the journal

2006-11-02T14:53:00.000-06:00

so non-bespectacled hottie is not my only new categorization.

unemployed joins the ranks, as well.

as of yesterday, i am no longer with job.

yep, i was laid off... which apparently seems to be in the air as jake and byron have been through similar situations recently, too.

i will not go over the details of my discharge (probably not the first time i've said those words, but certainly in this context), but i will note that it was effective immediately with pay through the next few weeks.

so while i am not all poor and destitute yet, i am watching it swiftly approach from the horizon.

the job hunt begins.

and uh, i am posting this publicly for a reason.
if you can help a brother out, please do so!

2006-10-31T16:56:00.000-06:00

i had gotten some questions about what i look like without glasses...

yeah, i don't know why people want to know these things either.

but they do, and what kind of blogger would i be if i didn't indulge my readers' crazy needs...

alas, i decided to do them one better and let someone else tell them what (or rather who) i look like without glasses:

uh, so basically, i'm a hottie.

don't say i never warned you.

you heard it here first.
i'm hot!

oh, and i'm really like noble and self-sacrificing and like non-confrontational or something.
hooray for gandhi!

i was sad to see that anne frank didn't make the cut this time.
very sad.

2006-10-31T15:17:00.000-06:00

this is almost as frustrating as the real thing!

happy halloween, kids!

2006-10-30T14:22:00.000-06:00

it is breezy and in the upper 60s in chicago today.

so i ate lunch outside on a hot little date with myself.

snapped some shots to share with ch'all.

happy monday!

2006-10-25T12:07:00.000-05:00

this is something i don't normally do.

(and, no, i'm not talking about posting on a regular basis, you jackass)

no, it is not in my usual nature to do such a thing.

yes, it is so very unlike me.

i am going to recommend some tunes to ch'all.

*shock* *awe*

so the album i think all y'all need to be listening to is:

*drumroll*

11:11 by maria taylor

while it was released in may 2005, i only recently uncovered this gem. maria used to be a part of azure ray, so if you're a fan of theirs then you simply must run on over to your music outlet of choice and pick up 11:11. the album is tight and well-produced. maria's voice lilts and floats from one song to the next... never strained, never trying too hard, always exactly where it needs to be. the lyrics are heady but light, telling stories that never present themselves in any immediate fashion.

songs of note (though all 10 are lovely and wonderful):
-two of those too
-one for the shareholder
-xanax (hellooooo, a song called xanax... what's not to love?)
-hitched!

it is all what my mother would call "college music", and yes, my mother does steal vocabulary from beavis & butthead. however, mopey-mellowness aside, it is a wonderful album.

check it out!

2006-10-23T16:35:00.000-05:00

it quickly approaches.

the most magical evening of the year.

halloween... it cometh (all over your face).

i'm sure i've mentioned it before, but it bears repeating that halloween is probably my favorite holiday of the year. costumes. scary movies. and most importantly, free food. yes, i count candy as a worthy meal.

this year, i am attending a costume party, and am so incredibly excited about my (less-than-original) costume. yes, while i have for many years been recognized for my ability to create original and intriguing costumes on a shoestring budget and with minimal supplies, this year i cheated.

while halloween's past have been marked with nights as slutty dorothy of oz or slutty superman or slutty snoopy (i shit you not... and all three costumes were but one part of larger group costumes), this year i let slutty fall by the wayside and went with that tried and true costume method followed by sorority girls the world 'round - sexy ____.

i am just as ashamed as you, but beyond my shame, there lies sheer excitement... for this year, i am being:

okay, well not exactly. i'm being that only with quite a bit more grease and quite a bit less high-heel action. i'm still debating the stalkings.

for you see, i am being a sexy mechanic.

and effectively becoming the most blue collar i have ever been in my entire life.

i've got grease, a "wife beater" tank top, a tool belt, and most importantly, a mechanic's jumpsuit that fits me like a glove/a second skin/it was painted on.

the excitement is palpable... and that night, let's hope it's also visible.

10-4 my good buddies.

much love,

2006-10-19T16:16:00.000-05:00

it's now like the third week of october, which means...

my television schedule is all worked out.

and for the first time in a long, long time... it's effing full.

let's take a look, shall we:

monday

7:00 - cbs- how i met your mother
7:30 - cbs - the class
8:00 - nbc - heroes (duh)
----> 8:30 - cbs - the new adventures of old christine (a la dvr)
9:00 - nbc - studio 60 on the sunset strip

tuesday

7:00 - cw - the gilmore girls
8:00 - cw - veronica mars
9:00 - fx - nip/tuck

wednesday

7:00 - cw - america's next top model (duh)
8:00 - abc - lost
9:00 - abc - the nine
-----> 9:00 - bravo - project runway (though this is no longer... yay, jeffrey!)

thursday

7:00 - NOTHING
8:00 - abc - grey's anatomy (duh)
9:00 - NOTHING

friday

7:00 - NOTHING
8:00 - abc - men in trees
9:00 - NOTHING

saturday

10:35 - nbc - saturday night live (a la dvr)

sunday

7:00 - NOTHING
8:00 - NOTHING
9:00 - abc - brothers & sisters (duh)

how in the hell did monday become my favorite night for television?

2006-10-13T13:38:00.000-05:00

i sometimes hate the things i realize.

earlier this week, it hit me that i have cried more often (and shamelessly so) in the last 2 years than i probably did in the 22 years prior combined.

in the sixth grade, i went through a moody phase, during which i would sometimes just start uncontrollably crying... sobbing really. i remember my mother being speechless because she had not seen me cry since i was a very wee child. she said even as a baby i was, on the whole, quiet. i never cried.

until now. these past 2 years have ruined my streak. i have cried a lot in the last 2 years. i. mean. a. lot.

in a stranger's house. in a bar. in a car. in another bar. in the street. in probably yet another bar (just guessing). in the bushes outside an apartment. in a stairwell. in a women's bathroom. in a restaurant. in a coffeeshop. in a movie theater. in my underwear. in the shower.

and the list goes on and on...

seriously?!? seriously.

what the fuck is up with the tears?

i thought part of growing up was crying less often. i guess i was mistaken.

...or is it that i've lost control of my emotions? i used to have such a grip on them, but now, it seems, i am just a vehicle for their outbursts.

i just don't understand it.

i was never a crybaby... until i grew up.

2006-10-10T12:36:00.000-05:00

the pain my absence has caused ch'all is palpable.
thanks for missing me so much.

some things i've been achingly missing:

macaroni & cheese
the dog
road trips
coloring books
lauryn hill
7 friends & 1 aim chatroom
having freckles
new york city
the cafeterias in bromley and busey-evans
scarves
cornfields
tapping kegs and mixing jungle juice
willow trees
the saxophone
academia
bill's toasty
thermal underwear
campfires/bonfires
1 mile road
chorus
too many people to count
isg
having all the answers

what've you been missing?

2006-10-06T15:53:00.000-05:00

the proclamation came down.

svendella, mine fairy blogfather, sayeth: post or you're grounded!

...and so, i'm back, bitches.

i figured to christen my rebirth into the blogging world after almost a month of dead cyberair, i'd go to my go-to gal, the one who gave me life in the first place, the only woman whose vagina i've been inside (though this is the subject of much debate), that crazy lady of quips, zings, and burns...

my madre.

and so i share some of her most recent amusing musings.

on my brohem (what we say for brother in my fam) potentially joining the army...
madre: oh, brett! brett, we need you. you need to come home!
moi: dear lord, woman, what is wrong?!?
madre: brohem is talking about joining the army. we need you.
moi: oh my! yes, i'll be home. just say when. i want to be there for him and for you guys. i understand that you need me now.
madre: wait, what?
moi: i want to come home to support, ch'all.
madre: no, no, no, you sensitive susan, that's not what i need you for.
moi: well, then what are you getting all worked up about?
madre: i need you to give him his escape hatch.
moi: wtf?!?
madre: yeah, tutor him so if it ever gets scary he can just open the gay hatch and let the homo flow.
moi: *click* *sound that phones make when someone hangs up on you even though this conversation was on a cell phone and they don't make that sound*

on mr. foley and his page...
moi: hello!
madre: oh my god brett, you never told us you were a page in d.c.

on mr. mcgreevey and his book...
madre: so i watched oprah today and that gay governor from jersey was on there.
moi: james mcgreevey.
madre: yeah, that guy. whatever his name is. anyway, what's this masculine love all you gays are talking about? because if it involves a bedazzler... it ain't masculine, mcgreasey.

on the gilmore girls...
madre: did you watch the season premiere of gg?
moi: yeah, i caught the dvr'ed version molly left me.
madre: that's us you know. we're quirky and close and fun. we're lorelai and rory.
moi: i guess... yeah, i can see it.
madre: only, you know. like you'd have to be recast as a girl... oh no, no you wouldn't.
moi: yeah, and you'd have to be recast as someone cool.

on project runway (and anne heche, i guess)...
madre: so is that michael fellow gay or what?
moi: heck if i know.
madre: well, did he ping your gay sonar or not?
moi: ma, it's gaydar and mine's broken.
madre: we better get that fixed. don't want you falling for some anne heche with a penis.

on anne heche (and everwood)...
moi: molly and i have been watching "men in trees" lately, and we think it's cute. i didn't think i'd like it.
madre: well it does have anne heche in it.
moi: yeah, but i don't mind her. it was more the concept that bothered me.
madre: oh, so all you all have finally forgiven her for what she did to ellen?
moi: yes, but the jury's still out on the whole goddess celestia bit.
madre: i always did like her on "everwood".
moi: mom, for the last time, stop pushing "everwood" on me.
madre: well, sorry, i just thought the title alone would hook you.

and you all can't imagine what was keeping me away from the blog...

helloooooooooooo!

dealing with that woman is a full-time job.

and such is my life on the second shift.

2006-09-19T09:58:00.000-05:00

this may be the best or worst thing that has ever happened to my workday.

do enjoy!

2006-09-15T15:53:00.000-05:00

so...

i know you all love me.

and...

i know you all like to see pictures of me fronting some fierceness.

aaaand...

i love providing ch'all with said pictures.

soooo...

who's getting me these shoes?

i promise to love you forever!

like forever and ever and ever!

they'd be the perfect addition to my next photo shoot for you lovelies' viewing pleasure.

i'd also entertain them in black.
i'm a size 10 at gucci.
thanks in advance. x's and o's.

(sidenote: i'd also accept luggage or wallets/money clips/keychains... you know, just so we're clear.)

2006-09-14T13:04:00.000-05:00

oh. my. god.

can divas be reborn?

like a phoenix? perhaps lazarus?

and of course...

oh, and you can't forget these wonderful pieces of geniusness:

crack is whack and so is bobby! bobby!

this is my land, ms. houston, and i've crowned you the queen of the night!

2006-09-11T09:22:00.000-05:00

a year ago, i said it all the best way i knew how.

so for lack of better words, i'll use my old ones...

----------------------------------------------------------------------

i was born a new yorker even though i was born in illinois.

the blood of its history, its people, its culture, its stories has always coursed through my body.

i grew up with tales from my grandfather about the wonders of new york city. during my childhood, when my mother and i lived with him, he would talk for hours about his childhood in brooklyn and about being a young man in a city that never sleeps. he sincerely loved that city; an immigrant, it was america for him. he never got to go back before he died.

his admiration was contagious. in mid-august of 2001, i ventured to my grandfather's golden city for the first time. i say begrudgingly that he did not do it justice. it was everything and more. being there was like completing the edge pieces on the puzzle of my life... letting me finally start on the center... on the real meat.

it was like being home.

on august 11, my friend angela and i went down to the harbor to squint at the statue of liberty from across the water. we investigated cheap t-shirts for loved ones back in illinois, and from the safety of a bench while munching on baguettes and curling our toes on our flip-flops, we watched the hustle of grey suits, marching to the humming beat of business. we breathed in new york, and it exhaled a new life into us. it was like spiritual cpr. all, quite unknowingly to us, under the iconic presence of the twin towers.

a month later, from a small living room in illinois, i watched as they disappeared. as beth cried for her dad's colleagues who surely died upon initial impact, i was silent. unflinching. clearly shaken, but not falling. not yet.

and for the boy who hadn't noticed them in the first place, it wasn't the physical absence of the towers that shook me when i returned to new york some years later. it was as i walked alone by the site that i finally fell. standing there breathing, i could taste, smell, feel the difference this had made in new york... in the world. teetering from the drama of it all, i was eventually brought to my knees. i stayed there for quite some time, staring into the pit and remembering everything from that day and days before.

the smell of jet fuel. screaming and tears.
glass thunder and rain made of those grey suits.
a wall of smoke. darkness at 10 am.
my grandfather's golden city, sleeping for the first time.

i don't remember getting back up... i only know that, like the city itself, i did.

2006-09-08T10:39:00.000-05:00

another photo from yesterday's lunch hour

2006-09-07T12:47:00.000-05:00

what a treat!

a post in photos!

today, we'll follow mr. drinksalot for his lunchtime adventures.

after snagging some chipotle (yes, i know i'm helping america's obesity coach, mcdonald's, but get them to stop making such delicious little burritos and i'll stop giving them my hardly earned dollars), i popped on over to the park of the ages and wonder of wonders, millenium park.

where i sat in the shadow of the vagina building. (no, that is not it's official name or whatever, but i think the building's crown looks like a venus mound in a see of phalluses)

to my left was cloudgate no. 2 or whatever the fuck its name is. you know. the big effing metal bean permanently besmudged with the handprints of a thousand awestruck tourists.

seriously. it's just a metal bean. (and i fucking love it!)

i plopped my butt on the ground.
i curled my toes in the grass.

i wore obnoxious sunglasses, rocked what appears to be a slight pompadour, never left ear-to-bud contact with my ipod, and silently judged all passersby.

i turned and realized i had company. (those black spots are ants)

oh, no! ants on a boy! (and you thought snakes on a motherfucking plane was bad)

oooo, skin shot! my mother would be ashamed.

and there you have it. adventures in brettdom. it is a gripping life i lead.

today's episode was brought to you by the motorola razr (in black) and the letter f.

2006-09-01T11:24:00.000-05:00

it is summer no more.

yep, it's gone. done. over. adios, verano. adieu, été.

hola, otoño. bonjour, automne.

g'day, mothereffing fall.

i know, i know... temperatures are cooling down, but there may be a few more hot days left in good, ole mother nature. the old bag does keep a few tricks up her sleeve. hell, who knows - maybe come october we'll have an ~~indian~~ native american summer (sidenote: is that really the mascot for the 2010 olympics in vancouver? that seems... poorly decided). one can never be sure in illinois' crazy, grab-bag of a climate.

while i will miss gracing the beach in my skimpy bathing suits(yes, i really own and wear these suits... well, the black briefs aren't quite the pair i have, but i digress) and seeing half-naked men all along the lakefront, i am looking forward to cracking out the fall wardrobe.

welcome back, scarves. hello once more,sweaters. greetings, fair blazers. damn good to see you, the ability to layer clothing (we skinny kids have to get girthy somehow).

how i've missed you all!

2006-08-29T15:11:00.000-05:00

why, oh why, do i think it wise to go out until 4:30 in the morning on a monday when i have to be at work by 9 on tuesday?

this is the question i've been asking myself all day.

oh, and i've also been asking myself how i still have a functioning liver... because after nights like last night i assume it has to be in its last days.

luckily (and as always), no hangover.

tired as all fuck, though.

i've been sleeping like a dolphin all day.

2006-08-23T12:34:00.000-05:00

well, as i mentioned before, i'm very excited about nbc's new show heroes.

so much so that i've read every square inch of the show's website, complete with video clips, character bios, and other juicy little tidbits of info.

i was excited to learn that the show has an incredibly diverse cast. as mentioned before, masi oka plays a japanese man who can teleport, but also of interest are santiago cabrera (latino) as isaac mendez (a premonition-having, heroin-addicted artist) and sendhil ramamurthy (indian) as mohinder suresh (a psychologist whose recently killed father did research on human evolution). i'm so happy to see the newer hit shows on television (lost, grey's anatomy) with such racially diverse casts... and in a way that the non-caucasian characters are not sequestered to filling supporting roles.

in other heroes news, after reading some interviews with ali larter, i must say that i may have spoken too soon about her presence in this ensemble cast. the more i learn about her character on the show, the more i think she may be an appropriate cast. we'll see. i'm still not wholly won over.

and finally, it seems that my previous post may have caught the attention of one of my favoritely named cast members. it seems none other than miss tawny cypress managed to find her way to this blog, and we're very happy to welcome her.

i will gladly affirm that ms. cypress is neither a stripper nor a drag queen. no, no, ms. cypress is, in fact, an able actress with several credits to her name. i'm very interested in her character on heroes as well. tawn-tawns (hope you don't mind if i call you that, ms. cypress) plays simone deveraux (hello, another awesome name... this gal is so lucky). simone is isaac's (read: junky, psychic artist's) girlfriend... and knows mr. peter petrelli (aka milo ventimiglia). simone may be the first link the show has between two of the muties... and that spells excitement in my book.

monday, september 25 cannot come soon enough!

2006-08-15T13:07:00.000-05:00

hola kiddies!

this week will be a wash for new posts.

i'm off to arizona for the roomie's brother's wedding.

it's sure to be a great time.

have fun while i'm gone!

oh, and here's a little eye candy to keep you... busy until i get back.

hoozah! do enjoy!

the legend: from top to bottom
david beckham, justin theroux, jeremy bloom
george eads, enrique murciano, christian bale
matthew fox, jason statham, chris evans

2006-08-11T14:15:00.000-05:00

don't forget faggots!

gb:chi is tomorrow afternoon (4 pm?) at cocktail.

2006-08-11T13:37:00.000-05:00

read this now!

i can certainly think of a ride or two i'd get in line for.

where do i order my code red? because believe me, i can handle that truth.

thanks, palochi.

2006-08-09T13:55:00.000-05:00

i don't talk about it much, though it's certainly no secret.

i am obsessed with project runway.

i ravenously consume all things klum.

recently, logo online released a little interview with keith michael (the dirty cheater auf'ed last wednesday).

he talks about the show and his hopes for the launch of his own line.

more importantly, there are pictures of his imminent women's wear.

more more importantly, there are 2 pictures of a male model.

now that's an ass you want to use as a telephone or a lunchbox or just really use it real good.

more more more importantly, there's a very lovely face-forward shot of lunchbox ass' owner... and if his ass is my lunchbox, i know where to get the matching thermos... [yes, i'm full aware that this metaphor makes absolutely no sense, but that's why you come here... to get what you can't get anywhere else - really really piss poor metaphors]

in case you missed that, let me help you.

yep.

[can we tell who's a little hard up these days?]

so thank you keith michael. i won't miss you at all on project runway, but you've certainly left me with a lasting impression.

or outline.

2006-08-04T11:09:00.000-05:00

thank you, svendella!

who needs porn when there are things like this in the world?

seriously. a list. of the 25 hottest. brazilian! men!!!111

it has everything i need: a list, 25 things, hot hot hot brazilianos.

i plan to ~~rub~~ ~~jerk~~ ~~work~~ something my way down to #1 (uber hottie reynaldo gianecchini).

you know where i'll be for the next 25 days.

mmmmhm, you heard me.

2006-08-02T11:41:00.000-05:00

it's like 103 zillion degrees outside.

and what did i have for lunch today?

a big ole bowl of piping hot [i burnt my tongue] minestrone.

yep, i have a cold.
i'm sure there's some form of irony or literary device in there somewhere, but frankly, i'm too congested [shocking, considering my nose hasn't stopped running in 3 days] to be concerned with recalling high school english.

it's a nasty little bug, too.
symptoms: a running nose complete with electric green snot, a hacking cough with plenty of phlegm to mimic emphysema, sneezing that could rival both the dwarf and the smurf [did i mention the electric green snot?], a phantom fever in that i'm burning up but am not actually running a fever, an ever-present body-ache, a burnt tongue [it's a derivative symptom], and a hefty amount of disdain from my fellow commuters each morning.

while i'm currently sticking to a regimen of dayquil [read: nectar of the gods, oh sweet ambrosia] and fluids, here are some... more unconventional remedies the internets offered up without much coaxing:

boiled chinese winter melon [sounds real tasty]
rocky road, booze, and salt water cocaine [now, this is what i'm talking about...]
larrea-shegoi, the mystical native american cure-all [can i take it with some fire water?]
ganmaoling, some random chinese herb [like i have time to go pick some ganmaoling in the foothills of beijing... hello, i have a cold]
a goldenseal and cayenne tincture and red pepper tea [tincture? honestly?!? tincture. like i know how to make an effing tincture... or for that matter how to make red pepper into a god-forsaken tea]
sleeping with a yak [are yaks hung like horses?]

i kinda feel better already, just knowing that i don't have to take any of those.

...though i'm a little curious what salt water cocaine might do for my electric green snot.

2006-08-01T12:19:00.000-05:00

it's coming...

it is. it is.

in a matter of days, the first annual gb: chi will be upon us.

this year's event is being hostessed by charlie and alan.

feel free to visit their pages and contact them about the event... or just email me at brett.and.butter@gmail.com and papa will take care of you.

i hope to see your big, gay, blogging asses there!

it's the perfect follow-up to market days.

2006-07-26T10:53:00.000-05:00

so rodrigo santoro has joined the cast of lost.

rodrigo.
santoro.
has joined.
the cast of.
lost.

*melts*
*evaporates*
*dies*

rodrigo. santoro. lost.

there is a god.

when do you think season 2 comes out on dvd?

i've got some catching up to do!

2006-07-24T23:42:00.000-05:00

hey boys and boys (and probably a girl or two, as well)

i have returned to the working world, which in turn means i have returned to the blogging world.

while pictures from dc are imminent, in the meanwhile, can we talk about one ms. zuleyka mendoza?!? can we?

a little background: zuleyka, there, was puerto rico's representative at the ms. universe pageant. oh, and she won... so really, zuleyka-darling is miss universe!!!

okay, so a few things:

numero uno - she looks effing nuts in that picture. that one eye is all scrimpy over there, and her teeth... my god, her teeth! it looks like she's the part of some bad .gif animation. like i expect those teeth to start moving or something or like bite the head off a kitten or the neck off a bottle of beer. they're just scary.

numero dos - she is furonda's (of america's next top model fame) hand twin a la joey tribbiani. that hand is hugenormous! it's like bigger than her face. it's like a french-tipped, well-manicured serving platter. combined with her crazy-ass face, she looks like a cracked out gabor sister... i'm half-expecting to see in tomorrow's news that zuleyka bitch-slapped a cop then dropped a hundo on some magenta chinchilla coat.

numero tres - she knew she was going to win, as evidenced by her "coincidentally" matching her earrings to the tiara they gave her. mmmhm. i smell a ms. universe conspiracy. does the donald know about this?

numero cuatro - she wore, what can best be described as, a silly dress. according to roommate, zuleyka opted to wear a dress fashioned out of a bajillion small metal chains. is there some sort of reasoning behind this? was it made by the same designer who did the american express gold card dress? is puerto rico's chief export small metal chains and not gardeners as first suspected?

numero cinco - she is named zuleyka! zu. ley. ka. is she an android? perhaps an alien? i know she's from puerto rico and all, but that is not even a real name there. zuleyka. for surrious.

regardless, today, i tip my hat to you, zuleyka mendoza, miss universe!

oh, how you have made my monday!

2006-07-18T15:35:00.000-05:00

hang in there, kids!

a recap of my misadventures in d.c. is on the near horizon...

there's just the pesky little issue of the roughly 100 photographs from 3 days and how to get them onto the blog in a somewhat efficient way.

a few fair readers have already had the opportunity to see said photos, and i'm sure they'll attest that the proof is in the photo pudding...

and it's some fucking good pudding!

so sit tight and prepare to see the gloriousness that is me in a foreign city!

p.s. there are a few i'd like to condense into animated gifs... 1 problem: i don't know how to make animated gifs. assist where possible.

2006-07-13T15:36:00.000-05:00

i'm off to dc for the weekend.

the marvelous miss betsy has returned from her jaunt into siberia, and i am much overdue on some quality time with one of my favorite ladies in the world.

to sweeten the deal, madame lindserella will be joining me, making this adventure all the better.

yep, i picked pussy over the opening weekend of the gay games. i'm that kinda gay.

give the australian swim team my love. tell the italian footballers i said hello.

...oh, and let the french wrestlers know i'll be expecting them upon my return.

2006-07-11T13:43:00.000-05:00

i'm in a weird place.

so much so that i have a really difficult time trying to describe it in words.

in the last few weeks, i have become terribly, almost painfully, aware of my life. i say that and don't even completely understand what it means... but it's the best description i can muster.

even chocolate has a bitterness to it.

i do not mean i am aware of my daily decisions or mistakes or regrets. it is not that all the inadequacies of my day-to-day have become glaringly obvious. this is not some self-pitying display of my shortcomings or the ways in which i could condemn myself for being a bad person.

none of this. it is not sad. it is not these things.

it's the grand scheme. the patterns. the missing love. the breathing in and out. the way i am. the way it is.

all of this.

i am in a personal dilemma - a dizzying spot of confusion and epiphany - and i am calm.

2006-07-06T12:09:00.000-05:00

i know. i know.

here it is, a quarter of the way through july, and i'm just now sharing my goals for the summer.

a little late on this one. oopsie-doodle, as i say. oopsie. doodle.

anyhow...

brett's list o' things to get done right for summer 2006

(in no particular order)

spend some time at millenium park with molly because we love it so
get a m-fucking tan
eat watermelon
buy funky sunglasses
read a book on the beach... the concrete step(pe) things at the lakefront do not count
catch fireflies
invent the perfect summer cocktail
give some serious attention to lsat prep
go sailing
meet an aussie [or just someone with a fun accent] during the gay games
dance with sparklers
see a play, if for nothing other than the air conditioning
swim naked under the stars... yes, i am 24 and have never gone skinny dipping
cheer on the cubs... despite being a cardinals fan
camp-out
gossip over ice cream cones while people-watching
make my own lemonade iced tea
date a nice boy
find a willow tree and swing from its boughs a la tarzan
wear flip-flops whenever humanly [or at least professionally] possible
move adam to chicago

i'm sure this list will grow... but that's what it looks like right about now.

what are your goals for summer '06?

2006-07-05T11:58:00.000-05:00

you're all amazing and wonderful and beautiful and fabulous!

thank you, thank you, thank you all for the great messages and cheer you sent for my birthday. they were all truly appreciated and helped to make the occasion that much more special for me.

thank you.

great gifts:
-several, highly-unexpected but very thoughtful and touching cards
-the dvd containing my most quoted (perhaps overly so) phrase ever, "mixed race babies, darling!" [bonus points if you recognize it]
-a set of candles with bamboo screens that molly and i like so much we intend to put them in the dining room despite the fact that they don't entirely match the decor
-a new i-pod... technically, i didn't get this... yet. nudge, nudge, parentals. i've been heartbroken ever since my little sven (yes, it's name was sven, and no, it wasn't named after svendella ... sorry, svendella) went to the great big apple store in the sky. r.i.p.

best gift:

drumroll please...

-a new, m-fucking j.o.b.

yep, after well over a year of searching and pleading and crying and begging and loathing and more searching, i got a job offer that was accepted and officialized (whatever, it's a word now) on june 26.

while i'm very excited about the new job, i do get quite logical around my birthday... astrological, that is. it seems msn's astrologer to the masses would think my new job is not a wise pick.

msn's suggestions:
-nurse: "they've been kissing boo-boos and playing nurse since childhood. count on a well-stocked first aid kit at their house. this job involves having empathy, a way with people, and concern for the welfare of their patients." clearly, they have never met me. the only boo-boo i've been kissing since childhood was little bob "boo-boo" peterson who lived down the street.

-maid/cleaner: uhhhh... seriously. i live in a near-constant state of disarray.

-day care worker: "cancer loves working with children" yeah, no joke, st. jude has made a living off of it. too far? sorry.

-surrogate mother (my favorite): hey, i saw junior. if arnold can move around his organs to create a uterus, so can i.

-children's entertainer: let me know if a spot in the wiggles opens up.

-cook: if it weren't for molly, i would have turned the stove into extra storage ages ago. "they have to sample everything they make which invariably adds a few extra pounds." again, it is evident they know nothing about me.

-family therapist: i think i'd get more out of being on the couch. "however, cancers are usually the blubbering crybabies in their own family unit." blubbering is a bit harsh, i think.

-marine biologist (that came out of left field): "cancer has a fascination for the sea and the creatures in it. in this career they can use their excellent memories to remember the latin names." i would really hope there is more to marine biology than memorization.

-collector: "they usually buy because they love it or feel the need to have it, not for the prospect of selling. however, after the house is brimming to the eaves with barbie lunchboxes and star wars figurines, they may have to unload some of it." eek, perhaps they know me afterall.

-genealogist: seriously? c'mon, i mean i spend a lot of my time trying to forget who i'm related to.

so the breakdown according to msn, cancers will never make any fucking dollars. cook, maid, surrogate mother... what a load of crap.

2006-07-01T11:56:00.000-05:00

happy birthday to you...
happy birthday toooooooooo yooooooooooooou...

happy birthday most fantastic person in the world who lights up my days and fills up my nights and makes me want to be a better person and who i find so incredibly sexy and god damn attractive whose name is breeeeeee-eeeeeett...

happy birthday tooooooooooooooooo you!

that's what i heard y'all singing anyway.

happy happy brett day!

2006-06-30T13:21:00.000-05:00

today, i'm a clock-watcher.

i watch as moments tick by, counting down another year.

tomorrow, i turn 24, which means i am still closer to 20 than 30. oh, and it also means that i am still younger than old, old, so-very-old molly. phew!

let's recap things that have happened this year, july 1 to july 1:

a year ago tomorrow, i turned 23 and felt old... then young again when i remembered that molly is consistently 2 years older than i am.
though it started officially at the end of last may, with the joseph's return from asia at the end of last july, my first real relationship began.
in august of last year, the temperature in our apartment reached all time highs, forcing molly and i to see even the most awful of hollywood's summer faire just for the air conditioning.
this past september, my immediate family plus brother's girlfriend visited to celebrate the madre's birthday; nothing says "adulthood" quite like planning a weekend adventure for your family that involves boat tours, metal beans, improv comedy, baseball, and edamame.
last october, i became super boyfriend with the giving of an amazing birthday present, went on my first trip as one half of a couple, played the roles of uber-talented designer and british tourist in the same trip to boston, slept in an incredibly small room with my college roommate, did not wear a halloween costume (for the first time since i was a boy), and saw madonna drop by the roxy.
during a trip to dc in november of last year, my most favorite pair of underwear ever was eaten by an airport, my family illegally boarded a plane, and i learned that while i really have nothing in common with my uncle we share one important characteristic.
after years and years of awful new year's eves, this past december saw the worst one to date.
january opened with the ending of my first, real relationship. nothing says "happy new year" like a broken heart and losing your first love. goodbye, the joseph.
february = most embarassing valentine's day ever!
in march, molly and i dealt with the insanity that is ronny and managed (after a multitude of headaches) to snag his apartment. while we are now sure it was worth the struggle, it took many, many, many strong, strong, strong alcoholic drinks to get us to this reconciliation.
this past april, i realized i will never be smart enough to do my own taxes and surrendered to the idea that i will be paying h&r block way too much money to do alegbra for the rest of my days.
in may, i drove 32 hours to spend 36 hours in vermont. i do not regret a second of it.
june brought the beginning of the gayest summer ever in chicago. while many believe it began with the recent pride festivities, those in the know were aware that it truly began with ben's birthday.
tomorrow, i turn 24... and while i do not know how i will celebrate (again) or with whom i will tick off one more year, i do know that no matter what happens, that no matter who is there, and that no matter how it is spent, i will always be younger than molly... and quite honestly, that is just enough.

happy brett day everybody!

(oh, and happy fourth, too, i suppose)

2006-06-28T14:47:00.000-05:00

apparently in italy, priests are like rock stars.

i mean, i've always thought the papalcy had an air of liberace about it, what with the gobs and gobs of gold and the plastic bubble car, but i've never really thought of priests as icons... especially of the sex variety.

until now.

yep, some crazy italian priests have a calendar, and let me tell you, in all my years as an altar boy, i never saw nothing that looks as damn fine as these padres.

...and my personal fave...

father november

bless me father, for i have sinned...

i think it's time for us to go in the confessional now, apply that holy chism, and spread the good words.

christ hanging on the cross, why are they wasting celibacy on these hotties?!?

2006-06-23T13:27:00.000-05:00

if you are out and about in boystown this weekend, celebrating pee-ride, you will see me... and if you're lucky, i'll see you, too.

you might be wondering how i can be so sure. i mean, yes, the odds are with me, but one never knows.

perhaps i am riding on a float. nah.

maybe i'm in a band that is performing on one of the stages. nope.

possibly i'm working at one of the more popular booths like the hrc or the center on halsted. no.

then how. how is it that you will certainly see me should you walk the streets with your gay little chin held high?

i'm going to be that crazed, drunken fool yelling at you from my balcony above a parking lot and throwing beads at your head!

i might also be that silly, debaucherous lad doing keg stands on a second-floor balcony and dancing to the free tunes pumping from whatever band is performing at the 7-11.

this is how i know. because like the eye of sauron atop the dark tower, i see all of pride from my so-very-fucking-fabulous perch and all of pride shall see me!

be prepared to spot and be spotted.

2006-06-21T07:10:00.000-05:00

have you seen the promos for nbc's new fall drama heroes?

can we talk about how m-effing excited i am for this show?
of course we can!

for your reading pleasure, i will use bullet points.

this is a show about normal people who discover they have amazing powers. it's all very x-men without a school or a bald guy in a wheelchair... and we know how i geek out over the x-men.
milo ventimiglia. he's not a dream boat, necessarily, but i've been watching him since he was jess on gilmore girls and chris on american dreams. oh, and his birthday is exactly one week after mine. he, lindsay lohan, and i really need to look into some sort of joint birthday party.
hello, asian-american representation! masi oka plays a japanese man who discovers he can teleport. hooray for diversity!
i love me some mutants.
it's a show about growth. the characters aren't superheroes from the get-go. they're everyday peeps who have to learn what these new powers mean.
greg grunberg plays a beat cop who finds he can read peoples' minds. greg grunberg is great. he was sean blumberg way back in the day on felicity and was delightful as agent eric weiss on alias. plus, as i've just now discovered on imdb, he could participate in the bremildsay birthday blowout... making it the brelinmileg birthday blowout. i think i just said something dirty in norwegian.
one character is an impervious, quickly-healing, tissue-regenerating high school cheerleader. helloooooo, clearly the only thing better than hugh jackman as wolverine is a high school cheerleader as wolverine.
similarly to lost, the writers have been quite genius in leaving the premise open to introducing new characters at any point in time, and with the breadth of stories and characters to draw upon from the comic book world, i am sure we will see this ensemble cast expand and contract over time.
i don't know who she plays or where she came from, but there's a woman named tawny cypress on the cast. tawny. cypress. if she's not a stripper or a drag queen, i'll be shocked and amazed.

what i'm not excited about:

ali larter. oh, you know her. of final destination 1 and 2 fame. and that horror film, varsity blues. yeah, that's her. not-so-very-excited about her being on this show. fingers crossed that they drown her in the ensemble. or just drown her.

2006-06-20T13:24:00.000-05:00

uh, so these shoes and i need to be together forever...

hello, lover!

i dooooooo have a biiiiiiirthday coming up!

*cough* hint *cough* *hack*10 1/2*hack* *weeze*hint*weeze*

phew, my allergies are awful right now. ick.

2006-06-19T13:40:00.000-05:00

oh, the places you'll go...

...in the midwest and northeast, apparently.

i guess i need to feel the influence of manifest destiny and head my ass west.

create your own visited states map

p.s. i am def not a fan that all those states are red. wtf, web application. wtf, indeed.
p.p.s. it has since come to my attention that i have, in fact, been to nebraska, arkansas, connecticut, and rhode island.

2006-06-16T13:45:00.000-05:00

tonight, we celebrate the birth of my (local) best friend forever.

happiest of birthdays, mon frere!

we be getting ben tipsy in the club tonight. hilarity shall ensue. debauchery shall be no stranger.

we gonna sip bacardi 'cause it's his birfday!

2006-06-15T10:02:00.000-05:00

okay, so people and i need to have a little chat...

i give you america's #1 hot bachelor...

american idol, taylor hicks.

seriously?!? seriously. c'mon!

i mean, i understand that he's an eligible bachelor and one current focus of the public eye. america likes him and wants to know what he's doing. this i understand. what i do not understand is #1 and hot.

i mean, the man is at the top of the world right now. he's set, having won the biggest season of idol yet... but still. seriously?!? seriously. okay... maybe he's cute in that 29-year-old grandpa sort of way. not something i'm particularly attracted to, but according to roommate, old-25-year-old girls eat this shit up. whatevs, straighties... whatevs. that guy is not "hot". cute, maybe. endearing, perhaps. hot? never.

and it would appear that people is not wholly convinced of its decision either...

in this picture from the magazine, they're employing a tried and true strategy: throw enough hot girls at a guy, and someone is bound to think he's a hottie. taylor is also the only one of the "hot bachelors" to have company in his photos. all the others are solo. mmmhm. maybe people just needs to get off idol's cock.

and as further evidence of taylor's not-hotness and for your viewing pleasure, i provide you with two of the bachelors mr. hicks managed to beat out for the #1 slot. now these men are hot. fiery depths of hell, center of the fucking sun, tip of the jalapeno pepper, nuclear meltdown hot.

get the phone, because it's matthew mcconaughey phoning in his love (for me).

this man can play naked bongos on my ass and call me susan for all i care, as long as he keeps that accented voice that could induce labor and manages to continue looking this damn good. christ hanging on the cross, he's almost 40 and looks about 10 years younger than grandpa hicks.

where's hicks' gq cover? hmm. where is it? it doesn't exist. you know why? because he's not effing hot enough.

you know who is though...

jake "despite the fact that brett has an odd dislike for blue eyes, i'm so m-fucking hot because my recent decision to rock the scruff has allowed him to look past that" gyllenhaal.

uh, yeah. hi. let's move to boston and get gay-married.

i'd be his athletic supporter anyday.

oh, the life of a cableknit sweater.

i think it's safe to say he's not the only one who's wet.

oh, you coy little bitch. however, i do enjoy that he wears my promise ring to photoshoots.

[sigh]

now, if only that taylor hicks guy would look my way... i hear he's dreamy.

[barf]

you can thank me for the matt and jake pictures later.

2006-06-09T15:17:00.000-05:00

go, joe. go!

[pumps fist a la arsenio hall]

what a wonderful tribute/rant just in time for the gay high holidays!

thanks, jmg.

2006-06-08T13:35:00.000-05:00

so brad and angelina had their baby...

finally.

i can think of only 1 thing that would make this occasion all the more wonderful and joyous and amazing and spectacular...

i think i got daddy's nose and mama jolie's d.s.l. connection (and i ain't talking about the internet).

now, i get all the maddox-time i want. boo-yah!

i can't wait to go over to grandpa voigt's house for christmas!

p.s. apparently, blogger has been a real cunty bitch lately, and hasn't been showing this post. i apologize, but... uh, yeah, not much i can do about it. so deal.

2006-06-02T14:38:00.000-05:00

as my little friday gift to you all, i give you...

[drum roll]

more gems of wit and splendor from the mothership

on a friday night:
[phone rings]
moi: hello.
madre: why are you home?
moi: what?
madre: it's friday. why are you home?
moi: i didn't feel much like going out.
madre: did you run out of body glitter again?

on some floundering male suitors:
moi: i don't know. they're just not right.
madre: what do you mean?
moi: well, like they have good jobs. they are successful. they like me. i'm just not crazy about them.
madre: so like you should like them, but you just don't?
moi: exactly.
madre: wow. that's a pain in the ass. well, in this case, i guess not, eh?

on my demanding pictures from our trip to vermont:
moi: why haven't you sent them to me yet?
madre: i keep forgetting.
moi: but i've reminded you several times. i really want them.
madre: i know. i know. i just think subconsciously i don't want you sitting around with your friends, making fun of my hair or my shoes.

on my beard: (i'm sure you can see where this one's going)
madre: so, what else is new with you?
moi: not too much... oh, so i've got a beard now.
madre: what? wait, what?
moi: i've got a beard now.
madre: you all still do those?
moi: i didn't know people had really stopped.
madre: so what's her name?
moi: huh? no, no, no... ma! like facial hair!
madre: oh, i thought you meant you'd gotten yourself a katie holmes.

on the mail for me that still comes to their house:
madre: so could you tell the post office that you don't live here anymore?
moi: well, i'm afraid if i forward my mail, they'll forward dad's, too. none of my mail has my middle initial on it.
madre: well, how about just the hrc and lambda legal stuff?
moi: sure, i can call them or something. why, though?
madre: i'm just tired of the mailman looking at me like i'm a sad, sad, foolish woman.

you're welcome!

2006-05-31T16:40:00.000-05:00

breathe easy, fair reader...

i have not died.

did you feel that? did you hear it?
the entire island nation of japan just let loose an incredible sigh of relief.
the japanese do love me ever-so. gashi, miuchi!

...so to get everyone up to speed, on friday, the doctor said, "everything looks good down there. looks really good. [odd head nod toward my crotch]" additionally, he determined that the itchy chest bump was just a simple skin irritation that should clear itself up in time. i determined this does little to nothing for the incessant desire to take a cheese grater to my teenage-girl-esque bosom. then again, who am i to argue with a licensed medical professional who compliments my genitalia? no one. that's who.

in other brett news, the death i had thought to be imminent has manifested itself as an inordinate amount of change in my life. thus, as i clearly have not died (or am simply writing from beyond the grave [oooooo, spooooooky ghost brett, ooooooooooo]), it could be argued that little parts of my life have died or passed on or simply gone away for the time being.

the least missed of these wayfarers would be my pasty-ass white skin. yep, homeboy got him some uv rays over the weekend, and color has never looked so good on me. mind you, i did have some bright red racing stripes down my legs for a day or so (and an awkwardly burnt left wrist [yeah, i don't know either]), but in the long run i'll balance this recently acquired stream of endless compliments against sarcoma anyday.

now, a welcome addition to the life of brett, my beard. yep. b-e-a-r-d. i've toyed around with the idea for awhile, and quite unknowingly, finally just did it. i never thought it would garner the positive attention it has, and that's a great feeling. people like my face hairy... though this hasn't been market tested in japan. eek!

more special guest stars - yes, oh, oh, oh, the boy department is looking up. while i have had a recent string of suitors knocking on my door (or more accurately texting the shit out of my phone), i don't really think any of them are right for the long haul... but as was once my nature, i've decided to just have some fun for the time being. somehow after college, i forgot that i did at times enjoy being single... and now seems like the perfect time for this new dog to learn some old tricks. or at least meet some new tricks. besides, a consistent booty call seems like the perfect accessory for summer '06.

and, yes, let's give another warm welcome to - and this may shock and amaze many of you to the same level it did me - the extra 4 pounds i have put on. mmmmhm. this fly m-fucker is packing them on. my weight has, for years, fluctuated between 135 and 145, but almost always (we're talking like 99% of the time) falls at 138 lbs. when i hopped on the scale at the good doctor's on friday, i almost peed (but i held it in because i hadn't given my sample yet [and peeing on demand is incredibly difficult for me]). 142! it said 142! i turned to the nurse in disbelief, but she just looked back at me, clearly unsure as to why i was so effing excited. i did a little jig. she still just stared at me. 4 pounds is enormous for me. i struggle to put on an ounce much less 64 of them. i think japan may have a new action hero on their hands.

arigoto, bitches!

2006-05-24T13:01:00.000-05:00

i think i might be dying this weekend.
there would certainly be some romance in that.

i have an appointment with my new doctor on friday afternoon. it's about nothing serious. i am seeing him for something of no particular importance. i have a small bump on my chest. it may or may not be getting larger, but the bugger certainly does itch. i am fairly certain it is not lethal. people rarely die from something that itched.

however, all is not well with me and the universe. something strange is afoot. some unforeseen plan is unravelling to its completion. for the past couple of weeks, i have been seeing signs. markers of a change in times. everywhere. and they give me a feeling. a feeling like i might be dying. a feeling like this could be it. a feeling like there may be no more. but a feeling like there is somehow a choice in the matter.

it is said that before a person dies their whole life flashes before their eyes. they relive everything before living no more. for two weeks, my life has been trickling around me. not in a flash. not always right in front of me. but it's all there. they're all walking by. slipping in and out. waving and calling my name. all of them. in the course of two weeks, i have seen a multitude of people from my past in a slow progression - from the family in vermont i had never met but have known in my very being since birth to my best girlfriend from junior high to my first friend with a driver's license to the girl across the hall during college to that friend of joe's i hadn't seen since we broke up. for two weeks, i've been living a slowly progressing episode of "this is your life" and now i fear we are nearing the end of this broadcast... and i can't remember what happened at the end of each show. i always got bored and changed the channel.

on friday, i go to the doctor about a small, itchy bump on my chest, and more than likely, i will see someone from my past. on saturday, i plan to awake, knowing that somehow i have died. ready to start all over again. a whole new future and a past that has finally been put to rest.

that. or it's cancer.

2006-05-18T12:19:00.000-05:00

hoorah for bigotry!

today, a senate committee decided to send a measure to the senate floor to approve a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage. i just love me some legislating hate.

committee chairman arlen specter r-pa pointed out that not all those who voted yes on the measure actually supported the proposed constitutional amendment.

specter himself is "totally opposed" to it, but felt the matter should be debated in the senate.

yes, nothing says democracy quite like debating whether or not to write hate into the constitution.

the measure, approved in a 10-8 vote, is favored to fail on the senate floor. good ole fristy has it scheduled to appear before the senate the week of june 5.

nothing like the smell of homophobia in the morning.

2006-05-17T14:44:00.000-05:00

in today's issue, misadventures in illegal immigration with my facilities management team!

at my office, the facilities team is a freaking colors of benetton ad. it is evident that the third party agency that staffs our building services values diversity. they have collected persons from around the globe and given them to me. each day at work is like one more trip through disney's "it's a small world".

there's laima, the polish grandmother. she and her husband clean my office in the morning. they are a short, stubby couple, with fingers like vienna sausages. i often imagine that their offspring must resemble augustus gloop.

laima's husband speaks accented but strong english, and for a long time, they only worked as a team because laima spoke no english whatsoever. in the beginning, they would come in, and laima would say, "powitanie , czy masz wszelki odpadki dziś?"
her husband would then turn to me and repeat in english, "hello, do you have any garbage today?", and i would simply respond yes or no.
after some time, laima attempted the english herself... one word at a time, each day adding one new word of english to her polish question. eventually, her husband stopped coming with her to pick up my garbage. i thought this was a sign that laima's english was improving overall. i was wrong.

"hello, do you have any garbage today?"
"hey, laima, just these boxes."
she looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "hello, do you have any garbage today?"
"uuh, just these boxes."
"hello, do you have any garbage today?" she repeats.
"boxes, laima, boxes." i make hand gestures that to me clearly suggest "box".
"hello, do you have any garbage today?" she pleads with a hint of anger in her voice.
"yes, laima, these boxes."
hearing yes, she picks up my trash can, turns it over, and when nothing comes out, she tosses it back under my desk angrily and mutters something in polish as she shuffles out the door.

then there's achille, the security guy. achille is from africa... i think from a country that doesn't exist anymore. regardless, his first day on the job, his supervisor brings him to my desk.

"brett, you speak french right?"
"yes, why?"
"this is achille. he doesn't speak much english, but he speaks french. i need you to tell me what he's asking."
"uh, okay," i said, wondering how word got out that i spoke french and why we hired a security guy who doesn't understand the word "help". achille stood there smiling, i'm guessing completely unware that we were just talking about him.
"okay, achille," she said, pointing at me then making the international hand sign for talking.
"je asojgiv d'mowft bver tivbluhg wouier?" asked achille.
"what?" i said.
"no, in french," she adds.
"quoi?" i asked instinctively.
"je asojgiv d'mowft bver tivbluhg wouier?" achille repeats.
"uh... i something about my something..."
"what?" she asks.
"quoi?" i said without thinking.
"je asojgiv d'mowft bver tivbluhg wouier?"
"ugh, no... i don't know what he's saying."
"oh... no? j'aytre wopre aoeuir boivres iewuorlkfjaokuvnoeuoriughjnbouitoiashfoavnokuo!" achille jumps in hearing "no" (well, he actually heard "non") and getting angry.
"oh god, what's he saying? what'd he say?" she pleads while achille continues his rant.
"i don't know. i don't know what he's saying... he wanted to know something about his something."
"i thought you spoke french."
"i do. i speak french."
"well... if you speak french, then you sh-"
"i speak french french. i don't speak african french," i chime in over her.
she stops speaking right away and gives me the most awful, judgemental look i've received in a long time, and noticing her stare, achille quiets down as well.
"what?" i ask.
"quoi? quoi?" achille offers.
"i can't believe you said that."
"said what?" i ask.
"quoi?" begs achille.
"you don't speak african french," she sneers.
i look right at her, realizing she thinks i was being racist, and say, "carol, they don't sound the same."
"what?" she says, not really asking.
"quoi?" chirps achille, also not really asking, i think.
"they don't sound the same, carol. french french and african french. they don't sound the same. heck, even french french and canadian french don't always sound so similar."
"ooooh."
"yeah."
"c'mon, achille," she says in closing, taking him by the arm and leading him from the office. as they walk down the hall, i hear achille asking his question again. i only later found out that he wanted to know when his benefits started because he had a horrible toothache.

...and finally, there's ana-maria, the central american lady. ana-maria is my evening cleaning lady. she comes through at the end of the day to empty the trash again and do a sundry of other custodial tasks. my fun times with ana-maria aren't nearly as specific as my fun times with laima and achille because ana-maria seems to be oblivious to the fact that i don't understand a single word she says.

everyday, and i do mean everyday, ana-maria comes into my office and just starts spurting out whole paragraphs in spanish. they could be questions, expository observations, or commands to get the fuck out of the building because she just lit the bathroom on fire, and i would not know the difference. one time, she needed me to climb under the door to a stall in the men's bathroom because it had somehow locked from the inside, and she had to clean the toilet behind door number 1. we did not accomplish this task by her slowly trying to explain what she needed from me. no. we got there because when i stood up (after looking at her blankly for like 30 whole seconds) to find someone who did speak spanish, ana-maria started booking it to the men's bathroom. i followed after her, shouting her name, but she just kept going. in the bathroom, she just looked at me expectantly, then in a show of solidarity (not to try to explain what i was doing in the bathroom with her) she pushed up against the door. epiphany!

another time, ana-maria wanted to know whether or not the tablecloth on some table in the hallway was trash. however, she did not just ask me that (in spanish, of course). no. ana-maria tells some big long story that involved both her neice and her sister... two spanish words i recognized in her yarn. i deciphered her epic poem, not because she attempted to better explain it to me, but because her general hand gesturing revealed she was talking about setting a table and she repeatedly gestured dressing the table with a cloth. determining that she wanted to know if she could throw a tablecloth away took a bit longer, but nevertheless, we got there... no thanks to ana-maria.

i can't wait to hear what she obtusively sputters to me today.

all in all, i'm not entirely sure how i feel about all this talk about immigrants and stuff. despite what you've read, i'm not terribly versed in the subject, and i don't really follow current events. *gasp* but i do know this. despite how hellish it can make my day at the office, i wouldn't trade laima, achille or ana-maria for anything. not even an easy-going, english-speaking counterpart.

why?

because they're making me one helluva champion charades player.

2006-05-11T11:22:00.000-05:00

oh, what a fool i've been.

somehow, despite my best efforts, i think i've become the "crazy ex".

i really tried not to. i coached myself on how not to appear insane.

i didn't let myself call everytime i wanted to, knowing he has caller id and that i'd hang up.

i didn't let myself get drunk, listen to sad fm (music for for the over thirties), and send sure-to-be-regretted text messages... okay, so i only let it happen once.

i didn't let myself run over to his place in the rain and throw pebbles at his window in what i, at the time, thought would surely be a grand romantic gesture because, in reality, no one opens a window for a crazy person in the rain.

i didn't let myself send him the email i've got saved in my drafts folder - the one that attempts to explain it all, the one that tries to clear the air, the one that says i knew he didn't love me in november, the one that tells him i've loved him since october but didn't know it until december.

i didn't. i've been very careful.

yet somehow, in the past few weeks, despite all my tiptoeing and wrist-slapping, i have managed to let the craziness seep through all the mental defenses. regardless of how guarded i've been and of how much i haven't let escape, i've appeared too eagerly open and have put too much out there.

even though i didn't let myself call him, i've let myself chat with him online.
even though i didn't let myself text him, i've let myself send him a couple "friendly" emails while he's been away on business.
even though i didn't let myself run to him, i've let myself have dinner and drinks with him.
even though i didn't let myself tell him i loved him, i've let myself say "i miss you".

it was all in the spirit of being friends, but when your spirit has been broken, i don't think you can be just friends. i've never been one to settle for half-reached dreams and missed opportunities, and i've found myself unwilling to compromise that in this situation. i don't know how to make the decision to let this find its own path, when for any other circumstance, i'd blaze a trail. my brain says "stop", but my heart says "go, go, go!"

...and i'm left knowing:
i didn't want to be, but i'm his crazy ex.

------

he's been in detroit for a few weeks now. i have no idea if he's been back to chicago on the weekends or not. i'm hoping the next 4 days or so will be a nice respite from thinking about him.

tonight, i leave for vermont with the madre superior. we're driving, so it should make for plenty of quality brett and mom time.

i hope to take plenty of pictures to share once i get back, but 'til then, adieu.

hold tight 'til tuesday.

2006-05-08T18:12:00.000-05:00

yo, bitches...

your asses are cordially invited to:

that's right. this homeboy is on the host committee, so you best be buying your tickets pronto!

2006-05-04T12:59:00.000-05:00

back to the gay shit...

----------------------------------------

another question i was asked on the panel was about my family.

the usual stuff: do they know? how did you tell them? how did they take it?

being the good, no, great panelist that i am, i addressed each question with poise, thought, and honesty. my answers oozed with consideration and thoroughness. i was the picture of hard-hitting yet poignant answering.

"yes. over the phone. good, i guess."

[insert rim shot]

but see, i didn't want the group to know. i didn't want them to see what i had done.
i didn't want them to know i had created a monster. a rabid, indiscriminate beast.

i had created the makings of a pflag mom.

madre superior, as i like to call her, is the only family member that i know knows what i have known since birth - brett is a faggot. do i think other fam knows? of course, but these speculations have been neither confirmed nor denied, as is our white, anglo-saxon, middle-class, catholic-yet-still-pseudo-prostestant-enough-to-be-cold way. my sexuality is in the same file as the loveless marriages, drinking problems, and mental illnesses; we're all going to talk about it, but only in hushed whispers over a 3-olive martini at bridge... "i'm not one to talk, but i was over there last night, and brett-ryan was steaming the drapes again. he insists that flavia half-asses it, and i insist that his parents start planning for adopted, cambodian grandchildren."

i did tell my mom over the phone, but it wasn't one of those hallmark channel movie moments. i never actually said the words. there was no, "mom, i'm gay" or "ma, i like other guys." or "yep, up the pooter." no, none of that. there were no tears, no awkward silences, no shouted derision. it was the first day of the year. i thought i was losing the man i loved, and i needed to talk to my mom.

madre: "well, bug, it sounds like this is a pretty important friendship to you. how long have you two been friends?"
moi: "just over 7 months. 221 days."
madre: "you know how many days you've known him?"
moi: "of course. i always do. i count days."
madre: "i guess he's more than a friend."
moi: "bingo."

...and that was it. life continued on as if nothing had changed.

until recently.

now, all of a sudden, my mom is so cool with the gays. she's dropping it into conversation left and right, and not in that weird affirmation sort of way. it's not like she's trying to show me that she still loves me or anything like that. it's like... too normal. she now kids me about the gay thing the same way she does about my weight or my job or really anything. "gay" has just become one more target for her criticism, guilt-tripping, and joking.

on how i'm going to pay for law school:
moi: "well, you rarely pay exactly what they say you will, and i'll probably just get loans for the rest."
madre: "isn't that an awful lot of money to borrow? couldn't you get some sort of lifestyle support?"
moi: "what? lifestyle support? what the hell are you talking about you crazy woman?"
madre: "i mean, isn't there anyone up there that would hate to see a cute, young man pay for law school? you know, someone older who'd maybe like to see you get educated."
moi: "mooooooooom, are you trying to pimp me out for tuition? i don't need a sugar daddy." (though in all honesty, i do)
madre: "i'm just saying. it's certainly more fiscally responsible than getting loans."

the woman has lost it.

on the prospect of grandchildren:
madre: "humph."
moi: "what?"
madre: "oh, nothing. huuuuuummmph."
moi: "really, ma. what?"
madre: "humph, oh, i was just realizing all those wonderful genes we gave you will never be in my grandchildren."

for real! she's whacked.

on my social life:
madre: "so have you made any new friends?"
moi: "new friends? i barely have a social life... unless it's in my inbox, i don't interact with it."
madre: "you're boring. i'm done living vicariously through you."
moi: "sorry, i don't live up to your social standards. what'd you expect? 'oh, yesterday, while i was climbing kilimanjaro, i met the nicest sherpa."
madre: "brett, i don't think they call them sherpas in africa, but regardless, i don't know. just something... not this 'came home from work and cooked dinner' ilk."
moi: "well, that's my life."
madre: "you should go dancing more. with your shirt off."

girl has done broke her head.

on my being single:
madre: "you seeing anyone?"
moi: "no. you?"
madre: "just your dad still."
moi: "so he still doesn't know then?"
madre: "know what?"
moi: "that you're crazy."
madre: "ha! at least i'm not well down the road to becoming a cat lady... oh, i'm sorry, small dog lady."

crazy-ass bitch!

yep, i have a "it's okay to be gay" mom.

and it's slowly killing me.

2006-05-02T16:28:00.000-05:00

after 109 days, an overdue recognition and a small confession.

109 days.

yes, i'm that crazy person who counts the days. i can't help it; there's a solitude in numbers.

but, yes. i've been single for 109 days, and i'm not sure which feels longer: those actual 109 days or the idea of 109 days. 109 days. days of holding onto an idea. days of longing for all the ones before them. days of thinking about someone who isn't thinking about me. days of "i'm fine", "i'll be okay", and "no, really, it's okay". days of brave faces and stiff upper lips. days of frustration. days of anger. days of sadness.

you know, some 123 days ago, i promised myself that this year would be different. i swore to myself that this year would be unlike all the others. that this would be the year things changed, and now, i'm swiftly approaching its halfway point, knowing that i am. i am changed. i am broken.

whether we meant to or not, we broke me.

109 days of broken.

2006-04-25T16:22:00.000-05:00

so friday night, it happened.

i met my pretend, d-list celebrity ex-boyfriend.

that's right. d.vo was in chicago, and as fate commanded, we met on this city's very streets.

late late late friday night, i get a phonecall to come meet some friends at charlie's, so i get to hoofin' and make the trek up halsted.

en route, i see this gaggle of gays and gals looking a little confused and befuddled.

me: "hey y'all, where you going?" (i was a little, wee bit intoxified, so i had my accent and my nice face on)
them: "charlie's... but... um... don't know where it is."
me: "shucks, i'm heading there myself, just mosey on over with me." (okay, so that's exaggerated.)

we're walking. well. i should say, they're walking behind me as i walk to charlie's alone. sad? definitely.

so i look behind me, to steal a glance at this group of kids i'm harriet tubman-ing to charlie's, and suddenly - shock - - awe -

me: "holy shit! that's daniel vosovic!" (i say very musical theaterly, pointing a la something out of "bye bye, birdie")
random groupie girl #1: "uh, noooo, it's noooooot! his naaaaame is bri-an!" (she gave me an awful look and was totes bitchy about it!)
me: "girl, please, i know my d.vo!" (i suddenly became margaret cho being a black gay man)

so now, i'm walking with them, sorta chatting it up, and they didn't really seem to mind. afterall, i was playing moses martin to their exiled egyptians.

me: "so... like... are you wearing one of his dresses?" (intoxification leads to bad small talk)
random groupie girl #2: "heh... you're kidding right?" (intoxification leads to cuntification)

...and this was the beginning of the end because after that little exchange i started to realize just how rude and obnoxious these cats were. they didn't want to wait in line at charlie's, they didn't want to pay, they wanted free drinks, they wanted to cut in line for the bathroom, and they wanted to then be left alone.

let's just say, i'm glad i broke up with him when i did. he's short - we're talking like card-carrying member of the lollipop guild short - and a bad drunk - we're talking like stumbles mcrollyeyes meets befuddled o'jellylimbs - and a diva - we're talking like... well... you know, a diva. oh, and his hair is long again, which i'm pretty sure is why we almost didn't go out in the first place.

ugh, d.vo... i really wanted to like you. really, i did.

but you, much like every other boy in my life, refuse to let well-enough alone.

that's right, my former reality television love, walk those dusty trails...

walk those dusty trails right out of my heart.

2006-04-21T16:58:00.000-05:00

you have got to be fuuuuuuucking kidding me!

people like this give me no hope for the future of the human race.

none! nada! zero!

nice rosary, jack ass.

however, that being said, this is from a misshapes party, so drew, be warned.

we are so effing going the next time i'm in nyc.

...and i'm cracking out my scapular and flashing compton crips all over that piece.

2006-04-20T10:53:00.000-05:00

over the next few weeks, i intend (and i know i've said that word before but never followed through) to address some ideas regarding being gay that have been thrown in my face lately.

i'll be pulling heavily from a gig i did at loyola this week, but also from a blog post by a gay man that really irked me.

...so part 1.

-----------------------------------------------------------

on monday, i was the guest for a graduate class at loyola.

the class was part of the curriculum in higher education administration, and for almost 2.5 hours, i talked about what it was like to be gay on a college campus.

the very first question i was to address: when did you first know you were gay and what was your pattern of realization?

i told them while this was delivered almost as a single question, that for me, it really was two separate questions - when did i know and when did i realize it or accept it as truth.

i knew i was gay in the summer of 1988. honestly, i probably knew before then, but my earliest memory of being gay is at the tender age of 6. my eldest cousin would often babysit me that summer when i would refuse to accompany my family to an out-of-town softball tournament or arena soccer round-robin. she'd bring popcorn and videos, and we would stay up late into the night with all of our favorite teen stars.

the night we watched "lucas" i knew i was gay.

charlie sheen was the most gorgeous, beautiful, perfect thing i had ever seen in my entire life.

...and kerri green was an evil bitch monster from hell because jealousy is a heinous creature like that.

that's when i knew, and i'd go on knowing for years and years.

i'd know while i was the first chair saxophonist and dodgeball captain in grade school. i'd know while i was a track star and state-recognized artist in junior high. i'd know while i was co-captain of the junior varsity tennis team and the lead in the high school musical.

regardless, i'd date girls. i'd have feelings for them. i'd ignore that part of me that said something about these relationships wasn't complete. i'd go through the motions, and i'd never forget the choreography.

it wasn't until college that i made the realization. it wasn't until my 20th year that i truly knew what i had known since birth. my sophomore year of college, the pieces finally came together, and i realized i was gay. i've mentioned before that this was an incredibly dark period of my life. i was horribly depressed - not because i was gay, as i had known that for years, but because i now realized the lie i had lived and the lie i could no longer live - and i was drinking myself into a place where i couldn't feel the pain... or anything else for that matter.

slowly, my wounds healed. i picked myself up. friends got me to my feet. i took back my life and gave my liver a much needed breather. and as is my nature, i started doing my research.

i read everything and anything about being gay, living gay, eating gay, and breathing gay. i gathered a gaggle of gay friends, and we shared experiences, stories, beers, and boyfriends. i started being active in gay groups and events on campus... and the gayer i got. the more out my life became. the more i realized that "gay" things are really just people things.

those parts of my life that i thought didn't make sense, the parts that made me question who i was and whether i could really be this gay person, they didn't disconnect anymore. i could be a strong musician and track star and tennis captain and artist. i could be a million other things, too. they weren't mutually exclusive anymore. living was the oxymoron, and my life wasn't dichotomous - gay and straight - but rather fluid... moving from one human experience to the next. it didn't matter if bits of me seemed juxtaposed. that was life.

and i was alive.

being the person i was, the person i am, and the person i will be.

2006-04-13T13:12:00.000-05:00

beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

all morning, a fucking fax machine has been calling my number at the office.

every 4 minutes for about an hour, i withstood this.

around call number 16, i cracked.

i copied down the number of the fax machine that was so persistently calling me and ran downstairs.

i faxed the faxer a nice little note saying that they must have the wrong number.

i ran back upstairs.

it's still calling me.

another hour and another 15 calls later, i decide that the fax machine itself must be trying to make contact. perhaps, an intern lay dying at its base. the fax machine needed me.

i ran back downstairs.
this time i faxed a message to the fax machine.

i was certain this would work.

it didn't.

i was still getting fax calls every 4 minutes, and the continuous ringing of my phone was driving me even insanier... though it was giving me a great idea for a hip hop song.

seriously, at one point i caught myself thinking, "geez, helen keller had it sooo easy. to be deaf right now. that'd be the life."

i let this go on for another 30 minutes.

the constant riiiiiiing! beeeeeeeeeeep! riiiiiiiiiiiiing! beeeeeeeeeeep!
the hoping for god to smite me. "c'mon, i'm a fag for fuck's sake!"
the twitching vein in my left temple. i've named him julio.

i ran back downstairs with a new note in hand.

pleading for the little piece of paper to bring me clarity, quiet, and a piece of cheesecake, i fed it into our fax machine. i waved goodbye. then waved hello when it popped back out.

luckily, this one worked.

the phone has stopped ringing.

maybe the intern finally died.

i wanted to say "stop fucking faxing my phone every 4 fucking minutes, motherfucker!"

...but i'm at work.

2006-04-11T11:46:00.000-05:00

i'm serious about this view shit.

see... i'm not joking around!

vote!
email!

spread the word!
change the view!

2006-04-10T17:12:00.000-05:00

that dream date of a woman, barbara walters won't return my calls!

i know they're looking for a "woman", but i think i'd be a great addition to the cast. i'd tell star jones to shut the eff up about al (i jest), prove that elizabeth hassleback really is just a republicanized debbie matenopoulos (i kid), throw joy behar highfives at every opportunity (for realz), and get kathy griffin back on the show regardless of what barbara thinks of her (sorry, babs). plus, i'd add a penis.

vieira was sassy, smart, sharp, a tad bitchy, and sexy in that hot mom sort of way.

i'm sassy, smart, sharp, a tad bitchy, sexy in that hot mom sort of way, young and fagulous.
more adjectives = better.

oh, and i never hosted "who wants to be a millionaire" either.

c'mon... who doesn't want a little brett with their "view"?

and really... what's a show on women's perspectives without the input of a gay man?

lacking.
that's what.

maybe i'll start some sort of petition.
anyone know how to code that for a blog?

2006-04-06T20:41:00.000-05:00

funny, i figured it'd be brown.

2006-04-05T12:10:00.000-05:00

as snapped yesterday on the train:

so... what job does this guy have? i mean, seriously, my office barely allows my ever-present stubble much less a full-on rip van winkle beard.

here's my short list:
1. santa claus
2. life-size garden gnome
3. gandalf the grey/albus dumbledore impersonator
4. mascot for the washington wizards
5. professional re-enactor for anything that fell between the dates of 1802-1873
6. former member of zz topp
7. anthropology professor (they all seem to look like that and wear tevas all year)
8. chuck darwin

...and yes, i totally camera-phoned this guy without him knowing. if only i had been quick enough to snap the guy wearing pants that were so tight i could count the veins in his cock.

if only.

2006-04-04T17:23:00.000-05:00

today, a dive into the very dark world that is dating and drinking as mr. brett r. drinksalot

some background:

on the 25 of the third month that we know more commonly as march 25th, i met a man for drinks. via the internets, he and i had been chatting quite frequently for some time, and finally, i made the push (which is not something i normally do) for meeting in person. *insert "ugh" here* i hate that dating in the 21st century is more and more swiftly approaching synonymy with "...so i met this guy on friendster and...".

anyhow, we met for drinks, and everything went swimmingly. i had a good time. i was pretty sure he had a good time... i mean, hello, it was a date with me. right? right.

the next day, i sent the usual "i had a great time" email, as i am a charlotte and that's what we do. he wrote saying the same. i again wrote asking if he'd want to go out again in the future.

the emails stopped.

my neurosis started.

fast forward to this past saturday:

molly and i, having finished with the move from h-e-double hockey sticks, decided to get tanked. being that we now live in (and i really mean in, because seriously, girls, you can't get much more in than us) the gayborhood, we hit up a favorite haunt of ours, minibar.

literally, right before we left, i said, "gee, you know, i bet anything we'll see g.i.h.d.w. (guy i had drinks with... who molly pointed out looks uncannily like an old crush of mine from college). he goes to minibar a lot".

low and behold, we walk in, and there he is.

i wave. he nods. i start to turn back to molly and the bar, but he starts to walk over.

"ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit"

he goes in for a hug... or so i thought, because as he got closer i thought, "no, he's going in for a kiss, no, shut up, he can't be, give him a hug you crazy bitch"

molly later confirmed that she, too, thought he went in for a kiss.

we briefly chatted, then just as he was about to walk away, he says "oh, and i got your message."

that's it. nothing else. no further explanation. just that he got it.

"great. good," i said. he went back to his friends and i went back to molly with a truly confuddled look on my face.

not long after, the illustrious byron made a cameo, livening things up a bit. he was a delight, as always, and agreed that if all things work out, he'll be my date to molly's brother's wedding, as said brother has an undeniable mancrush on byron. i, on the other hand, just need to somehow incorporate myself into as much of the wedding drama as possible.

byron rejoins his friends, molly thinks it's time for us to move to another bar, and i decide i need some answers. i do, in fact, get quite brazen when intoxified.

i walk up to g.i.h.d.w.

"so... you got my message?"
"yeah."
"so... what does that mean? 'i got your message'. like what does that mean?"
"i was just really busy and didn't have a chance to write back."
"okay. but, yeah, so like what's your answer?" (yes, i do also become quite valley when intoxified.)
"... i would like to go out with you again."
"ok. good. great. that's all i needed to know."
"yeah, i mean..."
"no, no... i just needed to know, you know. that's all."
"okay."
"yeah, so... okay, so, yeah, we're leaving. good seeing you."
"you too." he definitely goes in for a hug... not a kiss.

now, it is tuesday. i still haven't heard from him.

wtf, g.i.h.d.w.! wtf, indeed.

oh, and molly said that he looked totally jealous and crazy when i was talking to byron. i mean, like what gives.

should i write him again? or call? or passive-aggressively text? friendster message? do nothing?

this is why i don't make the first move.

2006-03-29T15:56:00.000-06:00

Dear Brett,

Thank you for taking the time to meet with us to discuss employment opportunities at Starcom MediaVest Group. After careful consideration of your background and abilities, we are not able to find an appropriate fit for you within our organization at this time. We do wish you the best of luck as you progress in your career. Again, thank you for your interest in Starcom MediaVest Group.

Sincerely,
STARCOM MEDIAVEST GROUP

i will never get a new job.

2006-03-29T15:31:00.000-06:00

thank you, msn.
thank you!

"the neighbors said those weapons, along with catlike stealth, have allowed lewis to attack at least a half dozen people and ambush the avon lady as she was getting out of her car." [emphasis added]

he is an effing cat... doesn't get much more catlike.

...and what's with putting his name in quotes? does msn suspect that "lewis" might be an alias? are we to question whether that's the cat's real name?

genius!

2006-03-28T16:47:00.000-06:00

everything ends in boxes.

this life o' mine is cha-cha-cha-changin'.

happened: job interview at starcom this past super saturday. it was crazy, go-go-go-style interviewing. met with like 5 different people for 30 minutes each. in, out, in, out, in... you get the picture. had a couple "oh, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" moments, but nothing too horrible. i think it went well overall. i hope anyhow. papa needs a new job so he can get a brand new bag. more gucci, preferably. we shall see.

also went on a date. not sure if anything is going to pan out... he was nice and lovely and delightful and supah cute, but... arranging a second outing has seemed to fall on deaf ears.

happening: mollea and i are in the midst of a big, fat, cunty, fucking move. packing and painting and bitching at people and bitching about people and thinking about bitching about something are consuming our every waking moment. april 8 cannot come soon enough. nothing in particular happens on april 8, but i figure by then all this "moving" shit will have become "moved" shit. ugh, honey... seriously.

about to happen: i am supposed to have dinner with the joseph some time in the very near future. this will be the first time i have seen him since breakup '06. i know i still have feelings for him. i know i want him still to have feeling for me. i know i want to tell him this. i know i shouldn't. i know i wish life was like tv where you can get away with stuff like that. i know watching several, freakishly appropriate episodes of sex and the city this past weekend while with ben in the 'burbs was not the wisest idea. i do not know if i can actually go through with this.

i'm also thinking of picking up some april's resolutions. i didn't really do any new year's ones, so april may be my redemption. at the top of the list, get my scrawny ass into a gym. bitch needs some arms and a chest and some thighs and two shoulders and for fuck's (or fucking's) sake an ass.

painting awaits!

2006-03-24T11:59:00.000-06:00

i've got a story i'm almost too embarassed to tell.

but whatevs, here goes...

i've made it my recent practice to drink a bottle of water just before bed. i know it's important to stay hydrated, so it must be great to stay hydrated while your body is recuperating and rebuilding during the night. the downside to all of this, though, is that i have to pee like a russian racehorse come morningtime.

today, i was supposed to be at work at 8. in classic fashion, i woke up at 8. i went into crazy-crazy-super-fast-get-ready-for-work mode, throwing on whatever clothes i could find, frantically brushing my teeth and hurriedly doing something to the old hair. i rushed out the door without the slightest chance to relieve my bladder.

when i got to work, i literally thought i was going to explode, but since i was late and all, i had stuff i needed to do before i could go to the bathroom. hurting bladder. hurting bladder.

people kept bothering me. stuff kept popping up, and before i know it, it is 10:30 and i am yet to dispense urine that has been building up since late thursday evening.

finally, i lost it, telling a coworker, "that's it... i've gooooooooooot to pee!" and i stormed out.

doing the pee-pee dance in front of the toilet, i quickly-but-never-quite-quickly-enough-when-you-have-to-pee unzipped and went to use the flap (yes, i use the flap) of my boxers.

there was no flap.

i stuck my hand through the zipper hole, as perhaps the flap had twisted over to the side.

still no flap.

still dancing the dance of pee-pee.

"what the fuck, flap?!? where are you?!?"

sidestepping. 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2. no flap to be found.

so just before the hull was breached, i undo my belt and do an up-and-over pulling down the waistband of said boxers ever so slightly... and that's when i see it.

a tag.

yep, i put my underwear on backwards today.

i started laughing right there in the stall.

oh, and they're still on backwards.

i wasn't about to take my shoes off in the bathroom.

2006-03-23T17:30:00.000-06:00

yep, more bullet points.

get over it, you know you like me when i'm listy.

moving blows.
new apartments don't.
my room looks like my closet threw up.
i really, really, really want like 4 new pairs of pants - 1 pair of jeans and 3 other for work - but you try finding something that accommodates both a 28 inch waist and 33 inch legs. i'm like a lifesized version of those clowns on stilts at the circus.
i effing hate clowns. in the words of ms. bradshaw, "nothing scarier than a clown."
it was determined today that i really should investigate becoming a stylist. i can work wonders when dressing a girl.
meanwhile, the sweater i am wearing just may be two sizes too small.
it's too bad my desk doesn't have space for a picture of molly and i.
i need to find a new job because the one i am in would have me working the day after cinco de mayo, the saturday of pride weekend, my birthday, and the saturday of market days. can we say "bogus"?
speaking of bogus, the movies i need to go see are only piling up... this makes me a very sad boy.
a vacation would certainly pick me up. maybe, just maybe, a visit to see drew is in order. is it warm enough in nyc to wear one of my new bathing suits to the beach?
probably not, what with all this talk about some huge hurricane destined to katrina the big apple.
i enjoy creating new verbs... especially as infinitives.
i still think when faced with a genie i'd wish for infinite wishes then world peace.
is there still a ms. america pageant? didn't it air on cmt (country music television) last year? wasn't james denton the host? what a sad, sad era to be ms. america.
i should call a plumber. our bathtub simply does not drain as quickly as it should.
crack kills.
i read some really fucking crazy quote from the killers the other day, but i can't remember where or what exactly it said. if you know what i'm talking about, write me a little ditty with the quote in it please.
i've been thinking lately that if i were a newspaper columnist, i'd call my column "the skinny". then each column would give the skinny on something... like a celeb in town or a new restaurant that just opened or how wonderful i am. see, it's funny because i'm rail thin.
and you're not.

stream of consciousness owned this post!

hoozah!

2006-03-17T14:28:00.000-06:00

happy irish day!

i am ever-so-slightly scottish.
i am a tad french.
i am a sprinkling of dutch.
i am a pinch of austrian.
i am a smidge of welsh.
i am several pints of english.
i am a smorgasbord of german.

...but above all of my european-mutt heritage, i am irish. roman catholic irish, to boot. my mother's grandparents were fobs, arriving in america in the early 20th century. the newest members of brooklyn's irish community. they struggled here. they worked hard to make a better life for themselves. regardless, they were hated for who they were. despised for a part of themselves so innate.

i am irish. i am gay.

no gay irish groups will march in new york's st. patrick's day parade. correction: no gay irish groups can march in new york's st. patrick's day parade. a group once so denigrated for something they are without reason, now turns the blade on another.

john dunleavey, the man in charge of the parade, said, "if an israeli group wants to march in new york, do you allow neo-nazis into their parade? if african-americans are marching in harlem, do they have to let the ku klux klan into their parade?"

while mr. dunleavey is certainly entitled to his opinion, i have major issues with his analogy. not because he compares gays to nazis and klan members, but because the comparison is improperly applied.

nazis hate jews. klansmen hate blacks.

irish-american gays don't inherently hate irish-americans.

his analogy fails.

the inverse, however, seems to work:

if a group of irish-american gays wanted to have a st. patrick's day parade, do they allow mr. dunleavey to march?

no one in new york is asking mr. dunleavey to let hate into the parade.

the hate is already there.

2006-03-16T14:58:00.000-06:00

sorry for the lack of posts lately.

blogger and i are having quite the little spat.

...so once it's ready to stop being a stubborn little bitch, i'll start posting again.

until then, adieu.

oh, and hooray for post #200!

woot woot motherfuckers!

2006-03-09T14:27:00.000-06:00

bullet points make it feel "creative".

do you ever get those times when you can feel yourself about to be depressed? like you're not sad yet, but you can feel that the tide is about to come in... you're about to be swept under. yeah, that's where i am. i'm not sure what it is - maybe the change in seasons, maybe joe, maybe all the stress i've been under, maybe my job - but i know it's coming. i gave molly an appropriate heads-up.
i had thought for awhile that i was in desperate need of a pedicure, but today, when i was getting in the shower, i caught a glimpse of my tootsies and, by golly, they look fabulous. i think i might pursue a career in foot modeling.
today is the popsicle's birthday. he's now 45. in celebration, i will more than likely be venturing home for the weekend. first time i'll see my mom since dropping the gay-bomb on her-oshima.
i am exchanging a swimsuit for the third time. while i bought 3 suits from andrew christian, for some reason this one's sizing is all fucked up. i've now paid way too much for a suit i don't even love all that much. ugh.
chloe fucking dao won project runway! despite the fact that she beat my current boyfriend (who i am thinking about dumping now that his haircut is starting to look very mrs. brady), i am very happy for her! i thought her collection was pretty damn good... not very versatile, but fuck, it was structured and crafted to no end. well done, ms. dao, well done. d.vo, we need to talk.
last week, molly saw a man shit off the edge of the l platform. this week, i caught a man pissing on the l platform. the homeless love to share their bodily functions with molly and i. it's lovely. kinda like the face some random woman gave me when i told her she was standing in pee... "not mine," i scoffed at her to suggest what a fool she was for even looking at me like that.
my skin is an absolute trainwreck. it's like i have leprosy of the face or something. end puberty, now!
molly and i are moving at the end of the month. we now spend each evening convincing ourselves that tomorrow we'll start packing. i should probably start pricing movers.
i'm not entirely sure i like that i'm the friend who "will probably have like 5 husbands", despite the fact that i'm quick to agree with the statement.
i want to pick up a not-entirely-useful-yet-not-entirely-useless skill. maybe i'll start taking french again. or finally learn to sew. or take voice lessons. or get a complete handle on html. or start practicing archery so i can go to the olympics. i don't know. i need something.
it is not wise to wear white shoes for the very first time to charlie's. they are now your new gray shoes.
i didn't give anything up for lent this year, though, i'm sure a few of you thought i had given up blogging.
hello, 60 degrees! where the hell did you come from and why were you away so long?
i wish i liked going commando so that i could use "i'm not wearing any underwear" more often.
how can i have sex without upping my "number"? i'm scared i won't make it to 30 without surpassing my slut quotient.
last weekend, i broke my gucci cherry. i couldn't be happier with my purchase. it defies description.
i am frightened by the fact that it is march, and i am already planning the party i plan to throw during pride. especially since i am not even sure which weekend pride is this year. regardless, it's going to be fantastic, and you all better be there. you know, or else.
i need to start dating someone because there are seriously like 12 movies i want to see. please direct all single traffic to moi.

if you need me, i'll be in my trailer... and this weekend, that's more true than i'd like to admit.

2006-03-02T15:34:00.000-06:00

hiatus!

i am declaring a hiatus from $1 drink nights!

they are a bramble in my wing. i get too shitty, too fast, and make too many bad decisions.

so hiatus!

we're over $1 drink nights... over!

but drinking... now that's a different story.

don't forget - gay bloggers bash 2 is tonight!

i'm so excited.

i feel like jessie spano.

2006-03-01T12:14:00.000-06:00

there was that day i might have changed everything for the better.

it was 1990, i was eight years old, and despite being at one of the poorest moments in our family history, my brother and i attended the lone private school in town because it was also the only catholic school. i will never understand how my parents managed to pay our tuition, and i am certain that they will never explain it to me.

regardless, somehow they paid it, allowing kyle and i to be st. mary's midgets.

1990 was the first year that kindergarten became an all-day class, so while three years prior, i only attended school in the afternoon, my brother was now in the building as many hours a day as i was... every morning, i'd hold his hand as we walked from the car to the school's ominous front doors, two towering stretches of glass that never seemed to suggest of the vibrance and life held within them... always dark and cold, hidden beneath a heavy stone arch. at the top of the stairs, we'd stop each day and turn to wave goodbye to our mom.

inside, i'd send him to mrs. breckenridge in the basement, and i'd climb to the top floor to join the rest of my third grade class in greeting the first and second graders, just as we did every morning.

at the end of the school day, i'd fetch my brother, then we'd wait outside as the long line of cars paraded slowly by, children shouting the moment they spotted the one they belonged to. we'd wait and wait until finally we saw the familiar silver two-door of rita, our afternoon babysitter.

i hated riding home with rita.

the car always smelled of cigarettes and motor oil. it was small - full of all the other children rita picked up before us - and with kyle on my lap, i couldn't provide proper protection for both of us from the onslaught of wet willies, purple nurples and indian rug burns from the other kids. the nine blocks in that car from school to rita's house were the worst four minutes of every day.

...and every night at home, i'd let my mom know about it, begging her to let kyle and i walk to rita's after school.

"but mooooom, it's not very far. i'm old enough to walk to rita's," i'd plead.
"brett, we've been through this," she'd reply tersely, tired of having the same argument.
"but moooooooooom," i'd counter.
"you're eight, brett, and kyle is five... you simply aren't old enough to be walking that far with a small child."
"jeff walks all the way to his grandma's house everyday... that's way farther than rita's."
"brett, i said no."
"rita's car doesn't have enough seatbelts for all of us and most of the time, kyle sits on my lap," i offered, knowing i had just won.

the next day, i triumphantly walked into school with the note staying further torture in the silver dungeon. we could walk.

and that afternoon, we did just that. i grabbed kyle from mrs. breckenridge and threw open those glass doors, glancing over at the sorry sacks who had to wait for their ride. we were no longer like them. we each had two feet, and we got to stepping.

the walk was long, and i'm sure kyle complained here and there, but overall, it was a million times better than riding in rita's car. despite the heavy backpacks and sore feet, we both agreed on that.

after about 20 minutes, we finally made it to rita's house. i helped kyle up the stairs and, for some reason i can't even begin to remember, i rang the doorbell. perhaps i thought she might not have returned with the other kids or maybe i was just being polite, but nonetheless, i rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer.

and some awkward stretch of time later, someone did.

only someone i had never seen before.

a man, probably in his early thirties, with dark brown hair that was showing signs of recovering from a mullet and a five o'clock shadow that had to be pushing three days old, opened the door. he extended one arm to keep the screen door open, while lazily leaning against the doorframe, a can of pabst blue ribbon in his dirty, leathery hand.

he opened his mouth to speak, but...

"who're you?" i asked right away, shuffling in front of kyle and holding him in place behind me.

he gave me a look, that look people give you when they are both a little pissed at you and a little impressed by you.

"well, well... real mannerly, aren't we? i could ask you the same now couldn't i? you rang my doorbell afterall," he half-snidely spewed.

i stood still and just looked back at him.

he didn't say anything. just stayed standing in the doorway, holding open the screen door. he took a tug from the can.

"is rita here?" i asked, guessing the answer before he spoke.
"nah."
"what about kris? is she here?" i hoped, knowing that sometimes rita's daughter would watch the kids if rita needed to leave or step out or was sick.
"nah... just me."
"are they coming back soon?"
"don't know."
"they didn't say?" kyle squirmed a little behind me. he probably had to pee. i know i did.
"nah."
"where are the other kids?"
"with 'em, i guess. don't know," he said, clearly getting a little agitated by my questions. he took another hit from the can, and shook his head to toss hair from his eyes.
"well, where did they go?" i exhaled, trying to keep kyle still, while maintaining eye contact with the stranger in the doorway.
"look kid, they had some kind of emergency or appointment or something. i don't know what. you coming in or not?"

i turned and looked at kyle only to see that he was looking to me for answers. answers i wasn't sure i had.

"i... i don't know..." i said.
"well, those bags look heavy and you're probably hungry," he said, showing the first traces of kindness since we got there. still, i didn't like him, and i knew he wouldn't let us pick what to watch on tv.
"i don't think so," i responded, shrugging off my backpack, tossing it toward the top stair and pushing kyle to join me.
"suit yourself then," he blurted, shutting the door just as we sat.

we didn't see him again. in the 2 hours that kyle and i waited on the front porch for our mom to come pick us up, the man never once checked on us or opened the door again. from my backpack, i pulled the remains of my lunch, which we snacked on while i made kyle do his reading homework. i had him look for mom between sentences, while i kept a constant eye on the door, failing to really check that kyle was reading the sentences correctly.

when our mom did arrive, she was puzzled to see us outside, waiting for her.

"just take us home," i said as she bolted from the car to us.

in a move quite unlike her, she obliged, and only asked what was going on once we had pulled away from rita's block.

in the nine blocks and four minutes to home, i told her about the man.

that was our last day at rita's.

in the weeks after we stopped going to rita's after school, rumors started circulating about abuse and molestation at the hands of her daughter's boyfriend, a man named tad or buck or butch. not long after the rumors, rita and her daughter left town... i don't know if buck went with them, but i know he was the man from that day on the porch.

that day i might have changed everything for the better.

2006-02-22T15:43:00.000-06:00

i've been really sick sick sicky sick sick the last couple of days, so today, my first day back at work this week, i decided to take it a little easy.

...i know, who am i kidding with this "i don't take it easy everyday" shit?

anyhow, for fear that i might fall asleep if i did anything actually related to my job, i spent the afternoon with project runway!

inspired by sven, i decided to get all creative with my faves from the p.r.

below are some of the better of my rough sketches i did of the cast.

enjoy!

"what happened to andrae?"

my love and king of the motherfuckin' walkoff... if only i could get him to get the slightest of haircuts.

"you can't polish a turd."

you certainly can't, mr. rice, and you, sir, will always be a turd...

or jesus.

or the boogeyman.

who ever thought jesus could be so scary?

2006-02-17T12:22:00.000-06:00

the obsession continues...

helloooooooooo, cutest child ever!

ever!

2006-02-15T12:39:00.000-06:00

yesterday's heartattack came in the form of an email from 1800flowers.com...

it went a little something like this:

subject: shipping confirmation

(me: what the hell? i didn't order anything. what are they effing shipping?)

dear mr. drinksalot,

your order for 90 gabillionty pounds of chocolate has successfully been shipped.

(me: i didn't order any chocoloate. wtf, 1800flowers?)

the order should arrive today to:

the joseph
highrise, snooty office building
the loop

(me: WHAAAAAAAAAAT! oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no... heart. stopping. seriously!!!!!)

so yes, after a fraaaaaantic phone call to 1800flowers' customer service department, i learned that in october when i sent joe cookies for his birthday, i pre-ordered chocolate for valentine's day. allow me to repeat that. i pre-ordered chocolate for valentine's day.

i also learned there was no real way to prevent it from being delivered.

cue fraaaaantic email to the joseph. "um, well, so, yeah, um, well, you're getting chocolate from me today because i'm a stupid psycho fucktard who pre-ordered chocolate for valentine's day." pre. ordered. oh, and yes, pre-ordered and forgot about it.

ugh, universe, give a boy a break.

seriously.

2006-02-13T18:08:00.000-06:00

a listful monday or a monday full of lists...

- the internets is ruining project runway for me. effing spoilers are all over the place. i've already seen pictures from some of the fashion week runway shows, and just today, i quite accidentally read who the final guest judge is. boo, internets. boo! oh, and don't get me started on the human embodiment of the boogeyman, aka santino rice.

- i've been thinking a lot about middlesex today. there was a part of that book that talked about how our naming of emotions is insufficient in fully describing said emotion. that happy fails to fully explain the joy of seeing your firstborn child take its first steps while knowing you'll probably fail to even photograph this moment for your second child. well, the author's examples were better than mine, but maybe you can get the idea. anyhow, i've been feeling a lot of these sort of juxtaposed emotions lately. anxious contentment. angry fear. jealous sadness. and i would bore you with the longer more descriptive terms for my emotions, but... well... i don't want to.

- i have a job interview tomorrow which i am very very very very excited for. everyone keep their fingers crossed because after a day like today, i don't think i am capable of staying with my current employer... at least not without the aid of some horse, nay, elephant strength mood elevators. did you catch the pun?

- winter olympics = yawn. hell, ask michelle kwan.

- hot. hot. hot.

- can someone explain to me how i have not yet purchased the hollywood issue of vanity fair? anyone? i mean, seriously. ugh.

- last night's grey's anatomy almost killed me. while admittedly, last week's episode was more exciting and a little better made in my opinion, there was something so emotionally tugging about last night's ep, at least for me. last week's episode was all loud and andrenalin and charged and... masculine. this one was quiet, trepidatious, listful and, well, feminine. the stark shots of meredith's face. the rehash of george's shower fantasy with the 3 women. and most importantly, meredith's chat with derek at the end. something about that exchange has stuck with me even into today. "i don't remember the last time we kissed," she says to him, as they stand staring at each other in her foyer. "i don't remember the last time we kissed... the last time we were happy." i don't remember the last time we kissed, either.

- molly and i are in the long process of trying to find a place to live next year. it's tough stuff, but it looks like we have some good prospects. sounds like we might be pulling a jeffersons and move on up.

- how i haven't mentioned this before now, i do not know. during my trying break-up with the joseph, i came out to my mom. i needed her advice, so i just had to fill her in on the whole situation. she's fine with it... which just saying that makes her somehow sound like she's not fine with it, but really she is. it's almost uneasing how non-climactic an event it was. not at all what i was preparing for all these years... and that's good i guess. molly and i have decided that my father also knows because l-dawg isn't known for her secret-keeping.

- i seriously need to clean out my buddy list. after and accidental im to some guy i used to know ages ago, i've determined that i remember people long after they've forgotten me. sometimes, it's just time to let go.

- as much as i'm really not ready to start dating again, i think i need to start dating again. it seems unfair to anyone i'd be going out with, but i know i won't get over joe until i meet someone who makes me stop thinking about joe and start thinking about us.

- if all goes according to schedule, i will be in champaign this weekend celebrating the birth of my bestest male friend in the world. he's 5 months older than me, and his birthday reminds us each year that this will always be the case. age before beauty and all that shit.

- i am yet to receive a black history month t-shirt as detailed in a previous post. what's up with you people? what's the point of this blog if it doesn't get me some cool free shit from time to time? huh? huh?!?

crikey.

i'm out.

to moms everywhere.

2006-02-08T15:07:00.000-06:00

you have to know i'll be there...

i'm really excited.

many thanks to kris for organizing this and for maintaining a wonderful blog.

i hope many of you will show your gay little faces.

2006-02-06T17:52:00.000-06:00

i have a raging case of the mondays.

...and it might be terminal.

2006-02-03T17:12:00.000-06:00

so black history month has been stalking me all week long.

it makes me very happy that february is the shortest month of the year.

...and wow, that sounded really racist.

but believe me when i tell you it has nothing to do with black people, and a lot to do with my neuroses. i don't like it when anything crops up again and again in my day-to-day. hilary duff, frozen yogurt, or the history of my darker-complected brothers and sisters. moderation, people. moderation.

anyhow, some highlights from my encounters with black history month thus far:

1. "watch it lady! it's black history month, and you're about to become history!"
- me to the little black lady that darted out in front of the car after molly and i finally went to the taco bell... mmm, taco bell. on a sidenote: i was literally dying to try a crunchwrap supreme, and i must say, i was less than enthralled. the toasting of the outside tortilla leaves it a little too, well, toasted. back to doubledecker taco supremes for me. oh, though, i may try to convince them to smear some beans on a crunchwrap supreme to keep it all closed up and then not have it toasted. we'll see how that goes. believe me, i'll keep you posted. i know this is a very important issue for everyone involved here.

2. "well, how kind of you. though, i do suppose it is black history month, and i am a bit older than you."
- a different little black lady to me after i gave her my seat on the train. not only did i feel that she was completely missing the point of black history month, but i also think she should have realized the seat was at the back of the train... but maybe that whole stigma only applies to buses.

3. "tonight? tonight i'm getting my hair done for tyrone's black history party."
- overheard while waiting for the light to change at wilson and broadway. seriously, though?!? a black history month party? i didn't realize it was that kind of month.

4. just so we're all clear, i want one of these shirts as soon as humanly possible. i'm fond of latoya, tina, whitney, naomi, and mikey t. you know, all the divas. and btw, i wear a size xs in american apparel t-shirts. feel free to email me for my mailing address. thanks in advance.

5. "happy your history month!"
- the crazy, aryan-looking woman dressed up as the statue of liberty to every black person who walked by her.

6. "happy february!"
- the same crazy, aryan-looking woman dressed up as the statue of liberty to every not-black person who walked by her.

that's it so far, but we're only 3 days in... what wonders does the future hold?!?

...and i'm totally serious about those shirts.

2006-02-02T11:56:00.000-06:00

nothing says walk of shame, quite like a white stretch limo.

yes, that was me getting dropped off at home this very morning by the car that took zack and kelly to their fake prom outside bayside high.

i know.
i know.

you're so jealous.

2006-02-01T12:57:00.000-06:00

joe.my.god gets it again.

i love that man.

but probably just a little bit less than i love the sprung.

(i told you i'd put you in my next post)

2006-01-31T17:34:00.000-06:00

you've got to be effing kidding me!

this is like a little piece of heaven handed down to the mortals.

2006-01-25T14:50:00.000-06:00

"if the institution of marriage is in trouble today, it's in trouble because of heterosexuals, not gay people. we're the ones who have made a mess out of the institution of marriage. to think that somehow or other if we pass this it's going to strengthen the institution of marriage is a sham."

- sen. richard l. saslaw, d-fairfax

my sentiments exactly, mr. saslaw.

2006-01-20T17:18:00.000-06:00

i had bought 5 new swimsuits.

in quiet anticipation of a trip to key west in february, i purchased 5 new swimsuits - one for each day i thought we'd be there.

now, one week after being de-coupled, the suits have all arrived.
each one tinged with memories we never created.

the navy blue, low cut trunk reminds me of that first day on the beach. of our reacquaintance with the smell of sunscreen. of how we'd only stop holding hands long enough for me to turn the page of "the time traveler's wife". of how we'd stare out at the water, as blue as this suit, and then look at each other... so happy to be taking our first real trip together.

the brown, floral-printed pair of boardshorts reminds me of that second day when we explored the streets of key west. of renting bikes to ride to the southernmost point of the continental united states. of standing on the pier and watching the infamous key west sunset.

the black and royal blue retro cut trunk reminds me of that day we went snorkeling. of how we'd mouth messages to each other under the water. of how we'd hide from one another behind the seaweed and seagrass... giddy to catch a glimpse of the tip of a flipper or the trail of bubbles spewing from a hidden snorkel.

the red, andrew christian fitted-trunk reminds me of the night we swam under the stars. of being surrounded by the shimmery blackness of the ocean at night. of losing all bearing on the world. of how it didn't matter because his face was the only compass i'd ever needed.

the black, brazilian cut, short-short trunk reminds me of our last day in that false paradise. of not knowing how to deal with that feeling... that feeling of loss and confusion. of fearing where it would go from here or how it goes back to normal. of thinking how badly i wanted to just keep it just like this forever. of wanting the world to stop spinning. of needing nothing to change. of hoping it never would.

i've tried each one on. felt each memory and remembered everything.

...and i wish he could have these memories. know those moments.

i don't think he'll ever know them with me.

and i don't think i'll ever wear them again.

2006-01-19T21:47:00.000-06:00

it might be love

...and none of that l-o-l-o-l-o-l-o-v-e, ashley simpson shit, either.

more like the l-u-l-u-l-u-l-u-s-t kind.

2006-01-19T17:13:00.000-06:00

joe. my. god.

i mean, honestly.

honestly.

...and then

2006-01-19T12:39:00.000-06:00

thank you, usa today and donna freydkin, for this piece of hard-hitting journalistic crap.

...then again.

it's about maddox jolie-pitt, so of course, i love every fucking syllable of it.

2006-01-17T16:31:00.000-06:00

one year in grade school, we had to go home and compile a list of as many homonyms as we possibly could. the kid with the longest list would get a prize.

i remember tearing through the dictionary, saying each entry outloud and wondering if there was another word that sounded exactly the same.

"surely, there must be a better way to do this," i thought. "ooo, there, that's one. t-h-e-r-e and t-h-e-i-r and t-h-e-y-'-r-e... aha, and must and mussed. hehe, way and weigh and that shit that ms. muffet ate... hmmm... maybe this is the best way to do this... yep, to, too, two. man, i fucking own at this."

finally, i reached a point where i thought my list was undoubtedly longer than any my slack-jawed classmates would compile. i couldn't wait for whatever prize it was mrs. beyers had ready for me... i mean, the winner. it was a catholic school, and jesus fucking loves winners.

that night, i prayed (needless to say, i then added prayed and preyed to the list) to all that was holy (yep, holy and holey, too) for (do i really have to keep pointing these out?) a victory. i knew (i mean, honestly, you've got to be seeing some of these yourself) god wouldn't let me down.

except he did.

crazy walter short, the boy who often claimed that giant squids attacked his house, forcing him to sleep, quite literally, in the dog house and thus making it impossible for him to do his homework, had apparently been compiling a list of homonyms for several years... his list was some four or five pages long. i mean, come on, walter, my fam was poor, too, but we definitely found better ways to entertain ourselves.

i was pissed. mad at walter. mad at mrs. beyers. mad at jesus. mad at myself.

i think the same thing must have happened to alan cooper when he was a child.

or maybe walter changed his name.

2006-01-16T15:55:00.000-06:00

i'm not too sure how i feel about this.

i know their intentions were good, but something just seems a little off somehow. not necessarily offensive or demeaning, just... i don't know, odd, maybe.

today, in celebration of the great legacy of dr. martin luther king jr. and all of his work in the struggle for equality, google doctored their famous logo.

here's what they chose to mark this very important day:

this gives the whole "oh" face thing a new meaning...

2006-01-05T15:43:00.000-06:00

i've had some heavy stuff going on in my personal life lately, so forgive the infrequency of posts...

regardless, before we get too far into this new year, some resolutions:

1. get a job i don't hate; get the job i want

2. write one letter or send one card every month; no, sending 12 holiday cards in december does not count

3. make my finances the priority they should be; no mo' po' bro

4. find a good circle of friends, a la minnie driver and chris o'donnell; reclaim a social life

5. go to the gym; tits and ass await

6. assess my relationships; cut the fat and keep the lean

7. set aside time to really write; blogging on a saturday, shut the fuck up!

8. have passion again; not missing an episode of project runway doesn't really suffice

9. do well on the l.s.a.t.; watch out, northwestern, here i come

10. maintain my environment; a clean room is a happy room

11. travel more; adventure is out there somewhere... so is a husband who can get you eu citizenship

12. let myself see the beauty in the everyday and the excitement in the ordinary; lose the cynicism, biznatch.

on a sidenote, i'm sad to see matt d and jason leaving the blogosphere, but i understand you both have your reasons. good luck and stuff. x's and o's to you both.

2005-12-30T13:45:00.000-06:00

if you know me, you know i love me some lindsay morgan lohan.

i just can't get enough of her.

...but can we talk?

now, you may have heard about la lohan's monster forehead, and we all know the girl had some issues with her weight... but... um... what's up with her belly button?

today, a bunch of pics of lilo at the beach hit the internets, and her button looks really high. like reeeeally high. like running away from her choonie high.

look.

(sorry for writing on your tums and nana, dina... all my love)

seriously, what is up? shouldn't your navel be closer to your crotch than your nips? where are her abdominal muscles? that button is seriously in the upper quadrant of her midsection.

it's creeeeeeeeeepy.

love the scarf, though. great suit, too. oh, and the glasses are hot.

so is the boob slippage.

xox

call me.

2005-12-28T12:38:00.000-06:00

do you think that the people who make spam (the delicious faux-meat product) are pissed that their name is associated with emails that flood your inbox, asking if you're afraid to visit swimming pools because of your small penis?

while i'm certainly afraid of visiting swimming pools, it has nothing to do with my small penis. it has more to do with kids dropping kids off at the pool in the pool. let's not forget i worked at a public pool for a few summers. you only need to see one digested snickers bar floating in the baby pool to really turn you away from the whole swimming pool thing.

but i digress...

i mean, come on, evil-doers. you couldn't come up with a better way to get "small penis" into the subject line? who is in charge of your marketing? they suck. wait... are you hiring? i think i could bring a lot to this sort of position. i'm very good at garnering attention in very few words. oh, and i'm sneaky. sleuthy, too.

might i suggest...

"your dick is small. take this pill."
"tiny pecker no more"
"if you've been asked, "is that a penis or a clitoris?" then you probably could use our help."
"free boobies! just kidding, you have a tiny, wittle weenie."
"re: your subscription to no sex"
"sienna miller and other chicks who dig wee men"
"all you want for christmas is your two more inches."
"we're all laughing at your pee-pee."

clearly this is a natural talent. better snatch it up while you still can.

i love that i worked the word snatch into a post full of small dicks.

2005-12-22T11:57:00.000-06:00

brett's christmahanakwanzakah 2005 wishlist:

- a special edition gold, d&g razr (i've had the silver one and have the black one, so might as well get the gold, too) which is not available in the u.s. of a.
- a towleroad t-shirt (sz. small... x-small if they have it)
- the my scene barbie by nick v. from project runway
- strike that... just nick v. from project runway. fuck barbie!
- a black, moleskin address book that would easily fit into a clutch
- steel magnolias
- abs of steel... the muscles, not the movie
- buns of steel for that matter, too
- fuck, just some buns... they don't have to feel nothing like steel... right, tai?
- speaking of a thai, how about ty pennington loses the ability to speak?
- speaking of thais, some joy's cashew chicken
- further speaking of thais, a small maddie jolie-pitt of my very own to babysit (yes, i know maddox is actually cambodian)
- oh, and angelina jolie
- a jar of peanut m&m's
- a pair of wellingtons that actually fit snugly around my tiny, little, eight-year-old girl calves
- a new job
- a jew knob
- a blow job
- a joe blob
- some cashmere
- some mere cash (c'mon, you had to see that coming)
- a gay best friend who lives in chicago
- candy canes for everyone
- something to put in my day planner
- to meet a celebrity
- 3 minutes of application tape genius
- to once more feel a part of something greater than myself
- more joe
- and more joe blobs while we're at it
- an epiphany
- some tiffany's
- passion
- and fashion
- a fluids assistant... just like mariah's
- the promise of key west for president's day
- a food dehydrator
- really anything ron popeil makes
- a great new year's eve
- socks
- underwear
- world peace
- a pony

happy holidays, kids!

all my best to you and yours!

2005-12-19T15:01:00.000-06:00

while i am sure that many of you are wondering where this boy is...

i am much more concerned with the whereabouts of one ms. molly my-roommate-and-good-friend-of-many-years. yes, that is her real last name.

seen here:

molly has been missing for several days. despite living with her, i have not laid eyes on her less-than-fortunate mug since last wednesday.

though, i do know her to be alive.

i still find her hair in the bathtub. i notice her [my] scarf is not in the same place every night when i return to the a-p-t. i find her blog has been updated recently. i receive incredibly drunken phone call after incredibly drunken phone call from her in a single evening... but not once am i informed as to her own location.

if you have seen this young woman, please alert me to her last known location. there is a reward of one cupcake for her capture and return. she has arms and is potentially dangerous. she will probably appear disoriented/intoxicated/giddy and be wearing something either painfully fabulous or horribly awry (most likely a pair of red fleece, snowflaked-patterned, pajama pants). avoid eye contact at all cost, unless you have a pint of beer in your hand. her distinguishing marks include the most amazing rack you have ever seen and cleavage akin to a black hole, e.g. nothing, and i mean nothing, can escape its pull.

your assistance is greatly appreciated.

2005-12-12T14:12:00.000-06:00

dry spell = oh-vuh!

2005-12-09T23:06:00.000-06:00

fear not, children.

joseph is on his way home and on his way to getting me laid.

woot woot!

2005-12-09T16:14:00.000-06:00

i am being cockblocked by the state of california, and believe me, i neeeeeeeeeed to get laaaaaaaaaaaid.

for the past 2 weeks or so, joseph has been working on a project in the city of angels. the week before that i was home for thanksgiving. the week before that he had a project in nashville.

anytime we have spent together since our last coitus on november 20 has been hounded by extenuating circumstance. i was sick. he was sick. he had an early flight. i had to leave for the weekend.

...and where does that bring us. well, to this brother being hard-up. that's where.

the worst of it is that i'm being cockteased. he may or may not be flying home for the weekend tonight. argh!

my hormones are craaaaaaaaaaaazy, right now.

2005-12-07T17:12:00.000-06:00

here are the photo booth pictures from my evening at the village tap.

enjoy!

2005-12-06T17:48:00.000-06:00

okay.

i know it's sort of shitty to call someone out, but i need some help.

one of you, fair readers, works for publicis groupe in paris.

or for one of their subsidiaries...
oh... i don't know which one...
perhaps, let's say, starcom...
you know, starcom, here in our very own chicago.

as in the starcom that i'd love to work for.

i only know you come around here because i stalk my own website and see your ip with the publicis groupe address.

seriously, though, seeing it about made me pee in my pants.
"holy shit, someone from publicis is reading this crap... e-gads!"

anyhow, i ask not because i want you to get me hired (though, that'd certainly be nice, too) but because i was wondering if you had any insight for me on what they look for in, say, a media associate... or really any other entry-level position they've got over there.

if you don't want to give me a holler or simply don't have any advice, that's cool... but anything would be awesome.

please, please, please contact me at hedrinksalot@yahoo.com. i even created that email address extra-special just for you.

now, be a good little publicis groupe employee and help a brother out!

2005-12-06T15:45:00.000-06:00

apparently, kids my age think they have a right to everything.

apparently, the media does not think our parents had anything to do with this.

i may come back to this later, but if not, i'm with anne.