It Was A Painless Birth

I honestly didn't think it would happen today. Things just sort of worked out.

Gentle Readers: Meet Jethro. I call him Jet. He's mine. I'm his.

I'm Not Pregnant

I'll know more tomorrow but if all goes well, our little cast of characters will be expanding by one. No, I haven't gone and got myself knocked up. But I am expecting. Besides, you can't get pregnant if you swallow. Can you?

Oh Thank Heaven!

I'm sure only two people will know what I'm talking about, but at last Steven was sent home! What a pompous, insufferable man. I pity the poor kitchen and waitstaff that will one day suffer in his employ. I think now Dave may go all the way. If he doesn't have some sort of spontaneous mental breakdown.

My niece finally got internet access (!) in her house. They live in a shack in the woods. Seriously, they have no sidewalks. And they gave her an e-mail address. Since then we've been trading short e-mails almost every day. I couldn't be happier. So the other day I casually mentioned that I had gone shopping. To which she inquired as to what I had gone shopping for? My reply:

Oh sweetie, I just went shopping. It's completely beside the point what you shop "for".

(sigh)

Forgive her Discount Gods. She is but a child and clearly needs some help and guidance from her Guncle. She knows not the wonders of the Sale Rack and the miracle that is an additional 20% off at the registers. School her, I must in the ways of the Jedi charge card.

Bad News dept: My cousin's wife lost her father this weekend. It double sucks because she is in her 40's and due to give birth. Her first time, and it's twins. So near her due date that they won't let her travel to Buffalo for the services. What should be unbelievably joyous has turned bittersweet. Of course I'm sending a card but I don't know what to say and wish I could do more.

I know, sex. Maybe tomorrow.

Your New Job Is In A Gay Neighborhood When ...

You look up at an intersection and see this on the side of a building.



Also, while in the men's locker room at the local branch of your gym, someone's cell goes off inside a locker. The ringtone? The Charlie's Angels theme, of course.



Also at my gym this afternoon. At various times 6 or 7 men sitting in a steamroom. With one guy at the end masturbating. No one said anything and no one joined in. Nor did he stop when the door opened and theoretically anyone could be entering. People would open the door and observe him masturbating and proceed to enter the steamroom and sit down. He also didn't appear to try and get anyone to join in. But he kept right on masturbating. It was surreal. When I left? He was still masturbating. Is this a definition of an exhibitionist? A chronic masturbator? Judges? Make the call.

In tech news: If you haven't heard, you can download and use a Beta test version of Microsoft's new browser IE7. I grabbed it yesterday and downloaded it to my desktop. I like it. It's kind of plain looking but the tabbed browsing works great. I like that it always keeps a page ready for you to type or paste a new URL in. That's handy. And I've been having all kinds of problems uploading pictures to my blog using Firefox, but absolutely none when I post using IE. Don't know what up wit dat. Anyway, you can find the download at the Windows Update site.

By the by, I haven't been able to get to Sitemeter for a couple of days now. I'm not a total stat freak but I do like to see who's nosing around here, helloooooo! whoever you are in the ACLU. So is anyone else having Sitemeter issues or is it just me?

Happy Birthday

From The Ashes wishes the happiest of birthdays and much love to AIDS activist Phill Wilson. 50 years old and almost 25 years HIV+, He has pledged to raise $250,000 for the Black AIDS Institute.

I Spent 50 Cents

Yesterday. The whole day. No, I wasn't sequestered. I woke up a little late, and had a breakfast of leftovers from cooking during the week. I popped in to the gym to SSS, because the storm that blew in made the apartment really cold and drafty. A hot shower and some time in the steamroom warmed my bones and made me feel better. By then it was time for work. That's when I spent 50 cents for a newspaper. I read it quickly on the slow cross-town bus ride. My dinner was covered at work as were my after work drinks. I had two. I headed for home in the unending rain around 3 am. I did have another drink at home, but that was obviously already paid for. I fell asleep lounging on the couch for a bit and woke up around 5:30, scooting off to bed.

Total monetary cost for the day: .50

I Know, I Know!

I owe you a sex story. Get off my cock, I have a job now!

Oh My God, I Just Had Sex!

In the smallest apartment I have ever been in. Ever. Bar none. Meet me back here after lunch time and I'll tell you all about it.

You Know It's A Bad Day

You know it's a bad day when a homosexual with a serious shopping disorder and an extra hundred dollars burning a hole in his pocket spends all afternoon wandering around the shops on lower Broadway, and only finds one lousy pullover to buy. And even that was only because it was ridiculously cheap and would also look good with jeans. What is there for a bored and no longer horny Duchess to do but make a turkey meatloaf?

Wait. I almost forgot! - Jake over at NOFO recently posted his intent to run the Chicago AIDS marathon in October. He has started to raise money in hopes of collecting $2500 in pledges to benefit the AIDS Foundation of Chicago. Sounds like a pretty worthy cause to me. I've never met the Jake-ster and he reads whiter than Wonderbread, but pretty darn nice, and he has in fact made me shoot milk out my nose on more than one occasion. So for that fact alone I will happily shill for him and urge you to pop over, scroll down to the AIDS Marathon logo and click on the link. Spare a twenty, maybe? C'mon, you know you want to.

Oh my gayness, not only did I make a sinfully moist (!) turkey meatloaf but while that was baking up all brown and delicious I whipped up a pasta with onion, mushroom, zucchini and squash, all tossed in a creamy pesto. I have meals cooked for days. Why am I single?

Why Bother, When Whitney Says It Better?

You Got Me ...

under your skin.

from my mailbag:

Mr. Tom (Edited for content) old aidsy hag:

After talking with my attorney about you using my pictures without my
permission, he said that it is copyright infringement since I already
marked it as copyrighted on my website (Check "All Rights Reserved"
dated 2003).

You chose to steal a couple of pictures and put the words on it and
posted it on your website -- that is copyright infringement. My
attorney told me that I could ask you to remove it because you lacked
the permission from the owner whose the pictures belonged to, that is,
me.

Your website is being notified to the blogger.com for copyright
infringement and the abuse of my pictures for your pleasure. That is
illegal action that can be dealt in the courts. Of course, I am
asking you to remove the pictures because I never gave you the
permission to do such a thing.

Thank you,
Ricky Taylor

You silly, silly fat retard. Parody is not covered by copyright infringement. Neither is satire. Look it up. Have your lawyer call my lawyer.

See you in court!

Loser.

P.S. Nothing about pictures of you give me any kind of pleasure.

This N That

Grudgingly, I would be remiss if I didn't point out that he seems to sort of get it, now. But isn't that what I've been saying? Sprinkled with liberal doses of "fuck" and "fuck you" of course.

I spent yesterday afternoon trading e-mails with Ricky (Yeah I'm 300 lbs. but it's all muscle) Taylor. The mutation that he is went absolutely ape-shit when I banned him from dribbling any of his Krispy Kreme laden hate speech in my comment section. Here's an excerpt from one of about 25 e-mails he shot my way:

blocking me on ur blogsite is hilarious, u little aidsy boy -- i see
that u like to control things around you. what an anxiety pity. i
saw ur pic of ur ass -- so gross. so old, so hag. so aidsy. i even
forwarded it to friends -- we got kicks out of this. u're sad faggot
who needs to talk with ur therapist about being obsessed with ME.
please keep lying to your readers about how good u are -- you got
fired from three jobs in a short time. what does that tells you?
u're bitter queen -- u're tragic character that could not produce any
money in greek tragedies! LOL

Lovely man, huh? I responded to every one of them, usually with some rejoinder ending with "you're fat".

Speaking of fat shit, I happened by the gym yesterday afternoon after a fake N bake session so it could wash the lotion off it's skin. Heading into the shower area I pass an older (than me!) gentleman finishing getting dressed to go out on the floor. He has on a shirt and grey shorts and a pair of all-white Payless sneakers. I know. As he bends over to make an adjustment to his sock I am suddenly and glaringly jolted to spy a half dollar size shit stain right where you would think a shit stain ought to be. I briefly considered what would be the best, least embarrassing (for him and me) way for one to broach this subject and quickly decided there wasn't one. I also surmised that if that stain wasn't recent and this guy is married, his wife not so secretly despises him.

Following up on my (self-appointed) role as consumer gadfly, I've been meaning to point out that supposedly a meeting took place at my beloved (but oh so crowded) Whole Food Market, The subject of which was what (if anything) to do about the Trader Joe's situation? It seems (and I know this to be true) that there is regularly a line outside Joe's that runs down 14th st. even weekdays in the afternoon. The story is that Whole Foods is runnin' scared. They needn't worry. On my forays into Trader Joe's I've found the store and it's customers rather like those that fly Southwest Air, which most people liken to a bus ride in the sky. Joe's customers are largely boorish and ungainly. They natter on into their cell phones and obliviously block your way down the aisle or lumber tragically into you with their basket slamming you in the spine. The line outside just seems to reinforce the bovine behavior you seem to need inside. I'll stick with my refined Whole Foods and their genteel sushi bar thank you.

Fussin' and Feudin' ... Yee Haw!

My little dust up last week with the Misunderstood Victim Of The Year made discussion forums as far away as Los Angeles. Apparently, he was cast in the role of "privileged gay guy" while yours truly was labeled a "work a day fag". I can live with that.

One of my readers sent an e-mail inquiring as to the origins of my flat-out hatred and contempt for one Ricky Taylor. So I thought I'd clear it up publicly in case you haven't had the pleasure. Ricky first came to my attention several years ago back when a lot of us were baby bloggers. I had recently made the acquaintance of my internet pal Ryan down in Texas. He was the first HIV+ blogger to get in touch with me, and put me on a little network of bloggers that has expanded to include many of the people that I converse with all over the country.

Shortly after our meeting, Ryan contacted me regarding a particularly nasty comment he received on his site. He followed it with an e-mail and it was then he received a series of increasingly disgusting e-mails in reply. Not only did the "writer" call him all kinds of names, he actually wished that Ryan would die from AIDS. He stated that he hoped he would suffer from facial-wasting. That used to be a common obsession of this reprehensible creature. I have no idea why. He had made up a comic book name and character for himself, casting himself as Ridor the Terrible. But of course it was only Ricky Taylor. Needless to say I was outraged.

But Ricky left links back and that's when I first discovered this pig had a blog. It only made it worse that he was deaf, gay and living in New York City frequenting many of the same bars/parties I was at. I was sickened that someone like this could exist. How you come up as hearing impaired and gay and still have an endless well-spring of hate and utter lack of compassion for other people was quite beyond me. Ricky Taylor, however has it in spades. Somehow his experiences growing up have left him a bitter, frustrated man, who regularly lashes out at hotel clerks, bartenders, ticket takers and anyone else he comes across as he rails against the hopeless aggravation that his life has become.

At the time, after reading through his horrifying posts about gay men, lesbians, the homeless, the poor and anyone else he felt like denegrating that would somehow alleviate his own suffering and elevate him beyond a freak with an internet connection I contacted him through his e-mail. I don't remember exactly what I said but I was in full Dutchess mode, of that you can be sure. I called him every nasty name in the book. I pointed out what an ugly (inside and out), bitter, insignificant little worm he was. I was merciless, because mercy seemed long since ruled out. He responded with my own set of increasingly ugly e-mails. Of course he wished me dead. He accused me of being diseased and at death's door. He wished to me that I would be dead from AIDS soon. He poured through my blog thinking that if he found my "faults" and pointed them out to me, this would somehow make me fall apart. Like calling me of all people a freak would get you anywhere. He used his site as a forum using edited versions of what I was saying to justify his behavior. He pointedly never admitted the horrible venom he would spew in e-mail after e-mail.

Ultimately, Ricky Taylor committed what I considered at the time a truly evil act. He disclosed my full name in public and revealed that I was HIV positive. This was before I had decided to tell my immediate family. I was absolutely stunned at first. It hadn't occurred to me that I could be dealing with someone with an absolute lack of empathy of any kind, but clearly I was. Several days passed before I knew what had to be done. It was then that I publicly "came out" as HIV positive and resolved to inform my family at our next face to face meeting. I took back the one bit of power Ricky Taylor had over me. In that instant, what little he mattered was reduced to nothing. As it should be.

At the time, I also composed the previous post about Ricky Taylor. By then, I had grown to know him well enough to include many of his own hot-button issues in my parody of him and his many many obsessions. It un-nerved him so badly he offered to remove his links to me from his site and most of what he wrote if I would do the same. That was most of what I wanted. While the damage was already done in my eyes, I wanted so badly to not be in any way linked to this twisted sister that I agreed.

Unfortunately, the truce lasted until last week, when Ricky couldn't resist insinuating himself in my dust up with the Self-Hating Hypocrite. Significantly, Ricky lumps himself and Richard as two blogging peas-in-a-pod, admonishing me to stop stalking "me and RJR". Hence, a republishing of my mockery of Ricky, his crazy Asian lady manner of Bizzaro-speak, and his conspiracy theories of how hearing people spend their days plotting against him.

I have since moved far past and away from Ricky Taylor and all his petty feuds and annoyances. I'm just another stupid hearie that had a delightful afternoon off, lunching in Union Square, followed by a couple of hours doing what I do best. Shopping, you dirty pigs. Still, after another afternoon over the weekend exchanging nasty e-mails with Ricky I've vowed from now on to take every opportunity to hound him mercilessly, wherever he appears on My Internets. He did something unforgivable to me, and deserves any nasty business I can now throw his way. I'm Sicilian you know.

It's Official

I am officially back amongst the ranks of the wage slaves. Tonight I was offered the job and went back on the payroll. Despite my expressed desire to avoid bars and restaurants, my half-assed foray into the 9 to 5 world was met with an unenthusiastic "and you are?" that sent me retreating to the world I know best. Did I mention I have never, ever had a regular 9 to 5 job? Anyway, the details are as follows:

It's a restaurant/bar in Chelsea that has been open a number of years. The food is wonderful.

Many of the people on staff have been there 6,7 and 8 years. Unheard of in most of NYC and a pretty good indication that you get treated pretty good.

The owners I have met have been friendly and very low maintenance, and the staff speaks very highly of their bosses.

My commute is an easy 1/2 hour walk across town and I pass two branches of my gym on the way. If the weather is inclement I can catch a cross-town bus that drops me off literally at the front door of work.

The clientele is mixed gay and straight, young and old, black and white. Same goes for the staff.

As I stated in an earlier post, my HIV status is no issue. I haven't opened a conversation with it yet, but I'm not the least bit concerned.

I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want. After being regularly starved at my next to last job, and seeing as how my last (brief) job was no picnic as far as regular food breaks either, this is a most pleasant and welcome change. They seem to understand a troop moves best on a full stomach.

My pay, while not breaking any records, is more than I've made in a while, emminently fair, and will afford me the means to maintain my lavish lifestyle.

I don't need it (thanks ADAP!) but they offer health insurance.

- That's all I intend to reveal for now. I think I've decided this time around to try not to feature my job as another character in my blog. That hasn't seemed to work out too well. I do have plans to use my position in the future to try and host some HIV+ socials, mixers, events etc. I'm exploring some avenues with this group. More when I'm settled in and have a chance to build some bridges. Suffice it to say I'm feeling right now like I've landed one of the better jobs I've ever had. I'd prefer to be obnoxiously rich and spend my days planning charity balls and cotillions, but since I have to work for now, this seems like it'll be OK.

Don't Say You Weren't Warned ...

From My Mailbag ...
(Because he just couldn't leave it alone. I guess you do reap what you sow after all.)

Hello.

I is Ricky Taylor. I make up a cool comic book name for myself because when I spend hours reading picture-stories about other people's life it makes me feel maybe someday I can have life that cool too. So from now on you call me Ri-tard OK? I know we has been fighting lately. Really, is liek high school between us. We all have our differences. You smart, I retarded, you in good shape, I gi-normous, you hearie, I deafie, you good lookin, I hideously fat and mis-shapen. But I know for really why we fight. Is because you're HIV+. Why even with bad sex disease people liek you more than me? Really, the deafies no liek me because I embarrass them with my racist remarks and bigoted comments. The hearies no liek me because, well I don't know why. Stupid hearies! The gays no liek me because I smell liek onion all the time and the gays no leik big fat cottage cheese jiggle asses. Me no liek being so fat. Me can't help it. Today I only ate one entire boxes of Hostess cupcakes two 12" Subway sandwiches and the left leg of a neighbor boy that walked by. He good. Taste liek chicken. It OK 'cause he was stupid hearie. Stupid hearies me hate them! Now you belong to another private club me not a part of. Me jelo...jealo... gella...me envy you. Me so lonely. Me call you AIDS boy then you get mad and give Ri-tard, the horrible body odor some attension OK? I is The VEE! I is the Vee!

OK the reason me writing on you is because me am very horny and me no get an ejaculation in a long time. Well, if you don't count at night while sleeping but that usually dry by morning and me have to peel my sticky underwear off my sweaty fat skin. Sometimes me just go to work without changing. Hearies wrinkle their nose at me when me walk by. Me too smart though, me know that secret hearie code for "remember to oppress the deafies". Stupid hearies! But you seem to get much sex and me was wondering if me could touch your benis .... lol me so stupid me meant penis. Benis am one of my friends. Also friends named Perlis, Kekua, Surdus, Hex, DelaJoy, man, why we deafies have fucked up names? I is The Vee! I is The Vee! (Why me keep saying that? It make me sound more retarded.)

Ricky Taylor is confused why people get mad at me when I say to leave the Nazi man alone? Me know Nazi men kill 6 million people. But only Jews. That not so bad. It's not like they kill deafies or anything. That would make Ri-tard, the horrible body odor really mad. I would say, "you owe me and all my deafie friends and especially my deaf ancestors an apology." If I didn't get one I would call those Nazis 'hearies' and say "Look! Look! Let the world see the bad Nazi men and what they have done!" Because I believe way more than six people am reading what I have to say. Because me am delus... deloosh... me am fooling myself. Well, obviously me not say it lol *snicker* ROTFLMAO. What was I saying? Oh, yes, talking about my deaf ancestors make Ri-tard mad anyway. They am oppressed because all deaf people am oppressed by hearies. Look it up! Jesus am deaf! One time I asked my mother if maybe my grandparents was oppressed and kept down by the hearies because all my ancestors is retarded as Ricky. Mother just cried. Maybe it am bad idea for Ricky Taylor's backwoods inbred Appalachian family to let brother and sister make fat, deaf, ugly babies together. Can I make babies even though I is faggot? Maybe Ri-tard can go fuck myself. No, me am too fat and smelly to fuck my own dirty ass.



But maybe if me make nasty names on you and call you diseased people think I interesting. I not. Me think about you all the time. Hey, me see you bagging groceries at Met food? He look at me funny so me think it am you. I buying 3 dozens eggs 22 lbs of hams and 8 lbs of bacon so no reason to look at me funny. Lol, OK. Maybe it was chocolate shake dripping out my mouth. But at least me no pay for it. It OK. Grocery probably owned by hearie. Me really mad at you for being hearie but me really, really mad at you for being not pathetic, fat and stupid liek Ricky Taylor. But me still want to make ejaculation with you. Me tired of pretending people that feel sorry for me mite make sex on me. Call Ri-tard?
Please? Anyone?

Oh well, I guess I spend my time posting stoopid messages on people. It am show that even tho I deafie, I can still be bigoted and nasty and .... Oh, What am everyone calling me? Oh yeah! Pathetic and stoopid!
Bye-bye too old, too bitter, AIDS boy with the really nice benis! lol me mean penis.
*Hugs*
Ri-tard, the horrible body odor.
(Did I tell you I is the Vee?)
S uck Y ou L ater, (please?)

Funniest, Scariest YouTube Ever ....

-via Sector 7-G

I know, clowns. I apologize in advance, RJ.

Oh No You Didn't !

Yesterday I thought he was being irritating and naive. Today he out and out pissed me the fuck off.

I got the point completely, Richard, and I'm so sorry you don't see that what you post, a gay bar or club, Fire Island and Main Street USA are all connected. And I maintain that you are not and should not presume to be the arbiter of what's appropriate. Particularly if, as you seem to advocate, you feel that we need to assimilate into what you think straight people feel is acceptable in order to gain equality. Equality will never be willingly handed over to us. Equality is demanded and taken by force, regardless of whether I'm in an evening gown or walking down the street with a porn star and a lesbian with her titties out. I'm so sorry that a part of you is so scared and ashamed of who we, and I guess by extension you, are that you would write something so hateful.

New Job

It's not a 100% done done deal, but here's a snippet of a conversation that I had on my first night training with another manager:

Him: "Are you positive?"

Me: (reflexively stalling) "Huh?"

Him: "Are you positive?"

Me: "Oh. (a bit too enthusiastically) Yeah!"

Him: "I've been positive since 1985. A lot of people here are in the same boat. The owners are very supportive."

I guess I picked the right job. Or it picked me. It's hard to say.

Victoria's Big Secret

-via Oink Grrr....

P.S. You knew it would happen eventually. I believe I am gainfully employed once again. All will be revealed next time.

New York City Clubs/Bars Shut Down In Friday Night Raids

Seven local businesses and gay bars were raided and 5 were shut down last night. All the clubs shut down were located in the Chelsea (gay) section of Manhattan. The clubs were hit with various violations:

Club Deep: Drug sales (marijuana, cocaine and ecstasy)

The View: Drug sales (cocaine and ecstasy)

Splash: Drug sales (reportedly $2700 in cocaine sales)

Spirit: (assault and stabbing of patrons, alcohol sales to minors, drug use and sale)

Avalon: Drug sales (ecstasy)

One dance club and one local business were issued restraining orders. They remain open assuming illegal activity is stopped. They are:

Speed: Cops reporting witnessing attempted prostitution and drug use

Steel Gym: Drug sales (crystal meth)

No word yet on whether the shut downs were for one night or if they'll be longer. Also no real explanation on what prompted the concentration on Chelsea (gay) businesses. The undercover drug probe supposedly lasted nine months.

Update: NY1 is reporting that the clubs that were shut will remain closed "indefinitely".

Update2: NYPD denies targeting gay businesses.