Author: grigiogirl

Last night That’s Not Chinese, Tree, and I planned to hold a private Citizen Cope concert at my house. Tree ended up having to work late, so That’s Not Chinese and I got the privilege of spending several hours on the stoop. We had only been on the stoop about 30 minutes when Naked Neighbor made his appearance. That’s Not Chinese was entertained by this – I’m used to it, standard practice. A few minutes later, two police cars pulled up. “Oh, oh, here we go, here we go,” exclaimed That’s Not Chinese. She had thought Naked Neighbor might be in trouble, not the case. The officers went to a house down the street. I grabbed my camera, hit the zoom, and took a picture of Naked Neighbor for That’s Not Chinese – souvenir.

As often happens when police show up (or when my friends show up), the neighbors were gathering together, gawking and gossiping. Naked Neighbor even joined in the festivities. Fortunately he was standing behind a garbage can, so his bits were unseen. Not Naked Neighbor, who I had not met prior, made his way toward my stoop and advised us there had been an attempted burglary across the street. I told That’s Not Chinese that was exactly why I didn’t live on the West side…of the street. We invited Not Naked Neighbor to join us on the stoop for wine and food.

We had just finished a lovely meal of Hebrew Nationals and broccoli when Alice drove by – ten minutes later, she was with us on the stoop. Shortly after that, Tree and So Shy arrived. Unfortunately, we never had the private Citizen Cope concert. We did, however, get to observe some rather entertaining activity in the park, when we were walking Alice home. On the West side of the park, there was a group of guys having a rave of sorts, doing the butterfly and other fancy moves with their glow sticks. Just East of them was a 60+ year old man and a young woman (maybe in her 30s) who were getting ready to get busy on their blanket. We gave them our well wishes.

This morning, I was cleaning up the remains of the evening and my Next Door neighbor was out on his stoop. I filled him in on last night’s activities and, as we were talking, another neighbor walked by, got in his car and drove away. “There’s the peer,” said Next Door. “He likes to pee as soon as he gets out of his car – day or night.  Does not care, just pulls it out and pees.” Yet another amazing stoop observation.

Tonight, I had the privilege of spending the evening on my friend’s stoop. One of the stoopsters was donning a sporty hat and smoking a cigar when he declared, “Tonight, I’m going to get soused. It’s a ’50s term.” A little later, when he was soused, one of the other stoopsters gave him some sound advice, “Hey, put your peanut back in your shorts.” Apparently, the manner in which he was sitting – which was pleasing to him – was not pleasing to others. Too bad he doesn’t live in my neighborhood – I have a feeling he and Naked Neighbor would get along very, very well.

Summer solstice occurred this week and with it, Venn’s birthday. As has been the case lately, we were going to go to a concert (to celebrate) and ended up not. Instead, Sleepless and I were hungry – nearly starving to death, I’m positive we each only had a few hours of life left in us had we not eaten – so we requested a food celebration. Venn asked for restaurant ideas and we provided them. He wasn’t keen on any of our suggestions and, since it was his birthday, we opted for the Mexican restaurant he wanted to go to on the west side of town.

Sleepless and I arrived to find Venn patiently waiting for us on the patio. OregganO soon joined us to find her drink and meal ordered and waiting for her – the girl knows how to get what she wants. Party Favor, our waiter with the light eyes, long eyelashes and a curly mop of brown locks on top his head, was wearing a pin disclosing where he shops. We asked him what he purchases there and he informed us crack and whores. Nothing says summer like a whore with a side of crack or vice versa.

It soon became clear that all of our eyes were bigger than our stomachs so we asked for to go boxes. Party Favor, to be clear, asked, “So you want a box.” “Yes, I like box,” I replied. And then we all had a good laugh. Being the only man at the table, and having the most leftover food, Venn took on the responsibility of filling our boxes with his sloppy seconds.

Party Favor returned and started telling us he really doesn’t shop for crack and whores – he’s a professional, not a hofessional – rather, he just rents movies from the local video store. “Every night after work I rent ‘The Wire,’ go home and watch it, return it the next day and rent another, it is all I do.” Sleepless suggested he not share that story with any other patrons or anyone else for that matter. We then all grabbed our boxes and headed home.

Last night I got the pleasure of hanging out with The Leaver, QuQueen and Trinity. We were supposed to go to a concert (CocoRosie), however it was sold out so we decided to play Boggle instead. The Leaver was spewing fabulous commentary, as usual. We had questioned her on her spelling of ‘rufy’, which was correct, and she replied, “I’ve been drugged, it’s a word!” Later, we started another game and decided the letter options were horrible so QuQueen reshook. This action upset The Leaver, “Why did you do that? I had three words: wine, when, whey. I was on a roll here.” Her comments made me think back to some of the comments I cherish from my interactions with friends in Europe.

The first night in Amsterdam Quality Not Quantity invited us to dinner at his place one evening and it was amazing. As we were talking about the many meals he makes he told me, with great conviction, “I will make you something you will love the hell of.” I’m looking forward to this meal.

Later, we were at Cafe Soundgarden drinking and playing pool and I had somehow managed to win both games of pool. Rusty Rogue Rafael, who had previously told me, “You call me Rafael and I’ll call you Cordelia,” was proper impressed with my two for two status and stated, “You’re winning 100% of the time in Amsterdam. You should stay.”

Canal Jumper, who occasionally jumps in canals to complete a good night of drinking, had some of the best comments. He was checking his email and I asked if he got a lot of junk mail. “Yes. Usually from women wanting to marry me.” Later, we were talking about mishaps in life and he eloquently stated, “Life is like sex. When it’s good, it feels great. Doesn’t it? And when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.” One night, as we were getting ready to go out for the evening, he grabbed his cologne, shook his head, and said, “I’ve got to get a job. I’m almost out of cologne.”

And then there is Maverick Midget King. He had so many great comments I wrote a whole entry about them: http://grigiogirl.com/2010/06/100-perfect/.

As most of you know, I’ve got a little bit of a library thing going on. Yesterday, as soon as I got home from France, I decided to go to the library. I grabbed my library card from my bag and headed to the car. Once I got in the car, I couldn’t find the card. I looked for it for a good 45 minutes before finally giving up. For some, it might seem strange that I could lose the card that easily, but I have a tendency to get sidetracked and do things like clean, pull weeds, read, etc, before finally making my way back to my original plan.

Upon arriving at the library I told them of my dilemma. No big deal for them, they quickly issued me a new card. Kind of a big deal for me, like a new boyfriend, now I’ve got a new number to memorize. Like an old boyfriend, my old card was waiting for me in the flowerbed (right where I had pulled weeds) – somehow they always know when they’ve been ‘replaced.’

Skiwi is also a library lover and, on his own accord, has taken on the daunting task of backing up some of the library’s materials – just in case. Today he invited me to stop by his patio bistro for wine and hors d’oeuvres (in honor of my recent travels). I arrived to the sounds of French music playing and the bistro set for three (Disco Dancing Dog Groomer would soon be joining us). Skiwi had stopped by the library and retrieved various CDs with music from around the world – special for the bistro tonight. We had a lovely international meal of sorts. He had Czech beer, we shared American wine, had potstickers for hors d’oeuvres, and Pims cookies, Bounty bars and mango for dessert.

Disco Dancing Dog Groomer had to sneak away to finish a project for work, at which point Skiwi began trying to sell Mary Kaye products to me. It looks like I will have satin lips and hands sooner than I had thought. After selling Mary Kaye to me, we shared stories about our latest adventures and day-to-day tasks at work. Skiwi practiced his marketing pitch on me and I told him about the otter pop incident in my office that resulted in me being a hot and sticky mess – I should have heeded ROFL’s sound otter pop consumption advice. Oh well. C’est si bon!

I met both goals in Amsterdam and made my way to Paris without incident. I have, however, been charged with opening a kabab shop to make money should I move to Europe. Call Me Rafael and I took the bus, leaving Amsterdam around 10 PM and arriving in Paris just before 6 AM. Call Me Rafael’s friend would not be “retrieving” us until much later in the evening, so we put our luggage in a locker and enjoyed as much as Paris as two can after little to no sleep, pain au chocolat, a couple bottles of wine at the bistro cafe, and McDonald’s (oui, MickeyD at Pyrenees) to soak up the day’s adventures.

We were retrieved around midnight by two French men (one of whom, Maverick Midget King, worked with Call Me Rafael in Italy several years ago) and they took us to our secret hideaway in Angicourt (http://www.angicourt.fr), just North of Paris. Maverick Midget King speaks very little English and most of what he speaks he learned from Call Me Rafael. Upon arriving, he asked me, “Are you hungry?” “No, merci,” I replied. “You?” “No,” said Call Me Rafael. “Good. I don’t have anything for you. We shop tomorrow.”

We shopped ‘tomorrow’ and bought food for a barbecue with some of Maverick Midget King’s roommates (Patrick and ProRider) and friends. In addition to a delicious apple tart for dessert, we decided to build a fire in the barbecue and toast marshmallows, “American style.” Maverick Midget King and Rusty Rogue Rafael (his name was changed during a ‘cowboy’ adventure) were standing around the barbecue/fire pit when Maverick Midget King quipped, “Campfire is very nice. We are like homeless and will drink wine and fight over trolley.” It should be noted, because it is funny, that on one occasion we were meeting up with one of Maverik Midget King’s friends and, prior to meeting him, we were ‘forewarned,’ “His face is funny, it will make you laugh – but don’t laugh out loud, because that is rude. Sireus (serious).”

Rusty Rogue Rafael and I spent a lot of time teaching English (slang, of course) to Maverick Midget King while he taught French (proper) to us. When one of us would do well, even when that ‘one’ was Maverick Midget King himself, he would offer congratulations, “Ah, 100% perfect!” If I work on my language skills, Canal Jumper, Rusty Rogue Rafael and Maverick Midget King think I could easily handle working at a kebab shop. Maverick Midget King even has a sign I can use (he commandeered it from a shop in another town and we tied it to the front gate….no bites yet).

The day before Rusty Rogue Rafael (aka, Cheesycake….another pet name awarded by Maverick Midget King) headed home, we ventured into Paris again. This time, with Maverik Midget King. We drove to the train station in his girlfriend/car, Clio. Maverick Midget King advised me to “Lay low. No, really, lay low.” He had no back seat, so I had to lay low in the trunk. Clio only preferred two at a time and three is “strictly forbidden.” Maverick Midget King took us to one of his favorite secondhand shops, Hippy Market, and informed us we could find “2nd, 3rd, 4th hand-down, maybe even dead person.” We didn’t find a dead person, but we did find some overalls, “American style” for Maverick Midget King. Rusty Rogue Rafael expressed concerns about him buying and, subsequently, wearing overalls. “Oh, Cheesycake, you’re crazy, they’re 100% perfect.”

I spent the last day/night in Paris, solo, because Rusty Rogue Rafael had returned home and Maverik Midget King had to work, “I’m very busy, like Obama.” Although my hotel was near the airport, I decided to take the train into Paris and spend the day there – I loved it. I walked everywhere and took pictures of everything. I even took a few of me. As I was finishing my photo shoot in front of the Eiffel Tower, I noticed Tinkle Tower. This man sells Eiffel Towers that are of bling quality, however, he also pees in the shrubs, I got a picture mid photo shoot. So, if you buy a bling Tower in Paris, be warned: Tinkle Tower. Just before heading back to the hotel, I opted for a Parisian hot dog. If you are ever in Paris and want to attract men, grab a hot dog and eat it while sitting on a bus bench along Avenue des Champs-Elysees. Sure bet you will be approached. Not a sure bet you will be pleased by those who do the approaching.

The train back to the hotel was packed. There was a man in the corner of one of the main cars with a ‘blower’ in his mouth and an extra one in his rucksack. In his free hand, a large can of beer. There was no room to move on the train, so people were literally packed like sardines; except for Blower. Nobody wanted to be close to him. He kept blowing the device (like a loud horn) and then asking the crowd (while holding up the ‘new and/or gently used blower’), “Interested? Monsieur? No? Go fuck yourself.” This was typically followed by a deep laugh and a loud, stinky belch. Many of the people were irritated, many were entertained, and many appeared oblivious to his marketing. For me, it was a perfect ending to an incredible journey from Amsterdam to Paris. A journey, that was 100% perfect!

On Thursday I made my way to Holland to meet up with friends. As I had predicted, I almost didn’t make it here with luggage, shoes and all. I had to work a wee bit before jetting off and had been switching back and forth between flip flops and Mary Janes. As a result, I kept inadvertently leaving my Mary Janes in other people’s cars and offices.

 

The weather was bad so my flight was delayed, resulting in a very short connecting time. After rushing to the plane, I got to listen to a conversation between the man and woman (headed home to Amsterdam) seated in front of me. The man asked the woman, “Did you just change?” “Of course I did. I like to fly in silk.” Hup Holland! I could tell already I was going to love the people in Amsterdam.

 

Canal Jumper and Call Me Rafael met me at the airport and I told them I had two goals: have fun and avoid arrest. “Hmmm,” said Call Me Rafael, “I don’t know if we can get them both.”

 

Being that I’m in Amsterdam, a lot of people thought I might smoke weed, because it is legal. I find this interesting; that people would think I do things based on whether or not they are legal. Canal Jumper, Call Me Rafael and I started discussing the cost of living and Canal Jumper informed me, “The going rate of pay here is drugs and alcohol.” I guess that is how they are able to afford to fly in silk.

Tomorrow I leave for Amsterdam and Paris. This was a bit of an impromptu trip, which is A-OK with me. I had every intention to spend tonight preparing for the trip, however, as is usually the case with me, I did nothing to prepare. Instead, I fell prey to OregganO’s simple and sexy text to stop by and see her new blinds. The girl is a tease. She knows I am a complete sucker for interior design. Oh, and she offered up some ‘coffee’ to boot.

We decided to walk to the store near her home so I could purchase some travel accessories – universal adapters and the like. I always enjoy a walk in OregganO’s hood. She is proper city living so the observations are both odd and endless.

I was telling OregganO about my luggage angst. I do not pack light, ever. My goal is to pack light this trip. Not one to disappoint easily, I won’t mind if I don’t reach this goal. OregganO offered me a lovely and packable shirt. I left her home to head to mine so I could pack and clean. In doing so, I left the shirt. So me. I did, however, remember the electrical tape. You see, the bleed line on my swamp cooler has a few holes and OregganO thought the electrical tape may be the elixir. I thanked her for sharing and told her I would wrap it around my hose in the morning.

MiniMe was anxiously awaiting my arrival. I told her I had some otter pops for her to take home. While trying to retrieve the otters from my car I realized the keys I had did not belong to me. I was perplexed. After ruling out several possibilities, none of which ended in a saucy hunk showing up at my pad to retrieve them, I figured out they probably belonged to OregganO. So, MiniMe gave me a ride to OregganO’s and we dropped them off to her. Did I retrieve the shirt? No.

MiniMe then dropped me off and headed to her house. About fifteen minutes later she returned with my bag full of travel accessories that OregganO and I braved the rain to retrieve. Apparently, I gave her the bag of accessories instead of the otter pops. If I make it to Europe in one piece, and with my luggage, it will be a complete miracle.

That said, I may be on a bit of hiatus. I think there will be internet in the places I will be staying, but I truly have no idea where I’m staying. I do know I’m staying with ‘friends.’ Doesn’t matter much to me. I’m easy like Sunday morning.

For several weeks Sleepless has invited me to experience “Love with Joe,” with her. Italian classes with Alice, which I dearly miss –  mi manchi Alice – initially prevented me from being able to join in the festivities. More recently, work was the preventive factor.

Last Tuesday, I promised Sleepless I would go to work early so I could meet up with her and Joe at six. When I arrived, Sleepless was ready to go. I hurried back to change into something more appropriate. By the time I had changed, Sleepless, Joe and another woman were already going at it. Initially, Joe wanted to put me in the middle, but quickly changed his mind and had me on the side of the other woman.

It became clear that doing an ergo with Risk John at work was simply nowhere near what I needed. As Joe so eloquently put it, “You need to be realigned – your core is all messed up.” I asked Joe if he thought I should go to a chiropractor. “You don’t need a chiropractor. You’ve got Joropractor, Joga, Joaerobic, Jo-It-All.”

As we were leaving, I told Sleepless she needed to change the name of this class to Asskicking with Joe. He literally kicked my ass and reminded me of something my mother told me years ago, “I took you out of dance for your own good, you have no coordination.” Joordinator believes this is fixable with some simple core exercises. I hope so. I’m looking forward to the day when I really think of this as Love with Joe – “message” free. I can make my own happy ending. With a few proper squats I’ll have a rear-end that will make me and many others very happy to see.

About six weeks ago a female Carpodacus Mexicanus (House Finch) decided to make the star shaped tealight holder on my porch her home. She made a lovely nest and immediately laid five eggs. This is one smart mama bird. She didn’t do like all of the other finches and make a nest in a vent or on a ledge – she is way too classy. She went all out with the star shaped, all glass, penthouse.

Once I discovered this little treasure I started working on my birdumentary – a video and photo collection showing the little birdies progress. It is just a matter of time before I get a call from BBC Planet Earth for the footage.

I’ve been enamored by this activity on my porch. In fact, birdwatching has caused me to be late to more than one function. I just can’t stop filming them. MiniMe thinks I’ve taken more footage of the birds than I did of her. She may be on to something.

The babies were born some time around the last week of May and they were so cute! I decided to give them proper names: Winger, Beak, Bill, Chirpa, Webster and Pepe. Later I found out there were only five, so I decided to drop Webster from the list.

As the weeks have passed the birds have gotten very noisy and I had concerns about having to evict them – they are rather gregarious! I noticed another little bird hanging around the penthouse and my initial thought was, “What a tramp. She just had these birds, is rarely home, and now she’s got a new beau?!?” Turns out, he’s the babies daddy and he loves bringing them food – the red chest and his frequent regurgitating gave it away.

Last Saturday, BeCuz stopped by and we started watching the birds. We noticed one of them, Beak I think, got stuck, ass backwards, in one of the star’s pointers. BeCuz and I spent a lot of time (approximately 51 seconds according to the footage) saving Beak from this near death experience. Within seconds he was back in the pointer. Thus, he got renamed: DAB, Dumb Ass Bird.

I came home today and it appears DAB and Pepe are the last two to leave the nest. DAB was in the pointer, as usual. Winger, Bill and Chirpa have long gone. I’m not sure where they are headed and I can pretty much guarantee they will not be getting the deposit back – they left the nest a complete mess, shit everywhere.

Today is the three year anniversary for buying my house and second year anniversary for living in it. Tonight, as I sit on my stoop with the rain, thunder and lightning surrounding me, I can honestly say I’ve had a good couple of years here. Luckily, I’ve got a great ‘holiday’ to always remind me of this date: Gay Pride weekend.

The Leaver, QuQueen and I had plans to start early with breakfast  and then go to the parade – always a good time. Unfortunately, none of us woke up in time for the parade, or breakfast for that matter. Instead, we decided to have hermosas at their place. Yes, hermosa is the term The Leaver uses instead of mimosa. “The thing is,” she said, “I make up words because the English language is boring.” QuQueen opted for vodka and orange juice instead of champagne, so we dubbed her drink a hermoso.

Prior to heading to the festival, we played a few games of Boggle. This is quite a treat when playing with The Leaver – remember, she makes up words. When questioned on her creations she quips, “Yes, as in……oh, you know what, you guys are killing me.” A little later, when getting ready to head to the festival, QuQueen and The Leaver were discussing a few challenging moments (to include the Boggle game) in The Leaver’s day thus far. “I can’t win,” The Leaver told QuQueen. “Thats because you’re playing the wrong game,” chimed QuQueen.