Category: blog

Wanting to be the perfect host in 2011, I decided to hold the first brunch of the New Year. Unfortunately, I failed to provide a date, just a time. Although I had chatted about brunch details, i.e,. the time and the fact that I needed my guests to bring all of the champagne, one very important detail had not been shared with everyone.

So, as CounterCat and I were sleeping in for the New Year, Skiwi, DDDG and Alice were getting all dolled up for the first brunch of the year. Just after ten AM, I heard what sounded like a knock-knock-knockin’ at the door. Not sure that I was really hearing this, I continued to lay in bed, until the doorbell rang. Although Alice, Skiwi and DDDG did RSVP, I did not share specific brunch details with them, so they assumed, and rightly so, that brunch was the first day of the New Year. 

Apparently,like Alice, Skiwi and DDDG had also stopped by. It was about 16 degrees outside and they had opted to walk with a backpack full of hashbrowns and champagne.  When I didn’t answer the door or my phone, they continued walking until they arrived at the local coffee shop.  It wasn’t until they had spoken with OregganO, and she sent me a text telling me about this missed opportunity, that I realized I never included the date on the invitation. I immediately phoned Skiwi, and he and DDDG were back at my house within minutes – champagne, hasbrowns and blueberry pancake mix (a new addition) in tow.

Sadly, Alice couldn’t stay, but OregganO was able to join us in the dress rehearsal brunch. Skiwi planned to cook the breakfast for us and, to be safe and fire ready, wore his volunteer Christ Church Fire Department t-shirt. With our flutes full of mimosa goodness, we were all watching Skiwi cook when all of a sudden DDDG screamed a wee bit, “Oh my….not sure what happened here.” We all looked her way to find her mimosa all over the right side of her shirt. Within a nanosecond (or less), Skiwi had a towel and was wiping her off. OregganO, CounterCat and I all told Skiwi that we were going to spill on our shirts too – just for the clean up. Skiwi giggled, tried to hide his face a bit and said, “Now I’m getting blushy.” Looks like he might need someone to put his fire out.

With breakfast on the table, we started talking about each of our New Year’s eve festivities. “I think I did very well,” Skiwi informed us, “I decided I would only have one drink an hour, starting at eight……..AM.” He’s crazy and, at the same time, brilliant.

The dress rehearsal went well – giving me hope for the next day’s activities. CounterCat and I opted to spend the rest of the day doing absolutely nothing, other than watching documentaries. “It’s hard to believe all of this crazability,” I told her. “Oh, and, by the way, I just made that word up.” CounterCat was pleased with my creativity.  Several informational hours later we decided to go to the store, stop at OregganO’s and visit Dr. BJ.  As we were walking out the door, I gave her the rundown of the plan, “We’ll go to OregganO’s, the store and then Dr. BJ’s.” She appeared to be processing this information and then said, “Should we stop at Dr. BJ’s?” “Brilliant idea,” I told her, “like Braille.”

At Dr. BJ’s, we started watching one of his favorite cable channels, the Oprah Winfrey Network. After a few moments of watching, he began flipping channels. “Oh, yeah! An I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant marathon,” Dr. BJ exclaimed. ” I love this show!” “Really? They have a show called I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant?” I asked, “Wow, I had no idea. About the show, not my pregnancy.” CounterCat piped in, “I totally know someone who didn’t know she was pregnant. No lie – it was crazy. In fact, there is a show about those kinds of things called I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant. Have you guys heard of it?” She could tell by the look on my face, OregganO nearly spitting out her wine, and the fact that Dr. BJ had dropped to the floor with laughter, that something was funny. “What?” she asked and then answered her own question. “Did I do it again? I did, didn’t I? Seriously, I’ve never done anything like this until this trip.” Ah, such crazability!

I do love the Gregorian calendar. Without it, most of us wouldn’t have the opportunity to make out with perfect strangers just minutes before the closing time bar lights are turned on and, in the majority of these situations, we welcome the phrase ‘four eyes’ because it implies we are/were wearing beer goggles.

This year, I had the good fortune of knowing the person I kissed and they got the privilege of kissing just me and not both me and Carl, but enough about Carl and more about the evening.

We started it with a lovely dinner and, as we were enjoying our digestifs – which were the same beverages we enjoyed as our apéritifs – I gave a ring ding-a-ding to my personal driver, Muhammad Ali for a pick-up. In typical personal driver fashion, he arrived early and took us safely to our first off-site celebration facility, an Irish pub.

Waiting patiently for us at the pub was Add-ly, Johnny Utah and Bitchin’ Camaro. Add-ly was wearing a lovely bedazzled shirt that appeared to be sharing a message of sorts, which started on the Northern part of the shirt and traveled South. “It think it is in Braille,” giggled Sleepless. A few seconds later, CounterCat commented, “Maybe it’s Braille.” And so would be the night, and the next few days with CounterCat. If she were to have heard me actually say that, she might comment, “And so will be  the next few days.”

We were snapping loads of photos and Bitchin’ Camaro made a suggestion type instruction, “Get a picture of my ass.” Apparently, she had been through several outfit changes and then decided the jeans she was wearing were a gift to her ass and others.

After Bitchin’ Camaro’s photo shoot, we headed to the martini bar, where we planned to spend the rest of the evening. Drunk camera was working overtime, taking and making all kinds of photographic evidence of the evening. Unfortunately, none of these pictures provided leads in the case of CounterCat’s missing lipgloss.

At one point in the evening, Add-ly, Bitchin’ Camaro, and I decided to take ownership of the dance floor. The music was lending itself to signature dance moves, so I was showing off my ‘Hobot.’ Add-ly chose ‘The Snake’ and Bitchin’ Camaro was having a hard time deciding. I suggested a new move,’Paparazzi,’ however she decided to do a classic, ‘The Farmer.’ Johnny Utah, Sleepless and D-Dog soon joined us and, like Bitchin’ Camaro, were also having a hard time coming up with a signature dance move, so we decided to do ‘The Huddle.’ This move is a lot like that which we see behind the line of Scrimmage and, when we wanted to take the move up a notch, we did ‘The Super Huddle.’

As midnight approached and the new year was just around the corner, we took several shots – some were taken with the camera and others were taken by us – all of them were in sync with the ring ding-a-ding of the New Year clock. Within no time, the ‘witching hour’ was upon us and some of the group went their own way while the rest of us enjoyed some of the finer things in life, trash plates, greasy burgers, and the sight of holiday drunks passed out at nearby tables. Prior to making her departure, CounterCat made her way to the loo. Worried about the amount of time she was spending in there, I went to retrieve her. Just then, I saw her walking toward me with several sheets of toilet paper attached to her boot and trailing behind her. “I just puked,” she informed me. “That’s nice,” I said, “But let’s get this toilet paper off of your boot. You are not taking that into 2011.” A few ring ding-a-dings later and we were all home, safely in our beds. Ready to start a new year. Is a new year, however, ready for us?

CounterCat decided to leave her warm and sunny state to ring in the new year in a cold, wet and snowy environment. Immediately after picking her up from the airport we stopped at Dr. BJ’s house to find Passed The Sniff Test and Not Skirt Chaser. Within seconds of being there they informed me I had referred to Not Skirt Chaser as Skirt Chaser when relaying a story about Wiener Whistle. Not Skirt Chaser had concerns about the mix-up and wanted to be sure that I made the correction and didn’t call him Skirt Chaser or, “anything with a wiener in it.” Kind of a funny request when you’re hanging around a bunch of gay men, but I obliged.

FatGirl, who was waiting for us at a gay bar down the street, would never make such a request, “Oh my God, I love wiener!” Once we met up with him, CounterCat was talking about her day and how the traffic had really messed with her mood. “Oh my God! I know, I hate traffic,” FatGirl consoled her. “I mean, I’m the one who usually causes traffic, but I still hate it.”

After enjoying a beverage at this bar, we headed next door to see Tree and do karaoke. Typically the bar is pretty empty and when I had spoken with Tree earlier he informed me, “It’s slow, but I’ve booked you as the entertainment, so hurry up and get here.” Although it was still slow, a group of about ten or more people were enjoying the exclusive rights to the microphone and so we were enjoying some of their songs. “Let’s do a song!” FatGirl excitedly exclaimed. CounterCat preferred to watch, so FatGirl and I headed to the song book to select. As we were thumbing through the book I was finding he didn’t know most of them. “What songs do you know?” I asked. “Anything by Jennifer Lopez, Chritstina Aguilera, Britney Spears – I’m a gay man.” Within seconds of searching FatGirl was overwhelmed, “This is too much! I’ll sing anything. Just find a song and I’ll do it.”

We were waiting our turn when one of the men from the group was singing and  doing an incredible job entertaining everyone. CounterCat was loving his performance and every time I turned to see what she was giggling about she would say, “Ah, you just missed it.” And missed it I did. Apparently, as he was finishing the song he fell off the barstool. His friends were having a laugh, as were the other five or six patrons, when one of his friends posed a question, “Where is your tooth? Your tooth is missing!” Shocked, the man looked in the mirror and discovered his tooth was no longer where it used to be. Pretty soon the lights were on and we were all looking for his tooth. He was too drunk to care or feel any pain and decided not to worry about it anymore when one of his friends felt compelled to check out his mouth. “We found it,” he shouted out. “It’s in his gums.” Turns out he hit his tooth on the stage which shoved it up into his gums and he couldn’t have cared less.

It was about this time that FatGirl and I were beckoned to the mic to sing Wannabe by The Spice Girls. “I don’t know them,” FatGirl informed me and, based on his performance, he wasn’t kidding. During a ‘musical break’ I told him, “I’m surprised you really don’t know this song.” “I don’t. And I have no idea what a ‘zig a zag ah’ is,” he said, referring to some of the lyrics. “Well, just throw down some of your best moves, zig a zag ah, and nobody will notice. But please be careful. I’d like to exit the stage with all of our teeth intact.”

MissInformation has the misfortune, like so many others made in March, of celebrating her birthday within days of Christmas. She was discussing this misfortune with me and reviewing some of the combination gifts (half birthday, half Christmas) she has received, when she was reminded of the gifts I had wanted to give this year. “Did you give the gift of the library to any of your friends?” she asked. Sadly, I had to inform her I did not.

A few weeks before Christmas I had a brilliant plan for green giving. My thought was to check out books (no CDs or DVDs – their late fees and replacement costs are too high) from the library and give them to people with, instead of a gift receipt, a due date receipt. This way, all of my friends could enjoy the temporary high I experience each time I check out a book and return it within three weeks. Unfortunately, I ran out of time and, like so many others during the holidays, every time I ‘shopped’ I just ended up finding things for me.

This gift giving discussion reminded me of another ‘green’ gift idea that I joked about last year. We all have ‘friends’ who have everything and shopping for them can be very difficult. So, why not give them the gift that just keeps on giving and can totally be regifted? Yes, why not give your friends chlamydia? I know what you’re thinking, “I gave my friends chlamydia last year,” or “Chlamydia is like Xbox, most of my friends already have it.” Contrary to popular belief, not everyone has it. If, however, they do have it, no need to fret, there are other infectious diseases out there that they may not have. For example, syphilis.

If you’re feeling extra generous, or if it is for someone sharing a birthday and a major holiday, you could give them an infectious disease and a book from the library. I’m not sure what read goes well with chlamydia, but I’m sure you can find something nice. For other bad recycling ideas, might I recommend GreenGo Girl.

The latest piece of goodness I have retrieved from my parents’ home is a 1980s circa one-piece snowsuit. A true thing of beauty – royal blue nylon with red and yellow racing stripes on the chest and a stainless clasp belt for the waist. This snowsuit is a major blast from the past; also a blast from the past was the blown-out ass seam. Being that the blowout was on the backside, I couldn’t see it, so it mattered not. I decided to pair the snowsuit with royal blue Scott goggles, also 1980s circa, and make my way to OregganO’s to check out her Edith Ann style folding camping chair.

As I was getting ready to leave, I dropped the goggles and bent over to retrieve them. “Wow,” I said – with restricted breath, “Until now, I never realized how much we need our crouches to breathe – the bottom half of this snowsuit is so tight it feels like my respiratory functions are being cut off at my crouch.”

I then hopped, actually cleverly maneuvered, myself into the car and started making my way to OregganO’s. I quickly found out I was enjoying the music and the warmth of the snowsuit all too much when Dirk and I flew right by a covert police car. Within seconds my music and snowsuit were complimented by lights and siren. MiniMe, who was driving behind me, found this to be rather amusing and pulled off the road ahead of me to laugh it up.

Somehow, probably the sex appeal of the one-piece snowsuit coupled with the goggles propped loosely atop my head, I managed to receive a warning only. “Just going to give you a warning,” the Officer told me, “we’re looking for DUIs tonight and you don’t look like a DUI.”  This news both pleased and confused me. I was pleased because I definitely did not want a ticket and knew, from prior bending experience, that my field sobriety test taking skills would be greatly compromised by the snowsuit. I was completely confused, however, because even though profiling is not ethical, I can’t imagine I looked ‘average’. In fact, when I finally arrived at OregganO’s house she opened the door and said, “Oh, my, you’re special.”

A few minutes into our visit, I had unzipped the top half of my snowsuit and let it hang around my waist, “ski lodge style.” I was enjoying the beauty of OregganO’s new chair when I again saw lights, sans siren. “Don’t worry about that,” OregganO assured me, “It’s just the person who is house sitting across the way – she and her boyfriend go there for sexy time.” I knew exactly what OregganO meant by sexy time, because sexy had just gotten me out of a ticket. I imagined the house sitters in moon boots, snowsuits, beanies and mittens – super sexy.

The next day, OregganO and I decided to go to the gym to get a head start on everybody’s New Year’s resolution: exercise. While on the treadmills we heard grunting sounds coming from the free weights. “You hear that?” OregganO asked. “Yep,” I replied, “Sexy time?” “Most likely,” she answered. “They best be careful,” I added. “If they’re not, love (aka Rhoid) will rear it’s ugly head and they’ll soon be on a double date.”

With so much goodness occurring in the company of MiniMe, That’s Not Chinese, Dr. BJ, Skiwi and DDDG, I often forget about the intricate details that make up an evening with them. Luckily, while sharing holiday experiences with OregganO, MiniMe reminded me of a crucial detail (which quickly became a ‘situation’) involving Skiwi.

We were all gathered around the fire (yes, That’s Not Chinese has one step up from the yulelog DVD) when Dr. BJ made a very casual observation, “Should that be burning like that?” This comment caught the attention of everyone and we all turned our heads to the area of the room on which Dr. BJ’s’ eyes were focused. “No,” That’s Not Chinese replied, “It should not.”

In the righthand corner of the bookshelf mantel, one of the tealights in the votive cups had a flame about 12″ high, clearly not standard operating procedure. Skiwi quickly stepped up to save the day and blew on the flame, which caused it to burn even greater and higher. He then grabbed some papers near the fireplace. “What are you going to do with those?” That’s Not Chinese asked. “I’m going to put it on top of the flame,” Skiwi replied. In unison, everyone advised against that.

“Why not?” Skiwi asked. We all provided what we thought were logical explanations and, in the midst of explanations and That’s Not Chinese’s mantel and home nearly catching fire, I grabbed a glass of water and doused out the flame.

Upset with our questioning of his firefighting skills, Skiwi threatened to go home and get the ‘official’ firefighter’s jacket he was gifted in New Zealand, and proceeded to take the papers around to the votive cups filled with functional burning tealights and snuff them out. “See,” he said with the pride of someone who has ameliorated something major, “it works.” At this point it was obvious that the only thing ‘burning’ was Skiwi, who was clearly burning the midnight oil and, after this life saving and property protecting event, he was spent.

I’m learning, from DDDG, that Christmas is celebrated on the eve of the 24th, ‘Štědrý den’, in Czech Republic. Skiwi, however, prefers the celebrations on the 25th. Luckily, for them, they got to celebrate both this year – together for dinner on the 24th and with me, MiniMe, Dr. BJ and That’s Not Chinese on the 25th.

Skiwi surprised us all when he pulled out a pair of slippers and put them on, “I want to be comfortable.” Within no time, he had ditched the slippers and was showing off his socks, “They’re merino possum mink,” he proudly stated. “Very soft,” That’s Not Chinese commented. “I know,” Skiwi beamed with pride, “they’re from New Zealand.” “So you’re not going to wear your slippers now?” That’s Not Chinese asked. “No,” Skiwi replied, “I’m to the point now where I am getting very comfortable.”

We were enjoying wines from Argentina when That’s Not Chinese opened her gift from Dr. BJ, a wine carafe and two wine glasses. “Oh, I love threesomes!” she exclaimed. This comment jolted Skiwi from his state of comfort, merino possum fink feet cozied into his fetal-positioned body on the couch, he giggled and said, “Threesomes.”

There are many things Skiwi is, a night person, however, is not one of them. In his state of comfort he was falling in and out of the conversation. DDDG took this opportunity to give him some of his own medicine, “Come on, come on, be social, pumpkin,” she teased him. Skiwi felt this comment needed defending and replied, “I say those things to you because I want you to be social, so you can practice your English.” DDDG quipped, “My English is better than your Czech.” At which point That’s Not Chinese practiced her French, “Touché.”

As we sipped on our wine, which ‘splushed’ out of That’s Not Chinese’s new carafe, Skiwi and DDDG continued to amuse us with their stories. DDDG loves to dance and, on occasion, Skiwi joined her. This all stopped when Skiwi learned the club she frequented had couches, thus allowing him to prop his merino possum sock feet up on the ottoman and watch instead of participate. After that, instead of joining DDDG at the club, Skiwi would stay home and set the alarm to wake him at the time that DDDG usually returned home. “Why did you do that?” I asked. “I cuddle,” Skiwi shyly replied. “How sweet,” That’s Not Chinese sincerely added. “Shut up,” Skiwi retorted. “Not so sweet,” Dr. BJ sidemarked.

MiniMe had left this conversation to whip the cream for the pumpkin cake (I love my vegetables!) and re-entered the room to offer Skiwi one of the whipped cream covered beaters, “I’d offer the other beater to one of you guys, but I want it,” she told the rest of us. So, while she and Skiwi licked the beaters clean, Dr. BJ, That’s Not Chinese and I realized that DDDG was right – ‘Štědrý den’, translation generous day, had come and gone. The 25th of December was just another day on the calendar, a day on which we would not be getting a beater.

It has been a while since I last visited my parents’ home. This year, MiniMe, Dr. BJ and I were invited to join them for a holiday dinner. Dr. BJ was really excited to see the house in which I grew up and was very interested in a tour. We toured every floor and, just outside the ping pong room, he was quickly impressed with a picture of my dad in the late 70s, donning an afro and ‘stache. I could have ended the tour there, but we opted to continue on. As I was taking him from room to room, even showing him the closets, which he loved, “Oh my, look at all of this space,” we came across a small white cardboard box with my name written on the side.

We pulled the box off the shelf and noticed my name was also written on the top of the box, just below these two words, ‘Chicken Nuggets’. We opened the lid to find a variety of memorabilia from my childhood – little nuggets of my life. Like a nugget (of gold, not chicken), each item in the box was small and valuable in some way.

We found the yellowed newspaper clipping announcing my birth and my parents’ home address – but no picture, I was clearly no ‘Tina Thomas’ or ‘George Jones’; a book about Thomas’ tonsillectomy – which was supposed to help me feel better about mine; a list detailing gifts and party themes from my first few Christmas and birthday celebrations (not a shocker that one of my party themes was ‘dress up’); school writing projects; love letters to and from various boys; and notes about my ‘sayings and deeds’. Apparently, when my mom was breastfeeding my sister, I would pretend to nurse my baby too, from what I thought were called ‘elbows’.

As I got older, and my elbows got bigger, my theatrical skills improved. I cameod in several smash hits, ‘How Spider Saved Halloween,’ ‘Sara’s Halloween Birthday,’ ‘Christmas Around the World’ and ‘Dragon Stew’. ‘Dragon Stew’ would have gone off without a hitch if Melissa, Cook #1, hadn’t gotten stuck behind the spice rack the entire length of the kitchen scene. Had this not happened, I’ve no doubt Guffman would have picked up the production and taken us to Broadway.

Looking through memorabilia makes one wonder, “Did I pick the right career? Should I have followed my dream to become a gift wrapper? What would FatGirl say now if he knew I was a major part of the ‘Stars in Motion’ dance recital – step ball changing to ‘Elegance’ and ‘We’re in Love with the U.S.A.’? Would my name be in lights on Broadway if it weren’t for Melissa and the spice rack? Why don’t people write in cursive anymore? or What is Jeremy ‘your secret it mire’ doing now?” The answers don’t matter – it’s the ‘nuggets’ that count.

This is a funny time of year. It’s that time when ghosts from our past often emerge bringing a variety of items with them. Some bring gifts, others luggage, and all too many bring baggage. That’s Not Chinese was sharing some stories with me about a friend who was part of her past, became part of her present and, even though ’tis the season for present(s), is soon to become part of her past, again.  The more we talked about the situation I decided this friend, like so many others, puts the ex in Exmas.

That’s Not Chinese quite liked this theory and would probably like it even more if she knew what I learned (later while doing ‘research’): the ‘x’ before ‘mas’ is Greek. I’ve no doubt she would be very pleased to learn this abbreviation was credited to her people and was not, like most of the gifts we all got this year, made in China/Chinese.

Later in the evening I was spending time with Tree and FatGirl and their friends, Shadows, Jazz Hands and What’s Your Name?. FatGirl had been outside chatting with other patrons of the bar and returned to tell us about it, “I just ran into a guy I used to date and a guy I used to talk to.” Proof, again, that Exmas is in the air. “So,” I asked, “are these two different people and, if so, why did you only just ‘talk to’ the one guy?” “Yes, they are two different people and I only talked to him because that is what we did until we didn’t do it anymore.” Based on his response I made an assumption that, if their conversations were frequently like this one, it was probably best that they stopped talking.

We were celebrating Tree’s birthday and, due to a prior engagement, I was not able to participate in the dinner and cake. FatGirl felt compelled to provide me feedback, “Tree was not very happy about the fact that you didn’t participate, but I’m over it, so that’s good.” “Really glad you’re ok with it,” I told him.

As the night progressed and we were sharing more ‘feedback’ with each other, Tree told me the last time we were here FatGirl left me on the dance floor, pranced over to him and said, “You have to come and dance with me. She is a horrible dancer – dances like a white girl.”  Sometimes, reminding FatGirl of one’s ethnicity is unavailing.

As we laughed about FatGirl’s comments I threw down some of my signature dance moves, specifically the hobot. A few minutes later one of the patrons approached me and said, “You are a great dancer. I just love watching you dance. Thank you.” I shared this feedback with FatGirl who immediately approached the man and said, “You’re a damn liar.”

Ah, Exmas, that time of year when domestic disputes are the primary call for law enforcement and we swear to ourselves, “I am not doing this again.” Yet, like that ex who we often let back in our lives, only to realize, once again, that they put the ‘next’ in ex, we will all get nostalgic and hopeful when Exmas rears it’s ugly head, again, next year.

Working the last few days before Christmas is a futile task. Nobody is focused, hardly anyone is in the office, and those who are there are typically just physically present so they can report ‘honestly’ on their timecard. I, on the other hand, had other motives for going in. My coworker and I decided to make both breakfast and lunch for us and the two other employees in the office and we thought it would be fun if the two of us brought in gifts and drew names. Luckily, I got mine and get to keep the gift card.

After all of the food and gift card keeping festivities, we decided to go buy more food so that we could make this group eating at the office a regular occurrence. As we pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store we noticed a lady shoving a fake tree into the back of her car. Although I already have a eco-green tree, I am American, and felt I needed more. So, I asked her about the tree – price, quality, etc. She informed me it was a pre-lit (sounds like so many of my friends) display and was “dirt cheap.” Say no more, I was sold.

We found the tree and asked a sales associate for help in taking it off of the seasonal display. The tree was covered in unactivated gift cards for various local retailers. “We’ll take all of these cards off the tree – I’m sure you don’t want them,” the sales associate said to me and couldn’t have been more wrong. “Au contraire,” I replied. “I love those on the tree! They are perfect. I fully plan to suggest that people take one when they visit. Even though they’re not activated, it’s the thought that counts. Right?” He completely agreed and we shoved the tree in the back of the car, gift cards and all.