Missed Connection - Connected!

Exactly one month ago today, I wrote about a missed connection I had on the El. Exactly one month later... ...Oh hell, you'll never believe it. I hardly believe it. It's too bizarre for words. But I'll try my best. Today after work, I went up to Rogers Park (the far north side of Chicago) to help with the cover photo shoot for the Chicago Gay Men's Chorus's new CD, "I Will Be Loved Tonight." My participation in this process is fairly minimal. While I do a lot of the layout and design work for the chorus in other areas, I'm not going to be working on this project. And that's just fine with me. I have enough to do as it is. However, the concept for the cover of the CD involved a shirtless man standing in a bathroom mirror, getting ready for a date. Simple enough. Certainly sexy. And to accomplish this concept, a search went out for an appropriate bathroom that this provocative photo could be taken in. Ideally it had to be one with a pedestal sink and an old-fashioned type mirror. And enough room so that the photographer could take the photo. I gave a few recommendations. While this may sound odd, and you might think I seem to have a knack for pointing out bathrooms, it's not that at all. I just knew the concept they had in mind and knew of one that would suit the need. So they set up the photo shoot and, since I am on the Marketing committee, and I recommended the locale, the chair of the committee asked me to come along to shoot some "background photos" for the publications I do work on; namely the member newsletter, subscriber newsletter and possibly for the website. No problem. I'll be there. So I arrive for the shoot, and others start to arrive as well. In walks Steve, one of the models who I knew. And with him was this really cute guy. Of course at first, I looked at him curiously, and he did the same to me, as if we recognized each other but couldn't figure out how or why. "You look VERY familiar," I said, when we were introduced. "Yeah, I was thinking the same about you," he replied. "I think I met you in the train station..." It hit me... holy fucking shit. It was him!!!!!! "Oh my God! Yes! I do remember!" (Duh!) "I'm Rick," I said. "I'm Chris," he replied. As it turns out, Chris is the one who is doing the layout of the CD cover. He was there to observe the shoot so he could know how to design the cover. Ahhh and here's the kicker... He also works with a fellow blogger. (ahem... someone needs to clue me in on someone. :) So we talked for a bit and it was all cool. I didn't want to seem like some giddy kid or anything, but I couldn't help but think how strange of a coincidence it all was. And the photo shoot was pretty sexy. I can't wait to show you the finished results. In the meantime, here's a few shots that I took at the shoot itself. Damn my crazy luck. Stay tuned. :) That's Chris. Cutie, isn't he? Chris, Steve (another cover model) and Rich. One concept for the cover. Hot ain't it? :) The models posing for the back jacket of the CD.

Holy Halloween, Batman!

The high holy days have begun. OK, I'm not a pagan, but it's widely known in gay circles that Halloween is considered one of the most festive times of the year. If you're gay. And you like to dress up. Which I don't. I've never been into the whole costume... thing. Oh sure, when I was a kid, I relished the idea. I couldn't wait to put on those plastic-mask deals that looked like Popeye or Superman or some other cartoon character, with the eye holes so small you could barely see out of them and the mouth holes so tiny you nearly suffocated yourself. Fun times! And when I was a kid, Trick-or-Treating was COOL. It was dark outside and we got to wander out amongst the other kids and freaks. Yeah it was a great time. People would jump out of the dark and scare us shitless and kids would be screaming all over the place. We'd tell scary stories and try to freak each other out. The search was always on for the house that gave the best candy. Word would spread throughout the neighborhood. Snickers at 1406! Five Twizzlers at 2201! A FULL-SIZE Peanut Butter Cups at 1908! Of course, by the time you got to those houses, all the other kids had been there and they were all out. So it was SweetTarts and Dubble Bubble for the rest of us. Oh swell. And each year, we couldn't help but wonder what the creepy old lady three doors down would give us that year. One year she gave us five pennies. (Remember UNICEF boxes?) Yeah those were put to good use... not! Another year it was one tiny Tootsie Roll. Oh wow, thanks, glad you went all out this year, ya creepy old hag. My favorite Halloween candy were the Smarties that fizzed. I can't find them anymore, anywhere. I don't even remember what they were called, but they weren't Smarties. Oh I liked Smarties too, but the fizzy ones were my favorite. Next were cherry Twizzlers. Not the licorice flavored kind, either, ONLY cherry. And of course, anything chocolate. We'd have half the stuff gobbled up by the time we got home, so our parents couldn't weed anything out that was "bad for us." We knew better. But as the years passed, the paranoia about Halloween set in, and the fun started to disappear. Reports of razor blades in apples started to come out. Then poisoned candies. Then people snatching children during the dark hours. And, of course, car accidents with children in dark clothing. So the hours changed to daylight hours, parents had candy scanned at hospital X-ray rooms, and the selections dwindled down to a few handfuls of over-sugared junk. And we got older. Trick-or-Treating just wasn't fun anymore. If we wanted candy, we could ride our bikes to the store. Why bother putting on a stupid costume and walking around the neighborhood? That's for little kids. As a teenager, I had more fun handing out candy to little kids. They would come up to the door, so cute in their tiny costumes. But I felt bad for them, because the excitement of Halloween that I remembered had changed. It used to be fun to run around after dark like a hooligan. Now the sun shone bright and didn't set until the hours for Trick-or-Treating were over. The adventure had gone out of Halloween. It just wasn't fun anymore. Today, as a gay man, I know that Halloween is popular because it gives the boys an excuse to dress up in the most outlandish outfits and try to outdo each other. Bars hold costume contests and give cash prizes. Drag queens flaunt their newest creations, from the beautiful to the sublime. And for those who dare to bare, you can catch some skin if you're looking at just the right moments. But I just can't get into the dressing up thing. I like to consider myself creative-minded, but I just don't have the energy, time or money to spend on a costume that I might wear only once. So I go to Halloween parties, but as "The Boy Next Door" or "Your Co-Worker." Or if there's a theme, such as Superheros, I might go as "Clark Kent" and don a pair of old glasses. Simplicity is the key. OK so maybe I'm being boring, but hey, it's my choice. So Happy Halloween to you all. May your costumes be clever, your candy be razor-free, and your heels stay intact. I'll be over here, enjoying my Snickers bar and Peanut Butter Cups.

Dear Google

en homage de Hot Toddy.... Dearest Google: I love your search engine. I use it daily. Often. Constantly, even. I even like all your little doodad add-ons to my browser and I especially love the Google Toolbar. Great stuff. Keep up the good work. I just don't get the Gmail thing. Everyone's raving about it, saying how it is the best thing since sliced pumpernickel bread. I've tried Gmail. I have an account. I don't see what the big deal is. You're telling me that I can categorize stuff and sort Emails and do things I can't do with Outlook or Eudora. Well that's great, but I need to get some Emails sent to me first before I can actually do all that. Which means I have to transfer all my addresses to the account, hope they all translate, then set them all up again, write the obligatory "Hey I changed Email accounts" Email and then hope that everyone switches their Email address-on-file for me to correspond to it. Sorry, I'm not gonna do it. It's just another bother that I don't want to deal with right now. And now you give me 6 accounts to give to all my friends, as if to bring them "into the fold." I really can't do that. Sorry. (If you're reading this, and you really want one of them, you can have them. But don't expect me to give you the hard-sell spiel about how great it is. I just really don't care that much.) Don't get me wrong, Google. There's a lot of great stuff that you have put out recently. Hell, you even own Blogger. I can't argue with that. But sometimes I think too much is too much. Revolutionizing Email? Great, wonderful, love the concept, but I'll read it when it comes out in paperback. I've switched Email accounts so many times over the years that people started to ask me when the next switch was going to occur, as if they were expecting it. The fact that I've now had the same Email account for nearly 3 years is a record. I kind of like it. Familiarity is nice. Comforting, even. So, Google, thank you for developing this wonderful new Email system that everyone is talking about. I applaud you for your efforts, and think you are doing a great job. And congrats on going public, I heard your stock prices went up $20 a share the other day. (Of course, did I buy into it? Nooooo...) But just leave me be with my silly old-fashioned Email account whose name is linked to a company that doesn't even exist anymore. If I need you, should I need you, I'll let you know. Thanks.

Snausages, Pup-peronis and Jerky Treats

Inspired by God's Undies. Before I had my cats, my family was a dog family. When I was born, my mom and dad had a dog that they adopted right after they got married. His name was Peanut. Peanut was a terrier mix, all black except for a white stripe down his chest. He was a small dog, extremely agile and active, and would tear around the backyard, or out the driveway gate if it was left open, which it rarely ever was. Peanut was incredibly loyal and loving. I remember many a time when I would be crying about something, and Peanut would be right there with a gentle lick and a wag of the tail. Peanut was aptly named, because when my parents got him, they said he was so tiny that he resembled a peanut. In fact, my dad said, it was cold when they got him, so he carried him out of the shelter under his jacket. Of course, I can only envision this, as Peanut arrived in my parents' house five years before I even existed. He was my dad's dog, no doubt. He was his buddy. Dad would take him to "Potty Park," which was actually Southport Park in Kenosha, Wisconsin, where Peanut would run free and wild through the open expanse of fields along the lakefront. I remember trips to "Potty Park" fondly. They were Sundy morning excursions, usually after Mass. We'd load up the station wagon and spend the afternoon at "Potty Park," taking in the lakefront view and letting Peanut run free and enjoy the fresh air. Peanut ate table scraps. Sure we tried to feed him Alpo, but he mostly turned his nose up at it. He loved his Jerky Treats though. Ate em like candy. Peanut lived a long life. He was 16 years old when we finally put him to sleep. He was very sick, and probably should have been put down much earlier. But my sister, who was only 11 at the time, didn't understand any of this, and wouldn't let my father put him down. By then Peanut was living in the basement, and had lost control of many of his abilities. It was awful. I will never let that happen to an animal again, ever. When Peanut died, I saw my dad cry for the first time. Ever. I'll never forget it, and still remember it vividly. I thought we would never get another pet. But then came Cubby. Three years after Peanut died, my sister and I got the itch to have another dog. We bugged our parents about it incessantly. Finally, after hearing our pleas one too many times, we began our exploration. First we visited the Humane Society. There were only a few pups there, and most of them were of breeds that would grow to be huge dogs. We didn't want a huge dog. So we kept looking. So we searched the newspaper. There we found an ad for Cocker Mix puppies. (The mix was with a Poodle. They were Cockapoos.) We called and visited the breeder. There, in the front yard of their home, was a huge cage with five black cocker mix puppies. They were absolutely adorable. I picked out one and my sister picked up another. They were tiny. Wriggly. Cute as all get-out. And the puppy breath was to die for. My puppy was all black except for a very faint white chest, just like Peanut. My sister's puppy was black with white paws. We chose my puppy. We had nothing to take him home in, since we didn't expect to take a puppy home right away. So we went home, got a box out of the basement, got an old (clean) rug, and then went to the pet store and got some supplies. Food, collar, leash, toys. And we went to get the puppy. The first day home, the puppy immediately took a liking to my dad. And his toes. And his shoes. He was so tiny, he fit (and slept) in my dad's old Army hat. We have pictures of that somewhere. I named Cubby. We sat in our living room and had a family meeting on what to name him. Oreo was close to being a winner. But then I saw a Chicago Cubs newsletter in my dad's magazine rack and I said, matter-of-factly, "How about 'Cubby?'" The discussion was over. Cubby was an absolute joy. Just the sweetest, most lovable dog I have ever known. He would cry when we would leave and go absolutely insane when we came home. I loved when we would pull into the driveway and his little head would appear between the drapes in the living room. He'd yelp and screech and run to the door and run circles around us when we'd open the door. What a way to be greeted home. We had so many fun games that we played with Cubby. We taught him to crawl across the room, roll over, and turn a circle. That was probably the funniest of all. You would hold a treat high in the air, and by golly, the dog would spin around in a circle to catch the treat. He was such an acrobat. Cubby got first place in Obedience School. But you'd never know it the way he'd selectively listen to you when you told him to come here, or get off the sofa. But nobody ever minded. He was so darn cute, you didn't care. His favorite treats were Pup-peronis. You could just say the word "Pup-peroni" and he would flip out. Other words like "Go for a walk?" and "Go for a ride?" would also induce a frenzied reaction. He loved snow, and would play "Snowplow" all the time. His fur was so long and kinky that he would just be encased in snow on really snowy days. It would take a good dry towel to get him clean again. We got Cubby in the summer of 1986. I was 15 years old. I moved out in 1997. I was 26. Cubby was 11. In 1999, Cubby started to show signs of age. His scruff started to show gray. He wasn't so limber anymore. He was still lovable and sweet, but his eyes were gray. He could still see, but not as well anymore. He would still greet you at the door with a wagging tail and an occasional jump for joy, but then he would sleep and sleep. In late 1999, Cubby started to have mild seizures. This worried my mom and dad, who took him the vet. She declared that he was just getting old, and if they worsened, they should consider putting him down. In May of 2000, Cubby had a terrible seizure during the night. My mom called my sister, who still lived in Kenosha, over to the house. The brought him down to the vet in the morning, and all stood by him and petted him gently as they administered the shot. In moments, Cubby was gone. Dad called me with the news. He was sobbing. I never heard him cry so hard-- not even when his own mother died. Mom and Dad thought about getting another dog, but they quickly decided they couldn't go through the pain of losing another one. And in their own advanced ages, they just couldn't keep up with one anymore. So Cubby was the last. Cubby was an extremely special dog. Every time I go home, I expect to see him bounding around a corner or jumping on the sofa. I think of him often, and still have his picture at work at my desk. I love my cats. They are a joy, and they are my companions. But there is something so wonderful and special about a family dog. And my family had two of the most wonderful dogs I have ever known. I'm not exactly sure why I felt the need to share this with you, but I'm glad I did. They were a part of my life, and will always be. And so, they should be a part of this blog. Peanut in December of 1968, two years before I was born. Cubby with his favorite toy Cubby giving me a "Kissy"

The Shit (Eating Grin) Hits the Fan

I knew it couldn't last. In one week, my spirits go from high to low. I went on and on about this cute boy, the great date we had, and how great I felt about it. Well today I feel... well... like shit. I hadn't talked to him in the last few days. In fact, I'd tried calling him one day but he didn't answer. No big deal. I figured he was busy, or didn't have his phone with him, or what have you. Besides, it's not like I was talking to him every day. I wasn't. It was only one date. No expectations or anything. This morning one of my friends sends an Email out to a group of us, inviting us to his place for drinks before we hit the bars. I respond and say I'll be there. The boy was on the list, so I figured I'd see him tonight. I called him and got him on the phone. He said he was getting ready to go to the auditions for solos for the Chorus show, which I was getting ready to do as well. I told him I'd see him there. Cut to the auditions. He shows up, we talk a bit and decide to carpool to our friend's house. He'd stop by to pick me up. 7:30 rolls around. No call from him. 8:00 - nothing. 8:15 - I call him, figuring maybe he took a nap and overslept. I leave a message on his voice mail. 8:30 - I get a call from him. I hear laughter and music in the background. He forgot about me. Yep, that's right, plain forgot about me. Never mind that it was now an hour past when we were supposed to arrive. Never mind that we only talked about it less than 3 hours earlier. Never mind that he said he'd call me before he picked me up. He just plain forgot about me. Now I can handle taking things slow. I can handle dating someone who's not ready to commit to anything and just casually dating. I want the same thing right now. I don't want to jump into anything serious or make any huge plans with someone that I've only been on one date with. All I want is honesty. I demand it. I want someone to think about me once in a while and at least say "hey." And if you aren't interested, or have someone else on your mind, tell me. Don't drag me along and lead me on. Don't make me think that something is what it really isn't, and have me find out the hard way that I was wrong, all along. By just plain forgetting about me, and not even thinking about me until (as I found out later) he had been at the party for nearly an hour; when my friends kept saying "Hmm, I wonder where Rick is... he's usually late but this is unusual" to give him a CLUE that something was amiss, only to have him NOT GET THE CLUE; by having him call me and say how sorry he was, and then to say "I'd come and get you, but I'd never find parking again..." That, folks, is just plain rude and just plain hurtful. Whereas one week ago I felt like I was on top of the world, and I might just have a chance with dating again, not even to mention romance, in one short, fleeting moment, I felt like the dirt on the bottom of someone's shoe. It hurt. Now you may think I'm a fool, or you may think I was incredibly brave, but instead of deciding to stay at home and mope, I went to that party. I called a goddamn cab and went. I wasn't going to let this little twit ruin my night. But it was hard. And I just couldn't look him in the eye. If he didn't get the clue that I was disappointed with him, then he wasn't worth dating in the first place. I also got the feeling that he had come with another guy from the Chorus, but I couldn't be 100% certain. They seemed to be overly chatty, as if they had maybe also been on a date or gotten to know each other fairly well as of late. Under normal circumstances, I may not have read into that as such, but considering what happened this evening, I couldn't help but notice it. So my guards were up, I was not feeling festive, and I was not having a good time. We hung around my friend's place for a while and then headed to the bar. It was packed, and I was not in the mood for a crowd. And to add insult to injury, during one of my "love laps," I saw the last guy I dated, who I really did NOT want to see tonight. I left. I had had enough. And now, here I am. I've been through a lot of bullshit in my life. I have dated some great guys and some real assholes. Nothing ever seems to work out for me. I am sick and tired of getting my hopes up, only to have them squashed to tiny little bits. My heart cannot take any more of these games. I don't want to go through the rest of my life being bitter and jaded by my life experiences, but the way things are going, I am headed in the direction. I don't want to go there. I want to figure out how I can change the course of my destiny and find the happiness that I KNOW I DESERVE. How long will it take? I don't know. But I am tired of shedding tears and mending my broken heart. Something has to give.

Bursting the Bubble and Other Tricks

Well I went to the doctor today. Got a ton of fun prescriptions to take for the next couple weeks. Whee!!! My head still feels like a balloon, but I'm hoping that in no time the pressure will finally deflate and I'll be my old airheaded self again. :) Not much new to report, really. This weekend promises to be quiet, uneventful and easygoing. Let's hope that continues to be so. Cat-Astrophe Are any of you readers out there also cat owners? I need some advice. I was sitting on my sofa yesterday, when I noticed... a pungent odor. That's right. My cats, or one of them, I am not sure, have been using my sofa as a litterbox. I ripped apart the cushions and cleaned them the best I could, but I don't know if I'll ever get that smell out of them. I'm so pissed off (pardon the pun) I can't stand it. What should I do? Should I bring the cushions in to a dry cleaner? Is there something I can use to clean the sofa? And how can I get them to NOT DO THAT AGAIN? (Aside from getting rid of them, which I will not do. Yet.) In the meantime I'm going to stop at the store and get as many odor killing agents that I can get my hands on and continue fumigating the place. Thanks a lot, guys.

I'm still here

I feel like I haven't posted much this week. I'm still here. It's just been absolutely insane at work, and when I get home I have a million things to do there as well. I hardly have time to write, much less read blogs. Plus I've been sick. I go to the doctor tomorrow to hopefully pop this bubble between my ears. It's driving me nuts. In exciting news, I am going to New York the weekend of November 19 to see my friend Ellizzette... I'm hoping to also meet Aaron of 1000 Words and More and other bloggers out there. It'll be my first trip to NYC in almost 10 years. Not much new with the Chorus Boy. But we chat or Email daily. So that's cool. Just wanted to check in and say hi. Back to the grind.

Dilemmas

OK so I'm still reeling from the weekend I had. It was pretty fucking awesome. No doubt, one of the best in a long time. It was capped off by the Chorus's performance at Jubliate!, an event for Bonaventure House, a similar organization to Chicago House, except that it's not necessarily gay-centric. And this event was not exactly gay-centric either. It was actually started years ago by opera singers and members of the Chicago Symphony. So the fact that the Chorus, who performed last night alongside such names as Joffrey Ballet (for only the second time in the last 3 years... no big deal, really...) and the Lyric Opera, was asked to participate in this event is a BIG FRIGGIN' DEAL. Plus we performed at the new Harris Theatre for Music and Dance in Millennium Park. Again I say, no big deal. The performance went spendidly, aside from a little glitch that lay in the fact that we hadn't ever performed there before, so we weren't really used to the space. For real, no big deal. It was incredible.

- - - -

Today I felt like a baloon was inflating inside my head. And as I sit here and type this out, the fucking thing still hasn't popped. Damn it all to hell. It sucks. I feel like I'm underwater and all sounds are echoing oddly against the surfaces around me. I hate this. And my DVD player is still shot. I even went onto Sony's website to chat with a service person, who told me to try a few commercially prepared DVD's (I tried seven), then to make sure to clean the discs (yeah, they're already clean) then turn off the player for 5 minutes (I had it unplugged overnight) and then to try blowing forced air into the opening (didn't have that, sorry), so now I might have to haul it to an authorized service center and pay a gazillion dollars to have someone tell me that it's shot. Oh goody. I can't wait for that to happen. I'm so glad it made it past the 1 3/4 year mark before it decided to crap out on me. I just wish I could find the damn Best Buy warranty I spent good money on. I still can't find the damn thing. So maybe I didn't buy it. Fool.

- - - -

The Cute Chorus Boy (CCB) sent me the absolute sweetest Email last night. I had tried to call him when we were done with our performance (he wasn't there... Cute New Chorus Boy... means he didn't know the music, ya know.) but got his voicemail. So I left a nice "hey there, the show went great, give me a call or drop me a line and oh by the way I had a great time last night" message. Well his email response back was just "AWWW" inducing. He is just the sweetest guy. But here is where the dilemma of today's post resides. See, one of my very good friends has liked CCB for a long time. In fact, they went to college together, but never really knew each other. My friend liked CCB "from afar" and never knew he was gay. Well suddenly here he shows up at Chorus, and my friend was all in convulsions because this hot guy he had a crush on in college was gay and is now sitting right next to him at Chorus rehearsals. Yeah, I'd be all giddy and heart-pumpy too. (which I was, regardless of the college connection, but anyway...) so my friend starts talking to him and brings CCB into the fold and we all meet him and befriend him. But my friend still has a major crush on him. He mentions it. Often. I love my friend dearly. I don't want him to hate me. But I like CCB. And even though we're going to take things at a snail's pace more or less, which could end up going nowhere in the end, dammit, there's a hint of something there and I'm not going to sit idly by and let it slip away. So how do I manage this situation? And please don't tell me to "tell my friend to get over it, CCB is MINE" because I'm not evil like that. Well, not yet at least. I'm a good boy, I am. OK, time to put the dilemmas to bed for the night. But your help is most welcomed. Love to you all. :)

More Shit? Look At That Grin...

So I frantically ran up the stairs to my apartment, bags of groceries in tow. I also had a tuxedo. That's for something I'll talk about later. Let's focus first on the story at hand, shall we? It was 7:00. I had an hour. The place was still, to my eye, atrocious. I dumped the groceries in the kitchen and the tux in the closet and immediately went apeshit with the cleaning. I tell you, when I am on a mission, I AM ON A MISSION. Floors were swept, furniture and rugs vaccuumed, bathroom sink, floor AND toilet wiped down and scrubbed, kitty furballs picked up left and right. (He does have an allergy to cats. I asked him if he'd be ok and he insisted he would. I got as much as I could.) I was a madman. In no time flat, the place looked almost immaculate. The wonderful thing about my place at night is that with just the right lighting you can't see all the sins. Of course, I have some wonderful places to tuck away the big ones. Lots of closets, drawers and such. Yeah, it's cheating, but so what. To the naked eye it's clean. Only I know what resides in drawer #1. Just don't open it. I had just finished sweeping up the last bits of dust and garbage and thrown them onto my back porch when the doorbell rang. The place was ready and so was I. Thank goodness. He was as adorable and as charming as ever. A smile that just lights up the room. And he was here to see... me. Me! Wow. How did I rate? Gave him the grande tour and headed to... the kitchen. (Get your minds out of the gutter.) Salmon awaited. We had oven broasted salmon in lemon and olive oil with fresh garlic and basil, red rosemary garlic potatoes and green beens with butter. Nothing terribly fancy, but I make it damn well. And it was damn good. He brought salad makings and I tossed some balsamic and olive oil on them with a little red tomato and a touch of spices. Opened a bottle of wine (white with the fish, chilled) and some mood music and candles and voila... a lovely romantic evening. We were going to finish with a movie on the DVD player but when I went to put one in... the player wasn't working! I tried a few movies and nothing was reading in the player. He didn't care though. He said he had wonderful evening, and of course, so did I. We talked about so many things... but basically we both agreed that there was interest on each of our parts, but given his situation (just out of a relationship) and the fact that he was just making new friends with all these new guys in the chorus, we agreed that it was best to remain friends and let the chips fall where they may. However, he did come in for more than one lingering hug... and just before he left, and one more hug and smooch goodnight (no lingering kisses... first date here folks. Gotta keep it on the level. I'm a newly old-fashioned boy. (-: ) he said he especially adored my ... ahem.. paunchiness. Score! And that's how the evening ended. Totally sweet, totally innocent, great conversation, great food, and those sparkling blue eyes in the candlelight ... oh my heart could just melt. If nothing else comes of it, it was worth it just to spend those few hours with him and enjoy the time. And if anything, I've just made another really wonderful new friend in my life. Nothing wrong with that.

See This Shit-Eating Grin?

I've already had the most incredible weekend. It started last night. One of my friends sent out an Email earlier in the week to a group of us, inviting us out for dinner on Friday at Joy's an inexpensive but extremely popular Thai restaurant in Boystown. Of course, everyone agreed that it was a fantastic idea. Cut to Friday. There's at least 18 of us there. Seriously. It was incredible. We took up 1/2 the restaurant. Everyone was relaxed, laughing, talking, and having a wonderful time. Most of the group were from the Chorus, and had been friends for a long time. Some brought spouses or dates. But one person in particular was a new face. Yep, the Cute New Chorus Boy. Now I gotta tell you. I really, really think he's cute. And charming. And adorable. And sweet. But at no time have I ever wanted to make any overly forward advances, because; A: He just got out of a two-year relationship; B: As mature as he is, he is almost 10 years my junior; C: He is a newbie to the Chorus (typically it is bad form to "pounce" upon new members so quickly. If they "pounce" on you, though, it's fine. But I digress.); and D. He is having a wonderful time meeting new people and making new friends, and I wouldn't want to jeopardize that. So, that being said, harmless flirtation is just fine. And there was plenty of that all night long, between him and me and most everyone else who was a part of the evening's festivities. We headed to Sidetrack after dinner, where the flirtations continued. Now I'm not saying there was anything scandalous, but you know, a cuddly hug here, a backrub there, a "let me buy you a drink" there... everything was all in good fun. So at one point I was giving Cute New Chorus Boy a backrub... and I have to admit, I was putting some extra effort into it. No meager shoulder rubbing here. This was some good knot-kneading, put-some-elbow-in-it-action. He was loving it. Of course, so was I. At one point he whispered into my ear "I'm going home with you so you can do that do me some more." To say I bit my tongue would be highly unneccessary, but true nonetheless. He had had a few drinks, so we stayed a little later to sober him up a bit before he went home. All around us there was plenty of fun stuff going on. This one was making out with a few boys, that one was cruising the bar for a boy to take home, and the other one was talking to everyone else. It was fun. But in the end, we all went our separate ways and called it a night. This morning, I got an E-mail AND a call from Cute Chorus Boy. CCB: "What are you doing today?" Me: "No plans, what's on your agenda?" CCB: "Oh..." he had this errand and that errand to run... Me: "Cool... how about later?" I replied. CCB: "No plans, preferably something low-key." Me: "Low-key sounds great to me." The wheels began to turn in my mind... CCB: "Cool. Let's think upon that, and I'll call you when my errands are done." Me: "Great, talk to you then..." Needless to say, I was intrigued. I wasn't quite sure how the night would end, but I knew it would possibly involve him, me, and nobody else. That was a thought I kinda liked. I began cleaning my apartment. Oh it needed it, don't get me wrong. But you know, you have to anticipate things. Should they occur. If they do. I had a few errands to run of my own, and he called while I was out. "Hey what's going on?" I asked. CCB: "Well I just got home, and am going to lay down for a short nap. How about I call you when I wake up?" Me: "Sounds good," I said, and continued about my errands. Which now included buying groceries. Fresh salmon, baby red potatos, salad... already had some wine... hmm... what else... He called just as I got home. CCB: "Hey, I just woke up!" Me: "Cool, what are you doing now?" CCB: "Oh I'm about to make a hot dog for dinner." Me: "A HOT DOG!?" I retorted, "Well, you'll be missing a fabulous dinner then." CCB: "Really? What are you going to have?" Me: "Oh I just bought a huge fillet of salmon and some other things..." CCB: "OOOH that sounds wonderful!" After a pause... CCB: "Are you inviting me over for dinner?" Me: "You're so perceptive!" CCB: "Well screw the hot dog then! What time should I be there?" Me: "How about 8?" (Cue the shit-eating grin. More later. :-D )

Lost in Translation

So Wednesday night I got home at about 7:30. I stayed just long enough to have the free dinner at work. They had Italian Beef and Italian Sausage... yum! And I mean it, too. Being Italian, I am typically really picky about my Italian-type meals, but the catering service at work really does them well. It was worth the wait. Anyway, I got home at 7:30 and turned on the TV for the debates. I switched to ABC and caught the tail end of that new show "Lost." Omigod I'm hooked! First of all, Matthew Fox is one. Hubba bubba. I never particularly cared for him on Party of Five, but here, he's got a sexy, close-cropped hairdo and is lookin' GOOD. Especially when he's all dirty and sweaty and shirtless and... Um anyway. The debates. I think they went well. (See my comment followup to the previous post.) But today everyone is talking about the flap about Kerry mentioning Cheney's daughter in his response to the Gay Marriage question. Here's my thoughts. 1. Bush, of course, sounded like the ignorant Republican conservative nitwit that he is when he said "I just don't know." Of course you don't know. You don't know anything. Why bother opening your monkey-mouth, Chimp Boy? 2. Kerry's answer was eloquent and compassionate. He mentioned Mary Cheney, yes. But in the context of the answer, it made perfect sense, and only proved how incredibly inept the Bushwhacker is about his own VP's family and the state of the world today. 3. Lynne Cheney's response to Kerry's answer is absolutely ridiculous. Why, all of a sudden, was Kerry insensitive to their family or using this for political gain? It's not like he outed her on national TV. HELLO, WE ALL KNOW SHE'S A FRIGGIN' LESBIAN! We've known it for 4 years now. In fact, Cheney and Edwards talked about it during their debate. Spin, Spin SPIN. Everyone is trying to spin things out of control and if it wasn't so ridiculously OBVIOUS, it'd be laughable. Actually, it is laughable, but in that shake-your-head-and-stare-at-the-ground sort of way. I can't wait for this election to be over with. The stress is getting to me.

Swamped!

I'm absolutely swamped at work lately... Seems I hardly have time to read blogs, let alone think of a clever post. Anyone watching the debates tonight? I've seen the two previous ones, I am hoping to see this one. Kerry's gaining ground. Let's see if he can clobber the Bushman once and for all. OK back to the grind.... Grrrrrrrr......

He's hot and all.. but....

Really... did they use Liquid Paper on those teeth? Bill Rancic, The Apprentice, in his new Lincoln Park townhome

Growing older

Thanks to Aaron and Hot Toddy (Happy Birthday, Toddy! I fixed the link, too. Sorry!) for the inspiration for this post... As I have mentioned here before, my family has been working to start the process of moving my parents out of their home. This is the same house that I was born in (well, I was born in a hospital, but I came home to this house. Technicalities. Geez.) and grew up in. The bedroom I had as a child is the same one I sleep in whenever I come to visit. The house has changed a lot over the years, but it's still the same house. On the same block. In the same neighborhood. It's the sad truth that people grow older. The things they love to do every day will get harder and harder for them, and eventually may become impossible. It's a sobering prospect, especially when they had so much activity in their lives before. My father loved gardening. He grew rose bushes. We had hundreds of them in the backyard. It was his hobby and, for a long time, his passion. He and my mom belonged to the American Rose Society and would enter their roses in rose shows. I have memories of many a summer where they would pack my sister and I into the station wagon, along with the best specimens from the yard in cooler cases, and we would travel to a suburban shopping mall, where we would spend the day shopping while mom and dad prepared their roses for judging. Sometimes we'd win trophies or plaques, other times not, but my father really enjoyed doing it, and he put a lot of energy into it. Every year he would buy new rose bushes or bud-graft new plants onto budding stock. He even showed me how to do this, and I would bud my own roses. He kept charts and lists and diagrams of every rose bed in the backyard. He would prune and fertilize, water and spray the roses every week. Cut vases of roses filled the house all summer long. The fragrance of over 200 rose bushes in the backyard was absolutely wonderful, and I will never forget it. The roses are gone now. My dad is too sick to grow them anymore. We opened up the yard a couple years ago and people dug out what they wanted and took them to their own gardens. There's nothing but empty beds where the roses once grew. The backyard, like my father, is a shadow of its former self. My mom used to be a nurse at the hospital I was born at. She loved her job, because she worked with babies in the maternity ward. I remember many a time when we would stop by to visit her and she would let us peek in the nursery window to see the little tiny babies sleeping. When we were older, we'd visit her and see her at work, feeding and burping these little tiny beings. But mom got sick, too, and developed emphysema after years of suffering from athsma (and years of smoking before I was born) in addition to myriad other health issues. She had to retire early. Thankfully, she still lives her life as much as she can, but she can never regain those days. The hospital is gone now, too. Replaced by a newer facility. Time marches on really quickly. As we are getting the house ready (which could take a couple of years), mom is finding all kinds of stuff hidden in corners and such. And the pictures... lord the pictures... tons of them, in various conditions or states of disrepair. Mom gave me a few pictures of her as a child that had been tattered and torn and nearly ruined. Being that I am pretty handy with Photoshop, she asked me to try and retouch and repair these photos. Well needless to say, she was quite surprised... and so was I... by the results. I never realized I could do this stuff so well. Mom as a Baby This was the first one. Lots of creases and folds.. and the border was shot. I'm amazed at how clear the result is. Isn't she just adorable? I think this was in her grandma's backyard. Mom and her Cousins This one was much harder. For some reason, my mom cut herself out of the picture (see lower left.) Mom did this to a lot of pictures of herself over the years. She never liked having her picture taken. In this picture, it's probably because she had a brace on her left leg because she suffered from Legg Perthes disease as a child. At any rate, mom found both parts of the picture and wanted me to see what I could do with it. It was HARD, let me tell you. But I am really happy with the turnout. This is especially poignant because of the three cousins, all sisters, the one my mom was closest to, Jeanne, directly to my mom's left, passed away a few years ago. So it was a very special project. Memories are incredibly rich, and we are wealthy as long as we treasure them. -Me. ---------------------------------------- A Super Man No sooner than I had clicked "Publish" on the above post, I learned that Christopher Reeve had died. Truly, the man was a superhero in every sense of the word. His advocacy for spnial cord and stem cell research, which I wholly support, was brave and strong, even when he physically wasn't. He proved to me that no man, no matter how broken or embattled, could ever be stopped by physical means. His legacy will live on, I hope, for many years. Having parents that could be helped by stem cell research, I certainly hope that his words and his advocacy never die in vain. He certainly hasn't.

Buy this album. NOW!

Queen Latifah. The Dana Owens Album. Buy It. NOW. You will be HAPPY that you did. My Amazon.com review: Queen Latifah. Dana Owens. Whatever you want to call her, the woman is a gift. She is elegance, she is grace, she is class. And now with "The Dana Owens Album" she has proved it once again, this time to the music world. The Queen has entered the building, and she ain't never gonna be leavin'. Ya hear? Her sass is still there, on the upbeat tracks such as "Baby Get Lost" and "The Same Love That Made Me Laugh" and "Mercy Mercy Mercy." She won't let you forget that she IS still the Queen. Don't be fooled. But we also get the exquisite treat of her more sensitive and mature side, on "Close Your Eyes", "I Put A Spell on You," "California Dreamin'" and of course the absolutely perfect "Lush Life," from "Living Out Loud," which was the first time I realized that this lady, while already immensely talented, was much more multi-talented than anyone initially thought. How wonderful that her career has blossomed so well since this initial outing. There are not enough superlatives and not enough exclamations in the dictionary to represent how I feel after listening to this album over and over again. I will never tire of it, and I will never tire of her magical voice. I can't wait to see what she does next. If Queen Dana Latifah Owens has reinvented herself before--and she has--she just might do it again, and I will be anxiously awaiting the next move. Will she rap again? Possibly, but as a non-rap fan, I am hoping that she continues along this path and continues to grace us with that velvety smooth voice for years to come.

I feel witty, Oh so witty...

I should title this, "I FELT witty... oh so witty..." because I had a great post all written out and ready to go, full of witty and humorous observations about things going on in my life and in the world today, ideas that would have changed the course of humankind as we know it, thoughts that would have maybe won me the Nobel prize.... But wouldjabelieveit, my Internet Explorer crashed and I lost the WHOLE DAMN THING! WHYYY!!! WHHHHYYYYYY!!!!! (in my best Nancy Kerrigan voice) I do, however, remember using this phrase, and it fits quite eloquently right now: Grr! Gah! Feh! So to summarize as best I can, without anything to go back on, and with hours having passed since I actually wrote the damn thing, here is basically what I had to say for today. And no, I don't expect any prizes for my grand observations, either. So I was sitting at home yesterday because I was sick. I woke up feeling yucky and my head was all full of something other than brain fluid, so I knew it just wasn't going to be a good day to work. I popped some cold and flu medication, laid down and slept for 6 hours. Ahhhh.

When I finally awoke, I didn't feel like doing much except check Email and maybe blog a little.

Suddenly this Email pops up. It's from Tuna Girl. She wanted my 'snail mail' address, along with a few others. She's going on a cruise and wanted to send us all postcards. Either that or pictures of naked, or nearly-naked, men. Well sweetie, have fun, and please do both! :-) This set off a rapid-fire exchange between bloggers, including Aaron, Jeffrey, Pua, Patrick and a host of others that got me laughing out loud. Really. Out loud. So then I decided to watch a movie. But I was still feeling really lethargic. Until I remembered that my new computer has a kickass DVD player on it. Oh goody! And I just got a bunch of DVD's from just-recently-joined Columbia House DVD Club. Oh double goody! So I kept my lazy ass in the chair and popped in "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" So I'm hopped up on cold meds, my head felt like a balloon, and I was watching this trippy movie from the 70s about Oompah Loompahs and Veruca Salt and Snozzberries. I felt great. The day ended pretty uneventfully. I played a little Sim City 4 Rush Hour (which is SO AWESOME on the new puter I can't stand it) and hit the sack. Aren't you glad I shared all that with you? Are you still out there? Oh good. Pablo, get this reader a cup of coffee. There you go, that'll wake you up. This weekend, I am heading to Kenosha to set up my mom's computer (which is my old one. Yes, all the porn is gone. Whaddya think I am, nuts?) and then heading back to Chicago for the Chicago House black tie event that my friend Jeremy organized. I'm going as a volunteer, which means that I don't have to pay, but I do have to work. For a little bit. And eat. A lot. And drink when I'm done working. Not a bad gig if you ask me. And I'm carpooling with that cute new chorus boy. He said I was "adorable" in an E-mail today. Um.... yeah, that's kinda cool. :) Have a fun weekend everyone!

100 Posts + 2000 Hits = WOW!

Yesterday's post marked post number 100 on this blog, and over the weekend, I got my 2,000th hit. Seems like just yesterday that I started this thing. Now I'm hitting milestones. Who'da thunk it? I want to thank those of you who give me a read (and a comment) daily, or nearly daily, for you are the fuel that keeps me going: Pua, Joela, Aaron, Jake, Scott, Toddy and Karen. Also I want to thank everyone at Gay Bloggers on Tribe.net for their encouragement, ideas, support and friendship. It's only been a couple months, but I feel like I've joined a really dense, powerful community through this blog. It's a sense I haven't felt in many years. Not since the early years of the Internet Explosion have I seen so many come together for a similar purpose and share a bond so strong. You help me to see things more clearly in my own life, and to chart the course for things to come. Thank you. I will never be able to repay you fully. Finally, to those who visit occasionally, I hope that I can keep your interest and have you return more often. But if not, I understand. In the end, as I posted to Tribe recently, this is my theory about my blog....

My blog is just another extension of me. There's no best or worst part or feature. It's just a warts 'n all sort of observation of my life, what I believe in, and how (and why) I do the things I do. It may not have the greatest layout or most fancy design or be the most-read blog in the world, but I'm proud of it!!!

So thank you, everyone. With all my heart.

Missed Connection #1 (Part 2 of 2)

OK so I'm telling these stories backwards. Luckily, they'll read in the right order in the archive. I'm just clever that way. Last week I told of a missed connection on the CTA Red Line. Well, this has happened before. A few months ago, I was riding the same line, catching the train in the same station, on the same day of the week. And I simliarly flirted with a hot guy. We got on at the Grand station (obviously the best station for cruising guys.) and sat across from each other. I was wearing my headphones, sitting nonchalantly, looking around the train. And then I saw him. Brown hair, green eyes, sort of tall, nice build. He looked right at me. I returned the stare. Then looked away. This happened a few more times during the course of the trip. I tried to feign ignorance at first, but his stares were just too obvious. A few times, our eyes locked just a little bit too long. But I stood still and didn't offer to introduce myself. For that matter, neither did he. We kept the game going until the train reached the Sheridan stop, where he got up. And giving me one last, long look, He exited the train. Cursing myself, I devised a plan. I was going to find him. When the train arrived at my stop, I quickly walked home and signed on to the Chicago Reader website. The Chicago Reader is a free weekly publication that has everything from bar listings to extensive articles to personal ads, including the "Reader Matches." One section of the Reader Matches is dedicated to "Missed Connections." I knew this, and fully intended to find my mystery man. I placed my ad and sent it in. In a week or so, the ad finally appeared in the Reader. The ad read like this:

RED LINE APRIL 26 You, M, green eyes, brown hair, and I, M, Brown eyes and hair, were in the Grand station together, and boarded the same train. You sat across from me. Our eyes met more than once, but I was too chicken to say anything. Before you left the train, you looked back one more time. I'd love to get to know you.

About a week after the ad appeared in the paper, I checked my messages. He had replied! I couldn't believe it. I figured it was such a needle-in-the-haystack sort of thing that nothing would ever come of it, but here he was, actually leaving me a message. He gave me his E-mail address and we E-mailed back and forth a bit and decided how to meet in person. We decided to meet at Gentry, a piano bar downtown. The meeting was nice, and he was as handsome as I had remembered. We talked about a lot of different things, flirted a bit and had a generally nice time. But he had a secret... He had a boyfriend. FIGURES! Of course he said it was fizzling out, hence why he's flirting with guys on the El, but still... I just can't bring myself to getting hopeful about someone who isn't out of a relationship yet. So we agreed to keep in touch and maybe do lunch sometime (which we did a little while later,) but keep it "on the level" for now. I haven't heard from him in a while, but we are still on decent terms. In any case, it was a really cool story, and I've rambled on about it long enough. Now, back to the boy from last Tuesday. Naturally, since fortune has smiled on me in the past, I figured I'd try my luck again. So I posted another Missed Connection ad (recently renamed "I Saw You") and am still waiting. Here's the text of that ad:

Red Line Train of Fire We met in the Grand Avenue Red Line station, waiting for the train on Tuesday, September 28. The station was incredibly crowded and we waited a long time. When the train came, something was burning and it filled the station with smoke. You turned to me (I had headphones on) and started chatting with me about the situation. We shared the ride to Belmont, where you got off. I never got your name, but really wish I had. Let's try again, shall we?

Whether there will be a Part 3 to this saga remains to be seen. I will just have to continue biting my nails, checking my E-mail every 5 minutes, and drumming my fingers on the desk until then. But if something does happen, you know you'll be the first to find out.

Debatin'

I watched the debates last night, from start to finish. I have to say, they both did a good job. They both were strong, and are strong candidates. But John Kerry kicked Bush's patootie. I'm sorry, but putting the two of them side-to-side only proves to me all the more that Mr. Kerry has the strength, the knowledge, and the ideas to move us forward. Granted, the debate was only about foreign policy, terrorism and Homeland Security, but since this is the area that Kerry needed to truly come out and explain where he stands, I think he took care of this and then some. Bush did the same as well, but it was just the same overused and overplayed rhetoric that we've heard over and over again. He sounded tired and at times exasperated. And then of course, there's the process by which Bush comes up with a response. You can just see him plugging in the lamp, waiting for it to warm up, and then switching on the light bulb, only to sl-l-o-o-o-w-w-w-l-y brighten up with an idea. He just can't think on his feet. And that's not something that we need from the leader of our country. Kerry was forceful, direct, quick with a response, and clear. Bush was not. I'm looking forward to the next round.