was fun to watch. I got screwed out of the good version of Summertime, and did the slow one. Crappy! However, I did the German version of ‘Amadeus,’ which made me quite happy. O. did some hot stuff, including a Ricky Martin number and a couple rap dillys. When we left, Basso was talking to a guy one sees online a lot, we’ll call him S. Things seemed to be going well. Orpheus and I went back to his place and wrapped up some drunken groping fairly quickly, at which point I fell asleep with earplugs in, and went completely dead to the world. Apparently, around 2 AM, Basso called my phone and asked to come over and crash. O. answered, said “cool,” and thirty minutes later, no B. A cop called using Basso’s phone a few minutes later, and asked if he could drop the poor dear off. He was found unconscious, bashed over the head. Basso had been mugged on the way over! To my great regret, I was so completely passed out, I couldn’t help make sure he was OK when the police officer dropped him off, which meant that Orpheus had to do all the worrying, clucking, and general mom-type crap.
Worse yet, I was so out of it that I didn’t know there was a third body in bed when the alarm was going off, and kept yelling at O. to hit the snooze. In fact, when I finally rousted, O. had to explain the situation slowly and clearly. I didn’t even get the fact that Basso was on the other side of Orpheus until half-way through the bit where a cop had dropped him off! So, yeah, I totally feel like a heel at this point. O. is wicked-cranky because he got so little sleep. I’d love to baby him a bit tonight, but he’s still not sure if he’ll be in any shape to do anything tonight except nap. And Basso! I texted with him a little early on in the day. He’s in one piece, which is the most important thing, but may have a bit of a complex over all this after he’s had time to process. Anyway, that’s about it for now. That and the fact that the hamster on the exercise wheel in my head seems to have run out of steam for the day.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Four things that fry my A$$...
Since nothing of any import happened last night, today is dedicated to a rant, and quite probably, my latest lurid cooking fantasies. So, without any more pretentious ado…
THINGS THAT FRY MY A$$:
1) Non-stick pans don’t really brown potatoes… Especially not sweet potatoes.
2) The sentence “oil has hit another all-time high,” when used on the evening news.
3) Being male, but on the bride’s side in a wedding.
4) Horniness as a waiting game.
And now, I shall address all of the aforementioned issues in the order that they were presented.
Non-stick pans don’t really brown potatoes… Especially not sweet potatoes. Last night, I was lazy, wanted to try out my new “eco-friendly” non-stick pan at slightly higher temperatures, and therefore decided to fry thin-sliced sweet potatoes. So, I sliced the damned thing up thin, with thick slabs of garlic and big chunks of onion. I sprayed the pan with a little grape seed oil, and cranked the heat to medium-high… well, kinda low medium-high, but still. I had to keep adding oil, which blew donkey balls, as the only time the stinkin’ potatoes would brown was when there was oil to soak off the bottom of the pan. Plus, they were still so crisp in the center, I had to boil off a little water and irish whisky from the bottom of the pan to soften them up, which meant re-browning. Grr. No more potatoes in the non-stick pan!
The sentence “oil has hit another all-time high,” when used on the evening news, sends chills up my spine… in a bad way. It’s not so much that said slogan is sensationalistic. I mean, it’s the news, so that’s a forgone conclusion. The days when reporters conveyed information for its’ own sake are long since past, a glimmer in the lazy eyes of the joyless Bahbwa Wa-wa and Walter Cronkite. No, it’s the way it’s phrased, the nuances of pronunciation utilized by the bo-toxed to within an inch of paralysis journalistic hoard that annoy me. “OIL (portentiously, all syllables given equal weight heavier than what follows) has hit (slight pause,) another (rushed, with a tone almost of annoyance,) all-time (near-Sulu-like,) high, today…” And it’s always the same. ALWAYS… Male or female, the dead-eyed, rictus-grinning mummy face, regardless of sex, uses the same manner of conveyance. And they always use it to segue into the same damned stories about third world unrest, fundamentalism, terrorism, bad corporate governance, etc. Fudging ratings-grabbers!
Being male, but on the Bride’s side in a wedding is no piece of cake. On the upside, I get to see a few very pretty girls near-naked for the better part of two days. Also, I get to wear a pink vest with my tux. All in all, pretty sexy. However, there’s also the flip-side. The flip-side on which I may or may not be forced to spend a hundred bucks at the spa the day before the wedding, and also be forced to go to the male side, missing out on the bridal dish-fest. There’s the gas it will take to get home, the price of the present, the tux rental, and taking time off work. There’s also the date of the bridal shower, which I have to get off for, as well. Plus, O. is probably not going to be able to come with me, will miss out on meeting my parents, who finally OK’d him staying at the house if he can come, etc. This makes me cranky, because, though the couple is very progressive and could give a fig for sexuality, their families aren’t as forgiving, and I’m walking down the aisle with another boy. Meh. Though, how I think ANOTHER limp-wristed male is going to help the situation, I don’t know. Good thing I love the bride like a sister.
Horniness as a waiting game sucks. Orpheus worked ueber-late last night, then was supposed to go to a rehearsal for the play he got into. This meant I didn’t get to see him. Boo! Also, he has a rehearsal tonight. So I’m going downtown after work, we’re eating hurriedly, and then he’s leaving again. When he gets back, I’m going to be naked as a jay-bird and frothing at the mouth. If he’s not clean, god help my digestive tract, ‘cause as soon as he’s in the door, it’s on a seek-and-find-the-place-where-the-moans-come-from-type mission.
THINGS THAT FRY MY A$$:
1) Non-stick pans don’t really brown potatoes… Especially not sweet potatoes.
2) The sentence “oil has hit another all-time high,” when used on the evening news.
3) Being male, but on the bride’s side in a wedding.
4) Horniness as a waiting game.
And now, I shall address all of the aforementioned issues in the order that they were presented.
Non-stick pans don’t really brown potatoes… Especially not sweet potatoes. Last night, I was lazy, wanted to try out my new “eco-friendly” non-stick pan at slightly higher temperatures, and therefore decided to fry thin-sliced sweet potatoes. So, I sliced the damned thing up thin, with thick slabs of garlic and big chunks of onion. I sprayed the pan with a little grape seed oil, and cranked the heat to medium-high… well, kinda low medium-high, but still. I had to keep adding oil, which blew donkey balls, as the only time the stinkin’ potatoes would brown was when there was oil to soak off the bottom of the pan. Plus, they were still so crisp in the center, I had to boil off a little water and irish whisky from the bottom of the pan to soften them up, which meant re-browning. Grr. No more potatoes in the non-stick pan!
The sentence “oil has hit another all-time high,” when used on the evening news, sends chills up my spine… in a bad way. It’s not so much that said slogan is sensationalistic. I mean, it’s the news, so that’s a forgone conclusion. The days when reporters conveyed information for its’ own sake are long since past, a glimmer in the lazy eyes of the joyless Bahbwa Wa-wa and Walter Cronkite. No, it’s the way it’s phrased, the nuances of pronunciation utilized by the bo-toxed to within an inch of paralysis journalistic hoard that annoy me. “OIL (portentiously, all syllables given equal weight heavier than what follows) has hit (slight pause,) another (rushed, with a tone almost of annoyance,) all-time (near-Sulu-like,) high, today…” And it’s always the same. ALWAYS… Male or female, the dead-eyed, rictus-grinning mummy face, regardless of sex, uses the same manner of conveyance. And they always use it to segue into the same damned stories about third world unrest, fundamentalism, terrorism, bad corporate governance, etc. Fudging ratings-grabbers!
Being male, but on the Bride’s side in a wedding is no piece of cake. On the upside, I get to see a few very pretty girls near-naked for the better part of two days. Also, I get to wear a pink vest with my tux. All in all, pretty sexy. However, there’s also the flip-side. The flip-side on which I may or may not be forced to spend a hundred bucks at the spa the day before the wedding, and also be forced to go to the male side, missing out on the bridal dish-fest. There’s the gas it will take to get home, the price of the present, the tux rental, and taking time off work. There’s also the date of the bridal shower, which I have to get off for, as well. Plus, O. is probably not going to be able to come with me, will miss out on meeting my parents, who finally OK’d him staying at the house if he can come, etc. This makes me cranky, because, though the couple is very progressive and could give a fig for sexuality, their families aren’t as forgiving, and I’m walking down the aisle with another boy. Meh. Though, how I think ANOTHER limp-wristed male is going to help the situation, I don’t know. Good thing I love the bride like a sister.
Horniness as a waiting game sucks. Orpheus worked ueber-late last night, then was supposed to go to a rehearsal for the play he got into. This meant I didn’t get to see him. Boo! Also, he has a rehearsal tonight. So I’m going downtown after work, we’re eating hurriedly, and then he’s leaving again. When he gets back, I’m going to be naked as a jay-bird and frothing at the mouth. If he’s not clean, god help my digestive tract, ‘cause as soon as he’s in the door, it’s on a seek-and-find-the-place-where-the-moans-come-from-type mission.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Weekend Blues
This weekend was kind of a walking comedy of errors. I made some OK grub, but for the most part, things just didn’t work out. Friday, O. and I were at odds. Saturday, after he finally got off work, again there were odds to split. I was a super-cranky-pants. Sunday, we had a pretty cool day, including an impromptu gourmet-super-market picnic at a huge, beautiful, empty park near an aging bloc of high-priced real estate. This after some very highly encouraging foraging at the malls, where I found (finally) one of the cool Martha Stuart GreenPans at Macy’s. Supposedly, this is a hydrolyzed SiO (glass-well, of a slightly different composition, but glass) based non-stick coating that doesn’t emit toxic fumes when heated above, oh, 5 degrees Celsius. The only thing I find weird about it is, they say to maintain the pan you should rub it occasionally with a seasoning oil… And just leave it like that. Not bake it in, nothing. Soap, water, and occasional sacrifice of vegetable fat. Any way you look at it, the thing’s non-stick worked better on its’ first use than any other pan of its’ type I’ve ever seen. We’ll see if it maintains standards over time.
Resuming the main line, post-picnic we went to see ‘Persepolis’ at the cheap seats. It was amazing. Made me almost wish we’d paid ten bucks each to see it at the “Sundance Theatre,” which is slowly driving all the other art-house cinemas in town out of business with its’ middle-age friendly bland gourmet food and hoity-toity suburbanite atmosphere. Finally, O. had his kind of snippy day, and, since I’ve been generally oversensitive and aggressive lately (must be my period), I took it kind of hard. I made mini-pork and beef burgers with pine nuts spiced like kibbeh, accompanied by fresh corn on the cob with olive oil and a small tomato salad. We did drinks and hang-out with Basso, and watched ‘Reno: 911 Miami,’ a good-time romp, and nice counterpoint to ‘Persepolis’ earlier. There was no sex, which was OK, as O. and I got our Kumbay-ya-ya’s out and needed some juice with which to seal the breach. Though I slept like the dead, I’m pretty sure that Orpheus didn’t last night. Which is too bad. He starts working a lot more than normal, this week, and should probably be rested.
Tonight we have off, as he works late, then goes straight to play practice. His auditions went well, indeed, and he was cast as the inventor and murder victim in a two-man gay short. Afterwards, they’re all going out drinking, which has me a little miffed… I mean, Cinco de Mayo all by myself? He tries pulling that on the 4th of July, and I’m-a gonna stick him! ;-) Just kidding! Anyway, wish me luck, and have a great night, yourselves.
Resuming the main line, post-picnic we went to see ‘Persepolis’ at the cheap seats. It was amazing. Made me almost wish we’d paid ten bucks each to see it at the “Sundance Theatre,” which is slowly driving all the other art-house cinemas in town out of business with its’ middle-age friendly bland gourmet food and hoity-toity suburbanite atmosphere. Finally, O. had his kind of snippy day, and, since I’ve been generally oversensitive and aggressive lately (must be my period), I took it kind of hard. I made mini-pork and beef burgers with pine nuts spiced like kibbeh, accompanied by fresh corn on the cob with olive oil and a small tomato salad. We did drinks and hang-out with Basso, and watched ‘Reno: 911 Miami,’ a good-time romp, and nice counterpoint to ‘Persepolis’ earlier. There was no sex, which was OK, as O. and I got our Kumbay-ya-ya’s out and needed some juice with which to seal the breach. Though I slept like the dead, I’m pretty sure that Orpheus didn’t last night. Which is too bad. He starts working a lot more than normal, this week, and should probably be rested.
Tonight we have off, as he works late, then goes straight to play practice. His auditions went well, indeed, and he was cast as the inventor and murder victim in a two-man gay short. Afterwards, they’re all going out drinking, which has me a little miffed… I mean, Cinco de Mayo all by myself? He tries pulling that on the 4th of July, and I’m-a gonna stick him! ;-) Just kidding! Anyway, wish me luck, and have a great night, yourselves.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Porco (p)Roso
Yesterday revolved around three themes. The first was my obsessive-compulsive e-mail conversation with this lovely man (who never, ever co-occupies the same time-space coordinates with the guy who, oddly, writes the blog appended to Mr. D’s site). It was in regards to some really neat material he wrote about the process of readying his new book, Swish: My Quest to Become the Gayest Person Ever, for publication. Unfortunately, not being publication-minded myself, I don’t think I gave him the kind of feedback he wanted. But I’m definitely far more excited to buy his book than I was before (which is saying something)! While doing personal essays, he really reminds me of a super-energetic David Sedaris, but far more engaged, witty and urbane. Where Sedaris kind of turns inward at every opportunity, Joel seems endlessly to pour effort outward. The way he uses language is very musical, with closely-considered sentences reminiscent of The Picture of Dorian Grey, but lacking the museum-piece, Tiffany-stained-glass quality of Wilde’s stately-pleasure-dome grammary. In essence, we’re talking vital beauty.
After work, I returned home, where Orpheus eagerly awaited my presence. I chose to do my culinary experimentation with pork loin chops, pancetta and sweet peppers in a prosecco sauce last night. I have one word for you… Success!!! Well, mostly. First off, I’m going to make damned sure that the prosecco I get next time is less dry. Secondly, LESS PANCETTA!!! It tasted like I’d buried the pork in salt for a good month before cooking it. (Yes, I’m given to hyperbole. Roll with it!) Next on the list are the shallots. They’ll be very finely minced next time so that they’ll just melt in the sauce. The peppers will be added later in cooking so that they’re still semi-crisp, and I’ll be using the LOWEST SODIUM chicken stock I can find. I think the neatest thing about the dish, which I initially considered disastrous, was that the broth stubbornly refused to reduce to the consistency of a sauce, even with cornstarch, and instead remained a fragrant soup-consistency. Turns out, it was very attractive pooling that way, and it was also F-ING DELICIOUS to sop up with bread.
The process was simple… I salted and peppered the pork, slapped a piece of pancetta on each face, fried for four minutes/side in grape seed oil, removed from heat, drained pan of most accumulated fat, then quickly sautéed my peppers and shallots. After this, I deglazed with a cup or so of prosecco, put in a cup of chicken broth, added 2 chopped grape tomatoes, a sprig of fresh rosemary, and three sprigs of thyme, put the pork back in, and placed in the oven for 10 min. at 350, covered. I then removed the pork and solid vegetable matter to cook down the stock, which took a little too long, leaving the pork a bit chilled when served. Overall, though, not bad. And the flavor was phenomenal. Both Terra Firma and Sister walked in half-way through the process of making the dish, so I offered them half-portions of the extra chop I cooked, and both of them were enthusiastic about the dish’s future, as was the always-appreciative O.
Finally, when we got downtown, had a little 30-Rock under our belts, and were nice and relaxed, the third obsessive activity took place. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. Mmmm. There’s nothing better than clearing out the mental cobwebs with a mind-blowing fuck. Too bad it got warm enough last night to disturb my sleep, otherwise I’d say today is the perfect Friday. Anyway, that’s it for now. Happy belated May Day, ya’ll! And, if you have a favorite recipe, please e-mail me. I’d love to try.
After work, I returned home, where Orpheus eagerly awaited my presence. I chose to do my culinary experimentation with pork loin chops, pancetta and sweet peppers in a prosecco sauce last night. I have one word for you… Success!!! Well, mostly. First off, I’m going to make damned sure that the prosecco I get next time is less dry. Secondly, LESS PANCETTA!!! It tasted like I’d buried the pork in salt for a good month before cooking it. (Yes, I’m given to hyperbole. Roll with it!) Next on the list are the shallots. They’ll be very finely minced next time so that they’ll just melt in the sauce. The peppers will be added later in cooking so that they’re still semi-crisp, and I’ll be using the LOWEST SODIUM chicken stock I can find. I think the neatest thing about the dish, which I initially considered disastrous, was that the broth stubbornly refused to reduce to the consistency of a sauce, even with cornstarch, and instead remained a fragrant soup-consistency. Turns out, it was very attractive pooling that way, and it was also F-ING DELICIOUS to sop up with bread.
The process was simple… I salted and peppered the pork, slapped a piece of pancetta on each face, fried for four minutes/side in grape seed oil, removed from heat, drained pan of most accumulated fat, then quickly sautéed my peppers and shallots. After this, I deglazed with a cup or so of prosecco, put in a cup of chicken broth, added 2 chopped grape tomatoes, a sprig of fresh rosemary, and three sprigs of thyme, put the pork back in, and placed in the oven for 10 min. at 350, covered. I then removed the pork and solid vegetable matter to cook down the stock, which took a little too long, leaving the pork a bit chilled when served. Overall, though, not bad. And the flavor was phenomenal. Both Terra Firma and Sister walked in half-way through the process of making the dish, so I offered them half-portions of the extra chop I cooked, and both of them were enthusiastic about the dish’s future, as was the always-appreciative O.
Finally, when we got downtown, had a little 30-Rock under our belts, and were nice and relaxed, the third obsessive activity took place. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. Mmmm. There’s nothing better than clearing out the mental cobwebs with a mind-blowing fuck. Too bad it got warm enough last night to disturb my sleep, otherwise I’d say today is the perfect Friday. Anyway, that’s it for now. Happy belated May Day, ya’ll! And, if you have a favorite recipe, please e-mail me. I’d love to try.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Boy, howdy did last night suck…
Finishing work yesterday was difficult. Getting out was not fun, and I decided to stop at the grocery store before going home, so that I could just settle in and get shitfaced while prepping dip and Japanese Steakhouse dressing for a salad day we had at work today. Just to let you know what kind of night it was, I also picked up a fifth of Jameson. I bitched at Orpheus online for a little while, was frankly cruel to horny old men in a few chatrooms, and finally got to cooking around 8 PM. The eggplant I put into my roasted red pepper dip was a little too large, leaving me with enough to base a sauce for the chicken breast I’d picked up, so I sautéed onion and garlic with my chicken, deglazed the pan with lemon juice and dry vermouth, then added the eggplant for a simmer-sauce reduction. I’d baked a sweet potato for oven-roasted mash, and had everything set to go, when disaster struck…
I had just brought the steaming plate back into my room to eat, and placed it kind of half on, half off my desk (because of the piles of shit already occupying said space), and half-way through the first cut into my delicious-smelling chicken, the plate overturned onto the floor. It was a disgusting mess. I just drank more instead of dinner, went to bed early, and had a crappy night’s sleep. I think, all told, I slept two hours last night in real time. Plus, I got so hot that the bed was a swampy, sweaty mess in the morning. I had to get up early and do laundry. Meh! Hopefully, tonight will be better.
Today at work was actually OK. I didn’t have as much trouble staying awake as usual, and the salad day was quite nice. My sales were up relative to the last couple days, and that was nice, too. Hopefully, O.’s day didn’t suck, and he’ll be ok with watching my pathetic ass nap for an hour before I start in on dinner. If not, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be a big grumpus stumpus. Hell, at least the movie on tonight’s docket is Baseketball. That oughtta liven our shit up.
I had just brought the steaming plate back into my room to eat, and placed it kind of half on, half off my desk (because of the piles of shit already occupying said space), and half-way through the first cut into my delicious-smelling chicken, the plate overturned onto the floor. It was a disgusting mess. I just drank more instead of dinner, went to bed early, and had a crappy night’s sleep. I think, all told, I slept two hours last night in real time. Plus, I got so hot that the bed was a swampy, sweaty mess in the morning. I had to get up early and do laundry. Meh! Hopefully, tonight will be better.
Today at work was actually OK. I didn’t have as much trouble staying awake as usual, and the salad day was quite nice. My sales were up relative to the last couple days, and that was nice, too. Hopefully, O.’s day didn’t suck, and he’ll be ok with watching my pathetic ass nap for an hour before I start in on dinner. If not, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be a big grumpus stumpus. Hell, at least the movie on tonight’s docket is Baseketball. That oughtta liven our shit up.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
So tired… So very, very tired…
OK. I remember, once in a great while, my parents coming home and putting and end to whatever noisy activities my sister and I were performing at the time… Practicing instruments, vocal rehearsal, playing “new-fangled music” while we attempted our more boring homework, what have you. It all had to stop and wait for a sullen Mom and Dad to decompress from a shitty day by yelling at the kids to clean up after themselves for a few minutes, strap on a book for a spare hour, then make dinner or do housework over a slightly too stiff drink. This was a rare occurrence, admittedly. Unfortunately, this situation describes my activities every day when I get off work. Unlike my parents, I have nobody to yell at but my cat and my boyfriend, neither of whom can be blamed for their lack of domestic derring-do (I mean, one doesn’t have opposable thumbs or understand English, and the other doesn’t live with me), nor their inability to put up with my perpetual ill-temper.
I guess you could say that my current bout of prissiness re: the job has been spurred by my friend out in Minneapolis, who just up and quit his job one day while going through his yearly review. They loved him, mind you, but the work was driving him insane with the hours and the requirements of running a tight ship of a hotel in a ghettofied suburb of St. Paul. The HR regional VP asked him if he was happy in his job, and his response was, “No. I’d like to make this my official one-month notice.” Balls. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a new job yet, and he’s down to two weeks before he starts dipping into savings. Savings, I don’t have, more’s the pity. Also, I have less marketable skills than he. Oddly, as hard as I’ve worked to make a living, I also lack the work ethic to do what I see other people do willingly every day to survive. Or, perhaps I just haven’t found work yet that I can love. I love the people I work with, but without love of the work, it’s just not enough.
I want to be that lighting designer from last Saturday… I want to be an artist who can wax rhapsodic on what he does. I’d like to bring the love and energy of positive exhaustion into my life in every aspect. Quixotically, this seems to be the hardest thing in the world to do for people without business degrees. Folks who know HOW to shoot the system do well, greyly, while the rest of us founder, or flail about until we figure out how to be just the slightest bit less bohemian. It’s no wonder most aspiring authors become soulless contract lawyers. They’re sick of starving, and want to be able to afford the meds that will put an end to sleepless nights spent wondering whether they’ll be able to afford to eat tomorrow. Fishing-pole, indeed. Somehow, I don’t think a BA/BS in business (B[ull]S[hit] being the preferred term, in my mind, for any undergraduate “science” degree,) should be a prerequisite for happiness. I don’t claim to be an artist. At this point, I’d just settle for being left alone.
I guess you could say that my current bout of prissiness re: the job has been spurred by my friend out in Minneapolis, who just up and quit his job one day while going through his yearly review. They loved him, mind you, but the work was driving him insane with the hours and the requirements of running a tight ship of a hotel in a ghettofied suburb of St. Paul. The HR regional VP asked him if he was happy in his job, and his response was, “No. I’d like to make this my official one-month notice.” Balls. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a new job yet, and he’s down to two weeks before he starts dipping into savings. Savings, I don’t have, more’s the pity. Also, I have less marketable skills than he. Oddly, as hard as I’ve worked to make a living, I also lack the work ethic to do what I see other people do willingly every day to survive. Or, perhaps I just haven’t found work yet that I can love. I love the people I work with, but without love of the work, it’s just not enough.
I want to be that lighting designer from last Saturday… I want to be an artist who can wax rhapsodic on what he does. I’d like to bring the love and energy of positive exhaustion into my life in every aspect. Quixotically, this seems to be the hardest thing in the world to do for people without business degrees. Folks who know HOW to shoot the system do well, greyly, while the rest of us founder, or flail about until we figure out how to be just the slightest bit less bohemian. It’s no wonder most aspiring authors become soulless contract lawyers. They’re sick of starving, and want to be able to afford the meds that will put an end to sleepless nights spent wondering whether they’ll be able to afford to eat tomorrow. Fishing-pole, indeed. Somehow, I don’t think a BA/BS in business (B[ull]S[hit] being the preferred term, in my mind, for any undergraduate “science” degree,) should be a prerequisite for happiness. I don’t claim to be an artist. At this point, I’d just settle for being left alone.
Monday, April 28, 2008
‘a’ is for Art with capital expenditures...
So, sorry about the two posts today. I realized, belatedly, that I hadn’t gotten to getting the previous bit on the web (as intended) by about 6:00 PM on the 25th. Therefore, it was on the web around 4:50 PM on 4/28. So, here’s the end to the story... Friday was a walking abortion, up to the point where we got into bed. Really, to “save gas,” I went downtown directly after work, even though O. was working until 8. There was a really fast walk-through of the super-expensive design-show-like gallery for free, as one of his co-workers nabbed a ticket for me when Orpheus wasn’t looking. When it was 7, a friend called, and reminded me that Leo, he of great annoyance to O., was having a goodbye charity drag show thrown by his frat for him. So, I got ready, returned Orpheus’ keys at the museum, and went. As failures (labeled A,) go, it was fun, but lasted WAY longer than advertised. Afterwards I was kinda crabby, O. was kinda crabby, and agitated as fuck with the dumb shit that goes on during fundraisers at work. We ate out at Denny’s, where there was a teen male youth group seated quite close to us (Failures B and C, respectively), and then we came back to my place, where there was some transcendent sex, thank god (you know, the one that lives in Orpheus’ dick). Thus, we at least both slept decently.
Saturday started out well, with a nice version of my american potatoes for breakfast, and french scrambled eggs with bacon, yellow pepper and shallots, all prepared in a similar manner to last week’s rendition of the same, albeit without the chicken stock in the potatoes. Then, we went back downtown, and O. went to work. On the way, I was to pick up BakedAlaska, who, half-way to his place phoned to tell me that QuakerNoOats was horribly sick, so he couldn’t make gaming. Once I’d dropped Orpheus off, and picked up Bulgaria, who had asked for a ride, we arrived at gaming, only to find that we hadn’t made group quorum... Leo was sick post-drag-show, and didn’t show up. This meant that we spent the afternoon playing board games, which in and of itself wasn’t bad. It’s nice to have contact with one’s friends that doesn’t involve loudly invoking the names of (fictional) gods who sound silly and are absurdly single-purpose. (I mean, monotheism gets SOME things right. Sadly, I prefer religious Swiss-army-ism in this regard, even if I do find all ‘gods’ similarly fictional in feel.) Afterwards, O. and I had an odd night together at his place (and several bars,) involving Basso, who’d just had his bag stolen. Admittedly, I and I was rather out of it, and a bit spacey, as well as horny as hell. Basso, though he wasn’t feeling the love enough to get pounded, was more than happy to watch us have sex. Kind of fun, but I’d have rather been a good boy. We went to bed fairly quickly after dropping B. off.
Sunday just plain sucked, with two provisos. Orpheus had to work early, and I was stuck at his place by myself... Worse yet, I forgot to brew coffee, which would probably explain my overarching grumpiness well into last night. Proviso one was that I found a site where I can stream episodes of Top Chef: Season IV. I will not share the name of said site, because I want to continue to find said episodes there! For this, I apologize. Secondly, I went to a really neat symposium session on lighting artwork at the benefit. The guy talked like the Sicilian thief from ‘The Princess Bride’, which was wonderful. Plus, he was so passionate about his work... I couldn’t help but think that I’d love working if I could just be as excited about the things I do as he is about his work. Well, that and his clients include some of the richest people in the US, and half the huge industrial concerns in a four-state spread, so business has to be booming. Yes, monetary success would sit well, too. Anyway, he was very amusing. After O. finished work, I was still crabby, but made a neat little dish with chicken breasts, leftover Rose (fucking accent marks!) and prosciutto from our excursion to the House on the Rock, and a little vegetable broth, shallot, Italian seasonings, etc. It was actually pretty nice! I think, though, that I’ll try the treatment down the road with pork loin chops and prosecco or a sweet rose, if such I can find, and call the dish “Porco (p)Roso,” both in honor of the movie, and because it’s fucking cute. Besides which, I think the idea of “Porc au Vin is kinda funny. and neat... However, one must find a way to rid oneself of the dreaded bay leaf without ruining the dish! I left last night, as I hadn’t taken good care of my kitty, and so spent last night alone, cold, and masturbating my brains out through my ears. Le-sigh!
Saturday started out well, with a nice version of my american potatoes for breakfast, and french scrambled eggs with bacon, yellow pepper and shallots, all prepared in a similar manner to last week’s rendition of the same, albeit without the chicken stock in the potatoes. Then, we went back downtown, and O. went to work. On the way, I was to pick up BakedAlaska, who, half-way to his place phoned to tell me that QuakerNoOats was horribly sick, so he couldn’t make gaming. Once I’d dropped Orpheus off, and picked up Bulgaria, who had asked for a ride, we arrived at gaming, only to find that we hadn’t made group quorum... Leo was sick post-drag-show, and didn’t show up. This meant that we spent the afternoon playing board games, which in and of itself wasn’t bad. It’s nice to have contact with one’s friends that doesn’t involve loudly invoking the names of (fictional) gods who sound silly and are absurdly single-purpose. (I mean, monotheism gets SOME things right. Sadly, I prefer religious Swiss-army-ism in this regard, even if I do find all ‘gods’ similarly fictional in feel.) Afterwards, O. and I had an odd night together at his place (and several bars,) involving Basso, who’d just had his bag stolen. Admittedly, I and I was rather out of it, and a bit spacey, as well as horny as hell. Basso, though he wasn’t feeling the love enough to get pounded, was more than happy to watch us have sex. Kind of fun, but I’d have rather been a good boy. We went to bed fairly quickly after dropping B. off.
Sunday just plain sucked, with two provisos. Orpheus had to work early, and I was stuck at his place by myself... Worse yet, I forgot to brew coffee, which would probably explain my overarching grumpiness well into last night. Proviso one was that I found a site where I can stream episodes of Top Chef: Season IV. I will not share the name of said site, because I want to continue to find said episodes there! For this, I apologize. Secondly, I went to a really neat symposium session on lighting artwork at the benefit. The guy talked like the Sicilian thief from ‘The Princess Bride’, which was wonderful. Plus, he was so passionate about his work... I couldn’t help but think that I’d love working if I could just be as excited about the things I do as he is about his work. Well, that and his clients include some of the richest people in the US, and half the huge industrial concerns in a four-state spread, so business has to be booming. Yes, monetary success would sit well, too. Anyway, he was very amusing. After O. finished work, I was still crabby, but made a neat little dish with chicken breasts, leftover Rose (fucking accent marks!) and prosciutto from our excursion to the House on the Rock, and a little vegetable broth, shallot, Italian seasonings, etc. It was actually pretty nice! I think, though, that I’ll try the treatment down the road with pork loin chops and prosecco or a sweet rose, if such I can find, and call the dish “Porco (p)Roso,” both in honor of the movie, and because it’s fucking cute. Besides which, I think the idea of “Porc au Vin is kinda funny. and neat... However, one must find a way to rid oneself of the dreaded bay leaf without ruining the dish! I left last night, as I hadn’t taken good care of my kitty, and so spent last night alone, cold, and masturbating my brains out through my ears. Le-sigh!
Cleaning up the word vomit… (Meant to be posted on Friday)
Apparently, holding back the flow of words from my fingers for nearly a solid week makes me an incoherently gibbering boob, if yesterday's post is any indicator. Hope you liked the pictures, as there will never be any more such images taken, more's the pity. They've closed that staircase behind the carousel permanently… Dumb senior discount tours and handicappers… Grr. Anyway, there was a third person on the tour with Orpheus and I, and it was Aphrodite, who is still, annoyingly, with BF. Apparently, all is going well between them at the moment, and they got a dog together. The dog is named Mosseda. Yes, Mosseda. Apparently, BF is attempting to build his domestic fortress around an unstable, frankly unhappy relationship by binding ties such as this "family building" exercise, in which Aphrodite raises a dog, and BF gets to baby it. If she finishes converting, it'll be complete, and even marching the ark around the walls ten times for a week won't bring such a façade down.
In any case, we were free of BF, so everything was quite fine. Though, in retrospect, we were just as quick touring as we were with our picnic. Each thing we did took about one to one and a half hours.
Picnic – Tour I – Tour II. It was a fun day, albeit a little mechanical, probably because it was a repeat experience for O. and I. However, the ongoing conversation was rather fun, and being as loopy as I was on that much Rose, there were quite a few fun pictures! I accidentally stumbled onto a gold-mine of settings on my camera that made images which shouldn't have turned out crystal-clear… Including the one of me kinda blowing a wooden Dumbledore-like character's outstretched wand. What can I say? It was a celebratory picture.
Yesterday, both Orpheus and I were quite cross to start. He got better faster than I. My mood, of course, plummeted when 'The Office' came on, so O. sent me to the liquor store to stock up so I could skip the episode. When I came back, I had enough Japanese-style lagers to get a football player drunk, and kind of made a night of it. He hated, for once, the Office, saying that the episode was a waste of his time. 30-Rock, on the other hand, was the bomb-diggity. I mean, wow… Business Juice? I think I’m going to have to get so ‘juiced’ over a work lunch sometime that I get business sick on my crappy, no-vent Perry Ellis suit.
Either way, interesting weekend on the way, or not… The MMoCA (Madison Museum of Contemporary Art) is throwing a design symposium as a fundraiser, so rich/old people can pay $15/ticket to see a brace of rooms set up around pieces from the museum’s permanent collection, including a set of Warhol prints of whacky US dollar signs. More later…
In any case, we were free of BF, so everything was quite fine. Though, in retrospect, we were just as quick touring as we were with our picnic. Each thing we did took about one to one and a half hours.
Picnic – Tour I – Tour II. It was a fun day, albeit a little mechanical, probably because it was a repeat experience for O. and I. However, the ongoing conversation was rather fun, and being as loopy as I was on that much Rose, there were quite a few fun pictures! I accidentally stumbled onto a gold-mine of settings on my camera that made images which shouldn't have turned out crystal-clear… Including the one of me kinda blowing a wooden Dumbledore-like character's outstretched wand. What can I say? It was a celebratory picture.
Yesterday, both Orpheus and I were quite cross to start. He got better faster than I. My mood, of course, plummeted when 'The Office' came on, so O. sent me to the liquor store to stock up so I could skip the episode. When I came back, I had enough Japanese-style lagers to get a football player drunk, and kind of made a night of it. He hated, for once, the Office, saying that the episode was a waste of his time. 30-Rock, on the other hand, was the bomb-diggity. I mean, wow… Business Juice? I think I’m going to have to get so ‘juiced’ over a work lunch sometime that I get business sick on my crappy, no-vent Perry Ellis suit.
Either way, interesting weekend on the way, or not… The MMoCA (Madison Museum of Contemporary Art) is throwing a design symposium as a fundraiser, so rich/old people can pay $15/ticket to see a brace of rooms set up around pieces from the museum’s permanent collection, including a set of Warhol prints of whacky US dollar signs. More later…
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Weekends should all be four days long…
I'm now 28. I took plenty of time off from blogging (not to mention
work), and now figure that I owe you folks (if you actually exist… I
wouldn't know, as nobody every leaves comments,) a little something in
recompense. First off, I'm really f-ing glad I didn't make a huge
deal out of my birthday this year. Last year's hour of awkward
conversation with Dungeon Master (the only person other than Orpheus
to show up near on-time,) was a little much… As was having to hear O.
complain re: my friend who is also a Leo and was kinda
mean/opinionated/leonine in a conversation they had about sexuality.
So, this year, I just dominated Orphheus' time over the course of a
four-day weekend.
I haven't felt like cooking for awhile, oddly… I think it has
something to do with just being off on the Coq au Vin last week, for
starters, and partially because I'm kind of stuck in a flavor rut
that's only beginning to break a touch. This weekend, most of what I
did was traditional breakfast fare, pan-fried and oven-finished
breakfast potatoes "importencias," as I made them all fancy-like with
fresh thyme and bay leaf, and the boiling liquid was chicken stock and
dry vermouth. Since I had bad bacon, I just cooked the lean with a
tiny portion of the fat in a spray of grapeseed oil, and used the
remnants thereof to sauté the shallots and green peppers for the eggs.
I then turned down the heat, put the finely chopped bacon back into
the skillet, and added the eggs. Fortunately there was raclette on
hand, so the eggs tasted like dying and going to heaven. Other than
that, we ate out a lot, and had a really fun time dressing up some
Tino's frozen burritos for dinner on Sunday, served with oven-fried
potato wedges. It was delightful!
On Monday, my birthday was capped off quite nicely. O. and I had a
beautiful doink in the morning, very experimental. I ended up doing
him on an exercise ball, which seemed to ignite a certain fire
heretofore unknown. Very interesting, to say the least! We went
downtown, and while Orpheus worked for a couple hours, I went to the
bar that lets you drink tap beers free all day/night on your birthday,
in your own personal 8-oz. birthday stein. It was fun, as I struck up
a neat mid-day conversation with the house manager (a real hottie –
don't tell O., though, as it tends to upset him when I check out
girls). Later, when Orpheus was done with work, we got gussied up and
went to the New Pornographers' show, which was an awesome concert…
They're a second band project, so I was very surprised to see them
pull out quite a few reinterpretations of their old music. There
wasn't as much witty banter on stage this time around, and I literally
slept through most of their opening act, but they did their job… That
band's high-energy, low-skill flailings in skinny suits that they were
slightly too fat (and too old) for got everybody jazzed up, but hungry
for substance. The New Pornographers supplied.
Before the concert, as a side-note, O. and I had the most lovely
dinner at the Tornado Steak House, the restaurant attached to one of
our fav. bars, The Tornado Room. It was pretty quick, but I had a
beautiful petit fillet done medium-rare, accompanied by a neat little
Argentinean Malbec. There was no time for dessert, but it didn't
matter. The meal was simple and brilliant, and our lesbian waitress
was both perfectly professional (read – didn't look down at us because
we were dressed for a concert in an old hall with a bunch of fudging
hippie-sters), and a real laugh-riot. She also got that we had to be
quick, and was instrumental in fighting our orders to the top of the
queue in the kitchen. It was an excellent experience.
On Tuesday, I got up super-early, baked a quiche with broccoli, yellow
pepper, onion, shallot, gruyere, raclette and sharp cheddar, put
together the fundaments of a salad that we tossed on-site (prcciutto,
fresh mozz balls, figs, pistachios and baby arrugula with a balsamic
vinegar and olive oil dressing, and my roast pepper dip. We had
store-bought cookies for dessert, and the liquid accompaniment was a
beautiful French Rose (would you happen to have a grave laying
around?). The House on the Rock, which we experienced after eating
our picnic, has been slightly diminished by the decision to make it
more handicap accessible. One misses out on the winding, odd routings
through buildings more slap-dash storage than museum
presentation-quality. The most cruelly felt change was the new exit
from the world's largest carousel, which used to be a narrow staircase
that climbed around the side of the spinning monstrosity, then entered
a narrow, hot, dark, close hallway into which was carved a six-foot
rectangular window. Through this window, the steel-cable suspension
holding the carousel's canopy up could be seen, spinning slowly around
the central spindle, bathed in light from a heat vent in the side of
the wall. The pictures I took served as my desktop background for
some months last year, until I took better ones of some mercury glass
at the Milwaukee Museum of Art. You can see my favorite 2 above.
Yesterday was the day I actually meant to post this, but I lost all will to survive after work let out, and so I went to bed. I woke up around midnight, then went to sleep again around 12:30. I slept all night with earplugs in, then went to work... Tired. How does it always work out that way? I GOT ENOUGH SLEEP FOR ONCE!!! Sometimes, I just hate being human. Anyway, have a great evening. I promise I'll be writing more next week... And thank you for the comment, fellow blogger (you know who you are)!!! I'm glad to see that I am actually read. ;-)
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Dinnertime exploits
It’s gorgeous outside. 55F, the world’s most perfect temperature… Tonight, instead of getting outside and enjoying nature, I’m cooking for my friend R., who I mentioned last week. It’ll be about two hours of cooking, drinking, and various other non-sexual activities. Thank god for straight friends! The only problem I’m having is coming up with something for him to do while I’m slaving over dinner/drinks! I fear that the poor dear will be bored mindless whilst I cook. Oh, well. He isn’t a “compleat” slouch in the kitchen, but he’s not good, either (read “compleat” as better around a campfire or in a poorly-built hearth). Ends up eating organic frozen pizza most nights. Meh. Sea salt is still sodium, no matter how many brine shrimp it has making it pink.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Where hast thou gone, O weekend fair?
Lately, I feel like Prospero’s daughter, waiting for a gentleman to end her solitude… The difference is, I wear no dresses (except on Halloween), I’m just here for a brain, not a prince ( I was simply lucky and got both), and I’m really just pinning for the weekend. Two days here and there, delightful in their freedom, fleeting and precious, then gone like a sweet albeit ill-advised tryst. Of course, had I my way, every day would be a weekend, and then what would we do about an economy in general? I have my guy already, but maybe we need a sugar-daddy or something. A freaky-deaky voyeur who gets his jollies off watching a couple fuck each other like minions, then gives out fat sheaves of cash for the privilege. And health benefits. And unsupervised Continental vacation time. Did I mention pension and/or 401K?... Hot.
Friday started off just wrong. Our plans with Basso were snafued, and by the time I got downtown, I’d been through the ringer driving-wise already, and just wanted a nap. I got it, and O. brought B. back to his place after he got a bite to eat. We watched some TV, then we fucked. Saturday, we got together and saw a production of Female Stage Beauty, after I’d roleplayed (again, TABLE-TOP with dice, not whips and chains). It was nice! B. ended up sleeping over at my apartment afterwards, and we had a good deal of experimental sex on Sunday morning. We tried that guy on guy on guy thing, and it turns out that it doesn’t work so well outside of porno… At least not the way we tried it. Eventually, Basso’d had enough pounding, so we just gave him a show. Orpheus fucked me for awhile, on my front, back, legs in the air, edge of the bed, all that good stuff. For effect I moaned a lot while staring constantly at Basso. Let’s just say that, mild artifice aside, everybody was ggg, and B. came about three times as quickly as O. did, leaving me as the final star of the morning. We then cleaned up, got dressed, and took a trip to the zoo. We wanted very much to beat other people’s children.
Last night, I did taxes, and ended up with a shitty return. Still, though, a return it was, so I’ve got that going for me. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough left to pay for the flying/driving/living/clothing expenses for the two weddings I’m in this summer, let alone a 6-qt. All-Clad sauté pan, more’s the pity. I was really counting on an overage. Good thing that damned rebate is coming in the form of “economic stimulus.” So stupid. If we had a responsible administration, it’d just be going to people who didn’t have enough cash to pay an accountant to help them cheat on their taxes. I made less money last year than in 2006, and ended up paying more to the government. Since when has that been OK? And I even bloody well had a huge charitable contribution this year! This is TOTALLY f-ed up.
Friday started off just wrong. Our plans with Basso were snafued, and by the time I got downtown, I’d been through the ringer driving-wise already, and just wanted a nap. I got it, and O. brought B. back to his place after he got a bite to eat. We watched some TV, then we fucked. Saturday, we got together and saw a production of Female Stage Beauty, after I’d roleplayed (again, TABLE-TOP with dice, not whips and chains). It was nice! B. ended up sleeping over at my apartment afterwards, and we had a good deal of experimental sex on Sunday morning. We tried that guy on guy on guy thing, and it turns out that it doesn’t work so well outside of porno… At least not the way we tried it. Eventually, Basso’d had enough pounding, so we just gave him a show. Orpheus fucked me for awhile, on my front, back, legs in the air, edge of the bed, all that good stuff. For effect I moaned a lot while staring constantly at Basso. Let’s just say that, mild artifice aside, everybody was ggg, and B. came about three times as quickly as O. did, leaving me as the final star of the morning. We then cleaned up, got dressed, and took a trip to the zoo. We wanted very much to beat other people’s children.
Last night, I did taxes, and ended up with a shitty return. Still, though, a return it was, so I’ve got that going for me. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough left to pay for the flying/driving/living/clothing expenses for the two weddings I’m in this summer, let alone a 6-qt. All-Clad sauté pan, more’s the pity. I was really counting on an overage. Good thing that damned rebate is coming in the form of “economic stimulus.” So stupid. If we had a responsible administration, it’d just be going to people who didn’t have enough cash to pay an accountant to help them cheat on their taxes. I made less money last year than in 2006, and ended up paying more to the government. Since when has that been OK? And I even bloody well had a huge charitable contribution this year! This is TOTALLY f-ed up.
Friday, April 11, 2008
TGI f-ing F
Two days of rain and bone-gnawing cold has me a little down. I’m usually OK with the cold, but this winter has been punishing at the end… It’s been a bad year for health, but a good one for my sanity. A good year for my bank account. A good year for my kitchen and my soul, too, one hopes. Any way you look at it, good outweighs the bad this time through.
Last night was nice. Orpheus and I hung out at his place, after I’d half-cooked dinner at mine. It was a more fully realized version of the dish I made for BakedAlaska, QuakerNoOats and EvilGenius, their daughter. It was also a little more standard for me. I used shallots, black walnuts, cherries and cranberries for the glaze and the stuffing. Pretty much, I butchered, stuffed, tied and browned the tenderloin at my place, then popped it in my small enameled casserole, glazed it, transported it to O.’s place, and roasted it there. Other than a positively horrid wine selection (a Spanish white that was rather too dry for pork, ESPECIALLY pork with a bittersweet cherry glaze), all was well. We watched South Park online, then had some very nice sweaty time sans-pen.
Tomorrow, I roleplay again, and we’ll be seeing a play later that night, for free, thanks to Basso. Afterwards, there should be plenty of time to sweat, and much of it screwing, too, one hopes. That will be followed, finally, by a trip to the zoo on Sunday morning, if it’s not freezing and wet by then. And if it is, then Sunday will likely be whiled away in bed, fucking like some sort of deranged rabbit. I love the weekend.
Last night was nice. Orpheus and I hung out at his place, after I’d half-cooked dinner at mine. It was a more fully realized version of the dish I made for BakedAlaska, QuakerNoOats and EvilGenius, their daughter. It was also a little more standard for me. I used shallots, black walnuts, cherries and cranberries for the glaze and the stuffing. Pretty much, I butchered, stuffed, tied and browned the tenderloin at my place, then popped it in my small enameled casserole, glazed it, transported it to O.’s place, and roasted it there. Other than a positively horrid wine selection (a Spanish white that was rather too dry for pork, ESPECIALLY pork with a bittersweet cherry glaze), all was well. We watched South Park online, then had some very nice sweaty time sans-pen.
Tomorrow, I roleplay again, and we’ll be seeing a play later that night, for free, thanks to Basso. Afterwards, there should be plenty of time to sweat, and much of it screwing, too, one hopes. That will be followed, finally, by a trip to the zoo on Sunday morning, if it’s not freezing and wet by then. And if it is, then Sunday will likely be whiled away in bed, fucking like some sort of deranged rabbit. I love the weekend.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Stupid Breeders...
Last night was pretty darned fun. I cooked chicken breasts in the leftover red wine/bacon soup disaster post coq au vin on Sunday. They were friggin’ amazing. And I was right in that the dish, with the sauce finished appropriately, actually goes better with my own mashed roasted sweet potatoes than with mashed russets, reds or Yukon golds. Orpheus contributed a beautiful little fresh spinach salad, and had made bisquick scones earlier in the day, which I covered in fresh strawberries in a honey sauce set off with a touch of pepper, salt, and peach schnapps. I like dating a man who doesn’t make a bloody mess of baking. God knows I do.
After a couple quick chores, and contacting a very old friend who I’m supposed to hang out with this week (and cook for… R. and his girlfriend just broke up, and he’s still paying for the apartment), O. and I headed downtown. We had to make a quick trip to Walgreens for lube, which he was fresh out of at his place, and it was pretty amusing. When we walked in, there was a really cute straight couple standing by the wall ‘o prophylactics timidly considering their options, caught like deer in headlights between two obvious fags and the Astroglide. Orpheus said he got full eye contact with the guy, while reaching past to the lube, and there was fear in his eyes… stupid breeder. Once we finally checked out, we’d also acquired three cans of Pringles, a box of Honey Bunches of Oats, and some bit of candy or some such. All I could think while we paid was “damn, it looks like we’re holing up for the night!” I mean, really! Enough carbs to get one to NYC and back, and lube in quantities sufficient for a small yet tasteful orgy. Funny, ‘cause we ended up going out.
We hit the Opus Lounge, which is quickly becoming our favorite bar. It was the site of the walking abortion of an evening with BF, Aphrodite’s cohabitator, tormenter, and now boss. The regular weeknight bartender (also the manager) was there, so we got excellent and familiar service with ongoing conversation continued from weeks before. Plus, we were there with friends who I hadn’t seen in awhile (and who O. and I had, by our phone call, rescued from such an ignominious fate as watching the final basketball game in the NCAA tournament), so all was right with the world. Since I’m flaking on him Wednesday with R., Orpheus and I will be hanging out tonight. This is just fine by me, as I totally want to use the lube we purchased at the price of a straight man’s dignity for its’ intended purpose… Easing the way.
After a couple quick chores, and contacting a very old friend who I’m supposed to hang out with this week (and cook for… R. and his girlfriend just broke up, and he’s still paying for the apartment), O. and I headed downtown. We had to make a quick trip to Walgreens for lube, which he was fresh out of at his place, and it was pretty amusing. When we walked in, there was a really cute straight couple standing by the wall ‘o prophylactics timidly considering their options, caught like deer in headlights between two obvious fags and the Astroglide. Orpheus said he got full eye contact with the guy, while reaching past to the lube, and there was fear in his eyes… stupid breeder. Once we finally checked out, we’d also acquired three cans of Pringles, a box of Honey Bunches of Oats, and some bit of candy or some such. All I could think while we paid was “damn, it looks like we’re holing up for the night!” I mean, really! Enough carbs to get one to NYC and back, and lube in quantities sufficient for a small yet tasteful orgy. Funny, ‘cause we ended up going out.
We hit the Opus Lounge, which is quickly becoming our favorite bar. It was the site of the walking abortion of an evening with BF, Aphrodite’s cohabitator, tormenter, and now boss. The regular weeknight bartender (also the manager) was there, so we got excellent and familiar service with ongoing conversation continued from weeks before. Plus, we were there with friends who I hadn’t seen in awhile (and who O. and I had, by our phone call, rescued from such an ignominious fate as watching the final basketball game in the NCAA tournament), so all was right with the world. Since I’m flaking on him Wednesday with R., Orpheus and I will be hanging out tonight. This is just fine by me, as I totally want to use the lube we purchased at the price of a straight man’s dignity for its’ intended purpose… Easing the way.
Monday, April 7, 2008
The best-laid plans of mice and men…
As you can tell from the title, this weekend didn’t look much at all like I’d envisioned it. Amorphous, in fact, doesn’t even begin to describe the feats of laziness involved in making things “work” in any sort of by-the-clock fashion. The only thing that Orpheus says that literally makes me set my teeth is “Let’s play it by ear.” This weekend was very much played by ear.
Friday night, we ended up unable to attend the Goldberg Variations, as said event was sold out. Therefore, we ended up having to ditch the Mac movie to do it on Sunday. We ended up spending Friday night downtown at O’s place, and he was kinda crabby. Crabby to the point that he snapped at me several times, and ended up taking a log shower, then a long walk by himself to maintain some semblance of humanity. (Note: I really wasn’t aware there was so much bitterness regarding this episode until the preceding slipped my fingers.) We didn’t end up seeing any movies at the film festival at all, and we couldn’t even really settle on anything to watch except a pretty lame-o Woody Allen film that only seemed to annoy O. more. The sleep was atrocious, and Orpheus was a touch crabby the next morning, too, mostly because he had to work wicked-early.
So, on Saturday morning, we got ourselves fed, and I had to drive to the other end of town to pick up a package that came early from Amazon.com containing two super-cool cookbooks. One was the Top Chef coffee-table cookbook, and coffee-table book or not, it has some kickin’ stuff going on. The other is the Culinary Institute of America’s intro textbook for professional chefs. It is full of some very basic teaching recipes for ten, and has great teaching sections re: kitchen tools, veggies, cuts of meat, culinary science, etc. It weighs more than my LeCreuset skillet, if that tells you anything. It’s “smashing.” ;-) After the post office, I picked up BakedAlaska, and went to roleplaying, where we got a ton of stuff done. Cunegonde, my dwarf, ended up hitting the proverbial jackpot after we “killed” a lich, and walked away with a magical library that includes every single spell in the players’ handbook. Dorkalicious, yes, but very sexy. Later on, after I’d dropped BakedAK off back at his apartment, Orpheus and I hung out with Basso. We went to a nice newer kind of a hippie bar on his side of town named “Alchemy” or some such, walked around a bit, and saw his place for the first time. We then did the Mercury Lounge downtown, which is his normal hangout. It was an OK night, I think we were all a little distracted. Fortunately, there was some really nice non-penetrative sex on Saturday night between just O. and I that left both of us smiling. Otherwise, I’d call the day a total loss relationship-wise.
Sunday was pretty chill. We rose quite late, and Orpheus was very helpful in terms of reminding me gently to do some stuff that just plain needed getting done. He was also very nice in terms of helping me with said tasks. We did a really big shopping trip to Woodman’s, the local super-duper mart, and on our way to the Goldberg Variations, checked out a wonderful little place called Brennan’s that BakedAK let me know about. When we cooked at their place last weekend, the loganberries in the freezer had been sourced from Brennan’s. O. and I were quite impressed. It’s a gourmet market with awesome produce, kickin’ cheese, decent wine, great meat and fish cases, and generally a beautiful atmosphere with helpful employees. From there, we got downtown absurdly early, and hung out at a little place across the street from the First Unitarian Society called “Booked for Murder.” They are a small local bookstore specializing in the sale of mystery novels. We ended up walking out with a couple books, one of which is a Patricia Bond novel. Patricia, apparently, is James Bond’s lesbian twin. I’m looking forward to that one.
The concert was awesome. The First Unitarian Society owns what is probably the nicest harpsichord in the state of Wisconsin. It isn’t actually a period instrument (I was horribly wrong on that point), but is, in fact, an artful copy of a French two-manual model built in the late 18th century. As such, it was one of the more complex examples of its’ type, and had quite a few neat bells and whistles, including four stops that could variously change the sound of the instrument. (Fortunately, it didn’t have one of those weird gliss-bars that let it almost sound like there is dynamic variation to the tone.) As such, it was certainly the most aurally varied performance of the Goldberg Variations I’ve ever heard on what was, apparently, the instrument for which they were written. I had a wonderful time, as it was an excellent performance, but the experience left O. a little cold. It also brought up a question that I’m not sure I’ll ever know the answer to… If old people are wont to nod off in the middle of eating, why the hell would they attend a two-hour concert of thematic variations on a single-line melody on what may be the world’s most tonally challenged keyboard instrument? If they were recording, and I think that they were, then the tape will have to be ruthlessly edited for old-man snoring.
Last night was very long, but neat. I cooked my ass off. I made Coq au Vin from the Top Chef cookbook… It didn’t quite work the way I wanted it to, as the sauce didn’t reduce properly without a little more chicken in the pan, etc… However, it worked well enough. I also made enough of my faux-Chinese chicken (also wine-boiled, but with “Chinese” spicing) to eat for lunch for a few days. That’s pretty much my weird-ass weekend in a bucket, except that I didn’t get laid at all! I’ll tell you what… O. spends every Monday at my place, and he’d better be showered and naked when I get back home, today… ;-)
Friday night, we ended up unable to attend the Goldberg Variations, as said event was sold out. Therefore, we ended up having to ditch the Mac movie to do it on Sunday. We ended up spending Friday night downtown at O’s place, and he was kinda crabby. Crabby to the point that he snapped at me several times, and ended up taking a log shower, then a long walk by himself to maintain some semblance of humanity. (Note: I really wasn’t aware there was so much bitterness regarding this episode until the preceding slipped my fingers.) We didn’t end up seeing any movies at the film festival at all, and we couldn’t even really settle on anything to watch except a pretty lame-o Woody Allen film that only seemed to annoy O. more. The sleep was atrocious, and Orpheus was a touch crabby the next morning, too, mostly because he had to work wicked-early.
So, on Saturday morning, we got ourselves fed, and I had to drive to the other end of town to pick up a package that came early from Amazon.com containing two super-cool cookbooks. One was the Top Chef coffee-table cookbook, and coffee-table book or not, it has some kickin’ stuff going on. The other is the Culinary Institute of America’s intro textbook for professional chefs. It is full of some very basic teaching recipes for ten, and has great teaching sections re: kitchen tools, veggies, cuts of meat, culinary science, etc. It weighs more than my LeCreuset skillet, if that tells you anything. It’s “smashing.” ;-) After the post office, I picked up BakedAlaska, and went to roleplaying, where we got a ton of stuff done. Cunegonde, my dwarf, ended up hitting the proverbial jackpot after we “killed” a lich, and walked away with a magical library that includes every single spell in the players’ handbook. Dorkalicious, yes, but very sexy. Later on, after I’d dropped BakedAK off back at his apartment, Orpheus and I hung out with Basso. We went to a nice newer kind of a hippie bar on his side of town named “Alchemy” or some such, walked around a bit, and saw his place for the first time. We then did the Mercury Lounge downtown, which is his normal hangout. It was an OK night, I think we were all a little distracted. Fortunately, there was some really nice non-penetrative sex on Saturday night between just O. and I that left both of us smiling. Otherwise, I’d call the day a total loss relationship-wise.
Sunday was pretty chill. We rose quite late, and Orpheus was very helpful in terms of reminding me gently to do some stuff that just plain needed getting done. He was also very nice in terms of helping me with said tasks. We did a really big shopping trip to Woodman’s, the local super-duper mart, and on our way to the Goldberg Variations, checked out a wonderful little place called Brennan’s that BakedAK let me know about. When we cooked at their place last weekend, the loganberries in the freezer had been sourced from Brennan’s. O. and I were quite impressed. It’s a gourmet market with awesome produce, kickin’ cheese, decent wine, great meat and fish cases, and generally a beautiful atmosphere with helpful employees. From there, we got downtown absurdly early, and hung out at a little place across the street from the First Unitarian Society called “Booked for Murder.” They are a small local bookstore specializing in the sale of mystery novels. We ended up walking out with a couple books, one of which is a Patricia Bond novel. Patricia, apparently, is James Bond’s lesbian twin. I’m looking forward to that one.
The concert was awesome. The First Unitarian Society owns what is probably the nicest harpsichord in the state of Wisconsin. It isn’t actually a period instrument (I was horribly wrong on that point), but is, in fact, an artful copy of a French two-manual model built in the late 18th century. As such, it was one of the more complex examples of its’ type, and had quite a few neat bells and whistles, including four stops that could variously change the sound of the instrument. (Fortunately, it didn’t have one of those weird gliss-bars that let it almost sound like there is dynamic variation to the tone.) As such, it was certainly the most aurally varied performance of the Goldberg Variations I’ve ever heard on what was, apparently, the instrument for which they were written. I had a wonderful time, as it was an excellent performance, but the experience left O. a little cold. It also brought up a question that I’m not sure I’ll ever know the answer to… If old people are wont to nod off in the middle of eating, why the hell would they attend a two-hour concert of thematic variations on a single-line melody on what may be the world’s most tonally challenged keyboard instrument? If they were recording, and I think that they were, then the tape will have to be ruthlessly edited for old-man snoring.
Last night was very long, but neat. I cooked my ass off. I made Coq au Vin from the Top Chef cookbook… It didn’t quite work the way I wanted it to, as the sauce didn’t reduce properly without a little more chicken in the pan, etc… However, it worked well enough. I also made enough of my faux-Chinese chicken (also wine-boiled, but with “Chinese” spicing) to eat for lunch for a few days. That’s pretty much my weird-ass weekend in a bucket, except that I didn’t get laid at all! I’ll tell you what… O. spends every Monday at my place, and he’d better be showered and naked when I get back home, today… ;-)
Friday, April 4, 2008
Autistic pursuits…
So, yesterday night turned out to be a mess of coincidences that have shaped this weekend into quite the looming, amorphous event! I’m shedding money like water doing it, but there’s a great deal going on in town, including the Goldberg Variations on a period harpsichord, the Wisconsin Film Festival, and roleplaying (remember, table-top with dice, you dirty bastards). Orpheus and I are going to make quite the trip through the proverbial artistic underworld of Madison. Underworld only because the weekend is so jam-packed, mind you, but still… Tonight, if O. can get the tickets in time, we’re headed to First Unitarian (for those of you not in Madison, it’s Frank Lloyd Wright’s home church. He designed and paid for the building pretty much himself,) for the Goldberg Variations, probably J.S. Bach’s most interesting work for Keyboard, which is saying a lot.
On harpsichord, this piece loses some of the intimacy, nuance, and playfulness of the Gould recordings, or any modern performance on piano, but gives the listener a great appreciation for why literature written for that now exotic instrument is so intricately figured. Namely, because if it weren’t, you’d be left waiting for dynamic variation only to find that the harpsichord isn’t capable of such in the least. At times, the music can sound like a wall of even-toned grace-notes, impenetrable to any but highly trained ears. Additionally, since these 30 gorgeous variations on a theme were written as the capstone of Bach’s highly demanding “Clavier exercises,” they are, needless to say, highly physically demanding for any keyboard performer. I’m very much looking forward to watching that *bitch sweat tonight. ;-)
On Saturday, we’ll be seeing as many art-house style flicks as we can fit in after I pretend to be a red-headed magical female nympho virgin dwarf for a few hours, and Orpheus works. The most amusing of the things he wants to see is a late show about dork-rappers, featuring M.C. Hawking, my fav. Physics-rapper. On Sunday, after visiting the zoo with Basso (if it’s not raining), we’re going to try to take in a documentary about Mac-heads, and anything else we have time for. Should be bracing!
Anyway, I should also let you know that both O. and I were very satisfied with the way things went last night, even down to the amount of cuddling after the earth-shattering, all-singing, all-dancing sex. The only things I’m a little sad about due to the weekend being so busy are 1) that we probably won’t be doing much doinking, 2) that I haven’t had the will or the time to cook for the last two nights running, and probably won’t for a couple more, and 3) that I don’t have the wherewithal to start an amateur string quartet called ‘The Screaming Orgasms’ that gives impromptu concerts in the park after getting past the awkward stage on a couple concerti.
UPDATE: This is the terrible part about writing these posts while waiting for people to answer the phone… It takes a really, really long time. Since I wrote the above, O. called and let me know that the Friday concert was sold out, so he got tickets to the Sunday afternoon show. Fortunately, we should still be able to squeeze in both the zoo, AND the mac-head movie, but the squeeze, as they say, shall be tight. So, tonight is freed up for walking around in the unexpected sunshine, cooking, and catching a few extra movies at the film festival, if there are tickets. See what I meant earlier about “amorphous?”
* bitch (Aeffchen’s personal definition) – Any PERSON who is flighty and out of control, and annoys the shit out of me, regardless of sex.
On harpsichord, this piece loses some of the intimacy, nuance, and playfulness of the Gould recordings, or any modern performance on piano, but gives the listener a great appreciation for why literature written for that now exotic instrument is so intricately figured. Namely, because if it weren’t, you’d be left waiting for dynamic variation only to find that the harpsichord isn’t capable of such in the least. At times, the music can sound like a wall of even-toned grace-notes, impenetrable to any but highly trained ears. Additionally, since these 30 gorgeous variations on a theme were written as the capstone of Bach’s highly demanding “Clavier exercises,” they are, needless to say, highly physically demanding for any keyboard performer. I’m very much looking forward to watching that *bitch sweat tonight. ;-)
On Saturday, we’ll be seeing as many art-house style flicks as we can fit in after I pretend to be a red-headed magical female nympho virgin dwarf for a few hours, and Orpheus works. The most amusing of the things he wants to see is a late show about dork-rappers, featuring M.C. Hawking, my fav. Physics-rapper. On Sunday, after visiting the zoo with Basso (if it’s not raining), we’re going to try to take in a documentary about Mac-heads, and anything else we have time for. Should be bracing!
Anyway, I should also let you know that both O. and I were very satisfied with the way things went last night, even down to the amount of cuddling after the earth-shattering, all-singing, all-dancing sex. The only things I’m a little sad about due to the weekend being so busy are 1) that we probably won’t be doing much doinking, 2) that I haven’t had the will or the time to cook for the last two nights running, and probably won’t for a couple more, and 3) that I don’t have the wherewithal to start an amateur string quartet called ‘The Screaming Orgasms’ that gives impromptu concerts in the park after getting past the awkward stage on a couple concerti.
UPDATE: This is the terrible part about writing these posts while waiting for people to answer the phone… It takes a really, really long time. Since I wrote the above, O. called and let me know that the Friday concert was sold out, so he got tickets to the Sunday afternoon show. Fortunately, we should still be able to squeeze in both the zoo, AND the mac-head movie, but the squeeze, as they say, shall be tight. So, tonight is freed up for walking around in the unexpected sunshine, cooking, and catching a few extra movies at the film festival, if there are tickets. See what I meant earlier about “amorphous?”
* bitch (Aeffchen’s personal definition) – Any PERSON who is flighty and out of control, and annoys the shit out of me, regardless of sex.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
On the Wings of a Threeway…
We had our second sexual encounter with Basso yesterday evening, and it was smashing. I haven’t gotten to fuck a man like that since I started dating Orpheus… He’s learning to take it, but it’s so very slow, and he’s very, well, tight. In fact, he feels tighter than a security lockdown at the White House (which helps a little in some ways), but loosening him up before he’s sore is very, very difficult. This probably has something to do with him being a sexual control freak, but that’s a story for a different time. I got to fuck Basso. I mean FUCK Basso. Not for as long as I’d have liked, or as hard, but I opened him up after eight months of butt-celibacy. I did it slowly, exploring every nook and cranny, every sensitive spot, searching out every yelp and bit lip. I was methodical, and enjoyed it so much, because it’s been so long. When O’s turn came, it didn’t last long. I feel bad for Orpheus for that reason, but he’s so big, it’s hard for it not to hurt the first time. Especially since he’s kind of a brute with that too thick, scrumptious cock. Believe me, that’s not an insult, but still. It took me a long, long time, and a couple bottles of poppers to adjust. Poor, raw-assed Basso!!!
Afterwards, we all went out to eat, and took a walk together. When O. and I dropped him off, B. hugged us both goodbye. We went back to O’s place, and had the worst night of sleep, ever! I know that I get clingy after group sex. It’s my unconscious way of re-asserting a bond with my partner after he’s been shared. Of course, we were both sleeping too warm, which annoys the hell out of Orpheus. So, basically, we spent the night waking each other up, usually unpleasantly. Hopefully, tonight will be better. I’ve got an appointment with his dick, if he can bring it. His disappointment last night should not, after all, be long-lived. ;-)
Afterwards, we all went out to eat, and took a walk together. When O. and I dropped him off, B. hugged us both goodbye. We went back to O’s place, and had the worst night of sleep, ever! I know that I get clingy after group sex. It’s my unconscious way of re-asserting a bond with my partner after he’s been shared. Of course, we were both sleeping too warm, which annoys the hell out of Orpheus. So, basically, we spent the night waking each other up, usually unpleasantly. Hopefully, tonight will be better. I’ve got an appointment with his dick, if he can bring it. His disappointment last night should not, after all, be long-lived. ;-)
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Lesser Pleasures
Last night, the cure for my ravening loneliness was two-fold… First off, reading some Laurell K. Hamilton, writer of the seedy but rather well-written late-20th-century-hard-boiled-detective-fairy-porn in the Merry Gentry series. Secondly, I cooked a little improvisation for dinner, using my new LeCreuset skillet. It was very simple. Thin-sliced sweet onion and finely minced garlic were thrown into the pre-heated pan with a thin spray of grape seed oil for lubrication. When they became a little translucent, and the smell began to be good, I added finely minced ginger, some dried cranberries, and then a salted and peppered chicken breast. A couple minutes into cooking, I added a spray of oil to wet the pan again, then a bit of orange juice squeezed right into the pan. After more browning, and careful regulation of the temperature no higher than medium, the chicken was flipped, and the process repeated. At some point, the onions weren’t going to cook anymore, so I removed all extra vegetable matter from the pan, and just kept at browning the chicken, reserving all that good stuff on a bed of mixed greens. When the chicken was done, I emptied the orange onto it, then deglazed the pan with the orange juice and an ounce of vermouth. It boiled the goo from the bottom of the pan (the chicken stuck less than it ever had on a true non-stick pan, in the first place), and quickly reduced the liquid. I poured it over the salad as a dressing. The greens were nicely wilted, and the whole was lovely. I threw in a few shelled pistachios, and enjoyed myself thoroughly. It wasn’t O. between my thighs, but the burn marks that scared me so yesterday were tidily deglazed along with everything else by the vermouth. Nice enough, I can tell you.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Mmmm... Le Creuset
Not much to report on, excepting that I showed Orpheus a print-out of my post yesterday, and the bit about feeling woozy re: him on Saturday didn’t make him want to crawl out of his skin. In fact, he got a little more snuggly afterwards. Also, the Le Creuset pan makes me wet. The heat I used was a touch high at times, I think. I’ll be pedaling that back a lot in the future. But, overall, as long as one sticks to the rules and has a little patience, this pan has better non-stick properties than most of the Teflon I own. Oh, yeah, and it actually heats evenly, aluminum and stainless be damned. Basically, I cooked bacon, used much of the grease for a vinaigrette dressing on a spinach salad (w/Spanish Sherry vinegar and pepper), and used the rest of the pan drippings to brown stuffed chicken breasts. The chicken was almost too moist (though done… I checked with a meat thermometer, thanks), and was delicious other than a poor choice I made regarding one of the cheeses in the stuffing.
Tonight is a night off for O. and I, so there’s some confusion as to what to do/cook tonight. I may try a smaller-scale version of what I cooked on Saturday, and have some left over. I’ll definitely be doing a spinach salad, as I have enough of that crap to drown in, and it goes bad fairly quickly. I may call a friend and see if he wants to cook together. Or, I may just sleep. It seems like that might in fact be the smartest idea, anyway. I may feel loads better, but I’d like to feel better still by week’s end, so I can start drinking again. In any case, Orpheus and I are supposed to hang out with Basso tomorrow after work, so conservation of strength may be in order. More later, kids! Have a great April Fool’s Day.
Oh, yes… One further point. O. wanted me to editorialize regarding what he was watching when I got crabby on his ass Saturday night. It was, in fact, the movie ‘Enchanted’ rather than ‘Drawn Together’ as previously written. For chrissakes, I was trying to sleep, and it was loud! I didn’t care what was on!!! Maybe he deserved the kicking. ;-)
Tonight is a night off for O. and I, so there’s some confusion as to what to do/cook tonight. I may try a smaller-scale version of what I cooked on Saturday, and have some left over. I’ll definitely be doing a spinach salad, as I have enough of that crap to drown in, and it goes bad fairly quickly. I may call a friend and see if he wants to cook together. Or, I may just sleep. It seems like that might in fact be the smartest idea, anyway. I may feel loads better, but I’d like to feel better still by week’s end, so I can start drinking again. In any case, Orpheus and I are supposed to hang out with Basso tomorrow after work, so conservation of strength may be in order. More later, kids! Have a great April Fool’s Day.
Oh, yes… One further point. O. wanted me to editorialize regarding what he was watching when I got crabby on his ass Saturday night. It was, in fact, the movie ‘Enchanted’ rather than ‘Drawn Together’ as previously written. For chrissakes, I was trying to sleep, and it was loud! I didn’t care what was on!!! Maybe he deserved the kicking. ;-)
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