Clean (sober?)

So I'm cleaning the house today - Rachel's coming to visit with Clementine! Had to clean the hardwood and tile floors which have been swept, but not properly cleaned in a while. First of all let me say that I'm not really a messy person- I clean up after myself, I can't sleep if there's dirty dishes, and 'Martha Stewart's Book of Housekeeping,' which has everything in it from how to store photo albums to a daily, weekly, monthly and quarterly checklist of cleaning duties and how to clean each iota in the house, well, that's my Bible. Sorry, ultra-conservative brother, I have false idols, and thy name be Martha.

That being said, OH MY GOD I never saw a terry cloth floor mop become black so quickly. I don't know what kind of dirt infested dumping ground I've been sloshing through, but I dragged it all in and cleaned the bottom of my shoes on the floor, apparently. Oh wait, I know where I've been - Manhattan. Plus, since I have my windows open year round, as it's 132 DEGREES in here!, I guess Manhattan billows through. I love the city, but it's an effluvial sump, to quote Tom Wolfe (sound smart, ain't I?). And does a mop HAVE to be white? I guess it makes it easy to see the dirt being lifted, but I'm not sure I really want to see what a pig I am. How 'bout a baby blue? Or chartreuse - it would complement my walls.

So while I'm chipping the caked-on mud off my floor, as it would seem, I have the TV on. I leave it on Bravo channel, just so I'm not getting the noise of the lowest of low brow entertainment, soap operas. And today they decide to class it up with reruns of 'Hey Paula,' the reality show where they follow Paula Abdul around so she can prove she's not a mess. But the show's taping happens to coincide with the time she's plugging 'American Idol' on the morning shows, and she is drunker than... well, she's very drunk (I don't know the proper analogy). OH! She's drunker than me at the office Christmas party! They said it was because she was very tired and had simultaneous conversations in her headphones. But I've been tired before, and I have had several people talking at me at once, but I have never giggled and slurred my words and made non-sequiturs as a result. Maybe she's just too special, and I can't wrap my non-special brain around the magnitude of how she can only react. Or maybe it was altitude sickness - like Mars. Or altitude sickness - like high.

But I digress. The point is that she is a horrible, horrible person. She couldn't renovate her house because the place she was going to rent for TWO MONTHS wasn't decorated to her liking (I think she wanted like pink heart pillows and flowy lace and stuff, but she got tasteful instead), she cried and cried and cried because there was a snow storm and the flights were delayed so that she couldn't get her hair stylist AND her publicist to NY in time for her David Letterman appearance (just comb your own fucking hair!), she fractured her hip tripping over her dog (yeah, right - she tripped like 8 times in one episode alone, and there weren't no dog near her then), etc. And then, interspersed throughout this fascinating documentary of Paula Abdul's life, there were cuts of associates and co-workers, all repeating the same chant about what a great person she is, and how hard-working she is, and how she perseveres through all this personal turmoil and all this other spoon fed load of crap. But there is something I did learn that I found interesting: did you know she's white? Or at least her parents are. I guess we can't really be too sure that there wasn't a black mailman or milkman making deliveries nine months before she was born, but it seems she thinks that that's her real dad. That's probably why she's stoned out her gourd most of the time.

And today at the gym, I'm taking a shower, and this other guy in another stall decides to start a conversation. Which is a little odd in and of itself - guys in the shower don't tend to acknowledge other guys in the shower (unless you're in a gym in Chelsea, which is where I was. But this guy was stereotypically straight). But he says this: "I'M SHO'NUFF GLAD I GOTS ME A MEMBERSHIP TO ALL THE BALLY'S GYMS!" And he's screaming this really loud, I mean really really loud, like he's gonna have a sore throat after. And then he looks at me for a response. (pause) I don't know how to respond to to that. What was I supposed to say? So I just nod or something and say, 'hmmm,' and then he says, "BUT THIS BALLY'S DON'T GOT NO SAUNA." Which it doesn't, so again I don't know what to say. But he's still looking at me, so I say, "Well, we just turn the water on really hot and pretend." And then he laughs. Loud. Five minutes. I got out of there pretty quick after that, lest my eardrums implode.

See 'Slumdog Millionaire.' Amazing.

p.s. When you write a blog entry, at the bottom of the screen it gives you the option of labeling the post, and it gives you examples. Here's the text verbatum:

Labels for this post:e.g. scooters, vacation, fall

Now why do you think out of the tens of options they had for examples they chose 'scooters?' My posts aren't labeled - labeled as what?

Music to my mouth

Yvonne De Carlo: Munster, femme fatale, award winning actress, dweller on my iPod.

Some appropriate responses to someone when they say, "You have Yvonne De Carlo on your iPod?!"

-"You mean you don't?"

-"Well, granted, she's no Vampire Weekend..."

-"Why, yes. Yes I do. Right before Linda Lavin (Alice) and after Charlotte Rae (Diff'rent Strokes)."

-"It's a duet with her and Ladysmith Black Mambazo."

-"It's a duet with her and Marilyn Manson."

-"It's a duet with her and Oasis."

-"Not that Yvonne De Carlo! It's the other one that has this amazing contralto voice and recorded an album of standards and starred in tons of musicals, including 'Follies.' Oh wait, it is that Yvonne De Carlo."

-"Well, there's no accounting for taste. Nice shirt."

I could go on. And then this friend/co-worker (who has made numerous appearances in this blog) and I are having lunch today. Suddenly, this jolt of pain shears through my molar as I bite into a plantain. (Yes, I had plantains for lunch.) It was like a Hitler experiment the pain was so intense. I think I bit a piece of aluminum foil on a filling, although no aluminum foil appeared afterward.

"Well, that shut you up for forty-five seconds," was his response as I held my mouth in agony.

No 'Oh gosh! Are you OK?' or 'Do you need help? Water? Anything?' or any inkling of sensitivity or compassion. Just 'Well, that shut you up for forty five seconds.'

We're very close.

Reason #37 why I don't drink, or reason #3 why I'm a jerk

There once was a guy from East Elmhurst
Who had friends and secrets he put first
His elbow he tipped
His lips went unzipped
And now he feels bad in the worst.
Way.

So you are all forewarned from this point - if you tell me something whilst I have a drink in my hand, I may reveal it later. The onus is now on you, not me. I am no longer culpable.

The office party was the other night. It was horrifying. And the problem was not with the party itself, but the expectations of the party. We were told that one of the purposes of this party was to introduce some of the younger and more urban employees to a taste of what a more respectable venue might be than the inner city clubs.

So why was there a stripper? And why did we have a comedian who couldn't utter a sentence without profanities of the genitalia? And where was the 'butlered service?' And the music was absolutely unacceptable. But thanks for bringing in 'Juicy and The Kitten' as a singing duo. I really think they were a comedy team though, because they dressed sort of cheerleader/whore-y, but were a little girthy for the costumes. And I hope to God they were drunk, because if they sing like that sober, they have absolutely no career ahead of them at all, unless it's at Home Depot. Maybe this was an interview process.

Now, had they said that this was going to be a party to introduce some of the more mature and cultured staff members to a more urban form of entertainment, it would have been understood. I wouldn't have gone, but it would have been understood.

But don't look a gift horse in the mouth. I got a keychain out of the whole ordeal.

So I mentioned to this other buddy/co-worker (A) that this other guy (B)was a looker.

And this buddy (A)mentioned that looker-guy (B)was getting some. That's all he said. But what this buddy (A) didn't know was a previous conversation I had with this mutual friend/co-worker female (C) where I was trying to pair her up with looker(B), and she (C) decided that he(B) would be someone she may enjoy knowing more intimately.

So I deduced from buddy/co-worker's (A) statement that looker-guy (B) was hooking up with female co-worker (C). I had no idea! I was shocked!

So I did not IMMEDIATELY run to (C), as one (A) may lead you to believe, to tell her I know her secret. I waited at least an hour and another shot of Dewar's before I went to (C) to tell her I know her secret.

BUT (C) couldn't wait to run to (A) to confront him with revealing her secret. But he (A) didn't really reveal anything, as he didn't know I (D, I guess) had already dropped the idea in (C)'s head in the first place about hooking up with (B).

And one of my co-workers stole a bottle of tequila in the bar. Is that supposed to be a secret, too, I wonder?

Eruptions

So again, I'm a little newsed out. What more can be said about Blogojevich and the economy and the auto bailout, anyway?

Except did you see what Blogojevich's wife said? She was in the background of one of the recorded phone messages screaming at her husband, "Hold up that fucking Cubs shit! Fuck them!" She was referring to the postponement of the sale of Wrigley Field unless money was made in the appointment of the new senator. Don't you just want to eat her up? I bet she's the bomb at PTA (she's the mother of two). "YOU bake the fucking brownies for the bake sale! I have some real estate fucking business to tend fucking to!" She's already under investigation for some shady real estate deals. PS: her family disowned her two years ago and they haven't spoken since. And her family is a bunch of politicians! You gotta be pretty awful if a group of politcians say, 'enough is enough!'

But I can't talk about that right now because I'm watching THE BEST SHOW EVER!! You know that Ultimate Fighting thing where they beat the crap out of each other? As far as I can tell, it's a game where these twenty-somethings take their clothes off and rub on each other until someone rings a bell. Certainly rings MY bell! It's a REALLY good show, except for the kidney punches, which makes me throw up a little bit. I don't know which one I'm rooting for -they're both so hot, err, competitive. (This just in-Efrain Escudero wins! I guess his kidney punches were somehow more impressive. I don't think it was his kidney punches, exclusively.)OK, I'm not that shallow (!). I have been flipping between this and a National Geographic special. About a whale in Taiwan. It died, so they were transporting it on the back of truck through town, and it exploded. No one knows why. Just blew up. Splattered everything up and down the block. Whale guts everywhere. Very interesting. True story.

Muppets on ice

Today I went to the Czech puppet musical about the Julian and Ethel Rosenberg trial. Not the famous Kander and Ebb or Sondheim versions, but a new one. Sort of experimental. Obviously. I won't give away the ending, in case anyone goes to see it, but I will say that the symbolism is not exactly subtle. The actors spend most of their time holding picture frames around their faces, except the prosecuting attorneys. Like they were 'framed' - get it?! And the set was scaffolding and all kinds of frames were hanging from them - picture frames, window frames, bed frames. Not subtle.

Boy is it flippin' cold! Feels worse, I think, in the East Village and NoHo, because of the wind whipping around the buildings. Like minus 42 feeling.

It's me, isn't it?

So I was approached yesterday in the gym. It is flattering and this guy was unconventionally a looker. Sort of an Anthony Rapp type guy, except a little stockier and bald. I thought, 'hmm, could be interesting.' His name is Bill.

So here's the gist of the conversation, in play form!

Bill: How's the workout?

Bob: Ugh. Thanksgiving is not any one's friend afterwards, is it?

Bill: (laughs) Just got to come more often, I guess.

Bob: Yeah, I guess, but surgery is looking more appealing. My name's Bob.

Bill: I'm Bill.

Bill holds his fist out to Bob in an offer to 'knuckle punch.' Bob looks at the fist quizzically then understands the gesture. Bob raises his fist and they touch knuckles.

Bill: Nice to meet you. Next time I see you, I'll have my card to give you.

Bob: That'd be great.

Bill: I don't have any cards now, because I don't have a job. I was in real estate, but the market's so bad....

Bob: Yeah. Must be tough.

Bill: It is. Thank God for my dad. I live with him now. In New Jersey.

Bob: Oh. Wish my dad would take me in.

Bill: He's the best. I love my dad. (pause) Well, see ya later.

Bill gets up from the machine and walks away.

END

I assume he's unlucky in love. Or I am.

Animals on TV

Has anyone seen "Bad Girls Club?" We've reached an all-time low. And it's in season 3, apparently!

So it's this TV reality show where this group of self-proclaimed 'bad girls' live in a house together and they are boozed and sexed up and fight and spit and scream at each other. It's on Oprah's channel, Oxygen, which was started to be the woman's channel of choice.

Oprah must be spinning in her grave.

How is this degrading exploitative show in any way a positive commentary on the woman of today? It's absolutely awful. I can't believe there is a human being out there who gave a green light to this show and thought that this is a good idea.

Yes, I know that Oprah is no longer affiliated with Oxygen (she sold her stake in it to NBC) and Oprah is really beyond gender identification, but didn't some semblance of the original vision of Oprah, some tiny thread of history, remain in their mission statement?

It was a late night, I couldn't sleep, and I was newsed out. Never again. Gender equality has been set back 40 years. No,more than that, because these women are absolute neanderthals. And Star Jones was hosting this reunion of the "Bad Girls." Have you seen her recently? What the hell is that? There's something physiologically wrong with her. If her options are to be fat or be like she is now, fat should be a serious consideration.

Israel called the other day. Not the country - the hot guy from Mexico, now Montreal. He left a message, as I was at work and couldn't pick up the phone. It was the most adorable message ever, and I have it saved and listen to it regularly. Am I getting charged for each time I call my voice mail? I should check into it. I went on a date(!) last Sunday with this really nice guy, but I couldn't stop thinking about Israel. Michael (the date(!)) is a super nice guy and very handsome and charming, but it's safe to say that we can be friends. It was nice to have a real date of sorts, though.

In the meantime, Jeff and I are maintaining phone contact. He's this other guy I met and he has the sexiest voice over. Very great guy and professional and respectable and handsome, but he's very busy and we have not had the opportunity to see each other, so we 'phone date.' That's OK for now, but we should see each other in person soon, or I'm gonna have to cut him off. 8 months from now, or it's oversville!

And Rosie is doing this really good thing by auctioning off things as a fundraiser for her Rosie's Kids organization. BUT she's auctioning off a VIP package to Ringling Brothers Circus? Ringling Brothers is currently in federal court defending its right to ABUSE ANIMALS!!! Look it up! People that know me know my history with animal rights. I've spoken to groups, I've protested, I've tried to educate people in the streets about what they are doing that is abusive or neglectful to their pet, and Rosie has made numerous claims as to her support for animals. SO WHY ARE YOU SUPPORTING THE CIRCUS, ROSIE? http://www.ticketnews.com/ASPCA-v-Feld-Entertainment-trial-rescheduled-to-next-year1186284

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2004/04/0406_040406_circuselephants.html

But I want to have lunch with Gavin Creel. It's part of the auction.