Fer some white wine, unusual because I much prefer red. Now a bottle of chardonnay later and I made yellow and green squash with shells in a pesto cream sauce, and a flounder francese with toasted almonds, sunflower seeds and squash with spinach. AND I have a nice cock and a tight ass. So what's the deal.....?

Anyway, The shelves that fell have been put back up more securely. I replaced the DVD racks with new, sturdier versions. I swapped out my nightstand for a new filing cabinet. The laundry is done, the sheets are changed, and all is quite orderly here in my castle high atop Second Ave. Jet escaped this morning and sprinted down five flights of stairs. I got down to find him taking a nice big long piss at the foyer door. Sort of outside. I guess. This afternoon outside Tompkins Square Park we ran in to a nice lady shilling for Eukanuba. We scored two bags of dog food, three large biscuits, four tartar bones and four packets of doggy gravy. Because my dog is cute.

  

This picture has no real significance, other than to show out of towners what Union Square is like when absolutely nothing of note is going on. It's still crowded. But I was just trying out a feature of Picasa where you can edit pictures and post them directly from Picasa to your blog. It works pretty well. If you haven't tried Picasa yet you should. It's got some really cool features and it's free from the fine folks over at Google.

Star Jones Reynolds leaves The View. Today they kicked her to the curb. Ding-dong the witch is dead.

The lilac bushes are in bloom in the park by my house. The entire north side smells like old lady.

I am highly allergic to mosquito bites. I get enormous red welts (sometimes the size of baseballs). They itch and get so hot it's painful. The reaction can last up to four days. I have insect repellant, hydrocortizone cream and Benadryl spray out on the table all summer. I hate mosquitoes. I take comfort in imagining that they fly around for a bit, and then start to feel vaguely ill. They cough a couple of times, and then my tainted blood makes them fall dead out of the sky. Bwaaaaa ha-ha-ha-ha.

I saw a thing on ER the other day where a guy with minor injuries had some drops put in his eyes. The drops made him cough and sneeze and then his eye popped out of the socket!. It looked just like that Arnold movie on Mars. I freaked out and changed the channel, but I can't shake the image or the thought that if it was on ER, it must be possible. You can sneeze and your eye can pop out. Right?


I don't watch much "reality" TV but I have looked in on and enjoyed So You Think You Can Dance. I have a thought and a question. I think I would like Dmitry to fuck me until I cry. My question is for Jaymz. The "Z" I can take, but why the "Y"?

Whole Foods had a sale on organic lemonade this week. What exactly makes organic lemonade organic I don't know. I haven't bothered to read the label. But a Svedka/soda and organic lemonade is about the tastiest thing I've ever had.

Last week. 23rd St. Near 6th Ave. Two men. Both blind. With canes. One leading the other through the crowd and into a local deli. Literally, the blind leading the blind. Huh.

My bedroom is disintegrating around me. Shelves falling off the wall. Windowblind cords snapping. Maybe it's a sign.

For an explanation, see SissySearch.com.


There's still more. Please come back later today.

Some of the best sights weren't in the parade...



Gym sports bar.




Nice balls!

and finally ...



crack is whack.


I have a few more pictures. I ran in to the beginnings of a mini-ball that I LOVED but it didn't take off and my lower back started to knot up. I also snapped some pics of the calender guys from City Gym Boys at the outdoor festival. I'll post those later. And I still have to recap the HIV/AIDS vigil. But that's a story more than just posting pictures. This was the first time in years I had the whole weekend to really enjoy pride and not have to leave to go to/get up for work. I also didn't hang out with anyone. Just me. I did the parade, I did the street fair, I came home and played with my dog. I went out for drinks but woke up the next day hangover-free. It wasn't crazy, it was fun and respectful and one of the better Pride experiences I've ever had. I hope you enjoyed the pictures. We now return to our snarky general commentary.

Here's a handful of pictures from the parade. I'll be updating with more as I edit them. I'll comment as needed. Please do not use any pictures without crediting me and this blog. Of course, we'll start with Kevin Aviance. Even though she should have bedazzled the knee brace.






















Falcon Exclusives Roman Heart and Erik Rhodes.

(Below and yesterday's preview) Boys of the Bacardi float.

5th Avenue, 19th St.

Twinks get their freak on.

of some really awesome Pride pix. If I do say so myself. More during the week. I've got a lot of pictures to edit. If you feel like stalking me the rest of the night I'll be at The Park and then Mr. Black. Oh my liver.

But I wanted to show you this. It's outside a church on 5th Avenue, the parade route on Sunday.



I got some beautiful photos from the HIV/AIDS vigil tonight. I can't wait to show them to you. It was extremely emotional.

Tuesday found me hiking downtown to the Bowery Poetry Club for the annual all-singing all-dancing gay edition of WYSIWYG. I love that they've moved from the old PS 122 location, as it's now great writing and entertainment WITH A BAR. I'm much more motivated to arrive early now. I always love the way gay edition of WYSIWYG, but this year was particularly good. I won't review every performer, but I will highlite my favorites. Greg Walloch was milk out the nose funny. Huh-larry-us. And if you head over to Curly McDimple's site Ham & Cheese on Wry, she's posted the peice she read. It's funny in print but her delivery was retardedly good. I can see why she's been nominated for blog awards. I'm so jealous. One of my absolute favorite bloggers Joel Derfner didn't disappoint on any level. I wish I could tell you more about what he read but unfortunately when he took the stage all the blood rushed out of my ears and into my penis. The picture does not do him justice but here you go...


(picture removed per request)
Joe Jervis, Rod Townsend and Greg Walloch

Moving right along, I was informed that there would be a little after gay-say at Nowhere, a bar I have on my emergency martini list. Location, location, location. But I had a couple priorities. Namely I'd only had a slice of pizza and a Snapple in the last few hours and I knew I had a dog at home with his hind legs crossed cursing me out with doggie swear words. Ever the multi-tasker, I decided to grab some sushi on the way home and then bring dog and bar together for two, two, two treats in one. I hadn't counted on the fact that either Tuesday nights there have really taken off, or the bar was crazy busy because it's Pride week, but either way the joint was packed, so Jet and I took over the little alcove in the front. I enjoyed a couple of Stoli/sodas and Jet got tons of attention and all the popcorn he could scarf down.

In another attempt to make the scene during Pride week I sashayed over to the Folsom Street East outdoor street fair. To say it's not really my scene is an understatement, I was greeted by a sea of back hair and steroid acne. The cliche hypermasculine, overdeveloped "macho" daddy doesn't do it for me. At best, I think of it as just another costume for gay men and at worst, I think it's classic overcompensation. My first daddy didn't work out all that great, I have no need to try and replay it.




They did manage to appeal to something I like. There was shopping.



Like all good gay events, they put on a show. A couple of singers, blah blah blah. Hey now, what's this? A group called En Guard. A gay/lesbian color guard. Oh like I could make that up!




I want a sparkly fake gun, immediately.

I admit, I wasn't feeling so hot that day. And it was so unbelievably hot that day that I will cop to being a bit of a crank, but the leather "costume" just looks silly on me and to me. Can I just have a side of dildos and wrist restraints to go? I think I was officially lost the minute I decided to sashay.

This came in the mail yesterday morning. I've only had time to take it out of the box and read the directions. Can you imagine? Too busy to take a 1/2 hour and stimulate my prostate? What's this world coming to?

The Hellcat has gone to Fire Island until gay Pride, when he has to work. The Ex will be spending Pride in Toronto. He'll be back for a couple of days and then he's off again for another 5 day trip. So I get Pride weekend and the apartment all to myself. Bring your prostate. I'll have time.

is a great show. It made me cry today. You need to check it out.

Hypocrisy exists in our world today
when those that are out can only go so far
and society is surprised when those who prefer to hide
react with violence to threats of opening closet doors
because, in darkness, they are safe from those responsible
for reducing our brothers and sisters to dust and memories
like Matthew and Brandon and Sakia and Rashawn
and way too many others to name

Those of us that are out, in these empty rooms,
dance ignorantly to the occasional drum beats of liberty
While the only difference between us
and those huddled in corners and shadows of fear
is that we have a little more space to breathe
Yet the smell of equality is only truly found outside
where there are no limits or debates on how to legislate desire
and sexuality is simply the right to physical expression
between consenting adults

We could live out of the closet but we could never leave this house
Monsters, especially those with hideous diseases and colored skin,
are not welcome in the open fields of America
where others could dare to dream of marriage or adoption or political office
or defend our country from imaginary weapons of mass destruction
because not all of God’s children are worthy to see the light
beyond these cold white walls
We are only tolerable as long as we remain silently lingering indoors

Straight friends sometimes visit to feed our hungry souls
with stories about journeys and adventures
Taking the time to join us and mourn the memory of our dead
before heading back into the privilege of sunlight
Leaving us behind to wave goodbye from gated windows
unable to come out and play
If only we could run past the prejudice and feel the wind across our chests
Discover lands starving for diversity
and star filled skies awaiting to shine for us too

In the distance, the emptiness of towers fallen,
a cruel reminder of our perversions and sins
as preached by religious men with tongues that are holy enough
to lick the innocence of children
to touch the openings of children
While faint sounds, unrecognizable as cries,
emerge from underneath closet doors

There are too many of us in this house
located on a land far away from Normal
Chanting songs of freedom every day
We only want to be outside,
we only want to be outside,
we only want to be outside,
The Lord is outside

It’s no wonder some would rather die moths in the closet
when butterflies are not free

Copyright 2005 by Emanuel Xavier for Suspect Thoughts Press. All rights reserved.

I've been enjoying the luxury of doing a lot of reading lately. I thought I'd pass on some impressions from some recent books, and a movie.

I finally finished Blackwood Farm. I'm afraid I don't recommend you do the same. Even with 30 pages missing from the middle of my copy, it was a total slog to get through, and I only finished it to finish it. It's like Anne Rice took some Lestat bread and made a book sandwich out of it but forgot the meat and mustard. The plot is plodding and nonsensical, and then the ending is rushed through and poorly executed, In the end, I didn't really care what happened to anyone.

Next, I finished and really enjoyed The Social Lives of Dogs. You can read the Publisher's Weekly review of the book on the Amazon page. It's spot on. I can only add I found the book fascinating and touching and remarkably funny. I found a lot that applied in getting to know my new dog.

I can't recommend enough that you pick up a copy of Magical Thinking by Augusten Burrows. It's great summer reading and you can finish it quickly, or do what I did and carry it around with you, It made waiting for subways and take out food as well as bus rides about as enjoyable as can be. I saw alot of myself in these stories, and I love the way he writes. I'll be picking up his other books very soon.

The movie I absolutely loved I've been wanting to see for some time now was Mysterious Skin. It was directed by Greg Araki, whose work I've been following for years. This is probably his finest, most complete film to date. Joseph Gordon-Levitt delivers a nuanced, mature and complex performance of a boy truly fucked up by his childhood. While the subject matter is disturbing, the story itself is powerful and the ending, while predictable, is satisfying.

So there you have it, proof that I don't just watch porn. Anybody want to recommend my next book?

PS. I was going to post some pix of my visit to Folsom Street East but Blogger is being all uppity right now. Maybe tomorrow.

You Can't Fuck With Us." By far my favorite chant from the AVP march today. More pictures and a recap later.

Anti Violence rally and march. In words and pictures. You can click on the pictures for the full size.

I rolled up at the rallying point on 1st Ave. and 14th right at 2pm. It was a decidedly rag-tag bunch at first. Although eventually between the marchers and the media there was a sizable crowd.

















Drag entertainer Hedda Lettuce makes a last minute wig adjustment while conferring with self-styled "Gay pimp" Jonny McGovern.

We started out being told the march to Greenwich Village would be confined to the sidewalk, but that proved impractical due to a turnout NY1 stated "in the hundreds" and we quickly took to the streets blocking traffic.



We're here! We're queer! Hot man!



A small stage was supposed to be at the end of the march. It wasn't located immediately so La Lettuce, ever the improvisational girl, took to a lamp post to speak her mind.


The crowd was very East Village. I guess there's still a militant streak in some fags today. It was good to see. Eventually, Kevin Aviance tearfully made an appearance and managed to give a short speech despite the wired shut jaw. I didn't get a picture as the media crush was at it's crushiest.




















Michael Lucas unleashes the Anti-Violence Pout. It's like Blue Steele only more "activisty".





All in all, I felt like we turned it out for the cause, and since I always try and do something positive for the gays during pride, if I accomplish nothing else this week for my peeps, well, I've got this.

More coverage and photos here.

The Gay and Lesbian Anti-Violence Project is sponsoring a march and rally tomorrow afternoon starting at 2pm. It kicks off at 1st Avenue and 14th st, the spot where Kevian Aviance was gay bashed last week. I'll be there, will you?

And...

She's bat-shit crazy but at least Janice Dickinson knows ta' give the peoples what they want. (NSFW)

I don't have one. It's not that I don't like feet. They're fine. I'm just not into them, y'know? I don't think about my feet too much at all. Mostly I think of them as the flat things at the end of my legs. I'm glad they're there, but beyond keeping me standing .... Having said that, I do include my feet in my overall grooming. I keep the nails cut and I do shave the hair off the top of my feet. I don't really know why, but I prefer feet, well at least my feet, to be hairless. It's not an everyday thing, it's a once in a while thing. One day I'll look down and go man, my feet got all hairy. When I notice, I shave it off.

One day several months ago, I got some sort of a fungus underneath my left big toenail. It wasn't too bad, but there was a noticeable discoloration about halfway down the nail. It annoyed me. So whenever I could I trimmed that nail as the discoloration slowly worked it's way up and out. I finally cut the last of it last month.

Why the feet post? Well, one cause I took a picture of my freshly manicured, hairless feet:


And two because The Hellcat realeased his inner lesbian last week and installed a new shower fixture.

The old shower was attached to the wall, and because it was prone to falling down we had it sort of shooting across the shower and bouncing off the curtain. Consequently you didn't get the shower on you so much as near you. You had to sort of let the water hit you in the shoulder and move it where you need it. Now, the water simply drops directly on your head from above. The way god intended a shower to be. So yesterday I took a nice long shower and took the opportunity to shave the things I like shaven *cough*. Which brings me back to the feet.

I've decided I'm not looking for work just yet. Gay pride week is coming up, and for New York, it's closer to gay pride month anyway, there's so much to do. Usually I have to miss big chunks of it because I either have to go to work or get up for work. But this year I can afford to be off so that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to go to as many events and rallies and parties as I can. And take lots of pictures of sexy men. But probably not of their feet

Hey, here's a video of a lady getting oh so very punched in the face.



Have a nice day.

Gay bash victim Kevin Aviance was wheeled out of Beth Isreal today. His jaw has been wired and he can't walk due to a fractured knee. Incredibly, the douchebags who beat him to the ground are now claiming that they only did it because Aviance "allegedly" (meaning not) made a pass at one of them. So I guess, if this applies to straight people, every construction worker or delivery guy or what have you that makes a crude unwanted pass at a woman will now be beaten in the street until he's hospitalized. Check.

Well known recording artist, drag queen and kind of scary entertainer Kevin Aviance was beaten in the street after leaving The Phoenix sometime after 1:30am Friday night. Police have already arrested three men in connection with the case, and are investigating it as a possible bias crime. Ya' THINK? Anti-gay slurs were shouted before and during the attack. Kevin suffered a broken jaw, and is currently recovering right around the corner in a hospital down the street from here. No word yet if he suffered injuries to his Din Da Da.

Even more shocking, this was the lead story in tonights Eyewitness News report. I have to say, it was kind of surprising having a queen anchor the news and lead with the beating of a drag queen. Where they actually use the words drag queen.

More info via Keith Boykin (who I'd link to if he put out an RSS feed.) I'm sure this has absolutely nothing to do with our president trying to pass a constitutional amendment against us. Nothing at all.

Read the whole article from the LA Times.

In the United States, more than half a million people have died from complications arising from AIDS since 1981, and an estimated 15,000 will die this year, according to the federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. More than 1 million people in the U.S. are living with the virus, and 40,000 become infected each year.

The character of the epidemic has changed as well. A disease that once primarily struck gay white men and intravenous drug users has now largely become a plague of the poor and black.

African Americans, who make up about 13% of the U.S. population, account for half of new U.S. infections and a third of deaths. Black males are seven times as likely as white males to be infected with HIV; black females are 20 times as likely to be infected as white females.

I didn't make it to the artist reception and exhibition at the Gay/Lesbian Community Center today. I did get my laundry done and I did get in a workout. Despite the fact that my non-fractured ribcage still hurts like a sonuvabitch. As far as I'm concerned, nothing says workout well done like sucking off an uncut Cuban man with a OK face but a hot bod and belly-button ring and an 8 inch cock.

I stayed inside most of the day, only venturing out when the dog made me. It seemed like one of those days where it was best to take care of the little things you never seem to get to. Put a few dozen songs on my Palm. I have no idea how long the battery lasts when you use it as an MP3 player but I can't imagine it won't get me through a half-hour of cardio. Musically, I'm all over the map:

English Beat-Mirror In The Bathroom
New Radicals-You've Got The Music In You
Kylie
Gwen
Bowie
Sly And The Family Stone-Dance To The Music

While I was at it I repaired the mistake I made by deleting files from my Palm so that I could use it to carry photos. It was a simple software re-install but I've been meaning to do it for months. Problem is, of the thousands of pictures I've accumulated, both photos I've taken and various hot hot mens, how do I decide which ones I simply must carry with me? Speaking of which, I also organized my porn on video, created a separate file to store it all. I love how people make up cute names for their porn file, in case, you know, someone finds out you have (shocking!) porn on your computer. I named the file DIRTY GAY PORN. All caps.

I edited some photos while I was looking at the porn files, I also emptied my camera of whatever pictures were on there. As proof that I was in fact in attendance at GB:NYC3 i stole this picture off Mark's posting, only 'cause I'm in it:















Me, Mark and Sean. Sean was definitely the "It" girl this weekend, and I've had a chance to look in on his blog. There's a lot of "there" there. Mostly while we were in Barrage I just peeked at him from behind a pole and giggled while holding my pee-pee. Notice the crazed, I need some medication before I snap and jab a broken bottle into someone's neck look I have in my eyes.

Here's a couple of pictures I snapped. I take them better than I pose.

Patrick and Tuna Girl. They were very nice.



Mark again. A cute picture.

In any case I chatted for a hot second with Joe. I officially met Glenn, although we're both reasonably sure we met during the Christopher St. pub crawl, the difference being this time I remember for sure. I met Chicago Blogger Palochi, who always read short to me, but so not short and so so not ugly. But then he didn't read ugly at all.

Oh, and now we know why "The Hoff" was all weepy in the audience at The American Idol finale. He's overjoyed he's found some work.

About a month ago, I got hired as a manager at East Of Eighth restaurant in Chelsea. I had passed it many many times and was aware that they featured an occasional drag show, and had a bit of a gay following based on, if nothing else, it's location. I had never gotten around to eating or drinking there. I interviewed just once, with the owner/GM, Micky Feldmen. My interview went well and I was offered some training shifts, with the understanding that someone else was interviewing and they were bringing him in as well, so my job was by no means secure. Several days of training ensued, and when that was complete, I was given a schedule. As it turns out, my rival just never showed at all. I was replacing a manager who was well liked. He had resigned as he found his schedule and other responsibilities he had taken on were taking up too much of his time.

My training consisted of 3 shifts with 3 different managers. While they all had slightly different styles and things they emphasized, I fully understood what my responsibilities seemed to be. I started working on my own and was closing four nights a week. Some nights, the daytime manager would leave me a note regarding something I had forgotten, or something that needed to be taken care of. One night, the owner expressed some annoyance that I had failed to leave some notes in the log book regarding how the night went, show attendance etc. I never did it again. I had previously expressed I was finished in the restaurant/bar business, but if I had to have a job, this was a good one. The pay was fair, the food was good, and while I was having some trouble juggling the job, my gym schedule and the new dog, I was confident It would all work itself out. I genuinely liked most of the staff I was working with.

About two weeks ago, the other night manager, who has worked there off and on for over 7 plus years, announced that he was resigning his position as well. I was a little distressed that people were jumping ship all over. Especially because everyone had remarked as to how long much of the staff had worked there. I chalked it up to the business being in a state of flux. It happens periodically. I came to work the next day, and was immediately called into a meeting with Micky. He informed me that Greg was leaving. I explained I had already heard from Greg. I asked what we would be doing. Micky explained that he needed me to change my schedule. He wanted me to work weekend days and two nights a week. They were going to be moving our catering manager into the restaurant manager job five nights a week and hire a new catering manager.

I expressed that I was hardly locked in to my old schedule, having only done it for a couple of weeks. I stated that I would be happy to make whatever changes Micky needed me to make. Indeed, I immediately started calculating how I could make use of only working two closing shifts a week, and how I could incorporate the changes, such as having my weekend nights free for the first time in years. I was excited at the possibilities.

I finished my work week last Sunday. As I previously posted, I was doing a happy dance that the transition to my new schedule meant that I would be off all week. I was supposed to come back to work Friday morning, work during the day with Micky, and get instructions regarding opening the restaurant, banking, change etc. Saturday morning I would start my new schedule.

Tuesday evening I returned home and picked up my phone messages. That's when I got the phone call. It was one of the waiters from the restaurant. He expressed how bad he felt that I had been fired from my job and how wrong he thought it was. As if it had already happened and I knew about it. Of course, it hadn't and I didn't. At first, I was unsure what to do. I listened to the message three or four times, trying to figure out if maybe he misdialed, or was reponding to a rumour. I had no inkling that I was about to be fired, and I couldn't imagine what for. Indeed, I was just starting to get more comfortable, and was eager to start my new schedule and responsibilities.

Finally, I decided to call Micky directly. I called him on his private cell. He asked how I was. I responded "You tell me, I just heard a phone message consoling me because I had been fired." He asked me who the message was from and I resisted telling him. I asked again if it was true. He said it wasn't. I repeated myself and asked if everything was OK. He said it was. I asked if I was still meeting him on Friday to train for the day shift. He said yes. I asked what was going on, and he said people were spreading rumours. Confused but feeling a little better I hung up.

I related the story to The Hellcat later that night. We both agreed it was extremely odd. I told him I had decided to go to the restaurant the next afternoon, to find out, if nothing else, why a rumour was circulating that I'd been fired. That's a pretty specific rumour. So that's what I did, right after lunch.

I asked where Micky was and found him myself. I asked to speak to him privately and he agreed. It was then I asked for an explanation for the phone message. It was then he admitted that he was "letting me go." And that's when I felt I was punched in the gut. He explained that the original manager I had been hired to replace had a change of heart. Apparently, he wanted his job back. Or more specifically, I think he wanted my new schedule. I'm speculating, but it seems likely. It was pretty obvious to anyone that my new schedule was a pretty easy work week. He explained that he really liked the other manager. He had told him if he ever wanted his job back he could have it, apparently the rest of that sentence being at my expense. He then went on to inform me that he hadn't really been happy with my work. That the previous manager had been more hands-on. He would jump in and do things where I seemed to just "hang around the front door". I guess if you call taking phone orders, taking reservations, keeping an eye on a bar that is hemmoraging cash, answering questions, giving directions, cleaning up the new outdoor section, seeing that the bathrooms were clean and voiding checks that need it hanging out, then yeah, I was just sitting on my ass. To say I was surprised was an understatment.

I expressed my disappointment. As I said, I was just starting to get comfortable. The guys from SIN came in that weekend for brunch. Despite the fact that I had closed the night before and had to work again that night, I made a trip in to the restaurant that afternoon, on my own time and without being asked, so I could meet the guys and make sure their experience was a good one. I thought a gay men's social group was an extremely important resource for us if we were looking to expand our customer base. I thought it would help us if they knew they had a HIV+ manager on board. I think I wondered aloud why nobody had ever said a single word about how I was doing my job. Now that some time has passed, WHY THE FUCK didn't my boss tell me if he needed me to do something or be a certain way? So that I could, you know, do it. Or be it. How in the world can you fire someone for not doing something, if you haven't asked them to do it in the first place? It's sooooo passive/aggressive, and I'm p/a personified.

Now that some time has passed, I went from feeling like shit to being really quite pissed. I was basically used. I showed up for training. I guess I got the job because I was the only one who had. I was given minimal direction if at all. I was allowed to work for weeks. I was asked to change my schedule and obliged quickly and willingly. I was getting along well with the staff. Then as soon as the guy I replaced changed his mind I was kicked out. Oh, he did offer to give me a recommendation. Like "Oh, yeah. Tom worked for us for a month but we weren't at all happy with his work and fired him. By all means, give him a chance." Asshole.

So there you have it. Kind of back to square one. The bills are paid up. My credit is still in good standing. I'm not without resources, and there's dog food in the cupboard. We'll be fine. But right now I'm mad, embarrassed and feeling like shit about myself. Which sort of explains why I got so drunk Friday during the Blog-a- palooza event I woke up physically injured. P.S. I didn't fracture a rib, I'm just a little dinged up. I have no idea what I'll do next. Maybe I just want to make drinks and be left alone to play with my dog.

I had fun last night. The bad news, I may have drunkenly fractured a rib. The good news, I fractured a rib on the other side when I was a kid so now I'll be slightly malformed but matching. Ouch.
Oh, and I went to bed (passed out) without taking my meds. First time in 3 years I missed a dose. I think I may be "acting out."

Pretty much word for word, why I stand by my review. "Feh."

Just have time to jot this down while I fortify my belly with a little leftover pasta. I'm about to dash out the door for the first of a long weekend of activities. First up:


I'll be arriving at Barrage fashionably late but not so late they they're all drunken messes yet. I said yet. I'm going to try diving in head first this year, extreme shyness be damned. I'm looking forward to it, and will try to get some good pictures.

I have no plans for Saturday afternoon, but that could change after tonight. Saturday night, however I've been invited to not one, but two downtown parties. I'm going to try to make them both, but we'll just see which way the go-go boys blow me.

Sunday I have plans to leave the Isle of Manhattan and check out the scene at Queens Pride. I'll probably skip the parade and just wander around the outdoor festival. I hear it's ... festive. Plus, three words. Drunk. Latin. Men. Again, I'll try to get you some good pictures.

So it will probably be Monday before I give you the story of how a certain restaurant in Chelsea basically used me and spit me back out again. It should be worth the wait because I plan to give the whole story. With real names. Learn it!