Ming the Merciless

Once again, I have proven that a little boredom is a dangerous thing. I was getting a little bored with the Santa Claus, cum Walt Whitman look and I had some time on my hands before the gym opened. A little too much time. I hasten to point out that I was not drinking at the time.

I think I had been trying for Mephistopheles, however what I got was having one of the guys from IT ask me, "What are you suppose to be? A Klingon?" You know you are in trouble when a geek is telling you, you look geeky.

Hey, it's just hair. It grows back.

Full Deck

I was fairly successful in avoiding my birthday today. I am not upset by birthdays, I just don't get why people get so excited about them. At any rate those birthday greetings that I did receive were sincere and welcome. Monkey, Quebecer and Boyflex all wished me happy returns of the day. Monkey gave me a gift certificate for iTunes and Quebecer a very nice and I must say touching card. Boyflex, when he heard that I had turned 52 told me that I am now playing with a full deck. This will come as news to many.

Too Wise to Woo in Peace

I spent an expensive day at the dentist yesterday. I don't mind too much. He's a nice guy a good dentist and he's cute. He's also got great taste in receptionists. Jimmy is a very tall, very handsome, very built black man, who I am sure is popular where ever he goes. So yesterday I was surprised to see a new, yet equally good looking young man behind the reception desk. He is the new receptionist, and a pleasant view to survey while waiting. After 2 hours in the chair I went up to the desk with my doctor because the receptionist had left for a late lunch. I complimented my dentist on his taste in receptionists and told him I thought the new receptionist was adorable. He said, "I think so too, we're getting married in July."

Ooops. Still, I can't be faulted for telling the man that his fiance is attractive, and I wish them all of the best. It did however get me thinking about my own feelings about love and marriage. Or rather my lack of hope for one and complete disinterest in the other.

Bad sex is one thing. It makes for good cocktail conversation and is generally funny. At least afterwards. Such as the really hot number that my friends and I were all cruising that I managed to score, only to get him home and discover he was just the teensiest bit plastered and he proceeded to pass out and then piss the bed. Then there was the guy who I was dating, who I discovered was sleeping with all of my friends when he gave us all the clap. The list goes on and on.

But I am thinking not about tricks but about the long term disaster, commonly refered to as the relationship. I'll come clean 2 out of 3 were unmitigated disasters. I started off fine. My first attempt, with Jon lasted about a year and a half. When we broke up, we squabbled for about 6 months and then settled into a life long friendship that consisted mostly of squabbling, but in the way that you can only bicker with good friends. I remember once we were going at it about english lit., or gardening or perhaps some of the finer points of cooking. A mutual friend who was there finally said, "I wish you two would stop arguing!" Jon turned a genuinely hurt face to her and said "We aren't fighting, we're having a discussion." It in general was good natured, and we knew when the chips were down we could always count on each other.

The next 2 however have proven to me that my complete lack of good judgement makes remaining single a much more attractive prospect.

Contestant number 2 was fine while it was happening. If it was not the most inspired romance I've ever had, it lacked any upsetting conflict. I imagine that to a certain extent it reflected a certain amount of laziness on my part. It was like having an easy job, that if not terribly rewarding emotionally, had the virtue of ease and lack of demand. I should have known something was wrong with that picture. After about 18 months of this, Number 2 as I like to think of him, out of the blue announced that it was all over because his old lover was moving back to town. It was at that point that I discovered that his old lover was also, short, dark, had curly hair (yes, I once had a full head of curly hair.) and the list of similarlities went on right down to having the same name. I'll give Number 2 credit. If he had a type, he was dedicated enough to it that there were no compromises. Not so much getting a new boyfriend as a temporary replacement. Needless to say, this did not end well, and I have nary seen nor spoken to Number 2 since.

The icing on the cake was contestant number 3. The first year was actually pretty good. The bloom of new romance and all that, though to be honest, after about 6 months the writing was on the wall. The next 2 years were more like a grudge match. He is one of those people who is a gross exporter of his own craziness, and once he has the other person rolling, their own supply of crazy kicks in. Having an adequate supply of my own we were off to the races. One of his favorites was to assign his crazy behavior to me. i.e. It was my fault he was being a pain in the ass and doing obnoxious things. After a certain point you really do start to wonder about your effect on other people, so it is always good to have friends to confide in. I do remember at one point talking to my pal Bunny about what I had made 3 do and having Bunny look at me with undiguised disgust and say "Oh, I never knew you had super powers, could you get, here he named a bartender that everyone it town was after, to have sex with me while you're at it?"

But as they say, "As a dog returneth to it's vomit,so a fool returns to his folly." and I kept plugging away at this loosing proposition. Finally, after listening to 3 say for 6 months that he thought we should break up, I said,"You know what, so do I!", and so began one of the most protracted and stupid break ups in the history of faggotry. I usually take my time making up my mind, but once I do, my mind is made up. I think you can also guess that once I said, "that's it", 3 changed his tune, because he still had lot's of crazy to spead around. For the openning round, he went to Amsterdam on vacation. Not because he wanted to go to Amsterdam, but because after 3 trips to London in a row, I refused to go again. When asked where I wanted to go, I said, Amsterdam. He said no, he wanted to go to London. I said have a good time, and stayed home. The message of the Amsterdam trip, (where I am told he never left the hotel) was that if I had stayed with him, I could have gone to Amsterdam. So not worth it. It is one example but it should give you an idea of why I think of 3 every time I hear the Eurythmics song "Thorn in My Side". This went on for far too long, in various iterations and sad to say, I am not proud of my own behavior. Finally, I acted on the obvious solution to this mess and removed myself completely from 3's sphere. While I don't actively avoid him, I do not seek out his society either. He is blissfully and disfunctionally coupled again for many years now and on those few times I do run into him, I am treated to a litany of the unhappiness that he is subjected to with the new object of his affections. The subtext here is that he would not have involved himself with this crazy, if I had not so heartlessly left him without any provocation what-so-ever. It's kind of sad, but I think the situation suits him perfectly and he is about as happy, being miserable, as he is likely to get.

I myself have avoided involving myself in any type of relationship that looks like it is going to lead to the term "commmited", since I have proven to myself that if I do, I may just have to be commited. It's been 17 years now, and I have not been distraught by the lack of pink hearts, tacky cards or gilt puti in my life on the 14th of February. I am thrilled for everyone who is in a successful romance on this day of lovers, and will offer sympathy to those who are not and wish to be. But please, some of us have been purposely dodging blind Eros darts. Trust me, it's better like this.

Talking with Monkey and Boyflex on break we were discussing my entry for the day which reminded me of the one who on our second date, waited til I was asleep and then broke into the neighbors apartment. As Monkey pointed out, at least he didn't rob my place.

Ice Queen

I don't care how cold they say it is, they are lying bastards. I know it is much colder. When I left the house this morning they said it was 11 degrees. My ass! Tomorrow they are prediciting about 7 inches of snowfall, so regardless of the cold I may be overwhelmed with the need to go and watch the Whole Foods parking lot for a few minutes so I can watch all the neurotic yuppies pull up in their Volvo and BMW, SUV's to stock up on bottled water and tofu. It's like a ritual everytime there is a prediction of foul weather here in Boston and is always good for a laugh.

Flattery will get you everywhere

Matt over at Square Jawed Action Hero did my portrait. Pretty cool huh? Take a look at his site, where he reviews movies, talks about cartoons and animation and posts his own artwork.

Gym hazard

I got to spend an hour at the gym. 40 minutes of aerobic divided up 50/50 between stairclimber and treadmill. In theory this will all work in the end to ridding myself of the unsightly bulge that refuses to leave my midsection. I hate doing aerobic. I can walk around the city for hours on end, no problem, but put me on a machine and I am only able to think, when will this be over. Todays adventure in physical fitness was further embellished by the pervasive aroma of ripe gym socks.

The first thing I think when something like this comes up is "Oh my God, is that me?" And it could have been, too. My Barbie dream fitness outfit had been sitting in the locker for a week. While I hadn't noticed anything when I was suiting up, who knows? It might be that it had to come up to body temperature to release it's bouquet. So, I spent 20 minutes becoming much too thoroughly acquainted with the smell of somebodies socks. About the same time the stair machine was announcing that my 20 minutes had ended, the fellow on the treadmill behind me finished up and as he left, the eu du bas athletique exited with him. While it is not the first time that this has happened, i.e. one of the gym members being a bit on the fragrant side, what is to me alarming is that this was not some college student with a cavalier attitude towards hygiene, it was someone who was probably my age.

This is not the first instance of that phenomena either. A few months ago, I was talking to one of the other regulars when suddenly we were overcome with the feeling that someone had just unwrapped an extremely ripe gorganzola. I just looked at Frank and said, "Please tell me that's not me." I am happy to say that in fact it was not. It was, alas, another individual of mature years, who seemed to have developed some sort of personal grudge against bathing as far as one could tell. I should hasten to add that the individual was not, at least to all appearances, laboring under some financial embarrassment, or noticeably crazy. Simply that he and soap had had some terrible misunderstanding and were not on speaking terms. The manager of the gym came in and got a nose full. The next day there were signs posted reminding members that we were in and enclosed space and the judicious use of modern odor fighting products were to be encouraged. Not that I think deodorant would have helped much. It would have had all of the efficacy of spraying a limburgh cheese with Right Guard. I found myself remembering the section in "Three Men in a Boat" where J.K. Jerome describes the cheese that wouldn't go away.

"Splendid cheeses they were, ripe and mellow with a two hundred horse power scent about them that might have been warranted to carry three miles, and knock a man over at two hundred yards."

Fortunately for the regulars, the offending gentleman was a seasonal exerciser. He seemed to be one of those people who work out furiously for about 4 weeks before beach season begins and then disappears. Happily, he took his alter ego with him presumably to further endanger wildlife on the seashore. I have visions of gulls, terns and sandpipers being knocked out the sky by this guys feet. So it wasn't until today that I ran across his cousin. It could well be that I have never encountered sock boy before because ordinarily I do not go to the gym on Sunday. However I am on an odd schedule until Le Soigneur decides what to do with me and set me off on my own. So as I say I was treadling away, in a rather green fug today. If I have to go in there next Sunday, I will try to remember to stop at the Army Navy down the street and pick up a gas mask first.

Warmth

Yeah I know. It looks like I tied road kill to my head. Guess what, I don't care it's warm.

Too Much Information

Protein shake + Flaxseed Oil + Multi-vitamin = Green Pee. Who knew?

Waterboy

The new diet continues. I am eating lots of not very exciting food, high in protein and low in carbohydrates. On top of this I am suppose to drink at least a gallon of water every day. My understanding of the situation is that I need all this water to transport the protein to the muscle. It also is transporting me to the bathroom on a fairly constant basis.

I am becoming conversant with every public rest room in the Boston area. (No smart remarks) I have always had a bladder the size of a pea, but in conjunction with middle age and large quantities of water, I feel like I should be carrying a bucket around with me. Lucky for me there is a bathroom right down the hall from my desk at work. On the down side there are no rest stops between my office and my apartment. I try to remember to make a stop before I leave for home in the evening, though on nights when I have forgotten, it has sometimes been a race to the finish.

All in all this, more than exercise and a bland diet, is making me question my grasp on sanity. My friends, and especially the Monkey all visibly shudder when they think about the hour at which I choose to rise to worship at the altar of fitness. Honestly, I have become so boring over the past few years that I genuinely do not mind being in bed by 9 so I can be up by 4:30 in order to give myself enough time to regain consciousness so that I can be dressed, coffeed and out the door by 5:30 in order to be at the door of the gym when it opens. I think I am also at an age where if I waited till after work as I used to do when I was younger, I'd never actually go.

It's the water. The one gallon plus of water every day that I do not understand subjecting myself to. I seem to spend the better part of any given day drinking water and looking for the bathroom, trying to evade people who have questions at work so I can go to the bathroom and drinking more water and making more pit stops. Then drinking more water so that I can start all over again. It is like some bizarre religious rite. I am put in mind of all of the physical mortifications that I read about the saints putting themselves through in my long distant Catholic boyhood. Was there a saint who drank huge quantities of water so that they could be waylaid by long winded faculty members in the middle of an emergency run to the restroom? Where will it all end?

The bland diet I can put up with because it adds to the joy of cheating and actually eating an absolutely delicious meal that in no way can be construed as being good for you. I have also fallen into the perversity of anyone who comes to enjoy weight lifting in that there is something satisfying about having "good" muscle aches. But the water, I just don't understand why that isn't the breaking point, the proverbial straw. It's a nuisance to constantly be making sure I am meeting my quota for the day and even more bothersome to be relieving myself of this self imposed liquid burden and looking for places to seek relief.

I suppose that I will have to chalk it up to vanity, which is a pretty ridiculous reason for someone with a puss like mine. It's not gonna' stop me, but it's still a pretty silly reason.

Attack of the Lite Brites: Day 4

The non-news event that is still getting a lot of air time is the TBS Cartoon network marketing prank gone wrong. I am sure the mayor is more than happy to have attention diverted from the school superintendent fiasco, but is it better that he's making Boston the laughing stock of the country? What's even more puzzling is that the local media is playing into this. Everyone is acting as though we have narrowly escaped having the city leveled by nuclear devices rather than merely annoyed by yet another marketing ploy. I would like to know why the 4th estate is not asking, why, if in other cities around the country could spot this gag for what it was in very short order, that the police and the mayors office here in the hub could not.

Hizonner is constantly referring to Boston as a world class city. I happen to find this a little bit less than credible, considering that we roll up our sidewalks after dark. For craps sake, we close down our subway between 12:30 and 5:30 every morning. This whole police action, or over reaction whichever it is, only makes this city look more like some provincial town in the middle of nowhere, filled with gullible rubes.

The only people who seem to be capable of responding in an appropriate manner to the non-newsworthy nature of this horribly embarrassing incident by only discussing 1970's hair styles with the media are the 2 guys who were offered 300 bucks to put the "devices" out around the city. 300 bucks, by the way, which as far as I know, they have yet to receive. (It was pretty hilarious to listen to the self righteous horror of the media at their irreverence) It must be a really slow news time or Hizonner is threatening them with some fate worse than death if they don't play this up and play down his more important recent screw up.

All in all, it is a pretty humiliating experience for those of us here in Boston who actually have a couple of still functioning brain cells. Why the mayors office or at least the police can't admit this is just an enormously embarrassing screw up and move past it, I don't know. Maybe because it would be admitting some responsibility. Whatever the case, it's time to just move past this and see if we can't try and concentrate on things that really are important to the lives of the people of this city. If nothing else, I'd like Tommy and crew to stop trying to spin this into some sort of important decision making moment at a critical time of city wide emergency.

My cousin Dave has a saying.

"If I made a mistake that fucking stupid, I'd bury it so far out in the woods even God himself wouldn't be able to find it."

Maybe I should have Dave talk to our mayor.

This just in: I was talking with a friend out in California. He said that elsewhere in the country, Boston's reaction to the attack of the Lite Brights is causing great hilarity. Big surprise, huh?

Nuthin' much

I seem to be in a mid winter slump. I feel ratty and uninspired. I am in one of those funks where nothing seems to feel right and I am the wrong size for my skin. There are plenty of chores that need to be done and nothing that I want to do. I am tired of everything. I don't feel like doing chores or going to the gym. I want to be entertained but I don't feel like going to the movies or the museum or shopping or reading or blogging. I would just go back to bed, but even that doesn't have much appeal.

This is terrible. I am feeling about as reasonable as a bored 7 year old. I know this too will pass. In part it is this grey time of year that feels dreary even on sunny days. The doldrums will pass in a few days or hours or minutes. That's the thing, you never know what will flip the switch. Well, whether I want to or not I will head out to the gym, to pursue my futile and misguided attempts to see if with enough exercise I can whip myself into vaguely human shape. After that, I don't know. Maybe I should try a little retail therapy. Argh! I have too much crap already. See what I mean?

Overreacting!

The stupidity of this city and our idiot mayor leaves me speechless. I hope the humorless jackass and his moronic lawsuit are laughed out of court. Jeeeezus H. Christ. On toast.

Sad morning

It's a very sad day today. Columnist Molly Ivans has died. I always found her both funny and astute, and I loved the fact that it didn't matter which side of the aisle people were on, if a politician was being a dumbass they were going to hear about it from Molly. If for one am going to miss her columns and I would have loved to hear what she had to say about the '08 race. So stop for a moment to think about Molly and take a minute to make fun of George in her memory.

Early a.m.

Flaxseed oil is disgusting. That's all.

Yesterday Morning

I was getting ready to go about my lawful occasions yesterday morning, at my usual obscene hour, when I happened to look out my window and saw this sunrise. The first indication that we might actually get the snow they were predicting. The sunrise was much more spectacular than the actual snowfall.

Food

I finally decided that I have to do something about the steady diet of boneless, skinless chicken breast, brown rice, plain yogurt and whey protein that I have been living on for the past few weeks.

Tonights dinner, pork roast. I pulverized some fennel seed with some salt and some garlic cloves into a paste. Thank goodness for the mini cuisinart. I then poked holes in the roast and stuffed the fennel, garlic paste into the little holes. It is currently roasting away and will come out of the oven when we have achieved 160 degrees internal temperature. In the meantime I am going to start on the cabbage, which once cut into a chiffonade will be cooked with some onions and cider vinegar until it is tender. I will finish it off with some sliced apples and apple cider. While it is not on my diet I will serve this up with egg noodles. It may not seem like much, but this is really living it up. I sort of wish I could still drink. A nice bottle of Orvieto would probably go really well with this, or maybe a rhine wine like gerwerztraminer. Oh well, I will have to be satisfied with the possible.

Things I Learned Today

I have found out that the sausage, egg and cheese bagel at Finagle A Bagel, sounds better than it tastes. That if you have even a small cup of coffee with said breakfast that the 2 quarts of water you drank while you were working out are going to start searching for the nearest exit. I also learned that if you have your hand on the door of the only bathroom in the fast food joint, and some desperate looking young woman rushes up begging to go ahead of you because it's "sort of an emergency" that you had better be prepared to wait 15 minutes, and ultimately give up and head back down the street to your gym to use their facility, because Miss Emergency will be in that toilet for the rest of the day, shooting up, giving birth or doing petite point sofa pillows in the john. I think I have learned enough for the day and I am ready to spend the rest of the day at home in ignorance.

Self starter

I was suppose to go into the gym last night after work, but I got a call from the receptionist that my trainer had to go home due to illness. I am hoping I did not give him my cold, but I am kind of doubting it, since our symptoms sound quite different. I am hoping case of yuck I seem to be finally fighting off will cancel out his stomach flu.

I really don't like going into the gym in the evening (too crowded) so I have put off my workout til this morning. The ball is in my court now, and so I have to start putting into practice some of the crap that I have in theory been learning. So to that end I have had my flax seed oil and my protein shake and am just killing some time until I can leave for the gym. Saturday they don't open till 8, which I'll admit is nice for the people working the desk, but is a pain in the ass for early riser me. By then I have been up for at least 3 hours and my ambition to go and swing weights around is already starting to flag. I think in order to have a successful workout, I need to be half asleep when I leave the house, so that I don't realize what I am about to do to myself until I am actually at the gym and it's too late.

The good news is that I get to treat myself to a bagel or something similar afterwards since my body will need some yummy carbohydrates and sugar after. This at least will make a nice dent in the healthy, low fat, low carb, high protein force feedings I am putting myself through. If anyone ever told me I'd have trouble gaining weight, I would have laughed my ass off. Who knew?

Reading

As I mentioned I started to read "Our Mutual Friend". As habit would have it, I have now picked up "A Portrait of a Lady" as well and I am reading them in tandem. I should also mention that I finished "The March of Folly" which was a timely read. You would think that the section on the Viet Nam conflict was the most relevant considering the current state of affairs in Iraq. However I am forced to say that GWB can not claim any special place to obstinate blockheadedness as an American leader. In some ways the section on the British loosing the American Colonies is more relevant. George the 3rd, like George the Turd, surrounded himself only with those who agreed with his every misguided thought and dismissed or banished or persecuted any who would try and defy his god given right to rule foolishly.

I also read in the course of 2 days, Alexander Chee's , "Edinburgh". If you have not read it, I can only suggest that you do so. The subject matter is disturbing, and the prose are exquisite. The combination makes for a compelling read that is engrossing. I swear that the style of Mr. Chee's writing keeps you floating an inch off your seat as you read it. I don't want you to think that I am saying that this book is merely beautiful prose, Edinburgh asks more of the reader. It asks the reader to think, and I am still thinking about this book.

So, having a cold is not all bad, but I am tired of being sick and really want to get back in the gym and have muscle aches that ache in a good way.

Blah, blah

I'm still in bed. I wish I could report that I am now on deaths door, however I am still only suffering from a head cold. I am not sure if I should have even stayed home from work, other than not wanting to give my cold to all of my co-workers. I actually do feel pretty fagged out (if you'll excuse the expression) and I sound like I have been gargling with ground glass. On the whole it is just irritating.

So I am in bed with my laptop and a copy of "Our Mutual Friend". I had meant to pick up "Portrait of a Lady" as I mentioned, so I went over to the bookshelf and grabbed the fat book. I just grabbed the wrong fat book. It must have been kismet. It is perfect for my mood. I had forgotten what a dark book it actually is. There is of course Dickens' humor, but that is set against an umber background. There are so many wonderful characters and in some ways I feel as though it is less sentimental than "Bleak House". The flawed characters are more humanly flawed and the noble characters, more humanly noble, and for me Lizzie Hexam is his most appealing heroine, she is more three dimensional and far less idealized. The novel still has the high gloss of Victorian morality, but with some of the shine worn off. At any rate, I think a dark book, filled with greed, jealousy, murder, betrayal, deception and star crossed love, set in a murky background better suits my mood.

With any luck I will be back in my own grey January world of the 21st century tomorrow, dealing with far less universal problems. Such as who double booked the conference room? A bit more like a Barbara Pym novel. I guess high drama is where you find it.