Keeping you all up to date on everything Little-monkey-like hasn’t been easy in the last few weeks. The slow recovery of my ability to type, to rotate my right wrist, and lift coffee mugs to my mouth has hardly kept apace with my need to kick ass and take names at work. This has been… detrimental to my blogging. So, I’ll begin by recounting a wonderful thing that happened last Thursday with my work friend, Aries. Aries is M., the wonderful woman who tries to help everyone who’s hurt here at work. Lately, with my broken wing, another’s broken ankle, and a bevy of other ailments in this apparently cursed department, being so kind has taken a great deal of forbearance. Partially to say thank you for helping when it was needed, and partially because we’d been talking about doing it for awhile, we cooked dinner together, ostensibly to teach her how to deal with tofu (a trick I only figured out a few weeks ago). She’s been a vegetarian for about two decades, and never figured it out!
We had a great conversation while walking to obtain and then drinking a few beers, and a great deal of fun cooking together. I took the opportunity to teach her how to chop shit up properly, the best way to hold knives, and even sharpened her OK Santoku for her, so she wouldn’t hurt herself using it. She seemed to learn well, and successfully completed the cooking of the tofu on the second side by herself without destroying it (this was a significantly better job than I on my first attempt). Her stove sucks almost as much as mine in terms of hot-spots, which made me both more sympathetic to her non-tofu-cooking plight as a veggie, and proud of this feat of cookery. After dinner, which was a spicy marinated pseudo-Chinese tofu with vegetables in hoisin sauce, we kept talking, and discovered that we have quite a bit in common, indeed, including a love of gab… And gossip. Being co-workers, this developed into a lovely, incestuous secret-fest the likes of which I haven’t indulged in since such time as I first met Terra Firma. We have plans to cook again as, to my great relief, she shared that she is, in fact, a pescaterian. This means I can actually continue to teach her shit about life in the kitchen. Unfortunately, I can’t help her with fancy-ass vegetarian cooking. All the fancy-ass stuff I do involves real meat, so fish is about as far as I can go. But considering how much frozen crap we had to pull out of her freezer to firm up the tofu… She needs some kitchen skillz.
Next time we cook, I’ll teach her a basic fish marinade for just about anything, and we’ll do a sautéed salmon w/orange-dill sour cream, and fat-free cream of asparagus soup. I love fat-free sour cream. It’s the bloody bomb-diggidy. Other than that, nothing new to report. Orpheus and I putter along, and it seems my arm is putting less stress on him, lately. This makes me happy, as I hate causing him distress. The last time I broke a bone, I had a mother, and was at an acceptable age to be babied. I cannot claim such any longer. I’ve made my initial appointment for physical therapy, and look forward to a great deal of painful crap there. Hopefully, all will be well. I’ll write again soon.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
Wedding wonders, sans pics (sans camera)…
Dagmar's wedding was wonderful. Beyond wonderful, even. Transcendent, amazing, restful (spiritually, in any case), effervescent with positive emotion. Being who I am, though, and rather liking the limelight, it was difficult to back out and let the bride shine, though I somehow managed. She reminded me (jokingly,) a couple times while we were out that it was all about her. I simply tried to take that to heart, and remembered what I was there for… Her. It was a lot easier than I expected to step aside.
Everything started with the drive which, while not terribly pleasant (me being one-armed and all), wasn't nearly as bad as I'd imagined. As per usual, I got through Chicago with a minimum of hassle. It was construction SURROUNDING the city, in other states, even, that tacked an extra half-hour onto my trip. Otherwise, it would've been a spec drive… Five and a half hours, door-to-door. When I got home, it was about 2:30 AM EST. Naturally, I was so caffeinated, it took an extra two hours for the sleeping pills to put me under... I bummed about online, running into Orpheus on a web chat we both frequent occasionally. We talked for a bit, especially regarding the losers hitting on us (sometimes concurrently), then I finally got tired enough to sleep… After two glasses of whisky, compliments of Dad's liquor cabinet. The parents weren't yet home.
On Thursday, I got up early, around nine, and did errands, lunch and such with my good friend L., who was one of the unholy triad with Dagmar and I in High School. We picked up my tux, matched a swatch of dark pink cotton to the vest, bought a ton of pink tulle and a headband w/beads for a bridal disaster headdress for Dagmar to wear out on the town, and hunkered down with alcohol for the afternoon, trading stories and bashing people for fun whilest L. sewed. Later, we picked up L.'s altered (read: hacked and remade better, stronger, faster, tighter,) dress from her good friend C., who went out with us later on. By the time the bachelorette party was on, we were ripped and ready. After picking up the bride, we went downtown to a place called, appropriately enough, 'Drink,' for a retro pastiche night. It was mostly eighties, but there were some '90's remixes and just plain retro neuvo-80's brand new trash thrown in, too. Usually, I feel super-fat when I'm at home, as all the faggots in Grand Rapids are tall skinny blonde Dutch boys with full heads of hair. This time, though, ALL the boys in the room were practically drooling on themselves over me, arm-in-a-sling, no less! It felt good, and I enjoyed the attention, while secretly laughing because none of them had enough badonkadonk for my tastes. It was a wonderful night. I ended up dancing with C. for most of the evening, and talking to a really neat Dominican lady who goes out to practice her English while shaking her groove thang.
It should be mentioned that I met the most remarkable people in the wedding party, and outside of it last weekend, all somehow related to the wedding, even if just in the capacity of tailoring. I already knew L., of course, and had met France, Dagmar's college roommate, once briefly in, like, 2002. She now lives, appropriately enough, in the country unsubtly suggested by her moniker, and speaks both elegantly and fluently in her adopted tongue. France brought her hot boyfriend, Marseilles (so named for his city of residence), who spoke excellent English, despite his protests to the contrary, and is a med-student to boot (Ooh-la-la!). Flora was another bridesmaid, and was the most remarkably self-aware hippie type I've ever met. She's training as an arts-based therapist, and if I weren't dating Orpheus, I'd have made a pass. Really, though, it's a good thing I'm dating O. on many levels, 'cause I don't think Dagmar would've forgiven me for internecine bridal party sex. The party was rounded out by D.'s older sister, HarvardMasters, and A., her sister-in-law. I'd met both before, and it was very neat to reconnect, as well as with the families as a whole.
Friday was decadent. We kickstarted via Mimosas during a free spa-day w/pedicures and manicures. There was even a buffet, and we had our own private room. One of Dagmar's single aunts treats her nieces and nephews' wedding parties with such extravagant unction the day before nuptials, as a gift. I was the only one who got to get my nails simply buffed. All the girls looked like a pink fondant cake had thrown up on their hands and feet, but in a good way. France was constantly, self-consciously hand modeling everything for herself and others, half-drunkenly, all day long. By the time the rehearsal rolled around, we were all in stitches! Figuring that a Catholic ceremony, even one that wasn't full Mass, would be far more regimented than a Methodist wedding, which is the only ceremony I've run through before, I was quite surprised. It wasn't difficult at all. We only went through once, and it was very simple. The minister at my wedding drilled us like some sort of demented sergeant who hated us, his worst-ever crop of recruits. Over and over and over, like monkeys with miniature cymbals, we marched the isles, nervous that we'd fuck up and have to start over. Monsignor, however, seemed pleasantly drunk, and was easy to talk to.
The groom's dinner wasn't fancy, but it was great! A fajita bar at the local senior center, unfortunately alcohol free. There was, however, plenty of coffee. It's not like I was about to discover a new secret of cuisine there, but I wish all my tex-mex tasted that good. We all got neat party presents. The girls got little pink clutch bags that matched their nails, and the guys (including me,) were all given beautiful SIGG bottles so we don't die of leached chemicals from PVC water bottles. My design is called "The Flight," and is an attractive maroon, w/a tan bird, flying away from a tree with stylized leaf-swirls trailing behind it. It's super-pretty!
Later on, the bridal party (and Marseilles, as he had no place else to go), were to have a kind of bridal vigil with Dagmar in the suite she and her man were to share the following night. Turns out, Dagmar was unhappy because very, very tired, and didn't want us partying in the suite. So, we faithful bridespeople drew her a bath, and after she came back from dealing with family for awhile, left her to soak, and did a little walking tour of the Grand River walk, moseying on over to a lovely microbrewery I'd never heard of nearby. We talked, got to know one another better, and in general got our kumbayaya's out so as not to turn our lovely D. into Bridezilla. It worked. She didn't sleep a lot, but that was just nerves in general. She appreciated the alone time, and we got our energy pushed healthily.
The day of the wedding, I had time for a short breakfast with my parents and sister at home. We reconvened at the church, which was a beautiful, spare new catholic church out in the middle of a cornfield. L. helped me don my tux, and gave me the finished pink sling to match my vest and tie. It looked fantastic. People kept commenting on it all night. The wedding was beautiful, and I got to meet so many people who were special to Dagmar and her guy who, I must admit, I kind of have a little man-crush on, due to his perfect dorkiness. They had the weirdest automatic bubble machine at the church, and a wind kicked up as D. walked out the door, so she was swathed in thousands of spheres composed of environmentally friendly (this, proudly stated by the church's wedding coordinator,) surfactants. The reception, which we'd helped to decorate for the night before, was delightful, and the toasts heartfelt. I met another wonderful person, M., who has a three year old daughter, and was kind enough to cut my pork for me when I was having trouble. Despite the broken wing, I boogied with the best of them, and helped to close down the reception.
Afterwards, I made the mistake of going out for drinks with L. and her awesome BF, J. To make a long story short, we went to a really shitty, seedy bar for Karaoke, I didn't get to sing my song, and I lost my camera, along with all the wedding pictures. Relax, I think I can get the camera back… I was transporting a REALLY drunk girl to the bar, asked her to hold it, and stuff kept falling out of her purse onto the floor of the car. I think it made its' way into said bag. There's only one problem, and that is that she lives in Mississippi. So, FedEx ho, I guess. I just have to wait a couple more days for Dagmar to come out of Honeymoon-hiding to get the girl's number, and then I'll be all set.
Sunday morning, I got to spend a little time with my parents before coming home. It was nice. Since getting home, my right arm has improved greatly each day. It's spending more time out of the sling, and I can finally cook on my own again (and, more importantly, chop). Though I love my big knives most, I still find it easiest to use my small santoku. Oh, well. THe Doctor should be calling me next week to set me up with PT. Wish me luck!
Everything started with the drive which, while not terribly pleasant (me being one-armed and all), wasn't nearly as bad as I'd imagined. As per usual, I got through Chicago with a minimum of hassle. It was construction SURROUNDING the city, in other states, even, that tacked an extra half-hour onto my trip. Otherwise, it would've been a spec drive… Five and a half hours, door-to-door. When I got home, it was about 2:30 AM EST. Naturally, I was so caffeinated, it took an extra two hours for the sleeping pills to put me under... I bummed about online, running into Orpheus on a web chat we both frequent occasionally. We talked for a bit, especially regarding the losers hitting on us (sometimes concurrently), then I finally got tired enough to sleep… After two glasses of whisky, compliments of Dad's liquor cabinet. The parents weren't yet home.
On Thursday, I got up early, around nine, and did errands, lunch and such with my good friend L., who was one of the unholy triad with Dagmar and I in High School. We picked up my tux, matched a swatch of dark pink cotton to the vest, bought a ton of pink tulle and a headband w/beads for a bridal disaster headdress for Dagmar to wear out on the town, and hunkered down with alcohol for the afternoon, trading stories and bashing people for fun whilest L. sewed. Later, we picked up L.'s altered (read: hacked and remade better, stronger, faster, tighter,) dress from her good friend C., who went out with us later on. By the time the bachelorette party was on, we were ripped and ready. After picking up the bride, we went downtown to a place called, appropriately enough, 'Drink,' for a retro pastiche night. It was mostly eighties, but there were some '90's remixes and just plain retro neuvo-80's brand new trash thrown in, too. Usually, I feel super-fat when I'm at home, as all the faggots in Grand Rapids are tall skinny blonde Dutch boys with full heads of hair. This time, though, ALL the boys in the room were practically drooling on themselves over me, arm-in-a-sling, no less! It felt good, and I enjoyed the attention, while secretly laughing because none of them had enough badonkadonk for my tastes. It was a wonderful night. I ended up dancing with C. for most of the evening, and talking to a really neat Dominican lady who goes out to practice her English while shaking her groove thang.
It should be mentioned that I met the most remarkable people in the wedding party, and outside of it last weekend, all somehow related to the wedding, even if just in the capacity of tailoring. I already knew L., of course, and had met France, Dagmar's college roommate, once briefly in, like, 2002. She now lives, appropriately enough, in the country unsubtly suggested by her moniker, and speaks both elegantly and fluently in her adopted tongue. France brought her hot boyfriend, Marseilles (so named for his city of residence), who spoke excellent English, despite his protests to the contrary, and is a med-student to boot (Ooh-la-la!). Flora was another bridesmaid, and was the most remarkably self-aware hippie type I've ever met. She's training as an arts-based therapist, and if I weren't dating Orpheus, I'd have made a pass. Really, though, it's a good thing I'm dating O. on many levels, 'cause I don't think Dagmar would've forgiven me for internecine bridal party sex. The party was rounded out by D.'s older sister, HarvardMasters, and A., her sister-in-law. I'd met both before, and it was very neat to reconnect, as well as with the families as a whole.
Friday was decadent. We kickstarted via Mimosas during a free spa-day w/pedicures and manicures. There was even a buffet, and we had our own private room. One of Dagmar's single aunts treats her nieces and nephews' wedding parties with such extravagant unction the day before nuptials, as a gift. I was the only one who got to get my nails simply buffed. All the girls looked like a pink fondant cake had thrown up on their hands and feet, but in a good way. France was constantly, self-consciously hand modeling everything for herself and others, half-drunkenly, all day long. By the time the rehearsal rolled around, we were all in stitches! Figuring that a Catholic ceremony, even one that wasn't full Mass, would be far more regimented than a Methodist wedding, which is the only ceremony I've run through before, I was quite surprised. It wasn't difficult at all. We only went through once, and it was very simple. The minister at my wedding drilled us like some sort of demented sergeant who hated us, his worst-ever crop of recruits. Over and over and over, like monkeys with miniature cymbals, we marched the isles, nervous that we'd fuck up and have to start over. Monsignor, however, seemed pleasantly drunk, and was easy to talk to.
The groom's dinner wasn't fancy, but it was great! A fajita bar at the local senior center, unfortunately alcohol free. There was, however, plenty of coffee. It's not like I was about to discover a new secret of cuisine there, but I wish all my tex-mex tasted that good. We all got neat party presents. The girls got little pink clutch bags that matched their nails, and the guys (including me,) were all given beautiful SIGG bottles so we don't die of leached chemicals from PVC water bottles. My design is called "The Flight," and is an attractive maroon, w/a tan bird, flying away from a tree with stylized leaf-swirls trailing behind it. It's super-pretty!
Later on, the bridal party (and Marseilles, as he had no place else to go), were to have a kind of bridal vigil with Dagmar in the suite she and her man were to share the following night. Turns out, Dagmar was unhappy because very, very tired, and didn't want us partying in the suite. So, we faithful bridespeople drew her a bath, and after she came back from dealing with family for awhile, left her to soak, and did a little walking tour of the Grand River walk, moseying on over to a lovely microbrewery I'd never heard of nearby. We talked, got to know one another better, and in general got our kumbayaya's out so as not to turn our lovely D. into Bridezilla. It worked. She didn't sleep a lot, but that was just nerves in general. She appreciated the alone time, and we got our energy pushed healthily.
The day of the wedding, I had time for a short breakfast with my parents and sister at home. We reconvened at the church, which was a beautiful, spare new catholic church out in the middle of a cornfield. L. helped me don my tux, and gave me the finished pink sling to match my vest and tie. It looked fantastic. People kept commenting on it all night. The wedding was beautiful, and I got to meet so many people who were special to Dagmar and her guy who, I must admit, I kind of have a little man-crush on, due to his perfect dorkiness. They had the weirdest automatic bubble machine at the church, and a wind kicked up as D. walked out the door, so she was swathed in thousands of spheres composed of environmentally friendly (this, proudly stated by the church's wedding coordinator,) surfactants. The reception, which we'd helped to decorate for the night before, was delightful, and the toasts heartfelt. I met another wonderful person, M., who has a three year old daughter, and was kind enough to cut my pork for me when I was having trouble. Despite the broken wing, I boogied with the best of them, and helped to close down the reception.
Afterwards, I made the mistake of going out for drinks with L. and her awesome BF, J. To make a long story short, we went to a really shitty, seedy bar for Karaoke, I didn't get to sing my song, and I lost my camera, along with all the wedding pictures. Relax, I think I can get the camera back… I was transporting a REALLY drunk girl to the bar, asked her to hold it, and stuff kept falling out of her purse onto the floor of the car. I think it made its' way into said bag. There's only one problem, and that is that she lives in Mississippi. So, FedEx ho, I guess. I just have to wait a couple more days for Dagmar to come out of Honeymoon-hiding to get the girl's number, and then I'll be all set.
Sunday morning, I got to spend a little time with my parents before coming home. It was nice. Since getting home, my right arm has improved greatly each day. It's spending more time out of the sling, and I can finally cook on my own again (and, more importantly, chop). Though I love my big knives most, I still find it easiest to use my small santoku. Oh, well. THe Doctor should be calling me next week to set me up with PT. Wish me luck!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Wedding, ho! New job?...
So, yesterday during the day was an emotional blitzkrieg which I think I weathered well, all told. The long and short of it is, I’m being put on an action plan at work, to “bring my performance into line with other members of the department.” This, despite the fact that my territory is both larger and needs different kinds of care than other territories. I’m expected, apparently, to work twice as hard as anybody else here for no good reason just to stay employed. And I don’t get paid well enough for that. Plus, Terra Firma STILL doesn’t have a job, and won’t pick up after herself… And the couch is unpleasantly TF scented, lately. But I’m headed to MI tonight after work, so I’m putting all that shit out of mind for the time being, because...
I’M IN DAGMAR’S WEDDING!!! The famed S., of whom I’ve spoken before, was known by Dagmar in our first year German class in high school. Therefore, she shall henceforth be known as Dagmar here, as well. Dagmar and L., who shall now be known as Flighty (not as bad as it sounds… she’s the kind of hyperactive that makes hanging out interesting, especially now that we can drink legally), were my best friends in HS. It’s been a long time, now, but I’m happy to still count them amongst the very few people who I consider true friends.
Anyway, more later! Wish me luck with the drive…
I’M IN DAGMAR’S WEDDING!!! The famed S., of whom I’ve spoken before, was known by Dagmar in our first year German class in high school. Therefore, she shall henceforth be known as Dagmar here, as well. Dagmar and L., who shall now be known as Flighty (not as bad as it sounds… she’s the kind of hyperactive that makes hanging out interesting, especially now that we can drink legally), were my best friends in HS. It’s been a long time, now, but I’m happy to still count them amongst the very few people who I consider true friends.
Anyway, more later! Wish me luck with the drive…
Monday, July 7, 2008
Fourth of What?
“Speak up, I can’t hear you!,” is what I’d have been saying at about 10:30PM on Friday if Orpheus and I had bothered with fireworks. Fortunately, we did not, so my annual case of tinnitus is postponed for an alternate event. Instead, we picnicked with one of my coworkers who had friends and family over for a good five-hour chunk of the afternoon. It was very nice, and even O. seemed to be having a really good time until right near the end. We left, ostensibly so that I could whack myself off with pain meds, but really due to the fact that we didn’t want to get caught watching the fireworks. M., the coworker, lives directly across the street from the largest fireworks display in Madison, you see, which is why this was both the coolest and the worst 4th party I’ve ever been invited to. Cool, because of location and conversation, worst due to my hesitance to watch fireworks/ruin my ears and lungs for a good week solid. I do, after all, have to make it to GR in one piece on Wednesday.
Let’s see… Other than that, there wasn’t much to this weekend, except that Orpheus fucked my brains out in a good way, and our sexual experimentation goes apace. Also, I was hit on by a really hot guy at the Apple store… Who then attempted to get me to apply part-time. As if! Though, I would get a wicked discount…
Let’s see… Other than that, there wasn’t much to this weekend, except that Orpheus fucked my brains out in a good way, and our sexual experimentation goes apace. Also, I was hit on by a really hot guy at the Apple store… Who then attempted to get me to apply part-time. As if! Though, I would get a wicked discount…
Thursday, July 3, 2008
meh
It has been a difficult week. I saw the doctor today, after spending my first night since the hideous happening by myself, sucking down chicken fingers with ketchup… Just like some culinary-clueless straight boy, even my drink of choice was twist-off cap beer instead of a carefully aired red. Sadly, I was watching The Tudors, so dinner just left me feeling low-brow AND horny. Follow that up with a never-ending, no connections pre-holiday workday, including a visit to the doctor, and wow, am I feeling low! Fortunately, the doctor gave me some sleeping pills so I can get a decent night’s rest. Unfortunately, he says I should stay in the sling for three full weeks, which means a pink sling at S.’s wedding!
Anyway, more later. I’m bored.
Anyway, more later. I’m bored.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Sticks, stones, cement sidewalks…
I broke my arm last night. At the 25th Anniversary Concert on the Square, the first of the season this year. For those of you who are not residents of the People's Republic of Madison, Concerts on the Square are chamber orchestra concerts, usually featuring guest artists, played on the steps of the state capitol building for picnicking masses seated on the surrounding lawns. Phwew! Try typing that ten times fast, one-handed! This year, they didn't spay for insects terribly well, and so I was besieged. On my way to the Walgreen's across the street from the capitol lawn for some deep-woods something, I tripped on the black-painted, thick chain swag that serves as a fence between lawn and sidewalk, face-planting on the cement side of the verge. A couple mean-spirited senior-citizen-fucktards laughed and clapped as I clambered to my feet, bleeding from a split lip and chin-gash. For once, I was left nearly dumb. As I stumbled towards the drugstore, all I could blurt at their stupid, happy faces was an uninspired "I'd never do that to you."
The thing was, at this point, my face was on fire, but my arm didn't
much hurt. I purchased my bug-away, a bag of ice and some naproxen sodium, and Orpheus fixed me an ice pack when I returned to the blanket. It wasn’t until half-way through the quiche (and second bottle of wine... Bulgaria was also in attendance,) that the swelling and pain started in my arm. We left during intermission, following one of the best performances of Gershwin’s ‘Rhapsody in Blue’ that I’ve ever heard. O. drove. We got B. home, and then went to urgent care, where everyone was quite kind, and x-rays were done. Whichever bone in my forearm is responsible for rotation has a crack at the elbow end. Fortunately, this is an easy, no-cast kind of break... Unfortunately, it hurts like hell in the sling, as does, increasingly, my left wrist, which itself may be badly sprained or broken.
Orpheus, given how freaked he was during the gravel-under-skin incident last summer, was very kind and together. We went to the pharmacy for my vico, then he took me to his place, which is lucky... I can’t remove a shirt by myself at the moment, though I can clean myself. I was so embarrassed, I offered a two week hiatus to O, so he could avoid me for awhile if he needed to. He refused. I still can’t help but feel guilty, though, as I’m as good as helpless. We’ll see how things go. I should be out of the sling in a couple weeks, which is fortunate. S’s wedding is in two weeks, on the nose.
More later, kids. Wish me luck with my arm/wrist!
The thing was, at this point, my face was on fire, but my arm didn't
much hurt. I purchased my bug-away, a bag of ice and some naproxen sodium, and Orpheus fixed me an ice pack when I returned to the blanket. It wasn’t until half-way through the quiche (and second bottle of wine... Bulgaria was also in attendance,) that the swelling and pain started in my arm. We left during intermission, following one of the best performances of Gershwin’s ‘Rhapsody in Blue’ that I’ve ever heard. O. drove. We got B. home, and then went to urgent care, where everyone was quite kind, and x-rays were done. Whichever bone in my forearm is responsible for rotation has a crack at the elbow end. Fortunately, this is an easy, no-cast kind of break... Unfortunately, it hurts like hell in the sling, as does, increasingly, my left wrist, which itself may be badly sprained or broken.
Orpheus, given how freaked he was during the gravel-under-skin incident last summer, was very kind and together. We went to the pharmacy for my vico, then he took me to his place, which is lucky... I can’t remove a shirt by myself at the moment, though I can clean myself. I was so embarrassed, I offered a two week hiatus to O, so he could avoid me for awhile if he needed to. He refused. I still can’t help but feel guilty, though, as I’m as good as helpless. We’ll see how things go. I should be out of the sling in a couple weeks, which is fortunate. S’s wedding is in two weeks, on the nose.
More later, kids. Wish me luck with my arm/wrist!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Lions and Tigers and Kickball, oh my!
So, last night was interesting in several ways. Way the first… Though Orpheus’ work friends are younger and generally cuter than mine, they are little more interesting. What the old folks lack in energy and vital interest is generally more than made up for by discussion of things they’ve actually done, as opposed to endless gushing over stuff they want to do, or are mildly excited about. The older I get, the more exasperating hanging out with school kids becomes. Furthermore, their bountiful energy is tiring, and lack of depth cloying. Even if a particularly fine specimen is full to the brim of knowledge on one subject, it tends to be the only topic of discussion worth pursuing with said butterfly. There aren’t any good dirty stories for most young people to tell, only raunchy accidents and happenstance encounters which yield fruit much later in life as storytelling becomes more important, and novel experience coalesces into meaningful smut. The long of it is, these kids’ empty eyes and stupid grins, their bragging over recipes that consume whole cans of high-sodium crap is annoying… Especially because I’m not THAT much older, so their ignorance is a horrifyingly recent mirror into my own similarly shallow past.
This, of course, is not at all true across the board. And, when I’m fair, it’s really only in group situations that I find college kids, well, kid-like. Under normal circumstances, and when alone with a younger adult, they are adults first, over-excitable only after the clothes come off, or too much expensive alcohol is imbibed. Orpheus was done with school when I started dating him, and he, while similarly inexperienced in some ways, has always been a deliberator. He doesn’t like losing control, as he puts it, and therefore tends to do at least a little good, methodical research before entering into almost any enterprise. He is stable, strong, and fiercely protective. If he says he’ll do a thing, he does it, even if it’s not quite on-time. For his small inconsistencies, I forgive him, and love him all the more. He’s not exactly par for his age-group. In fact, in the worst situations, I’d call him a birdie at worst, and an eagle or hole-in-one in most others, even fresh out of school a year ago. Plus, he’s totally cute enough to get away with murder, so that tends to help. But some of the kids he works with are plain dull, as dish-water, even.
This made dinner bad enough. I brought the fanciest, most meticulously prepared dips some of these kids had ever seen. They brought, well, the aforementioned five cans of high-sodium crap tossed into Tupperware and called fancy. Or, in the case of the boys, plastic-wrapped high-fat meat byproduct. Then they played the “And this one time, at Band Camp” game, round-table style. This caused me to eat far too much of everything, as the only way to keep my acerbic comments inside my head was to keep my mouth full to the brim with high-fat meats, which I’ve been staying away from for over a week. Afterwards, we played kick-ball. This proved to be a miserable experience, because I’m woefully out of shape. I just recently at least started doing some calisthenics and stretches again, as I’m disgusted by the sight of my own naked body in the mirror, but I haven’t yet gotten back on the bike, and done any cardio beyond heavy breathing in the bedroom. With the sweat pouring off my brow, the breath coming ragged twixt my lips, and the entire world reduced to the connection point between my toe and a ragged little ball, I felt ancient. I collapsed almost as soon as we made it back to my place, in agony and defeat.
I think I have to start biking again, sooner than later.
Also, I could’ve used a nice barf last night to rid myself of porcine toxins heretofore unknown to my system. Hopefully, this post has my bile against the young out... And, at least my team won. ;-)
This, of course, is not at all true across the board. And, when I’m fair, it’s really only in group situations that I find college kids, well, kid-like. Under normal circumstances, and when alone with a younger adult, they are adults first, over-excitable only after the clothes come off, or too much expensive alcohol is imbibed. Orpheus was done with school when I started dating him, and he, while similarly inexperienced in some ways, has always been a deliberator. He doesn’t like losing control, as he puts it, and therefore tends to do at least a little good, methodical research before entering into almost any enterprise. He is stable, strong, and fiercely protective. If he says he’ll do a thing, he does it, even if it’s not quite on-time. For his small inconsistencies, I forgive him, and love him all the more. He’s not exactly par for his age-group. In fact, in the worst situations, I’d call him a birdie at worst, and an eagle or hole-in-one in most others, even fresh out of school a year ago. Plus, he’s totally cute enough to get away with murder, so that tends to help. But some of the kids he works with are plain dull, as dish-water, even.
This made dinner bad enough. I brought the fanciest, most meticulously prepared dips some of these kids had ever seen. They brought, well, the aforementioned five cans of high-sodium crap tossed into Tupperware and called fancy. Or, in the case of the boys, plastic-wrapped high-fat meat byproduct. Then they played the “And this one time, at Band Camp” game, round-table style. This caused me to eat far too much of everything, as the only way to keep my acerbic comments inside my head was to keep my mouth full to the brim with high-fat meats, which I’ve been staying away from for over a week. Afterwards, we played kick-ball. This proved to be a miserable experience, because I’m woefully out of shape. I just recently at least started doing some calisthenics and stretches again, as I’m disgusted by the sight of my own naked body in the mirror, but I haven’t yet gotten back on the bike, and done any cardio beyond heavy breathing in the bedroom. With the sweat pouring off my brow, the breath coming ragged twixt my lips, and the entire world reduced to the connection point between my toe and a ragged little ball, I felt ancient. I collapsed almost as soon as we made it back to my place, in agony and defeat.
I think I have to start biking again, sooner than later.
Also, I could’ve used a nice barf last night to rid myself of porcine toxins heretofore unknown to my system. Hopefully, this post has my bile against the young out... And, at least my team won. ;-)
Monday, June 23, 2008
Wierdo weekend
This was a long, long weekend. Very, very odd, and fun, and then odd again by turns. First off, as if I hadn’t already belabored the point to death, I hate my job. Friday was a particularly excruciating example of this basic truth of my existence, and shall doubtless stand as an example for some time of the apogee of my office-space existence… That is to say, the most miserable crawl through corporate sucking-mud possible. Fortunately, I got to kind of side-step the issue, as Basso hosted a very small cast party for the show. By very small, I mean that only I (a complete side-issue to the show,) Orpheus, and a cutie I shall here call Cutie came. B. had put together quite a nice little spread, in anticipation of a slightly larger crowd, but then, we had quite a bit of fun by ourselves. I got to hear all the dirt on all the other actors in the production, and just get to know a little bit more about the miserable conditions in the backstage area at the show, the bad production values, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera… (Yes, that was a Rogers & Hammerstein joke. If you don’t know which show, then I don’t want to get to know you… And that was a clue, not a general indemnification).
Overall, nice chill night. And O. and I may have found another sexual interest in Cutie. Who knows. We’d really rather have another gay friend, especially one that we can both agree is tons of fun to hang out with, given Orpheus’ general opinions on folks that I like. Anyway, we decided it would be best to stay downtown on Friday, as we shouldn’t have been driving anyway, and so stayed at his place when the night was done. On Saturday, I got into a kurfuffle getting everywhere I needed to go for roleplaying, picking up BakedAK early and all. It was a very stressful session, one in which I believed we’d be overwhelmed at several points. But we won. I met DungeonMaster’s new girlfriend for the first time. She’s incredibly photogenic, but the pics are slightly more impressive than the reality. This in itself wasn’t a surprise… The real problem was how DM treated her around the gaming group… Kind of like he was handling her, or she was a very bright pet. Let’s just say that for a guy with his political views, I was surprised to see this, and more than a little dismayed. Hopefully, he was just joking. Otherwise, I fear for S., who I found charming in the extreme.
After D&D, I got dolled up and went to the closing performance of O.’s show. It was wonderful. Aphrodite had come back to town, and we ended up going out with her and quite a few other of Orpheus’ friends. It was an odd evening out, and we got back too late to do anything to relieve my ravening hunger for sex. Seeing as it was the last weekend of performances, I was pretty sure something of the like would happen, and just resolved to deal with it gracefully… Or, at least, as gracefully as possible. Last night, the wait was over after a long day with a perfectly executed tofu stirfry. And the sex was awful. Just plain awful. Maybe things will change, maybe they won’t. I love O., and I owe it to him to give him the chance to figure that part of things out. Tonight, we’re going to play kickball with his co-workers in party format. I stayed up late last night making dips. I’ll keep you posted.
Overall, nice chill night. And O. and I may have found another sexual interest in Cutie. Who knows. We’d really rather have another gay friend, especially one that we can both agree is tons of fun to hang out with, given Orpheus’ general opinions on folks that I like. Anyway, we decided it would be best to stay downtown on Friday, as we shouldn’t have been driving anyway, and so stayed at his place when the night was done. On Saturday, I got into a kurfuffle getting everywhere I needed to go for roleplaying, picking up BakedAK early and all. It was a very stressful session, one in which I believed we’d be overwhelmed at several points. But we won. I met DungeonMaster’s new girlfriend for the first time. She’s incredibly photogenic, but the pics are slightly more impressive than the reality. This in itself wasn’t a surprise… The real problem was how DM treated her around the gaming group… Kind of like he was handling her, or she was a very bright pet. Let’s just say that for a guy with his political views, I was surprised to see this, and more than a little dismayed. Hopefully, he was just joking. Otherwise, I fear for S., who I found charming in the extreme.
After D&D, I got dolled up and went to the closing performance of O.’s show. It was wonderful. Aphrodite had come back to town, and we ended up going out with her and quite a few other of Orpheus’ friends. It was an odd evening out, and we got back too late to do anything to relieve my ravening hunger for sex. Seeing as it was the last weekend of performances, I was pretty sure something of the like would happen, and just resolved to deal with it gracefully… Or, at least, as gracefully as possible. Last night, the wait was over after a long day with a perfectly executed tofu stirfry. And the sex was awful. Just plain awful. Maybe things will change, maybe they won’t. I love O., and I owe it to him to give him the chance to figure that part of things out. Tonight, we’re going to play kickball with his co-workers in party format. I stayed up late last night making dips. I’ll keep you posted.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Orange zest makes everything better
I was a terror last night, at least at first. O. had me come downtown to meet him at the Union terrace, where we were engaged in highly unsatisfactory people watching for near an hour before leaving. To make matters worse, I’d had a difficult time getting downtown, and there was severely unmarked construction at a vital choke-point near Orpheus’ apartment. Long story short: I was wound tighter than a bloody banjo sting, and ready to pop by the time I got back in the car to leave downtown. This meant that, when we got near Trader Joe’s to buy necessaries for dinner, I scared the living shit out of O. by driving a touch too aggressively for his tender, poor-to-middling driver’s sensibilities. As we parked, he castigated me (nicely, mind you), which just pissed me off even more, though I saw his point. Why make it a stressful day for him, too?
Anyway, I mastered my discontent with the lack of driving skill exhibited last night by every single person on the road in Madison, WI except me, and got us home both sedately and in one piece. Once there, I found my calm center, and cooked an amazing meal. We’d picked up some very high-quality wild salmon steaks, which I marinated in grapeseed oil, garlic, orange juice and a splash of vermouth. In the meantime, I roasted Yukon Gold potatoes for a good roast mashed potato w/garlic, minced white onion, orange-blossom honey, fat-free sour cream, salt, pepper, a touch of powdered ginger, and a splash of orange juice. I also made orange and grapeseed oil drenched asparagus with fresh-cracked pepper, and pan-fried the fish until it was perfectly done. I served the fish with a dollop of sour cream with dill, very finely minced white onion, orange zest and a touch of orange juice. It was delicious.
Unfortunately, it was also not quite as filling as I’d have liked. We had to get snacks later, and had a little chocolate as well. We also watched some Moral Orel, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the first disk O. got for us to watch, but was still pretty darned amusing. Fortunately, I slept well last night, but today has sucked a lot. Wish me luck with this evening. I’m ornery, and so is Orpheus, per my lunch-time phone call.
Anyway, I mastered my discontent with the lack of driving skill exhibited last night by every single person on the road in Madison, WI except me, and got us home both sedately and in one piece. Once there, I found my calm center, and cooked an amazing meal. We’d picked up some very high-quality wild salmon steaks, which I marinated in grapeseed oil, garlic, orange juice and a splash of vermouth. In the meantime, I roasted Yukon Gold potatoes for a good roast mashed potato w/garlic, minced white onion, orange-blossom honey, fat-free sour cream, salt, pepper, a touch of powdered ginger, and a splash of orange juice. I also made orange and grapeseed oil drenched asparagus with fresh-cracked pepper, and pan-fried the fish until it was perfectly done. I served the fish with a dollop of sour cream with dill, very finely minced white onion, orange zest and a touch of orange juice. It was delicious.
Unfortunately, it was also not quite as filling as I’d have liked. We had to get snacks later, and had a little chocolate as well. We also watched some Moral Orel, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the first disk O. got for us to watch, but was still pretty darned amusing. Fortunately, I slept well last night, but today has sucked a lot. Wish me luck with this evening. I’m ornery, and so is Orpheus, per my lunch-time phone call.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Mmm, cherries
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!
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!
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! ;-)
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