Tuesday, August 31, 2004

Drama Unveiled...

So there is nothing worse than than having others speak for you... I mean, just in passing on information that is not theirs to say or theirs to use. That is where all things things drama come from--at least in my life.

So I talked with Kelly about the thngs that Lizzy has been saying on my behalf. I told Kelly that I was not pissed at her about my birthday siutation and never was angry with her per say but about the combination of things that happened that day. She expected the apology and just moved on.

In terms of the Chance situtation, everyone and their big brother seems to know, talk, and be all about it. This is hard to fathom because it just seems so junior high. I mean, come on people... This iswork and we're all adults and there should just be a point at which all this should stop. Instead it has taken on the characteristics of a Lindsey Lohan film...

And now he is out of town and we didn't talked for three days before he left and so I know he knows and now it is all awkaward and it has entered the realm of the "talk". And I should not have to do that and I feel just so angry and unwilling and part of me says screw the talk and just try and put it out there for Chance but that is pyscho talk and even more drama then even i need. So what do I do?

I become a crazy bitch and change my blog... Enjoy...

Saturday, August 28, 2004

Drama Unveiled...


So there is nothing worse than than having others speak for you... I mean, just in passing on information that is not theirs to say or theirs to use. That is where all things things drama come from--at least in my life. So I talked with Kelly about the thngs that Lizzy has been saying on my behalf. I told Kelly that I was not pissed at her about my birthday siutation and never was angry with her per say but about the combination of things that happened that day. She expected the apology and just moved on. In terms of the Chance situtation, everyone and their big brother seems to know, talk, and be all about it. This is hard to fathom because it just seems so junior high. I mean, come on people... This iswork and we're all adults and there should just be a point at which all this should stop. Instead it has taken on the characteristics of a Lindsey Lohan film... And now he is out of town and we didn't talked for three days before he left and so I know he knows and now it is all awkaward and it has entered the realm of the "talk". And I should not have to do that and I feel just so angry and unwilling and part of me says screw the talk and just try and put it out there for Chance but that is pyscho talk and even more drama then even i need. So what do I do? I become a crazy bitch and change my blog... Enjoy...
So Drama grows in Brooklyn...

I have found out two things in the last day.... One is that my thoughts involving Chance are public domian and have bveen discuss at work, in the breakroom. Not Pleased.

Additional I now know that Kelly knows that i was upset about my birthday and she is upset and would not talk about it with me... I don't know what i say to anyone or anything at the moment. More to come.

Friday, August 27, 2004

Signs of getting older...?

So the other night Kirby and I went to dinner. we do every so often, raise a ilttle hell at the local Bob's and just chat over carb ladden delights chased with milkshakes. Our friendship is defined by three things; food, films, and friends' apartments. After we fueled up we tried to find something else to do.

She doesn't drink and I have stopped drinking alone, I don't know how to play pool and bowling one on one when I have yet to learn seemed embarrassing--but there is not much left to do when it's late and you live in Studio City. As we were driving down Ventura I saw a sign beckoning in the night. Sav-On, 24 hours.

I don't know when i made the switch. I went for wanting to run wild with chocolate and toys, children's books and small games to bath products and hair dye. But I know the thought of an evening at Sav On can provide the same glee as five dollars for the convience store, the day spent at Canobie Lake Park. Who needs wide open spaces when we can run wild down the dimly lit aisles of heath and beauty?

And this is a friendship step. I know you're my friend when we can wander the hair care products and debate what shade would be best to follow up sun-kissed blond, are intrigued by American idol colenge and know what is the best way to test body butter with out getting caught.

I want to smell like vanilla milk butter, I am curious about foot balm (like lip balm--for your feet!) I do debate if I need detangle with extra (you can always use extra) conditioner built right in. Before I know it I can have a basket filled with hand creme, eye cream, cream rinse and maybe even a Creamislce. And I don't know when the flip happened.

When did I become so shallow, so vain so egaer to be a better smelling, looking, tasting Rory? When did I give up sticky fingers for softer ones? And is this a bad thing, this hang up on what i am like body wise. Is this in insecruty or is this the next step, the logial follow through? Is this a better way to make myself feel better? Face mask, deep conditioning treatment followed by a lavender foopt soak versus chochalte and soda pop and gum wrapped in comics...

I don't know. But I know that I can't just go by one, walk through one without wanting something. It is akin to a candy store in that i want, want, want... I have been good and I can be better. And even when it fails and i have buyers remorse you can't just bring it back. That footbalm stays with you. And if you make a mistake you have to own it.

Like this Windex shaped bottle of colenge I bought. it smells kind of good yet kind of funny at the same time. And as I stare at the bottle and wonder why I bought it... It's bright orange and like a small water gun and for a second I think that maybe it was the kid in me and that I am still both at once. At least i hope so.
My mind is telling me no but my body is telling me yes...

okay...I have gone to the other side.... I have crossed the line and have lost my morals... And it is all for the sake of fashion. See, I have always know that Ambercrombie and Fitch was evil, I am well versed in their hypocrasy and how just wrong they are. And yet I still crossed the line afer years of knowing better.

It all began with a little magazine named XY. this is one of my favorite and most important magazines of the last few years. It is a nation gay magazine, aimed at young teens and a novelty in the world of publishing. It is smart and hip, flows its own politrcal agenda and allows the idea that not only teenagers sexuall beings but that they might even be gay. It is an independent on a nnational level, allowing its readership to be their most creatrive source and is some where that i--just to be honest-- have ben published a hand ful of times.

But being a small magazine of it's own will has always had problems. It has never been able to get the type of funding that most mainstream gay magazines get, part of peter ian's (the editor) beliefs is that as a youth magazine, while discussing sex and sexual problems that it should not have to fall into the gay magazine standard of cigarette and alcohol ads for it's primary revenue.

So it decided to appeal to the national busniess such as home furnishing, clothing, shoes and everyone turned them down. The reasoning, As Peter ian discuss often, wwas that most companies felt the magazines content was too much, too far and justn not good for them to be attached to. and while i am one of the first to notice that it can be too risky, i also think that it is smart, poltical and much thought provking then Out or Genre o even Advocate.

So why so pissed at Ambercrombie & Fitch? because of their reasoning for noyt using XY as magaizne to be involved in. They stated (publicly and in published letters to Peter Ian) that they felt the sexual underpining of his magazine where noptb appropiate for his underage audience. And this is where the funs starts...

If you have ever been in an Am & Fitch store you can see what a joke this is. this is a company that uses hot underage and even 20 somtething models in many pseudo sexual positions--they even use celebrate photographer Bruce Webbere and Herb ritts to sell there product. They have girls in nothing but a artistically placed tie and a blanket selling clothing, have created what is basically a masterbation magazine that comes outb 2 to 3 time s a year and yet they object to the sexually aspects of XY?

So then one has to wonder if it is a gay thing. But even then that is worse a denfesne for Am & Fitch. Because they have used the question sexual tension to sell many things to males. One of my favorite ads of their is the locker room ad of a few years back--boys, all young looking, gather in just underwear in the lockerroom with one rubbing the shoulders of another. This hung in most of the store locations and ionn many magaziine ads. This from the "too young, to gay" explantion for why they won't use XY.

And Xy was suffered form this thought processs. they area amgazine that while popular doesn't have much in money coming in. The most money that magazines make is from their ad base as well as subscriptions as well as word of mouth. And that is what XY lives on. SO i have alwayss stayed away frm the AM and Fitch look. Because i do have problems with what they say versus what they do nd it just seems to me that they make a lot of money off the backs of young gay teens while at that same time saying--"Well, we aren't gay and we didn't know that you were going to take this so serously." Kind of liek a frat guy after you blow him and he wants tom go back to his girlfriend.

But I don wonder thorugh the stores, as visual merchindeser i do like how they dress and style the clothes. Why i think the product is overprice and somewhat over play with logos and hip kitsch I enjoy how their stylist play with concept--preppy mixed with punk or street with suburban. It is something that i do steal idea from and enjoy wonderingb through.

So imagine to my surprise when i saw not 1 but 2 pairs of really cute shorts. I had been looking for some better ones, some newer ones and ther they were. But I always manage to, in the past, find someting wrong with their clothing. I mean, the logos are big and I usually feel like I am selling them as oppossed to selling myself. I like my fashion spread and layered and more than just one store or look.

But then I slipped on the sweatshorts and looked in the mirror--and they fit. Like so well that I almost passed out from shock. I mean, they were perfect and before I knew it I tried on the next pair. And theyb fit too. and before I knew it I was back in the malll and just wondering around with an oversized bag with the picture of that dude from the "O.C." on it.

And the worse part is the guilt i feel. i sold out for a pair of shorts that makes my legs loook hot. I lost my beliefs over a bright red one piece. It makes me scared--what if Bush puts out a line of novel t-shirts or Osama Bin Laden does designer sun glasses. Will those moral outrage fade as I make my way thorugh life looking hot and feeling good?

Of course i am witing this in my new shorts.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

So Drama grows in Brooklyn...

I have found out two things in the last day.... One is that my thoughts involving Chance are public domian and have bveen discuss at work, in the breakroom. Not Pleased. Additional I now know that Kelly knows that i was upset about my birthday and she is upset and would not talk about it with me... I don't know what i say to anyone or anything at the moment. More to come.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

You know you are bored when...

you would rather hear a bush speech...

balance your checkbook....

watch and shop at QVC...

imagine the lifestyles of eskimos...

debate if it would be more painful to be kicked in the balls or have all your pubic hair plucked out...

think that "I love Lucy" pottery is a good investment....

flashback to your SATs....

watch Armagedon...

meet Julia Ormond....(and you know she makes me feel)...

wonder what the sound of one handd clapping is....

buy a Clay Aiken album...

making plans for "Color me mine"...

place mental bets on whether Paula Cole could kick the Indigo girls asses...

replay the entire M.C. Hammer story (as told by VH1) in your mind...
Coma, cake and other calamanities....

So i have been out of sorts the last couple of days--work ahs been hard and fast and everythihg else in life is either slow just not important enough to get thorugh. I am quite happy that I spent Sunday bvuilding a bridge to get over my drama and have ealized the more I let people in the mnore I can try and let myself out. It was good to say everything and not just worry about what could happen. And while i still feel bordeline on moist of my life--it's a start.

And this week I have many social situtations to plan and have fun with... ice skating and dinners and writing meetings and parties--oh my! I love it when life is so full that you need a bucket just to try and carry it all. (weird idea, i know but...) And as a plan to move forward, i craked out on cake and sleep last night--11 hours! That is like 2 days of sleep in one. Big fun!!

here's to hoping that things continue to get better.... Though chance out of town for the week and i will smile the smiles at work. SIGH. it's always something at it?

Sunday, August 22, 2004

An ode to my roommate--a love letter.

So if all of the stress and drama in my life as of late...there is one brighter than bright spot. And it's name is Eddy. We have lived together for 6 years as of now and despite the casual errors and drama we have been having a good time shacked up at 11220 Moorpark.

What maes me laugh is how we get to these spots were we just ahve non-sexual crushes on each other. Momments when we randomly call or write each other. And last night I got a couple of fun calls. One from a slightly drunk Eddy calling to wish me a better birthday witha promise to try and make it better when she gets home from her trip. It was funny and cute and just rambling on about how she misses me, loves me and can't to get back. I love that.

So often with our friedns we forget to say that--how much they matter, what we love about them and how better they make our life and so when it does happy. Well, I'm smiling as I write his even. And while lots of you all have done this from time to time, and i hope i do it enough, it is always funny the way Eddy hands it.

But the other fun part was the second call. Eddy had a cute boy at the party she was at call up and leave me a funny goofy hot message. It was funny how she always knows the right thing to do and the best way to make me smile. Eddy, if you are reading this...thanks. (and Sam the boy who called--whipp cream on nipples is not a good present for me unless the shirt is off an you are within fifty miles of Cali. But who next year....)

Saturday, August 21, 2004

Signs of getting older...?

So the other night Kirby and I went to dinner. we do every so often, raise a ilttle hell at the local Bob's and just chat over carb ladden delights chased with milkshakes. Our friendship is defined by three things; food, films, and friends' apartments. After we fueled up we tried to find something else to do. She doesn't drink and I have stopped drinking alone, I don't know how to play pool and bowling one on one when I have yet to learn seemed embarrassing--but there is not much left to do when it's late and you live in Studio City. As we were driving down Ventura I saw a sign beckoning in the night. Sav-On, 24 hours. I don't know when i made the switch. I went for wanting to run wild with chocolate and toys, children's books and small games to bath products and hair dye. But I know the thought of an evening at Sav On can provide the same glee as five dollars for the convience store, the day spent at Canobie Lake Park. Who needs wide open spaces when we can run wild down the dimly lit aisles of heath and beauty? And this is a friendship step. I know you're my friend when we can wander the hair care products and debate what shade would be best to follow up sun-kissed blond, are intrigued by American idol colenge and know what is the best way to test body butter with out getting caught. I want to smell like vanilla milk butter, I am curious about foot balm (like lip balm--for your feet!) I do debate if I need detangle with extra (you can always use extra) conditioner built right in. Before I know it I can have a basket filled with hand creme, eye cream, cream rinse and maybe even a Creamislce. And I don't know when the flip happened. When did I become so shallow, so vain so egaer to be a better smelling, looking, tasting Rory? When did I give up sticky fingers for softer ones? And is this a bad thing, this hang up on what i am like body wise. Is this in insecruty or is this the next step, the logial follow through? Is this a better way to make myself feel better? Face mask, deep conditioning treatment followed by a lavender foopt soak versus chochalte and soda pop and gum wrapped in comics... I don't know. But I know that I can't just go by one, walk through one without wanting something. It is akin to a candy store in that i want, want, want... I have been good and I can be better. And even when it fails and i have buyers remorse you can't just bring it back. That footbalm stays with you. And if you make a mistake you have to own it. Like this Windex shaped bottle of colenge I bought. it smells kind of good yet kind of funny at the same time. And as I stare at the bottle and wonder why I bought it... It's bright orange and like a small water gun and for a second I think that maybe it was the kid in me and that I am still both at once. At least i hope so.
Someone Call the Doctor STAT!!!

Okay, i have fallen. Not tripped, swooned....fallen. Hard. SPLAT!!!

I am sprung over Chance. Not crushing, not kind of feeling him, not maybe intetrested. I have never ever felt this way about a boy before. I mean, sure, I have been around the block, crushed, stalked, plotted, kissed, hooked up, dreamt about, and even chased after boys but nothing like this.

I realized it yesterday. I miss him when he is not here at the show, him laughing and smiles and just find myself looking forward to seeing him. And I thought that was all until 8 o'clock yesterday--time of death. Chance came out of the nap room, all matted hair and sleepy eyes, carrying his shoes and with a creaky cracking voice and a slow small smile. He said "good morning" and for some reason my heart just stopped. Stopped and all I could think was--

"you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."

And it's not about hotness and it's not about sex or long leggs or tight abs. It's about a smaile that lights up a room, it's about how jovial he is, his love for music, his little mowhawk and ever changing hair color. It is how he not only talks to me, he explains things and I hear every word.

The scary part is when I knew, really knew that I was in deep. Butterflies in the stomach, just giddy, laughing and cracked out. I can't handle the pressure of just wanting to kiss him, hold his hand. To see in him the morning away from here. I was glowing last night as I thought of him--Naomi thought I was drunk but I was just in--something.

And i know it is not love. It can't be. We haven't had a date or a moment not about here. He lives too far away. We are working togther. He has his music. I have my friends. We have different places to be. We don't know enough and yet it seems we know a lot. We spend all these moments, especially on the overnights, just talking, learning and going somewhere more than just here.

And I am not this guy. I don't gush, I don't crush, I don't go all "Sweet Valley High". I'm a gamer, into strat, I see what I want and I go after it. Nick, Smythe, Emilio, Dawson, every boy has been a game. I chase them and I plot and I get them to want just because I can--maybe not for the long haul but just long enough. I have never felt so unworthy of a boy, so scared and so sure at the same time. And there is part of me, the old me that says this is stupid. You don't get sprung or hung up like this. He is just a boy.

But then a part of me, the part I never listen to but I always want to believe says that maybe this more. Maybe this is faith or a movement or maybe even something different. Maybe this is a chance. Maybe i have to try and see wher it goes and how far i can get. To try and maybe I will fail but at least I will know. But maybe I don't want to know. Maybe I might not be enough.

Someone call Dr. Quinn; I might need treatment,

Friday, August 20, 2004

My mind is telling me no but my body is telling me yes...

okay...I have gone to the other side.... I have crossed the line and have lost my morals... And it is all for the sake of fashion. See, I have always know that Ambercrombie and Fitch was evil, I am well versed in their hypocrasy and how just wrong they are. And yet I still crossed the line afer years of knowing better. It all began with a little magazine named XY. this is one of my favorite and most important magazines of the last few years. It is a nation gay magazine, aimed at young teens and a novelty in the world of publishing. It is smart and hip, flows its own politrcal agenda and allows the idea that not only teenagers sexuall beings but that they might even be gay. It is an independent on a nnational level, allowing its readership to be their most creatrive source and is some where that i--just to be honest-- have ben published a hand ful of times. But being a small magazine of it's own will has always had problems. It has never been able to get the type of funding that most mainstream gay magazines get, part of peter ian's (the editor) beliefs is that as a youth magazine, while discussing sex and sexual problems that it should not have to fall into the gay magazine standard of cigarette and alcohol ads for it's primary revenue. So it decided to appeal to the national busniess such as home furnishing, clothing, shoes and everyone turned them down. The reasoning, As Peter ian discuss often, wwas that most companies felt the magazines content was too much, too far and justn not good for them to be attached to. and while i am one of the first to notice that it can be too risky, i also think that it is smart, poltical and much thought provking then Out or Genre o even Advocate. So why so pissed at Ambercrombie & Fitch? because of their reasoning for noyt using XY as magaizne to be involved in. They stated (publicly and in published letters to Peter Ian) that they felt the sexual underpining of his magazine where noptb appropiate for his underage audience. And this is where the funs starts... If you have ever been in an Am & Fitch store you can see what a joke this is. this is a company that uses hot underage and even 20 somtething models in many pseudo sexual positions--they even use celebrate photographer Bruce Webbere and Herb ritts to sell there product. They have girls in nothing but a artistically placed tie and a blanket selling clothing, have created what is basically a masterbation magazine that comes outb 2 to 3 time s a year and yet they object to the sexually aspects of XY? So then one has to wonder if it is a gay thing. But even then that is worse a denfesne for Am & Fitch. Because they have used the question sexual tension to sell many things to males. One of my favorite ads of their is the locker room ad of a few years back--boys, all young looking, gather in just underwear in the lockerroom with one rubbing the shoulders of another. This hung in most of the store locations and ionn many magaziine ads. This from the "too young, to gay" explantion for why they won't use XY. And Xy was suffered form this thought processs. they area amgazine that while popular doesn't have much in money coming in. The most money that magazines make is from their ad base as well as subscriptions as well as word of mouth. And that is what XY lives on. SO i have alwayss stayed away frm the AM and Fitch look. Because i do have problems with what they say versus what they do nd it just seems to me that they make a lot of money off the backs of young gay teens while at that same time saying--"Well, we aren't gay and we didn't know that you were going to take this so serously." Kind of liek a frat guy after you blow him and he wants tom go back to his girlfriend. But I don wonder thorugh the stores, as visual merchindeser i do like how they dress and style the clothes. Why i think the product is overprice and somewhat over play with logos and hip kitsch I enjoy how their stylist play with concept--preppy mixed with punk or street with suburban. It is something that i do steal idea from and enjoy wonderingb through. So imagine to my surprise when i saw not 1 but 2 pairs of really cute shorts. I had been looking for some better ones, some newer ones and ther they were. But I always manage to, in the past, find someting wrong with their clothing. I mean, the logos are big and I usually feel like I am selling them as oppossed to selling myself. I like my fashion spread and layered and more than just one store or look. But then I slipped on the sweatshorts and looked in the mirror--and they fit. Like so well that I almost passed out from shock. I mean, they were perfect and before I knew it I tried on the next pair. And theyb fit too. and before I knew it I was back in the malll and just wondering around with an oversized bag with the picture of that dude from the "O.C." on it. And the worse part is the guilt i feel. i sold out for a pair of shorts that makes my legs loook hot. I lost my beliefs over a bright red one piece. It makes me scared--what if Bush puts out a line of novel t-shirts or Osama Bin Laden does designer sun glasses. Will those moral outrage fade as I make my way thorugh life looking hot and feeling good? Of course i am witing this in my new shorts.
Oh Lordy....

So Chance is here this morning and goddman.... He slept in the nap room (a trend that should go into all work areas from now on) and he came out all sleepy and mowhawk down (which would make a great film title.) and I just wanted to love him so bad... I just want to kiss him. *SIGH* But he's punk and I'm posh and so.... It would be like Victoria Beckham and Sid Vicious... God damn...I just need to make sure I don't do anything stupid. Here's to hoping I don't make an ass of myself.... Though it is me.
Molly Ringwall Bithday....

It's funny, when you expect the worse then it can only go up. I had a great if not not perfect day in many ways, bewteen heartfelt conversations (thanks and you know how you are), goofy messages from the nearest and dearest and unexpected moments of random public fun.

Bars hit--2
momments drunk--too many to count
times listening to Xandau--evrytime the phone rang.
cool gifts--2
moments of serendity-- a handful.
feelings of happines with my life--countless.

So thanks to all were apart of the lovely madness. I means the world to me. (PS--it's a Molly Ringwall birthday in that my mother forget to call me until 2am their time--so they missed it on their end but tailed it on mine)

Thursday, August 19, 2004

You know it is a special day...

When you wake up, drink beer and crank Xanaduas loud as possible. And not care when you realize you are wearing theugliest thing in your closet; openly. Sometimes it can all be fun.

Yikes--let's seehow far I can get with this feeling, eh?

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

SUcky suck birthday up coming.


Okay--so my birthday is going to suck, at least at this point of time. And this, combinded with the HUGE HUG HUGE possibilty of my next birthday really sukcing then, well, I am not thrilled.

And this isn't really anyone's fault. I mean, what rea the chances that one of my best friends would be out of town, another 2 close friends are either working or at feastavials, that one is MIA and another is up the coast and not likely to party anytime soon... Just chance just getting in the way I guess.

Add to this, the fact that I am in crisis mode with one of my best friends whihc is totally mne fault and just the luck of the draw in timing and it all adds up to a bad luck or bad fate or whatever you choose to believe. It is just quite simply--my birthday will suck.

The thing that is the most upsetting about all of this is that--well, one of my friends who I sent out my "Drinks because i can't do anything else because of my sucky work schedule" emails has also decided that this is the poerfect night for dinner with one of newly moved to LA friends. I don't mean she forgot me, I mean she decided to combind the two events of "welscome to LA and Rory birthday" to one invite as oppossed to what i ant which was a night of drinking with my closest of close friend. And now, if i choose to she her then i have to deal with Skylar and Irene on my birthday and you know what? I don't want to.

And maybe that is selfish but I am trying, through all of the drama and the cleansing that i am going through, I am trying to find a way to own what i want. To be healthy for me as oppossed to good for the rest of the world. And I have yet to figure out how to get any of this across in a good way yet so until then i have to deal with the world at large.

That and have a sucky suck birthday.

Monday, August 16, 2004

Works sucks.....

Okay. Had a wonder continuation of my personal drama planned to drop tonight but bwrok whipped like a runaway slave.... So alas, more to come later...

Though I must say-- Justin catilano's album rocks! If you like good indie music then buy NOW!!! (really people, really)

Sunday, August 15, 2004

Back to your regular Rory


I find this shit funny...I figured Paris would have the first bad marriage...

Vegas strikes again! PARIS li'l sis, NICKY, got hitched to a New York beau Sunday in a whirlwind, early morning ceremony, according to marriage documents obtained by ET. Click here to see the license!

The ET Insider was shopping with the bride-to-be at Caesars Palace just hours before her wedding.

Nicky, 20, married TODD ANDREW MEISTER, 33, at a Las Vegas wedding chapel in Sin City. The Hilton sisters were reportedly in town for a Stuff magazine party at the Palms Casino Resort, where they were joined by Meister and Paris' "Simple Life" co-star, NICOLE RITCHIE, for dinner late Saturday.

Dinner apparently led to matrimony, as Nicky's big sis Paris and socialite friend, BIJOU PHILLIPS, reportedly joined the couple at the impromptu ceremony just a few hours later.
A clarfiction;

So people have been read my last few revealatons and seeming pretty unsurprised by what has been said. While this is an invaluable support and something quite unexpected--I do have to pause and wonder if people realize what was menat by the previous posts.

Anything, person or place not included in the "Truth" post did not happen. Italy, cheerleading, rehad, Lilithith, Aaron, Chad and other missing elements of my pasty "his-story" are either not real or embelished in majors ways.

I know that it is shocking to hear that but it is the truth.

Saturday, August 14, 2004

To you;

I write this here because I find myself to raw to address you one on one. I am afraid that i might go to far and maybe use words that might be too much or go to far. For some reason this avenue, here in my journal, focuses me and forces to be more open and honest with out being unkind.

I am very hurt by recent events and I find myself unable to even controol myself for a face to face talk, something to which this is due but is unreachable for me right now. If this is weakness on my part or unfairness toward you then i am sorry but this is the best that i have now.

I never spoken about things like God and faith or even life after death because i find it something that spilts people more than brings them together. In my 9 years in church i learned many things, many life lessons that I find important and beautiful and wish that we all could live by. Do I believe in God? No. DO I believe in life after death? No. Does this question come up in my head? Of course.

What i believe is that any religion, when used for the better good of mankind is a beatiful thiing. That I think that Christianity is amazing in it's lessons on kindness and humilty. Just as i find that Wicka is amazing in its focus on the power of the elements around us. Just as i find Judism amazing in it's questioning nature. But I do believe that any faith, if followed blindly, can be misguided and misused by a group of people. That any instutation run by humans will always have a degree of human error--it is just the naturae of the beast.

But I do respect what they stand for. And even when I thnk that a religion fails, i look at the people involved. Even you said that not every christian is the same and that people have different uses and thoughts about their own faiths. It is human nature to apply any theory or thought to one's own experience. But it does not mean that I do not respect the ideals involved. You can respect something and not necessarily like it.

Where the rub came in was that I felt attacked. You proceeded to try and tell me what i feel and how i think. A pillar of my own life code is that i have no right to speak for anyone outside of myself. I may be a friend, a child, a lover, I may be in your life every second but it doesn't mean i know your thoughts or your mind. My personal belief is that each person comes from their own base of experience and memories that make them who they are--even we are in the same place at the same time does not mean that we see all things the same.

And you chose to try and tell me who I was and what I feel. As you read in past posts, I have spent most of my life being judged by others and having my place in the world given to me by others. This is a painful and hard thing to live through and is somethng i try to my best to never do to others. Even those times when I do speak on another's behalf, i only refer to what they have said or done in front of me, I never say i know what they are thinking or who they are. i realize that I can only know, and responible for my heart and my mind.

So when you told me how you knew I felt, and by default made me into a liar, I was more hurt that i have been in a long time. I did not speak ill of anyone, attack the mores of your faith or say anything negative about the church in any way. And for you to try and say that that is what I felt? How dare you? Do you live in my head? Do you know my heart better than mine? How can you know the answer to a question that I have no answer for myself?

To add insult to injury, you then called me worse than your friends who mouth off about your religion. You put me in the camp of people that nit picks and name calls--the same people who judge people on a regular absis, who openly insult people they don't like and their boyfriends. I have never been this person, i do not seek out ways to hurt people and even the peoiple i don't like, such as Irene and Skylar, I still treat with respect and a social kindness because i know what it is like to not be treated with diginty.

And when you play the minority card, the no one else is like me and so I feel like it is not okay.... Well, I am not the person o try and play that card with. i don't ever like to use my gay status as a defense or an adavatnage in anyway but if you think that i don't understand that feeling that no one gets where you are...you would be mistaken.

I feel as if not just my character was attacked but also my core belief. I may not follow your God but i do have a code that I live by. I believe that this life is all we have, one go around this merry-go-round and that can be a hard place to live. What i leave behind when i die will be the person i chose to be--whether it is a child that i made smile at Tumblweed, the firend who I held as she cried about her broken heart, the man I help just by being there when he hedns a hand.  this means that my actions and choices have a huge weight because they are all I have to go by. And so when I fail, I have no one to blame but myself. And I do have and have failed everyone in my life once.

So I am the most hurt that I feel like I give so much to you and get this doubt and negativity in return. I have turned down jobs for you, listened when you had no one you talk to, been there for the journeys to hospital and have taken time away from my life when you need me. And what i get in return is a challenge to my character, an accustion of judgement and feeling made to be lower than you lowest enemy. And when you give so much, forgive so muich and try so hard to be there for a person--it hurts when the relationship is unequal by such leaps and bounds.

And why do I believe this? I have just told you, and the world, that i have been lying about so much in my life--about who I was before you met me and how i came to be the person I am. And your e-mail, the one with the title "I read your blog" made no reference to the revelation. Something that was so hard to write, to own and to get beyond--the most honest thing i have evr written in which I owned the fact that I have lied so much about who I am and who I have been and there was not a single line referncing this change, this huge step forward, this risk I have taken....

So i don't know what to do to get beyond this with you. I can say i respect your faith but you won't believe me. I can try and show how I have been there for you but you will question it. And I can tell you who i really am and you will ignore. Where am I supposed to go from here?

Friday, August 13, 2004

Ownership


What the next 4 post contain is most likely the most hard yet truthful thing I have ever written. As I grow olderI realize more and more the importance of ownership of who one is is the most valuable thing we have. I hope that bydoing this I can hope to be the person that each of you inspire me to be. And for those of you who don't believe I have faith in anything, well, then this is a testiment to how much I do, I love you all and never faked my emotions or my actions. I hope that is enough.
The Truth.



There once was a boy named George Walter Foust Jr. He was born to a young and somewhat definite mother who in the process of marriage and impending parenthood lost her own father’s respect and possibly love. But she knew what she wanted and made the best choices that she could given her circumstances.

Now George Faust Sr. was by no means a catch in any sense of the word. He drank and smoked and stole and was not the brightest tool in the shed, but he tried to love the mother of his son as best he could. Unfortunately for her, this included affairs, verbal and physical abuse and even martial rape that resulted eventually in the birth of a second son, Michael.

Eventually George Sr. crossed the most scared of lines and eventually hit one of his children. Reports are unclear as to which but it was most likely George Jr. In a stroke of luck, good or bad, his son has no memory of such an event. Being a strong woman however, this mother packed her bags and did the only available path for her—she went home.

Living with her own mother, divorced as well, was not the easiest of choice but this allowed the young mother to work and eventually become one of the first women to work in a small modest computer company. As she continued down this path, she was available to make enough money to find a small town and rent a house for her and her two sons.

Even as the young mother moved forward, the past continued one step behind her. Her own father’s indifference and ex-husband’s inability to remember child support were hindrances of her life and resulted in an odd twist of fate. She took in boarders in the house and eventually met one named Leo.

Now Leo was quite different from any man she had met thus far. He was smart, handsome and kind; he would become her friend and even co-worker at the same department in the small modest computer company. It was a matter of time before she would see how much Leo had come to mean to her; not only did he become her close friend but Leo also grew to love her two sons as well.

At this point, small traits began to emerge from George and Michael. Michael was become interested in sports, soccer and hockey, while George became involved in chorus and theater. This was also the beginning of George’s awareness of his own attraction to boys, the girls may be fun to chase but the boys were fun to kiss.

It was only a small amount of time before the mother made the choice to marry Leo; while no grand love affair, she could help but love Leo for loving her sons. So it was that they were married as both sons looked on in delight. George Sr. even played a part in the picture by allowing Leo to adopt his sons and make them his own—he saw this as the best situation for all involved.
The Truth 2



As for the boys, Michael barely remembered his father and began to see Leo as his true father while George had small rough patch in adjusting. However George had always sensed odd tensions even as a child and grew to love the new father he had gained even as he became more aware of being different than other boys—some may want to be cops but he preferred fashion design.

The small and new family eventually acquired a new home on Cross St. in the same town, closer to the middle school that George would be attending the next year. While Michael was more than ready to take on the challenge of hockey with his dad coaching him on, George dropped sports and even asked for, and got, his own cabbage patch kid.

Even as his mother grew concerned about George, to the point of wondering if she had made a mistake with her child rearing, the family continued to prosper. Leo and the young mother grew in the company and became so settled that they had a child, a young son named Jason Ryan Lapointe.

Jason seemed to enchant the whole family and became a delight to even the young mother’s harshest critics. It was quite shocking when at 4 months old, a month after the mother returned to work, that Jason Ryan would die in his sleep while with the babysitter. This would become the defining moment in the young family’s life, even as the boys barely remembered little Jason Ryan.

In the aftermath of the death, unexpected divisions occurred—a mother-in-law who believed the death as the punishment for marrying a divorcee, a young father told that it was SID and most likely in his genes and a young mother racked with guilt for not staying home longer. As the young parents took turns blaming their selves, and when that failed, each other.

As this continued, both Michael and George continued through school a grade apart—Michael became known as the good-looking athlete as George’s classmates learned a new word to describe him. Faggot. And George was a smart, if lonely, child and began to realize that the word fit. Of course his parents were blind to this as they fought each other in the little house on Cross St.

As time, and the divide, grew between the parents, each began to find sources to turn to. Leo became more involved with Michael hockey career and grooming him for the sport as the young mother began to search for a sound boarding. She found an unlikely one in a casual co-worker name Jeff. And though it has been hotly debated, the two never had a sexual affair but instead the young mother found herself confiding in the younger man,

Eventually this grew to a breaking point, with each parent openly accusing and fighting one another. Divorce became the answer to their problems even as their children managed to develop their own.
The Truth 3


Michael would struggle with school but excel in hockey as George began the journey of discovering more about the cruelty of children. He would continue to be harassed even as he began his first sexual relationship. A combination of confusion, sexual greed and petty mind games would begin at this point and would shape his expectations of romantic relationships. Told he was fat, yet obviously attractive enough for sex, humiliated by his lover in public, yet kissed in private, this would be his training ground of the heart.

Even as George discovered the first pangs of love, his parents’ divorce became final and the terms were set. The boys would stay with their father in the house on Cross St., mostly because of puberty and school, and their mother would move two towns over. And though the divorce was over, the wars were not and became so bad that the young mother would find a new job in a small seismology company.

But Jeff would continue to play a part in her life as the two began a romantic relationship. And even though she would see her sons every weekend, the toll began on Michael and George. Michael would feel close to the only father he remembered and continued to excel in hockey while George would feel deserted by the only constant in his life—his mother.

And to this mix the taunts and terrors of high school as the class fag as well as a brother who found it easier to join in the teasing than defending his brother as well as the abrupt end to his romantic relationship, it is of little wonder that George’s thoughts turned suicidal. Unable to continue in his current situation, George would beg to live with his mother.

This, of course, was the worst plan he could made. His mother and Jeff had just moved in together and she realized that there was no way to have two children in the mix—Jeff was slightly immature and she also realized that she could not take one son and not the other. This choice also fueled the war being at Cross St., with Michael becoming more the son that Leo was proud of as George continued to show the traits of his still despised ex-wife.

Thus left to his own devices, George would make a serious of life choices. One was accepting his homosexuality as well as realizing that he would never be able to please Leo or Michael. Instead, he made his own plan of action; to succeed at school, go to a far away college and begin the rest of his life away from his family as much as he could.

Even this simplest of plans would come back to haunt him—Michael would begin to fall even more behind in school, even as he would play on the Junior Olympic team, disappointing Leo while George would disappoint his father by becoming more like his mother in defiance and theology. This would come to a head in a fight that would become about Michael lying about grades, George accidentally point this out and the brothers’ fighting each other physically and result in George head through a glass window. In the aftermath, Leo and George would then fight about the responsibility for the situation and would climax with Leo shouting, ”You are so much your mother that I can’t even look at you.”
The Truth 4


Of course, this had a debasing effect on George and would result him living the summer with Jeff and his mother. During this time, George’s ex would reappear long enough for Jeff to out him to the whole family only months after proposing to the mother. George felt betrayed by a revelation that he had planned to make the next summer before college. He begged his mother not to marry Jeff, who had discovered the secret by searching George’s personal letters, but was told that she would do what she wanted to do.

This left George by senior year more than eager to leave home. A brother that humiliated him, a father who hated him, a stepfather who had violated his privacy and a mother who had betrayed him—these were the circumstances of his life at that point. And this on top of a developing eating disorder as well as daily humiliation in school were the final pushes to get George ready to leave home.

After graduating high school, as well as surviving the wedding he wanted nothing to do with, George made plans to live the summer with his mother and latest husband. He believed it was his only choice left between a father who hated him and a brother who resented him or a house where he could ignore his stepfather and mother.

At this point, an unexpected piece of luck arrived. Jeff’s cousin Lisa needed a nanny for her two children and though George was socially awkward with his peers, he had always a rapport with children and adults. And so George spent the summer away from his family and began to see that his life could be more.

As George began to find this new person within him, he realized that with college he had a chance to start over. To become someone new and different, not the fat class faggot whose parents didn’t seem to want him. But rather, someone interesting, someone who had traveled, been a cheerleader, been a drug addict and in love with many boys. Someone who would be so interesting and fun that people would want, need, to know him. And as he rolled this though around in his head, he came up with a new name of this person….

Rory Lapointe.

Thursday, August 12, 2004

Yeah...The Gays are cool and have nothing to worry about.


Updated: 05:41 PM EDT
McGreevey Resigns Abruptly Over Homosexual Affair
New Jersey Governor Will Quit Nov. 15, Says 'I Am a Gay American'
By JOHN P. McALPIN, AP

TRENTON, N.J. (Aug. 12) - In a stunning declaration, Gov. James E. McGreevey announced his resignation Thursday and acknowledged that he had an extramarital affair with another man. ''My truth is that I am a gay American,'' he said.



AP
New Jersey Gov. James E. McGreevey, right, holds his wife Dina Matos McGreevey's hand, before announcing he will resign.

''Shamefully, I engaged in adult consensual affairs with another man, which violates my bonds of matrimony,'' the married father of two said at a news conference. ''It was wrong, it was foolish, it was inexcusable.''

The Democrat said his resignation would be effective Nov. 15.

McGreevey, 47, said that ''it makes little difference that as governor I am gay,'' but added that staying in office and keeping the affair and his sexual orientation secret will leave the governor's office ''vulnerable to rumors, false allegations and threats of disclosure.''


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''Given the circumstances surrounding the affair and its likely impact upon my family and my ability to govern, I have decided the right course of action is to resign,'' he said.

McGreevey did not elaborate on what the circumstances were.

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

Runaway Underpants and Other Jealousies.

So the other night, on my way out of another night of BB fun, I had the strangest and random moment in a long time. I was on my way home at 3 am, wandering the streets of Studio City and enjoying the brisk night chill, as I tend to do. My favorite part of the job is the odd hours and the chance to enjoy the city at rest, a combination of damp grass and light breezes to accompany me and my meandering thoughts. As I made my way back to the main street and light traffic, the oddest thing I have seen in awhile startled me. A man jogging in white underpants and a sleeveless t-shirt. We both came to a startled stop and just were frozen for the moment; me thinking about personal safety and him thinking whatever one is prone to his position. After a brief pause, pun intended, there was flash of something more coming into the situation. The jogger gave me a slow stare and slight nod as he stood there with the slow smile. The “wanna find somewhere and fuck” smile. I am quite familiar with said smile for a million reasons beyond this and had a moment of sight hesitation. And, yes, the guy was hot. A little bit older, obviously self-assured given the outfit and had a nice smile. I know some of you are thinking “what nerve” or ”how could you” but the truth is, this comes up more often than not. And I did roll the idea around in my head for a beat longer than need. The truth is, in the gay community, this could be considered a regular social situation. The idea that you could just meet a total stranger and go home with him is a standard practice. You can go and legally pay for a night of hot sex at a bathhouse or just place an ad on line and get satisfaction with nothing more than address or a name to go on. I’m not saying this doesn’t happen in the straight world; I am blessed to have a handful of friends who does this with such penance that it never ceases to amaze me. But when I rule out all the stories of sex with college friends, co-workers or even roommates of roommates, I am left a very small number of straight friends who have done the “I don’t even know if I have the right name” sex. And when I rule out all the ones who have regretted the nameless sex then I left with maybe a hand to count them on. And that’s where the jealousy comes in. Because even with my friends who have done the one nightstand, there is a pattern, a series of moves to be made. There’s the buying of drinks, the agony of bodies dancing, the tit for tat verbiage worthy of a Hepburn/Tracy film—the anticipation. If Mr. Runaway Underpants happened to one of my female friends it would have been a different story, most likely involving mace, self-defense moves and a 911 call. That’s where the rub comes in. I just feel like I, and the gay community, have moved beyond the entire “I have a penis, you have a penis, I’m sprung, let’s get this done” mentality. I think it would be nice to get a beer out of the deal, a “hey what’s you sign?” or even a cheap dance grope and not feel date raped to Justin Timberlake. I think I am worth more than a quick up and down, tongue down the throat, sex in a parking lot type thing. Though maybe I’m wrong and that is what it is. Maybe I am overestimating the straight community or downplaying my own. Maybe it is just that dirty and messy all around. All I know was that Mr. Runaway Underpants wasn’t gone get it for a million reasons—I was tired, I didn’t want to get grass stains on my new shorts, I needed a shower first. Or maybe I was just willing to wait till the next time I saw him, building my own sense of anticipation.
Runaway Underpants and Other Jealousies.

So the other night, on my way out of another night of BB fun, I had the strangest and random moment in a long time. I was on my way home at 3 am, wandering the streets of Studio City and enjoying the brisk night chill, as I tend to do. My favorite part of the job is the odd hours and the chance to enjoy the city at rest, a combination of damp grass and light breezes to accompany me and my meandering thoughts.

As I made my way back to the main street and light traffic, the oddest thing I have seen in awhile startled me. A man jogging in white underpants and a sleeveless t-shirt. We both came to a startled stop and just were frozen for the moment; me thinking about personal safety and him thinking whatever one is prone to his position.

After a brief pause, pun intended, there was flash of something more coming into the situation. The jogger gave me a slow stare and slight nod as he stood there with the slow smile. The “wanna find somewhere and fuck” smile. I am quite familiar with said smile for a million reasons beyond this and had a moment of sight hesitation.

And, yes, the guy was hot. A little bit older, obviously self-assured given the outfit and had a nice smile. I know some of you are thinking “what nerve” or ”how could you” but the truth is, this comes up more often than not. And I did roll the idea around in my head for a beat longer than need.

The truth is, in the gay community, this could be considered a regular social situation. The idea that you could just meet a total stranger and go home with him is a standard practice. You can go and legally pay for a night of hot sex at a bathhouse or just place an ad on line and get satisfaction with nothing more than address or a name to go on.

I’m not saying this doesn’t happen in the straight world; I am blessed to have a handful of friends who does this with such penance that it never ceases to amaze me. But when I rule out all the stories of sex with college friends, co-workers or even roommates of roommates, I am left a very small number of straight friends who have done the “I don’t even know if I have the right name” sex. And when I rule out all the ones who have regretted the nameless sex then I left with maybe a hand to count them on.

And that’s where the jealousy comes in. Because even with my friends who have done the one nightstand, there is a pattern, a series of moves to be made. There’s the buying of drinks, the agony of bodies dancing, the tit for tat verbiage worthy of a Hepburn/Tracy film—the anticipation. If Mr. Runaway Underpants happened to one of my female friends it would have been a different story, most likely involving mace, self-defense moves and a 911 call.

That’s where the rub comes in. I just feel like I, and the gay community, have moved beyond the entire “I have a penis, you have a penis, I’m sprung, let’s get this done” mentality. I think it would be nice to get a beer out of the deal, a “hey what’s you sign?” or even a cheap dance grope and not feel date raped to Justin Timberlake. I think I am worth more than a quick up and down, tongue down the throat, sex in a parking lot type thing.

Though maybe I’m wrong and that is what it is. Maybe I am overestimating the straight community or downplaying my own. Maybe it is just that dirty and messy all around. All I know was that Mr. Runaway Underpants wasn’t gone get it for a million reasons—I was tired, I didn’t want to get grass stains on my new shorts, I needed a shower first. Or maybe I was just willing to wait till the next time I saw him, building my own sense of anticipation.


Monday, August 09, 2004

The death of a Super Freak.

So, Rick James has passed on and become the third celeb death in th black community along with Isabel Sanford and Ray Charles. So hopefully, according to death in 3 theroy then we are set for awhile. That being said, in honor of Rick James I'd like to list his 5 best contributions to the world.

5) David Chapelle. Rick James gave this guy more than enough material to make a film and much more. Who can ever forget the immortal joke "what did the five fingers and hand say to the face?" SLAP!!! Good times and Rick James always saw the joke. That is the sign of real class.

4) Rick James was considered by many to be one of the pioneers of the R & B, rock & roll, funk sound. Bewteen his career as a singer/songwriter and musician well as his contributions in the producing aspect, many can give thanks and their musical starts to Rick James' influence.

3) The song "Super Freak" would become a signature song not only to Rick James but to the early 80's dance scene, being a classic in the disco, funk and R & B genres.. Few can hear the open strains of this song and not give a smile, a dance and even more to the beat heavy, booty shaking anthem.

2) The Mary Jane Girls. The brain child of Rick james, this group of his former background singers became a staple on MTV for their #1 hit "My House" and are sited as a founding sound for a number of female r & B artists. This as well as being one of my favorite vidoes of all time and a special space in my childhood. I have always wanted, and still do, to be one of Rick James' "Mary Janes".

1) And the number one reason? Rick James produced one of my favorite songs of all time with one of the 80's top comdeians. This song is my favorite bad "crank up the radio and freak out the apartment complex" song. We all know it and we all love it so let's just sing the Rick James/Eddie Murphy classic togther... "My girl wants to party all the, party all the, party all the time!" And let's hope wherever Rick James is that the party is still rolling. (though if it is hell then that song is on repeat.)

Sunday, August 08, 2004

The death of a Super Freak.

So, Rick James has passed on and become the third celeb death in th black community along with Isabel Sanford and Ray Charles. So hopefully, according to death in 3 theroy then we are set for awhile. That being said, in honor of Rick James I'd like to list his 5 best contributions to the world. 5) David Chapelle. Rick James gave this guy more than enough material to make a film and much more. Who can ever forget the immortal joke "what did the five fingers and hand say to the face?" SLAP!!! Good times and Rick James always saw the joke. That is the sign of real class. 4) Rick James was considered by many to be one of the pioneers of the R & B, rock & roll, funk sound. Bewteen his career as a singer/songwriter and musician well as his contributions in the producing aspect, many can give thanks and their musical starts to Rick James' influence. 3) The song "Super Freak" would become a signature song not only to Rick James but to the early 80's dance scene, being a classic in the disco, funk and R & B genres.. Few can hear the open strains of this song and not give a smile, a dance and even more to the beat heavy, booty shaking anthem. 2) The Mary Jane Girls. The brain child of Rick james, this group of his former background singers became a staple on MTV for their #1 hit "My House" and are sited as a founding sound for a number of female r & B artists. This as well as being one of my favorite vidoes of all time and a special space in my childhood. I have always wanted, and still do, to be one of Rick James' "Mary Janes". 1) And the number one reason? Rick James produced one of my favorite songs of all time with one of the 80's top comdeians. This song is my favorite bad "crank up the radio and freak out the apartment complex" song. We all know it and we all love it so let's just sing the Rick James/Eddie Murphy classic togther... "My girl wants to party all the, party all the, party all the time!" And let's hope wherever Rick James is that the party is still rolling. (though if it is hell then that song is on repeat)
Long Time, No Words.....

So I have just been so tired and slow as of late... It is not writer's block as much as it just nothing to say. That and I was taken aback by a comment on my blog. The entire you are boring, go kill yourself thing just kind of flipped me out a little. I guess, i know to some degree that I can at times be boring and slow and just not the most fasanating topic on the planet.

Sometimes it is work and the long hours and just hard to type up stuff at home after 10-12 hours of the computer and transribinmg the dullest and least exciting things in the world. Don't get me wrong, I love this job and it can be fun and the money is great and does make everything else life-wise more easy.

That all being said, I know that i have not been the best at writng and owe myself more and even my friends that read this. it is not an excuse but it what I know that I owe. So... bear with me through the boredom and I will try and give you some more soon.... And to the guys who made the comment about how boring my posts have been...... Have some balls and show me if you can do better... If you can't then just FUCK OFF!

Friday, August 06, 2004

Ethan Hawke tells all...

SO I read this rather interesting article in "Rolling Stone" where Ethan talks about being a pretenious artist when younger but his response to that claim is that he had to take himself serious asan artist because if the artist doesn't do that then who else will. I guess that thought makes sense, that only we can choose to be an artist and that is we aren't serious about, continue to study our art and work on it regardless of work and social events then we can make great stuff... I wish I could word better what this means but it makes sense on some many more levels

Sunday, August 01, 2004

Let me yawn....... let me yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn.... (to the theme of thong song)

Let me yawn....... let me yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn.... (to the theme of thong song) Threee hours of sleep people...three hours. I feel a little like Nic Cage in "Leaving Las Vegas". Honestly now. But good drinks last night, fun dinner and just all around good times for the usual crew. It is funny when the most boring of things become a better time then you thought. I just hope that I don't smell like Liza coming out of detox. Really now people. I just hope so.