You're Fahrenheit 451!
by Ray Bradbury
Having wanted to be a firefighter much of your life, you've recently iscovered the job wasn't exactly what you were looking for. While ignorance seems like the result of oppression, it all began with people just wanting to be ignorant. As you realize more about the sordid world around you, you decide to watch less TV and work on your memorization skills. Though your memory will save you in the end, don't forget to practice running from dogs as well.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Thursday, March 04, 2004
More fun from the wacky world of my friends:
Thursday, February 26, 2004
After eight years with leukemia, and about seven months bedridden, my Nonnie passed away last Saturday. We are burying her this Saturday, February 28th, to mark her 78th birthday.
I wish I could say it is one of those times in your life when your family and friends come together and you feel, if not exactly - at least in some twisted demento world, like the Cleaver family. Unfortunately, that has not been the case for my mother, my Aunt Kathy, and my grandfather - who have singlehandedly done the bulk of the "work" of taking care of my grandmother these past few months (my grandfather even developed a hernia through all this and just got out of surgery on Tuesday). We opted to have a wake and a private family-only funeral, and now we are actually fielding calls from family friends who are expressing their dissapointment at not being invited to the interment. I can't believe people are so rude as to put their grieving before that of the immediate family. I understand that people are upset, and that they came and sat with Nonnie while she was sick - some of them even changed her, fed her, and bathed her - but honestly, where do they get off?! After expending so much emotional and physical energy for seven months, who has anything left to console others? Why should my mother dread the wake and funeral, knowing that they will be occassions for her to listen to other peoples' sorrows instead of being able to grieve for her own mother? I don't understand how people can be so cruel.
In any case, I am in Massachusetts for the services, and especially for my mom. I am quite stoic, as per my usual self, dealing out "thank you's" and hugs and a listening ear. As you can imagine, my house has been much like a revolving door since I arrived, and I have heard many stories about my grandmother that have made us all laugh and cry... My only wish is that this wasn't so stressful for my mom. She's a real survivor, that lady. Only a few more days and this will all be over.
Well, for the most part. There is always the question of my grandmother's belongings. My sincerest hope is that, in these past several months while she was sick, no one has stolen any of her things. I don't know if there's a will or not, but that doesn't matter. I want things to be as Nonnie wanted them, and, barring that possibility, as the family decides as a unit. Frankly, it pisses me off when I find out that things have gone missing from the house. Since my grandmother is a packrat, it is still possible that things are just lost, not missing. So I hope for that.
(Sigh.) The whole situation just makes me angry. This should be a time for people to remember who she was, in the good and bad times, and to cherish those memories. It shouldn't be a time to disrespect the family, forge new arguments, and steal from my grandmother....
With that in mind, while I was jogging around the cemetery this morning (I know - how morose! Even more so when you consider that they were actually digging my grandmother's plot today...), I was thinking about the future. More specifically, about the day when mine is no longer up to me - when I die. And I decided that when I die (barring a future will and any changes therein), I want to be cremated. There will be NO funeral and NO wake. A group of my friends and closest family members will be invited to take my ashes on "vacation" to some distant country to which I've never trekked, and pour my remains in some body of water so I can travel for as long as my ashes will be carried. That's it. No great revelations, no wearing black - nothing. I just want someone to bring me on some permanent vacation...
Well, that's enough of that. I wanted to give those of you who are wondering about me a heads up, and even for those of you who are NOT wondering, I wanted to make you wish you were.
I love you all.
I wish I could say it is one of those times in your life when your family and friends come together and you feel, if not exactly - at least in some twisted demento world, like the Cleaver family. Unfortunately, that has not been the case for my mother, my Aunt Kathy, and my grandfather - who have singlehandedly done the bulk of the "work" of taking care of my grandmother these past few months (my grandfather even developed a hernia through all this and just got out of surgery on Tuesday). We opted to have a wake and a private family-only funeral, and now we are actually fielding calls from family friends who are expressing their dissapointment at not being invited to the interment. I can't believe people are so rude as to put their grieving before that of the immediate family. I understand that people are upset, and that they came and sat with Nonnie while she was sick - some of them even changed her, fed her, and bathed her - but honestly, where do they get off?! After expending so much emotional and physical energy for seven months, who has anything left to console others? Why should my mother dread the wake and funeral, knowing that they will be occassions for her to listen to other peoples' sorrows instead of being able to grieve for her own mother? I don't understand how people can be so cruel.
In any case, I am in Massachusetts for the services, and especially for my mom. I am quite stoic, as per my usual self, dealing out "thank you's" and hugs and a listening ear. As you can imagine, my house has been much like a revolving door since I arrived, and I have heard many stories about my grandmother that have made us all laugh and cry... My only wish is that this wasn't so stressful for my mom. She's a real survivor, that lady. Only a few more days and this will all be over.
Well, for the most part. There is always the question of my grandmother's belongings. My sincerest hope is that, in these past several months while she was sick, no one has stolen any of her things. I don't know if there's a will or not, but that doesn't matter. I want things to be as Nonnie wanted them, and, barring that possibility, as the family decides as a unit. Frankly, it pisses me off when I find out that things have gone missing from the house. Since my grandmother is a packrat, it is still possible that things are just lost, not missing. So I hope for that.
(Sigh.) The whole situation just makes me angry. This should be a time for people to remember who she was, in the good and bad times, and to cherish those memories. It shouldn't be a time to disrespect the family, forge new arguments, and steal from my grandmother....
With that in mind, while I was jogging around the cemetery this morning (I know - how morose! Even more so when you consider that they were actually digging my grandmother's plot today...), I was thinking about the future. More specifically, about the day when mine is no longer up to me - when I die. And I decided that when I die (barring a future will and any changes therein), I want to be cremated. There will be NO funeral and NO wake. A group of my friends and closest family members will be invited to take my ashes on "vacation" to some distant country to which I've never trekked, and pour my remains in some body of water so I can travel for as long as my ashes will be carried. That's it. No great revelations, no wearing black - nothing. I just want someone to bring me on some permanent vacation...
Well, that's enough of that. I wanted to give those of you who are wondering about me a heads up, and even for those of you who are NOT wondering, I wanted to make you wish you were.
I love you all.
Sunday, February 15, 2004
Ah, Valentine’s Day. Another useless, overly commercial holiday where people run out into the great wide world of opportunists and make an art form out of consumerism.
That being said, I enjoyed my holiday. More to the point, I’ve enjoyed my whole week out of work. I feel a little better knowing that I now have the time to get a few things done. Like meeting the Fab 5. Yeah, the guys from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy! They did this promotion with Virgin Megastore for their new CD, and Vince went out and purchased it so I could get an armband. The armband allowed us to stand outside Virgin on Friday night for two hours for the opportunity to meet 5 of the most famous gay men today. I want you all to know that I got to kiss, and be kissed by, Kyan, Thom, Jai, AND Ted (and as the woman behind me kept screaming, “Kyan is so HOT!” – with extreme emphasis on the word “HOT!” Of course, my constant reply was, “Yeah, but he’s GAY.” Oh well, I tried.).
Carson was the first boy I met and I was totally unprepared. The security at the event gave you about two seconds in front of each person before they ushered you on. So yeah, after two hours in the cold, where my toes were nothing more than blocks of ice in my non-winter shoes, I hadn’t thought of something witty to say to Carson in the whole two seconds of time I was allotted.
However, Carson was on HIS game so I was thoroughly complimented on my sweater (which was repeated by 4 out of 5 gay boys) and by gay boy number 2 I had found something interesting to say. And managed a few kisses. Nothing compares to my make-out sessions with Jimmy (he’ll ALWAYS be my number one gay boy!!!), but it made my night.
Of course, Vincent had no interest in being there so he did his best to take pictures around the security guards (usually failing). Here’s what he was able to snap:
That night I also got to see opening night of 50 First Dates – that new movie with Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore. The reason I bring this up is because Vincent actually cried. And I want you all to go out and see the kind of movie he connects to. It’ll be an experience. And at the very least, it’s an enjoyable romantic comedy…
After the movie we were supposed to meet up with Mel and Andrew, but Mel couldn’t hold her liquor at dinner (some things just never change) so it was just Vincent, me, Andrew and about a million Penn grads in town for the Penn game. I reconnected with David, who received a ride from Washington D.C. to Philadelphia from us about two-three years ago and we dropped him off right ON I-676 because the traffic was so bad. I also got to see Brian (remember him, Michelle?), who was once of the belief that I am a lesbian. I don’t know if that’s changed, but I guess it’s good that he wasn’t around for the $40 transaction that occurred last time Andrew was in town.
In any case, we drank a fish bowl full of alcohol (which is incidentally how Andrew got this alligator):
I had a good time – even if Andrew kept trying to cop a feel to determine if I really got my nipples pierced!
And the only other thing I have to show you guys is this:
I was there when Jeremy Roenick took a puck to the face and broke his jaw. It was unreal. I mean, you’re always accustomed to all the heavy hitting and all that is beautifully aggressive about the game of hockey, but that much blood is usually not an occurrence. Then about thirty seconds later, another “star” player, Primeau, was taken out of the game for taking a hit to the face.
I still hold to my opinion that hockey is the most beautiful, graceful violence I’ve ever encountered, of course.
That being said, I enjoyed my holiday. More to the point, I’ve enjoyed my whole week out of work. I feel a little better knowing that I now have the time to get a few things done. Like meeting the Fab 5. Yeah, the guys from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy! They did this promotion with Virgin Megastore for their new CD, and Vince went out and purchased it so I could get an armband. The armband allowed us to stand outside Virgin on Friday night for two hours for the opportunity to meet 5 of the most famous gay men today. I want you all to know that I got to kiss, and be kissed by, Kyan, Thom, Jai, AND Ted (and as the woman behind me kept screaming, “Kyan is so HOT!” – with extreme emphasis on the word “HOT!” Of course, my constant reply was, “Yeah, but he’s GAY.” Oh well, I tried.).
Carson was the first boy I met and I was totally unprepared. The security at the event gave you about two seconds in front of each person before they ushered you on. So yeah, after two hours in the cold, where my toes were nothing more than blocks of ice in my non-winter shoes, I hadn’t thought of something witty to say to Carson in the whole two seconds of time I was allotted.
However, Carson was on HIS game so I was thoroughly complimented on my sweater (which was repeated by 4 out of 5 gay boys) and by gay boy number 2 I had found something interesting to say. And managed a few kisses. Nothing compares to my make-out sessions with Jimmy (he’ll ALWAYS be my number one gay boy!!!), but it made my night.
Of course, Vincent had no interest in being there so he did his best to take pictures around the security guards (usually failing). Here’s what he was able to snap:
That night I also got to see opening night of 50 First Dates – that new movie with Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore. The reason I bring this up is because Vincent actually cried. And I want you all to go out and see the kind of movie he connects to. It’ll be an experience. And at the very least, it’s an enjoyable romantic comedy…
After the movie we were supposed to meet up with Mel and Andrew, but Mel couldn’t hold her liquor at dinner (some things just never change
In any case, we drank a fish bowl full of alcohol (which is incidentally how Andrew got this alligator):
I had a good time – even if Andrew kept trying to cop a feel to determine if I really got my nipples pierced!
And the only other thing I have to show you guys is this:
I was there when Jeremy Roenick took a puck to the face and broke his jaw. It was unreal. I mean, you’re always accustomed to all the heavy hitting and all that is beautifully aggressive about the game of hockey, but that much blood is usually not an occurrence. Then about thirty seconds later, another “star” player, Primeau, was taken out of the game for taking a hit to the face.
I still hold to my opinion that hockey is the most beautiful, graceful violence I’ve ever encountered, of course.
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Well, I’m unemployed, but that’s not what I want to write about today (I’ll save that lovely story for some other time…).
While I was at Animal Fair, I came across this random questionnaire while trying to figure out the content of a Seattle magazine, and I think it’s hilarious (so were the people’s answers by the way) that I wanted to post it here – with my ridiculously amused answers:
1. what is the coolest accessory/clothing item you own?
2. who is the coolest character from a book or film?
3. where is the coolest place you've been?
4. what is the coolest car you've ever been in?
5. how old were you when you discovered what "cool" meant?
6. would you rather be "hot" or "cool"?
7. on a scale of 1-10, how important is it to be cool?
8. if you are not being cool, you are being ____.
9. when is it not cool to be cool?
10. on a scale of 1-10 how cool are you?
Some of the people who answered these questions were totally arrogant and into themselves, while others were totally lacking in self-confidence. Somehow there was no one who really fell into a grey area. Let’s see how well I straddle that grey fence!
1. My Happy Harry the Hippo socks! They make me smile. (For those of you who have no idea, Harry was my Christmas tree / Hannukah Bush during college and all my friends came over for a holiday party and decorated him with lights and handmade ornaments. Harry now resides with Mommy and Daddy A. in Los Angeles. In exchange, Michelle, their spawn of a child, gave me Happy Harry the Hippo socks – yay! Oh, and Harry’s a big, soft, lovable Hippo.)
2. Garfield. He doesn’t care what anybody thinks, and he does his own thing: lasagna, mailing cute kittens to Abu Dhabi and napping like a hardcore narcoleptic.
3. People always like my story about traveling to Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt, with Secretary of State Powell for some Middle East Peace Talks with Middle East leaders and President Bush (2003). And I got to go snorkeling for the first time – in the Red Sea!
4. Hands down, my mom’s little red MG. But if I had my druthers, it would be a 1973 Bronco, the one that looks like a magnified Hot Wheels.
5. I still don’t know what “cool” means.
6. “Cool.” Because “hot” usually refers to physical characteristics, which always fade over time. “Cool” to me is a way of being, and that only gets better with age!
7. It’s not. What’s important in life is that you work on yourself, mold yourself into the person you want to be, each day of your life. “Coolness” is just a side show, a derivative of this attempt at LIVING.
8. If I’m not being “cool”, I am being myself.
9. This question is retarded. Who came up with this questionnaire??!
10. You tell me.
While I was at Animal Fair, I came across this random questionnaire while trying to figure out the content of a Seattle magazine, and I think it’s hilarious (so were the people’s answers by the way) that I wanted to post it here – with my ridiculously amused answers:
1. what is the coolest accessory/clothing item you own?
2. who is the coolest character from a book or film?
3. where is the coolest place you've been?
4. what is the coolest car you've ever been in?
5. how old were you when you discovered what "cool" meant?
6. would you rather be "hot" or "cool"?
7. on a scale of 1-10, how important is it to be cool?
8. if you are not being cool, you are being ____.
9. when is it not cool to be cool?
10. on a scale of 1-10 how cool are you?
Some of the people who answered these questions were totally arrogant and into themselves, while others were totally lacking in self-confidence. Somehow there was no one who really fell into a grey area. Let’s see how well I straddle that grey fence!
1. My Happy Harry the Hippo socks! They make me smile. (For those of you who have no idea, Harry was my Christmas tree / Hannukah Bush during college and all my friends came over for a holiday party and decorated him with lights and handmade ornaments. Harry now resides with Mommy and Daddy A. in Los Angeles. In exchange, Michelle, their spawn of a child, gave me Happy Harry the Hippo socks – yay! Oh, and Harry’s a big, soft, lovable Hippo.)
2. Garfield. He doesn’t care what anybody thinks, and he does his own thing: lasagna, mailing cute kittens to Abu Dhabi and napping like a hardcore narcoleptic.
3. People always like my story about traveling to Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt, with Secretary of State Powell for some Middle East Peace Talks with Middle East leaders and President Bush (2003). And I got to go snorkeling for the first time – in the Red Sea!
4. Hands down, my mom’s little red MG. But if I had my druthers, it would be a 1973 Bronco, the one that looks like a magnified Hot Wheels.
5. I still don’t know what “cool” means.
6. “Cool.” Because “hot” usually refers to physical characteristics, which always fade over time. “Cool” to me is a way of being, and that only gets better with age!
7. It’s not. What’s important in life is that you work on yourself, mold yourself into the person you want to be, each day of your life. “Coolness” is just a side show, a derivative of this attempt at LIVING.
8. If I’m not being “cool”
9. This question is retarded. Who came up with this questionnaire??!
10. You tell me.
Friday, February 06, 2004
Things Today That Make Me Happy: the sound of rain, the dry heat of the heater on my frozen toes, wearing the softest shirt I own, petting the cat and watching him enjoy the attention, riding the subway and reading my latest book find (My Year of Meats), thinking about last night’s movie with Vincent and Dara (The Station Agent), reaching out to strangers on the phone and finding out that they’re nice and want to talk to me, eating my hot oatmeal and sipping my chamomile tea, dreaming about going home and taking a bath, knowing I will quit this unsatisfying job within a week…
I MUST tell you about this really silly conversation I’ve been having lately at work! So to catch you up: yeah, I still work at the animal place; yeah, I am still working on the book tour extraordinaire; yeah, I am still trying to talk NFL players into attending a doggie cocktail party – NOW QUIT LAUGHING!!!
SO. (Buttons.) (a little The Truth About Cats And Dogs humor for ya) I’ve been talking to one player’s agent, and that agent keeps talking about massage. Apparently it’s his passion in life. In my first actual conversation with him, he offers me one of his NY masseuse’s sessions – for free! And every five minutes he keeps saying, “I don’t even normally return my phone calls. I don’t know how you’re keeping me on the phone, but either you’re really a REAL person, or you’re an incredibly good salesperson.” So I told him the truth: I SUCK at sales.
The next day, his INCREDIBLY gay assistant returns one of my calls (I'm talking SO gay that even my baby boyfriend Jimmy looks straight!). Somehow he manages to work several personal questions about my physical appearance into the conversation and I’m beginning to think that he and “Boss,” as he likes to call this agent, are scheming together to hit on me. Then Teri (that’s the assistant) makes me pinky swear not to tell Boss anything we’ve discussed. He also tells me that I must have made a good impression because I am on the 1st must-call list, between Dan Merino and some Congressman. (Don't ask! I have no idea what I did!!!)
So moving onto conversation number two with Boss: he says, “If you and your boys, or your boyfriend, or your husband, or whatever, ever want to get a way for a weekend – there’s a bunch of great spas here in Miami.” Oh yeah, Boss lives half the year in Miami, half in New York. Continuing on… “If you ever want, just give me a call and I’ll send my plane out to get you guys.” So I’m flipping out… it’s the most amusement and fun I’ve had at work since I started!!! You can’t make this stuff up!!!
For instance, Boss picked up Teri on vacation in Arizona several years back (Uh, Boss is straight though). Teri was their (i.e. Boss + one amazingly beautiful girlfriend) cabana boy, and Boss was so impressed that he convinced him to return to NYC and work for him. Now that’s the kind of break in life I’m looking for! Teri travels between NY and Miami helping Boss out, and he occasionally gets to go on vacation with him! Teri brings his boyfriend and they have a wonderful time! It is also my understanding that Teri gets paid quite well for his assistance.
Where do I get myself a Boss-man/woman?!
SO. (Buttons.) (a little The Truth About Cats And Dogs humor for ya) I’ve been talking to one player’s agent, and that agent keeps talking about massage. Apparently it’s his passion in life. In my first actual conversation with him, he offers me one of his NY masseuse’s sessions – for free! And every five minutes he keeps saying, “I don’t even normally return my phone calls. I don’t know how you’re keeping me on the phone, but either you’re really a REAL person, or you’re an incredibly good salesperson.” So I told him the truth: I SUCK at sales.
The next day, his INCREDIBLY gay assistant returns one of my calls (I'm talking SO gay that even my baby boyfriend Jimmy looks straight!). Somehow he manages to work several personal questions about my physical appearance into the conversation and I’m beginning to think that he and “Boss,” as he likes to call this agent, are scheming together to hit on me. Then Teri (that’s the assistant) makes me pinky swear not to tell Boss anything we’ve discussed. He also tells me that I must have made a good impression because I am on the 1st must-call list, between Dan Merino and some Congressman. (Don't ask! I have no idea what I did!!!)
So moving onto conversation number two with Boss: he says, “If you and your boys, or your boyfriend, or your husband, or whatever, ever want to get a way for a weekend – there’s a bunch of great spas here in Miami.” Oh yeah, Boss lives half the year in Miami, half in New York. Continuing on… “If you ever want, just give me a call and I’ll send my plane out to get you guys.” So I’m flipping out… it’s the most amusement and fun I’ve had at work since I started!!! You can’t make this stuff up!!!
For instance, Boss picked up Teri on vacation in Arizona several years back (Uh, Boss is straight though). Teri was their (i.e. Boss + one amazingly beautiful girlfriend) cabana boy, and Boss was so impressed that he convinced him to return to NYC and work for him. Now that’s the kind of break in life I’m looking for! Teri travels between NY and Miami helping Boss out, and he occasionally gets to go on vacation with him! Teri brings his boyfriend and they have a wonderful time! It is also my understanding that Teri gets paid quite well for his assistance.
Where do I get myself a Boss-man/woman?!
Sunday, February 01, 2004
Another weekend down, another one of Vincent’s birthdays. This year we didn’t raise hell, we didn’t get kicked out of any classy establishments, and my ‘pimps and ho’s’ idea was unceremoniously tossed aside in favor of our all-too-regular cold weather gear.
So we ate out at a nice restaurant and then we went to a bar called The Remote Lounge – this place which is outfitted with cameras covering every angle of the building. You can spy on other people, talk to the man/woman of your choice using the phone attached to your video monitor, or put on a show-stopping burlesque show of your own. I, of course, was not feeling the voyeur inside of me, nor was I in touch with my inner man (most of the cameras seemed to find their way to the breast region of every female in the place), so I didn’t necessarily enjoy myself. Yet I did get phone calls from several unidentified men – and I didn’t even have to make out with a girl or jiggle my boobage!!
Well, at least Vincent thoroughly enjoyed himself. Let’s just say The Remote Lounge is like a little slice of heaven for my baby boy…so much so that he dragged his sorry, Red Bull and Grey Goosed tuckas into the house after 4AM!
Of course, Vincent’s friends were out en force: David L., Starr & Doug, Dara & Mark, Kathryn, Hunter… if your name is not on this list, it must be because you are not a member of the elite inner circle of the Vincent Cult. I’m sorry, maybe next year. Or maybe for his 40th birthday.
Did I mention age? My baby turned 35 today! Superbowl Sunday and not only is he 35, but he’s hung over as well. Good times, no?
So we ate out at a nice restaurant and then we went to a bar called The Remote Lounge – this place which is outfitted with cameras covering every angle of the building. You can spy on other people, talk to the man/woman of your choice using the phone attached to your video monitor, or put on a show-stopping burlesque show of your own. I, of course, was not feeling the voyeur inside of me, nor was I in touch with my inner man (most of the cameras seemed to find their way to the breast region of every female in the place), so I didn’t necessarily enjoy myself. Yet I did get phone calls from several unidentified men – and I didn’t even have to make out with a girl or jiggle my boobage!!
Well, at least Vincent thoroughly enjoyed himself. Let’s just say The Remote Lounge is like a little slice of heaven for my baby boy…so much so that he dragged his sorry, Red Bull and Grey Goosed tuckas into the house after 4AM!
Of course, Vincent’s friends were out en force: David L., Starr & Doug, Dara & Mark, Kathryn, Hunter… if your name is not on this list, it must be because you are not a member of the elite inner circle of the Vincent Cult. I’m sorry, maybe next year. Or maybe for his 40th birthday.
Did I mention age? My baby turned 35 today! Superbowl Sunday and not only is he 35, but he’s hung over as well. Good times, no?
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