A while back I mentioned that I was enjoying the blog stuy town's Lux Living. To refresh your memory of what it's all about, here's the summary quote taken from the bottom footer of the blog:
Stuyvesant Town offers one, two, three, and five bedroom, luxury rental residences and college dorm rooms in the heart of downtown Manhattan. Set within a poorly landscaped 80-acre park, the spacious apartments often suffer utility outages, brown water, and deadly mold outbreaks. “Amenities” include a gym, resident’s lounge, kid’s playroom, screening room and study for a one-time fee of $250 and a monthly charge of $25, with additional fees for gym use. On-site parking, easy access to mass transportation on one side of the complex, and 24-hour on-site security that rarely respond when called. Situated near nicer neighborhoods like Gramercy Park, the Flat Iron District, Union Square and right next door to an unstable Con Edison power plant, Stuytown gives you more reason to loathe your space. Come see for yourself!
I found the blog amusing in a sort of David Vs. Goliath way, as Tishman-Speyer is one of the largest real estate companies in Manhattan. Being a bit of a rabble-rouser myself, I enjoyed reading some of the rants about the bureaucracies, security problems and inevitable change that comes with new ownership.
But lately I've been getting more and more sick of reading a blog that could just be called New Yorkers Against Everything, as the site has devolved into rants against children, bikers, dogs, security, college kids, people that walk on grass, people that smoke grass, college kids with dogs, recycling, security on bikes and anything else that you can bitch and complain about. To wit:
(from a parent too lazy and stupid to stop his/her child from running eyeball first into a sign)-I have an almost 2 year old son who loves to run around. Some genius at Tishman decided to put all around PCV metal signs that say not to allow dogs on the grass. But, the metal signs are the PERFECT height for kids to run into AND they are so sharp all around the sides they will cause injuries. My son has already run into one and discovered the nice shiny long sharp screws sticking out of the back as well.
(from a concerned adult plagued by worries about the deadly carbon emissions of golf carts)-My favorite will always be the post-911 (cough!) maintenance buggies driving on the sidewalks blowing diesel fumes into the faces of little kids, some already asthmatic, on their way to PS40 elementary school.
(From "her", and she hates dogs and ugly grass)-However having a dog run would be terrible for the people who live over it. I face the oval and am sick and tired of the howling and barking especially when the noise wakes me up at 6am the noise really echos.
Every day I see disrespectful dog owners letting their animals deficate (sic) on the lawn, sidewalks and dog off leashes. I have been her (sic) 60 yrs. and
long for the days when rules were for everyone, the grass was beautiful,
I did not have to look down when I walked and I could enjoy a decent
nights rest without the howling. To all the dog owners who disrespect your neighbors and the property, and you know who you are, your animal does not have more rights than your fellow residence (sic). So get
your acts together and follow the rule.
(Someone complains to security about broken glass in the playground. Isn't that maintenance?)-A resident called security when he first arrived at the playground this morning but there was no answer. The resident then went to a nearby building to use the lobby intercom to try and contact security. When security finally picked up they told the resident they put out a call to have it cleaned up a while ago but would put in another call. When the dangerous glass still wasn't picked up an hour later, the tenant placed a third call to security who snapped "I just got the call" and hung up. Two hours after that call the above photo was taken of the glass which had yet to be picked up. (How about you stop wasting half the day making calls on your rotary phone, turn off your Amos & Andy radio program and sweep up the fucking glass if you are so worried?)
(Get off my lawn!)-You obviously remember what this place was like before the onslaught of 'quality of life crimes' were inflicted on the pioneer residents (I'm sure I'm gonna take flak for that comment...). Grass was for looking at, not walking on. If there was a fire, the fire department was called (a spatula was not involved). And security guards rode around in Cushman carts--if they were lucky. The landscaping was remarkable instead of gaudy.
(No biking, no scooters, no fun of any kind. And stop all that infernal laughing!)-And why is there a ban on bike riding but not scooters? Have you seen some of those children? They barrel though the oval in packs like bats out of hell with little or no disregard to the people and pets around them. Twice this week I have seen kids once knocking into an elderly lady and on a different occasion nearly hitting a small dog that was on a leash walking very close to its owner. Meanwhile the parents are too involved in their gabfests to pay any attention to their kids getting screamed at by people they hit.
(I'm not kidding, this is because there was a streak of soapy water on the floor)-"WTF? At about 12:30am I come home and look what I find, some dumb ass college kid dragged his SOAPY LAUNDRY through my T level lobby."
I think that last "my T level lobby" just about sums it up. Some of these people were born and raised in Stuy Town, and some of them have a really overdeveloped sense of entitlement, particularly since they are only renting, albeit many of them are paying prices nobody has seen since the 1950-60's. They have dug their heels in and are fighting tooth and nail any and all changes that would upset their perfect little insular community. Well surprise folks, time marches on whether you choose to participate and/or acknowledge it or not, and unless you all decide to quit your incessant bitching and moaning and carrying on long enough to band together and somehow buy a stake in this development that would give you some kind of representation, you run the risk of being branded a bunch of stupid, set-in-your ways angry cranks. In which case the rest of the complex will likely wait until you die off and stand around watching as they wheel your tiny little gray rigor-mortis clenched body out of your apartment, all while they are waiting to pick over the remains of whatever possessions your surviving family decides to leave out at the curb. Whether or not it's a designated recycle day.
Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts
Monday, October 12, 2009
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Working For Tips
I am not the kind of bartender that thinks every time I do the least little thing or make you a drink you should give me a dollar. I don't get all pissy when someone comes up to the bar and all they need is a glass of water. Since I tend bar at events and weddings and corporate meetings, the bar is frequently included with the package. Meaning people don't have to pay. And the event host is usually paying around $150.00 to the hotel for the services of a bartender.
But I don't get that money. I do get paid, and it's above minimum wage, but that $150 is what the hotel bills the client. And it certainly has nothing to do with the guests at all. Now if you are at a party or event and you just come to the bar for a glass of wine or two, a couple of sodas, a martini before the buffet or whatever, I don't think you need to worry about giving me a tip necessarily. It would be nice, but you won't get the stank eye or the under the breath mutter from me if you don't. That's what my hourly pay covers.
But if you are hitting that open bar like it's your basement rec room, and I am making you drink after drink, beer after beer, like the cheap-ass alcoholics I took care of for 4 1/2 hours last night, you really ought to leave a couple of dollars on the bar during the course of the night.
I literally made a couple of these corporate drunks 15 cocktails over the course of their event. One guy had at least 10 beers, and he had them all poured in to a glass with a salted rim and lime. I opened up 5 bottles of house champagne, which three people guzzled like they were drinking France's finest vintage. A lot of them kept bringing glass after glass, half-full up to the bar for me to "top that off". I guess that's a way to make it seem like you aren't ordering 12 glasses of wine. Newsflash, you are. And what did I make in tip money for 4 1/2 hours indulging these corporate fuckwads? Nothing. Not a dollar the entire night.
Cheap-ass motherfuckers. You suck.
But I don't get that money. I do get paid, and it's above minimum wage, but that $150 is what the hotel bills the client. And it certainly has nothing to do with the guests at all. Now if you are at a party or event and you just come to the bar for a glass of wine or two, a couple of sodas, a martini before the buffet or whatever, I don't think you need to worry about giving me a tip necessarily. It would be nice, but you won't get the stank eye or the under the breath mutter from me if you don't. That's what my hourly pay covers.
But if you are hitting that open bar like it's your basement rec room, and I am making you drink after drink, beer after beer, like the cheap-ass alcoholics I took care of for 4 1/2 hours last night, you really ought to leave a couple of dollars on the bar during the course of the night.
I literally made a couple of these corporate drunks 15 cocktails over the course of their event. One guy had at least 10 beers, and he had them all poured in to a glass with a salted rim and lime. I opened up 5 bottles of house champagne, which three people guzzled like they were drinking France's finest vintage. A lot of them kept bringing glass after glass, half-full up to the bar for me to "top that off". I guess that's a way to make it seem like you aren't ordering 12 glasses of wine. Newsflash, you are. And what did I make in tip money for 4 1/2 hours indulging these corporate fuckwads? Nothing. Not a dollar the entire night.
Cheap-ass motherfuckers. You suck.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Snarl
date: Mon, May 18, 2009 at 2:49 AM
subject: my interview experience
mailed-by: gmail.com
Dear Mr. Rosenbloom,
To say that I was disappointed in the execution as well as the outcome of my recent experience as a management candidate for your latest Water Taxi Beach venture would be a massive understatement. While I in no way hold out any expectation that contacting you will result in my being re-considered for a position in your company, I do hope that perhaps my effort will at least make you think twice before a similar situation causes any of you to behave so reprehensibly in the future.
After an initial productive and very pleasant first interview, I had high hopes that my job search might be coming to an end. Everyone I met during that encounter was easy to talk to, responsive and able to create a level of excitement in me which, quite frankly came as a bit of a surprise. After all the positive press I have read the last two summers in all the coverage of the LIC Water Taxi Beach, I was surprised to find it rather unimpressive. Pretty much a dingy and slightly run-down parking lot covered in a truckload of sand. The obvious selling point being a spectacular view.
In spite of this I approached the opportunity to report for computer training with the rest of the management team as a very hopeful sign. Indeed, in one of the conversations I had with Mr. Gallego before the morning of training, he stated that I would be filling out paperwork that day. Of course I took this to mean (as anyone with similar experience would) that I was all but hired.
So I was shocked and more than a little dismayed to find my self confronted first by Mr. Gallego and later by Mr. Rosenbloom and Mr. Davidoff, over allegations that my job history was checked for references and "B.B. King's had told us not to hire you." To say that I was taken aback by such a statement would be putting it mildly.
As I stated at the time, I had left my position at B.B. King's of my own volition. At the time, I had what I believed was an opportunity to open and run as a General Manager a new bar/nightclub/cabaret venture downtown on the Bowery. And while the lack of funding and budget for this venue ultimately resulted in this opportunity to not come to fruition, my time at B.B. King's was up. Again, let me reiterate that I have no doubt that we parted ways legitimately, amicably and without incident. I gave two weeks notice to my General Manager, and fulfilled that responsibility to the day. I did nothing during those two weeks to cast my tenure or departure in a negative light. I took the time to ask for and receive a letter of recommendation from the only General Manager I worked with during my employment. This is the letter of recommendation I described to Mr. Gallego, Mr. Rosenbloom and Mr. Davidoff during our conversations. I was completely puzzled as to why Mr. Rosenbloom would express no interest in seeing it when I offered to produce it as soon as possible, but I have attached a copy of this letter from October of 2005.
Without rehashing my entire resume, what I find most unsettling, besides being accused of being a "bad hire" without anyone being able to substantiate it, is the fact that I repeatedly offered to clear up whatever misgivings or misconceptions were being characterized regarding my employability. I was told alternately that "it wasn't necessary", I wasn't "being pre-judged" you were "keeping an open mind" and despite my attempts to end the day right there if necessary I was told on several occasions by Mr. Gallegos and Mr. Rosenbloom to remain in the training facility and finish the day. Which I did, despite being fairly humiliated and wildly uncomfortable. I had no idea who in the room was aware of these false accusations and what was discussed before I had arrived or whenever I left the room.
Despite having to endure "the cold shoulder" from Mr. Gallego and a series of blatantly snide and dismissive remarks courtesy of Mr. Rosenbloom I still finished the afternoon and came away demoralized but convinced that my services would prove invaluable. It was very clear to me that I was far and away best qualified to utilize the Micros POS system we were training on. I have used that system extensively and it was obvious that the learning curve for everyone in that room would be steep without some assistance. I find it unfathomable that anyone I worked with that day would be in a position to train a new staff, read and run the reports that would be generated and troubleshoot all the unfinished data management and input that will without question take place when computer technicians install a restaurant and bar POS. I dare say I actually have far more experience with the hand-held devices, their pluses and minuses and practical capabilities than even the Micros technician that was doing our training did.
In addition, I was very concerned that no one in the room seemed to have a plan in place for the kind of volume in terms of people,
cash management and security that a location such as the South St. Seaport will entail. I am confident my 5 years as a bartender in two locations at the Seaport would have come in handy, as well as my management experiences both at B.B. King's and many other large scale television, concert and private events. My impressions after the day I spent with the team you have assembled thus far are that you are woefully unprepared for the task at hand on the timetable you seem to be confidently stating.
In the last two years I have managed concert events for Jennifer Lopez, Alicia Keys, Natasha Bendingfield, Kanye West, Hot 97 as well as multiple events for the cast of Hairspray, Legally Blond, The Tony Awards, The NY Film Critic Awards and MTV. And while I failed to hold up under your no-doubt thorough reference check, I did manage to withstand the scrutiny of security teams from Mayor Giuliani, Mayor Bloomberg and former President Clinton. Be that as it may, I am completely aware that New York State is an "at will" employment state, and you are free to offer me a position or terminate the offer or my position at any time.
What I would like you to be aware of is how unprofessionally and immaturely I felt I was treated in the course of my dealings with all of you that day. If, at any time, someone would have taken the initiative to "man up" and tell me that you had reconsidered or it wasn't going to work out, I would have been just as disappointed but I would have packed up and left without incident. I am hardly physically intimidating. Instead you opted to make vague references, hold out hope that this could be resolved, and otherwise obfuscate what seems to be the truth, that you had no intention of hiring me after all. And all of this was based on someone's (nameless) opinion, not supported by any truth or facts, because there are none.
You should know that I intend to forward a copy of this e-mail to Tom Fox at Harbor Experience Companies. In addition, I will be contacting Tsion Bensusan at B.B. King's. It is my intention to remind him that New York State Labor laws allow for former employers to confirm employment dates and history, and in broadest terms recommend or not recommend someone for future employment. In my specific case, since I am confident that neither Mr. Bensusan nor anyone still connected with B.B. King's four years past my employment can offer even a single shred of disciplinary, legal or employment difficulties related to me, I will also not hesitate to point out that to continue to do so will be exposing himself (or whoever is to blame) and his company to charges of libel, slander and interfering with my ability to seek gainful employment.
I hope that this clears up a rather unpleasant and regrettable experience between your company and my self. I sincerely hope that in the future, everyone at your company takes the time to consider the consequences before leveling unsubstantiated accusations at an individual you barely know, and that you think twice before treating someone like an unwelcome suspect without any kind of recourse for defense.
Sincerely,
ME
subject: my interview experience
mailed-by: gmail.com
Dear Mr. Rosenbloom,
To say that I was disappointed in the execution as well as the outcome of my recent experience as a management candidate for your latest Water Taxi Beach venture would be a massive understatement. While I in no way hold out any expectation that contacting you will result in my being re-considered for a position in your company, I do hope that perhaps my effort will at least make you think twice before a similar situation causes any of you to behave so reprehensibly in the future.
After an initial productive and very pleasant first interview, I had high hopes that my job search might be coming to an end. Everyone I met during that encounter was easy to talk to, responsive and able to create a level of excitement in me which, quite frankly came as a bit of a surprise. After all the positive press I have read the last two summers in all the coverage of the LIC Water Taxi Beach, I was surprised to find it rather unimpressive. Pretty much a dingy and slightly run-down parking lot covered in a truckload of sand. The obvious selling point being a spectacular view.
In spite of this I approached the opportunity to report for computer training with the rest of the management team as a very hopeful sign. Indeed, in one of the conversations I had with Mr. Gallego before the morning of training, he stated that I would be filling out paperwork that day. Of course I took this to mean (as anyone with similar experience would) that I was all but hired.
So I was shocked and more than a little dismayed to find my self confronted first by Mr. Gallego and later by Mr. Rosenbloom and Mr. Davidoff, over allegations that my job history was checked for references and "B.B. King's had told us not to hire you." To say that I was taken aback by such a statement would be putting it mildly.
As I stated at the time, I had left my position at B.B. King's of my own volition. At the time, I had what I believed was an opportunity to open and run as a General Manager a new bar/nightclub/cabaret venture downtown on the Bowery. And while the lack of funding and budget for this venue ultimately resulted in this opportunity to not come to fruition, my time at B.B. King's was up. Again, let me reiterate that I have no doubt that we parted ways legitimately, amicably and without incident. I gave two weeks notice to my General Manager, and fulfilled that responsibility to the day. I did nothing during those two weeks to cast my tenure or departure in a negative light. I took the time to ask for and receive a letter of recommendation from the only General Manager I worked with during my employment. This is the letter of recommendation I described to Mr. Gallego, Mr. Rosenbloom and Mr. Davidoff during our conversations. I was completely puzzled as to why Mr. Rosenbloom would express no interest in seeing it when I offered to produce it as soon as possible, but I have attached a copy of this letter from October of 2005.
Without rehashing my entire resume, what I find most unsettling, besides being accused of being a "bad hire" without anyone being able to substantiate it, is the fact that I repeatedly offered to clear up whatever misgivings or misconceptions were being characterized regarding my employability. I was told alternately that "it wasn't necessary", I wasn't "being pre-judged" you were "keeping an open mind" and despite my attempts to end the day right there if necessary I was told on several occasions by Mr. Gallegos and Mr. Rosenbloom to remain in the training facility and finish the day. Which I did, despite being fairly humiliated and wildly uncomfortable. I had no idea who in the room was aware of these false accusations and what was discussed before I had arrived or whenever I left the room.
Despite having to endure "the cold shoulder" from Mr. Gallego and a series of blatantly snide and dismissive remarks courtesy of Mr. Rosenbloom I still finished the afternoon and came away demoralized but convinced that my services would prove invaluable. It was very clear to me that I was far and away best qualified to utilize the Micros POS system we were training on. I have used that system extensively and it was obvious that the learning curve for everyone in that room would be steep without some assistance. I find it unfathomable that anyone I worked with that day would be in a position to train a new staff, read and run the reports that would be generated and troubleshoot all the unfinished data management and input that will without question take place when computer technicians install a restaurant and bar POS. I dare say I actually have far more experience with the hand-held devices, their pluses and minuses and practical capabilities than even the Micros technician that was doing our training did.
In addition, I was very concerned that no one in the room seemed to have a plan in place for the kind of volume in terms of people,
cash management and security that a location such as the South St. Seaport will entail. I am confident my 5 years as a bartender in two locations at the Seaport would have come in handy, as well as my management experiences both at B.B. King's and many other large scale television, concert and private events. My impressions after the day I spent with the team you have assembled thus far are that you are woefully unprepared for the task at hand on the timetable you seem to be confidently stating.
In the last two years I have managed concert events for Jennifer Lopez, Alicia Keys, Natasha Bendingfield, Kanye West, Hot 97 as well as multiple events for the cast of Hairspray, Legally Blond, The Tony Awards, The NY Film Critic Awards and MTV. And while I failed to hold up under your no-doubt thorough reference check, I did manage to withstand the scrutiny of security teams from Mayor Giuliani, Mayor Bloomberg and former President Clinton. Be that as it may, I am completely aware that New York State is an "at will" employment state, and you are free to offer me a position or terminate the offer or my position at any time.
What I would like you to be aware of is how unprofessionally and immaturely I felt I was treated in the course of my dealings with all of you that day. If, at any time, someone would have taken the initiative to "man up" and tell me that you had reconsidered or it wasn't going to work out, I would have been just as disappointed but I would have packed up and left without incident. I am hardly physically intimidating. Instead you opted to make vague references, hold out hope that this could be resolved, and otherwise obfuscate what seems to be the truth, that you had no intention of hiring me after all. And all of this was based on someone's (nameless) opinion, not supported by any truth or facts, because there are none.
You should know that I intend to forward a copy of this e-mail to Tom Fox at Harbor Experience Companies. In addition, I will be contacting Tsion Bensusan at B.B. King's. It is my intention to remind him that New York State Labor laws allow for former employers to confirm employment dates and history, and in broadest terms recommend or not recommend someone for future employment. In my specific case, since I am confident that neither Mr. Bensusan nor anyone still connected with B.B. King's four years past my employment can offer even a single shred of disciplinary, legal or employment difficulties related to me, I will also not hesitate to point out that to continue to do so will be exposing himself (or whoever is to blame) and his company to charges of libel, slander and interfering with my ability to seek gainful employment.
I hope that this clears up a rather unpleasant and regrettable experience between your company and my self. I sincerely hope that in the future, everyone at your company takes the time to consider the consequences before leveling unsubstantiated accusations at an individual you barely know, and that you think twice before treating someone like an unwelcome suspect without any kind of recourse for defense.
Sincerely,
ME
Thursday, January 15, 2009
I Have Anger Issues
While perusing the help wanted section of Craigslist, in what has become a daily and fruitless search for gainful employment, I came across an ad for a bartender/bar manager position that made me hopelessly, illogically angry. It was for a job in a place in Brooklyn called the Galapagos Art Space that refers to itself alternately as a "cultural venue" and an "arts facility". Rather than try to describe it, I'll just reprint the post:
Galapagos Art Space is rapidly expanding, and – unlike other cultural venues in our city – unaffected by the funding severe crisis in the arts. Why? We don’t seek grants or public monies of any kind and succeed only by the strength of our programming, our ideas and our excellent, efficient, responsible service. You will work in an extremely active venue full of ideas and execution. You own extraordinary, and we mean extraordinary organizational skills.
You’ve done this job before, you’re a bar manager extraordinaire – you have a minimum of five years experience being one. You ‘get’ infrastructure and can create it independently and with enthusiasm. You know what fast means because you’re a faster bartender than any of our current staff. You’re a comfortable leader, an excellent trainer, you write manuals and get people to follow them, assured that if they do they’re happier and perform better. You know that a good system made once empowers a staff to excel. You know excel, you know the Mac platform, you know the office suite, you’re proficient in using it, and you’re unafraid. You have five years detailed experience doing this job and you’re ready to join a team that depends on you, and you’re ready to offer as your contribution the extensive, detailed lessons and solutions you’ve learned in the past.
Importantly - you love the arts and culture. You consider it a service and a privilege to work in them, as we do.
You'll be depended upon to manage and staff a busy bar with very high standards. You'll be expected to think on your toes and step up to new responsibilities as they come and then template them, manual them, and train them so the solution can be maintained and improved. You're a high energy, happy person who can catch ideas and run with them.
Please only respond if you have the experience we’re looking for. If you’ve been an assistant manager please know that we’re not looking for assistants right now. We are indeed looking for a very experienced manager who has five years experience.
You should have a NYC Dept of Health Food Handlers Permit.
When responding, and yes - this is a test - put in the subject line; your name, the words "bar manager" and the date you're responding on.
Optional task; describe in a few sentences a previous experience where you created and implemented a system to solve a problem, and explain the results.
It's nice if you include a photo in your reply, we'll be gong through a lot of resumes and it's hard to keep track of only words on paper.
Do keep in mind that this is for a job that seems to amount to a head bartender position, although it reads like you will be going in to the Sudan and building schools and digging out aquifers. And what the hell does it mean when I'm supposed to "template, manual and train" my responsibilities? And again, where behind a bar pouring relatively cheap, possibly donated, insufficiently chilled white wine will this be taking place?
To top it all off after insisting that this person have five years experience, be the fastest bartender in the place, know how to use the Office Suite, Excel and a Mac, be in posession of a Health Department Food Permit and have experience as a trainer and be able to write training manuals, they only offer an hourly pay rate and the opportunity to work shifts for (I presume) tips! Oh, and I dearly love the implied insult to the intelligence of the reader by the snarky (and meaningless) "test" line they slip in at the end. ASSHOLES!
I know it was immature, but I couldn't resist responding to the post by email:
Good afternoon.
That was the most pretentious, unrealistic, obnoxious and self-important help wanted posting I have ever read. I feel sorry for whatever bartender or manager is stupid enough to respond to such utter nonsense, and have the misfortune of working with the insufferable ass that composed that job description. Is this a bar manager job or will this person be expected to solve the conflict in Gaza?
Oh, and the pay you offer for the enormous commitment of time and energy you seem to require absolutely blows major donkey dick.
Have a nice day!
Now, this kind of goes against my "Live and Let Live" Gay-A credo, but sometimes you just have to call a foul on the field. And it made me feel a little better for most of the afternoon.
Galapagos Art Space is rapidly expanding, and – unlike other cultural venues in our city – unaffected by the funding severe crisis in the arts. Why? We don’t seek grants or public monies of any kind and succeed only by the strength of our programming, our ideas and our excellent, efficient, responsible service. You will work in an extremely active venue full of ideas and execution. You own extraordinary, and we mean extraordinary organizational skills.
You’ve done this job before, you’re a bar manager extraordinaire – you have a minimum of five years experience being one. You ‘get’ infrastructure and can create it independently and with enthusiasm. You know what fast means because you’re a faster bartender than any of our current staff. You’re a comfortable leader, an excellent trainer, you write manuals and get people to follow them, assured that if they do they’re happier and perform better. You know that a good system made once empowers a staff to excel. You know excel, you know the Mac platform, you know the office suite, you’re proficient in using it, and you’re unafraid. You have five years detailed experience doing this job and you’re ready to join a team that depends on you, and you’re ready to offer as your contribution the extensive, detailed lessons and solutions you’ve learned in the past.
Importantly - you love the arts and culture. You consider it a service and a privilege to work in them, as we do.
You'll be depended upon to manage and staff a busy bar with very high standards. You'll be expected to think on your toes and step up to new responsibilities as they come and then template them, manual them, and train them so the solution can be maintained and improved. You're a high energy, happy person who can catch ideas and run with them.
Please only respond if you have the experience we’re looking for. If you’ve been an assistant manager please know that we’re not looking for assistants right now. We are indeed looking for a very experienced manager who has five years experience.
You should have a NYC Dept of Health Food Handlers Permit.
When responding, and yes - this is a test - put in the subject line; your name, the words "bar manager" and the date you're responding on.
Optional task; describe in a few sentences a previous experience where you created and implemented a system to solve a problem, and explain the results.
It's nice if you include a photo in your reply, we'll be gong through a lot of resumes and it's hard to keep track of only words on paper.
Do keep in mind that this is for a job that seems to amount to a head bartender position, although it reads like you will be going in to the Sudan and building schools and digging out aquifers. And what the hell does it mean when I'm supposed to "template, manual and train" my responsibilities? And again, where behind a bar pouring relatively cheap, possibly donated, insufficiently chilled white wine will this be taking place?
To top it all off after insisting that this person have five years experience, be the fastest bartender in the place, know how to use the Office Suite, Excel and a Mac, be in posession of a Health Department Food Permit and have experience as a trainer and be able to write training manuals, they only offer an hourly pay rate and the opportunity to work shifts for (I presume) tips! Oh, and I dearly love the implied insult to the intelligence of the reader by the snarky (and meaningless) "test" line they slip in at the end. ASSHOLES!
I know it was immature, but I couldn't resist responding to the post by email:
Good afternoon.
That was the most pretentious, unrealistic, obnoxious and self-important help wanted posting I have ever read. I feel sorry for whatever bartender or manager is stupid enough to respond to such utter nonsense, and have the misfortune of working with the insufferable ass that composed that job description. Is this a bar manager job or will this person be expected to solve the conflict in Gaza?
Oh, and the pay you offer for the enormous commitment of time and energy you seem to require absolutely blows major donkey dick.
Have a nice day!
Now, this kind of goes against my "Live and Let Live" Gay-A credo, but sometimes you just have to call a foul on the field. And it made me feel a little better for most of the afternoon.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Total Bull-shit
I was railing against stupid shit like this before, but now that this ridiculously litigious country has taken the art of abdicating any and all responsibility for the decisions that cause them problems to new heights and possibly dragged me into the courts as well, I'm on a one man crusade to point them out and rail against them.
Case in point: Midtown country bar Johnny Utah's is now being sued by NYC screenwriter Aaron Schnore, 38, after he supposedly downed some drinks (voluntarily), signed a waiver (voluntarily) and climbed aboard a mechanical bull (voluntarily). After he was thrown off (what a shock!) this dumb-fuck decides to sue the venue for letting a (chronologically) grown man make an ass of himself. Here's what his lawyer managed to claim without choking on his own bile:
"[The operator] pumped it up until he could throw him," said lawyer Lawrence Saftler. "That to us is an assault and battery."
The suit, filed in Manhattan Supreme Court, charges that Johnny Utah's was negligent for letting Schnore's wild ride go on too long and for allowing "an inebriated individual to use and ride the mechanical bull."
It also describes the bull - which is furry with padded horns - as a "danger" because it lacks the "proper safeguards and padding to break falls."
The suit seeks unspecified damages.
"Things are supposed to be fun, not injury-producing," Saftler said.
Personally, I say the only mistake this restaurant made was letting a whiny Jew get on a mechanical device that required a modicum of athleticism and co-ordination to operate in the first place.
Case in point: Midtown country bar Johnny Utah's is now being sued by NYC screenwriter Aaron Schnore, 38, after he supposedly downed some drinks (voluntarily), signed a waiver (voluntarily) and climbed aboard a mechanical bull (voluntarily). After he was thrown off (what a shock!) this dumb-fuck decides to sue the venue for letting a (chronologically) grown man make an ass of himself. Here's what his lawyer managed to claim without choking on his own bile:
"[The operator] pumped it up until he could throw him," said lawyer Lawrence Saftler. "That to us is an assault and battery."
The suit, filed in Manhattan Supreme Court, charges that Johnny Utah's was negligent for letting Schnore's wild ride go on too long and for allowing "an inebriated individual to use and ride the mechanical bull."
It also describes the bull - which is furry with padded horns - as a "danger" because it lacks the "proper safeguards and padding to break falls."
The suit seeks unspecified damages.
"Things are supposed to be fun, not injury-producing," Saftler said.
Personally, I say the only mistake this restaurant made was letting a whiny Jew get on a mechanical device that required a modicum of athleticism and co-ordination to operate in the first place.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Hooker/Hedonist Benjamin Nicholas On The (Now Defunct) HIV Travel Ban
First off, getting into the states as a foreigner isn't always an easy thing. Thanks to a little internet research, it's evident that we don't let a whole lot of people pass through without asking them to jump through some hoops. Hell, the USA discriminates against those who are poor, routinely denying Visas for simply not having the means to get back to where they came from. All of this process is in place to not only keep the USA safe, but to continually stabilize our population with the variety of melting pot culture we're accustomed to. Sure, we're a country founded on immigration, but keep in mind that it was highly controlled and by legal means.
Think about it: Is allowing someone into our country with a debilitating, communicable disease a good thing? Would we put up the same anti-discriminatory argument if it was someone with Bird Flu or Polio? Are we giving HIV a hall-pass because slick pharmacological advertising has brainwashed us into thinking it's now a manageable lifestyle?
Believe what you'd like, but HIV is not manageable. It's not as easy as the ads in the pages of The Advocate would have you believe: One simple pill a day and life is back to normal. That's pie-in-the-sky bullshit and if you think for a second that people aren't still dying on a daily basis thanks to complications from HIV and AIDS, you're as dilluted (sic) as dishwater. A total cure is light years from being found and a vaccine for the existing uninfected is at least 25 years away from realization (or so says the Bill Gates Foundation).
So, with that in front of me, I say keep them out. Why do we need to take even greater risk as Americans, all in the name of 'equality.' This isn't about equality. It's about grandiose, radical-PCism from people who have no real grasp on reality or self-preservation. You might call it cold-hearted, but when push comes to shove, a survivalist mentality isn't a bad thing.
First of all, his entire first paragraph is so clearly based on a decided lack of anything even remotely factual, that it almost negates the entire argument. If he had done even "a little internet research" he would know that in the years 2002-2006 the average yearly number of immigrants entering the US would be close to 2 million people. And this figure does not reflect the latest (2006) estimate of 33.7 million non-immigrant visitors (requiring visas) that passed through our gates. So his insipid comments about how difficult it is to travel or immigrate to the US and how it somehow "keeps us safe" or is part of some cagey and well thought out government plan to "stabilize the population" makes him and everything he says afterward sound idiotic.
Then as if to add insult to idiocy, he goes on to compare HIV, a virus that can not be passed on via casual contact, to Bird Flu and Polio. Aside from the fact that it's an asinine comparison, he's pre-supposing, (I assume) that this is another example of our (suddenly) brilliant border policy, whereby some sort of super secret polio screening has been taking place for the last 40 years, or perhaps there is some kind of Polio/Bird Flu/Hantavirus screening built in to the metal detector at airports. If only it could detect pompous prostitutes with a dubious grasp of the issues, we'd be getting somewhere.
HIV is only communicable if you have unprotected sex with someone carrying an active virus, if you receive their blood, or if you share IV drug needles with him or her. That's it. HIV has nothing to do with attending a medical conference. HIV has nothing to do with visiting the Grand Canyon or taking in a Broadway show. HIV has nothing to do with laying your weary head down on a comfy hotel pillow or enjoying a great meal. HIV has nothing to do with visiting your family and hugging your mom.
The (now struck down) HIV travel ban had nothing whatsoever to do with keeping Americans "safe" and it very much was an issue of equality. It was about the government hating gay sex and using fear to punish those that it deemed less than desirable. There is and there never was anything "risky" about allowing HIV+ human beings (that BN so callously has decided should be "kept out") to enter this country and take a vacation or visit family or see a doctor, or simply suddenly stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk, look up and annoy the fuck out of me as they take yet another picture of the God-dammed Flatiron building.
Whether or not my virus is (in his woefully uninformed opinion) manageable has nothing to do with the travel ban and everything to do with his obvious fear of HIV and his attempt to wrap what amounts to blatant bigotry in an envelope of fear-mongering and anti-gay self-hatred.
Dumb hooker.
Think about it: Is allowing someone into our country with a debilitating, communicable disease a good thing? Would we put up the same anti-discriminatory argument if it was someone with Bird Flu or Polio? Are we giving HIV a hall-pass because slick pharmacological advertising has brainwashed us into thinking it's now a manageable lifestyle?
Believe what you'd like, but HIV is not manageable. It's not as easy as the ads in the pages of The Advocate would have you believe: One simple pill a day and life is back to normal. That's pie-in-the-sky bullshit and if you think for a second that people aren't still dying on a daily basis thanks to complications from HIV and AIDS, you're as dilluted (sic) as dishwater. A total cure is light years from being found and a vaccine for the existing uninfected is at least 25 years away from realization (or so says the Bill Gates Foundation).
So, with that in front of me, I say keep them out. Why do we need to take even greater risk as Americans, all in the name of 'equality.' This isn't about equality. It's about grandiose, radical-PCism from people who have no real grasp on reality or self-preservation. You might call it cold-hearted, but when push comes to shove, a survivalist mentality isn't a bad thing.
First of all, his entire first paragraph is so clearly based on a decided lack of anything even remotely factual, that it almost negates the entire argument. If he had done even "a little internet research" he would know that in the years 2002-2006 the average yearly number of immigrants entering the US would be close to 2 million people. And this figure does not reflect the latest (2006) estimate of 33.7 million non-immigrant visitors (requiring visas) that passed through our gates. So his insipid comments about how difficult it is to travel or immigrate to the US and how it somehow "keeps us safe" or is part of some cagey and well thought out government plan to "stabilize the population" makes him and everything he says afterward sound idiotic.
Then as if to add insult to idiocy, he goes on to compare HIV, a virus that can not be passed on via casual contact, to Bird Flu and Polio. Aside from the fact that it's an asinine comparison, he's pre-supposing, (I assume) that this is another example of our (suddenly) brilliant border policy, whereby some sort of super secret polio screening has been taking place for the last 40 years, or perhaps there is some kind of Polio/Bird Flu/Hantavirus screening built in to the metal detector at airports. If only it could detect pompous prostitutes with a dubious grasp of the issues, we'd be getting somewhere.
HIV is only communicable if you have unprotected sex with someone carrying an active virus, if you receive their blood, or if you share IV drug needles with him or her. That's it. HIV has nothing to do with attending a medical conference. HIV has nothing to do with visiting the Grand Canyon or taking in a Broadway show. HIV has nothing to do with laying your weary head down on a comfy hotel pillow or enjoying a great meal. HIV has nothing to do with visiting your family and hugging your mom.
The (now struck down) HIV travel ban had nothing whatsoever to do with keeping Americans "safe" and it very much was an issue of equality. It was about the government hating gay sex and using fear to punish those that it deemed less than desirable. There is and there never was anything "risky" about allowing HIV+ human beings (that BN so callously has decided should be "kept out") to enter this country and take a vacation or visit family or see a doctor, or simply suddenly stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk, look up and annoy the fuck out of me as they take yet another picture of the God-dammed Flatiron building.
Whether or not my virus is (in his woefully uninformed opinion) manageable has nothing to do with the travel ban and everything to do with his obvious fear of HIV and his attempt to wrap what amounts to blatant bigotry in an envelope of fear-mongering and anti-gay self-hatred.
Dumb hooker.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Attention Applicants
If you show up off the street asking to fill out a job application or in answer to an internet ad and you do not have a pen with you to fill out said application you are officially, in my book, a dumb-ass and you will have no chance whatsoever of being hired for a job.
That is all .
That is all .
Monday, March 31, 2008
E-Mail To Events Assistant
C######,
Well out of the 7 events we had on Saturday only one had a couple of problems. Nothing on your end but I thought I would give you the highlights in case you get a phone call or letter:
Ms. U was a 12:00 reservation and we had tables set for her at 224. 5,6,7 and 228. Right in front. I personally showed her and her son to their tables. Unfortunately I didn't realize you had sold prixe fixe packages for the Kid's Lunch (since they were already a special price for the food and performance it didn't occur to me) so they were seated with menus. The waiters assigned to the party figured it out pretty quickly and we took them off the tables well before the rest of her guests had arrived. At most, we were 10 minutes into the event. I assumed all was well until the first course went out.
It was then the waiters informed me that Ms. U didn't want that food and wanted to place her orders all a la carte. Obviously, considering the size of her party and the sheer volume of reservations at the time this would have been near impossible. It was then that the waiters gave me a list of menu choices written by her on pink construction paper in black magic marker. I immediately pulled her contract and went to speak with her about this but after standing next to her with papers in hand and her construction paper order she completely ignored me and continued talking to the children and her guests. She didn't appear the least bit distressed at that point so I left it alone. The 2nd course came out without incident and it was all served at once by two servers, a runner and myself.
Everything seemed fine until 3 hours after her event began and she was given a check. It was then she claimed that she didn't want to pay for the adults as they were supposed to order a la carte and they were "only served macaroni and cheese". This was a flat out lie as I never left the floor the entire afternoon and I know for a fact that every table was literally covered in food and everyone ate who wanted to. I inquired as to why she believed the adults were ordering a la carte as the BEO and the signed contract didn't say so. She claimed she discussed it "with someone" and "didn't read the contract" before signing it and "assumed that what was discussed was in there". When I made the point that the contract was 3 pages and signed by her and initialed by her in several places she then claimed she was "going on vacation" and "didn't have time" to read the contract. When I finally pressed further and asked why, if she charged a $400+ deposit and authorized charges to her credit card but had no idea what she was getting and hadn't bothered to read the menu that was included, it was then our fault that she "was dissatisfied", she then for the first time alleged that the service "was terrible" and she was unhappy with when the cake was served. In the next breath she informed me that the kids "had a great time" but she was still unsatisfied. She also claimed that she started the original booking "with someone" and then was passed over "to someone else" which is probably why "we screwed it up". Again, this was after her event had gone on for over 3 hours. If she wanted the cake served at a specific moment all she had to do was mention it. Unfortunately, I no longer have the ability to read minds. Which is a shame, by the way.
In any case, I finally decided to charge her the agreed upon price for the kids and only charge her $15 pp for the 10 adults. Apparently, my generous decision to not hold her to the charges and the agreed upon contract she signed for was lost on her. She agreed to the new charges but reiterated that she was still not happy. When I reminded her that we absolutely fulfilled every word of the contract she agreed to, that she alternately believed her entire party was a la carte and then only thought the adults were and admittedly hadn't read papers she signed and agreed to, she decided that my customer service skills were not up to par and left. I guess she didn't realize I stopped myself from calling her an unreasonable bitch.
Now, I will say that we had a ridiculous amount of reservations on the books between 12 and 1 and we had a waiter call out and a new runner, so while everyone was stretched thin I have absolutely no doubt that she had great seating, good service, plenty of hot food and the kids had a great time and several turns on the stage. It seems to me she saw a single mis-step on our part and decided to use it to weasel out of some charges. Further I assume she needed her ass kissed and I didn't budget any time in an extremely busy day and night for ass kissing. For this, I apologize.
By the way, remind me to tell you about the drunk underage girls at the Sweet 16 party, or when the teenager passed out on the banquette threw up on the dining floor, or when I cleaned up the to-go bag filled with vomit, or when S######## had to pick up the used tampon from the ladies' room floor. Now, now, I have to save something for Tuesday ....
sorry if you get a nasty phone call ....
Well out of the 7 events we had on Saturday only one had a couple of problems. Nothing on your end but I thought I would give you the highlights in case you get a phone call or letter:
Ms. U was a 12:00 reservation and we had tables set for her at 224. 5,6,7 and 228. Right in front. I personally showed her and her son to their tables. Unfortunately I didn't realize you had sold prixe fixe packages for the Kid's Lunch (since they were already a special price for the food and performance it didn't occur to me) so they were seated with menus. The waiters assigned to the party figured it out pretty quickly and we took them off the tables well before the rest of her guests had arrived. At most, we were 10 minutes into the event. I assumed all was well until the first course went out.
It was then the waiters informed me that Ms. U didn't want that food and wanted to place her orders all a la carte. Obviously, considering the size of her party and the sheer volume of reservations at the time this would have been near impossible. It was then that the waiters gave me a list of menu choices written by her on pink construction paper in black magic marker. I immediately pulled her contract and went to speak with her about this but after standing next to her with papers in hand and her construction paper order she completely ignored me and continued talking to the children and her guests. She didn't appear the least bit distressed at that point so I left it alone. The 2nd course came out without incident and it was all served at once by two servers, a runner and myself.
Everything seemed fine until 3 hours after her event began and she was given a check. It was then she claimed that she didn't want to pay for the adults as they were supposed to order a la carte and they were "only served macaroni and cheese". This was a flat out lie as I never left the floor the entire afternoon and I know for a fact that every table was literally covered in food and everyone ate who wanted to. I inquired as to why she believed the adults were ordering a la carte as the BEO and the signed contract didn't say so. She claimed she discussed it "with someone" and "didn't read the contract" before signing it and "assumed that what was discussed was in there". When I made the point that the contract was 3 pages and signed by her and initialed by her in several places she then claimed she was "going on vacation" and "didn't have time" to read the contract. When I finally pressed further and asked why, if she charged a $400+ deposit and authorized charges to her credit card but had no idea what she was getting and hadn't bothered to read the menu that was included, it was then our fault that she "was dissatisfied", she then for the first time alleged that the service "was terrible" and she was unhappy with when the cake was served. In the next breath she informed me that the kids "had a great time" but she was still unsatisfied. She also claimed that she started the original booking "with someone" and then was passed over "to someone else" which is probably why "we screwed it up". Again, this was after her event had gone on for over 3 hours. If she wanted the cake served at a specific moment all she had to do was mention it. Unfortunately, I no longer have the ability to read minds. Which is a shame, by the way.
In any case, I finally decided to charge her the agreed upon price for the kids and only charge her $15 pp for the 10 adults. Apparently, my generous decision to not hold her to the charges and the agreed upon contract she signed for was lost on her. She agreed to the new charges but reiterated that she was still not happy. When I reminded her that we absolutely fulfilled every word of the contract she agreed to, that she alternately believed her entire party was a la carte and then only thought the adults were and admittedly hadn't read papers she signed and agreed to, she decided that my customer service skills were not up to par and left. I guess she didn't realize I stopped myself from calling her an unreasonable bitch.
Now, I will say that we had a ridiculous amount of reservations on the books between 12 and 1 and we had a waiter call out and a new runner, so while everyone was stretched thin I have absolutely no doubt that she had great seating, good service, plenty of hot food and the kids had a great time and several turns on the stage. It seems to me she saw a single mis-step on our part and decided to use it to weasel out of some charges. Further I assume she needed her ass kissed and I didn't budget any time in an extremely busy day and night for ass kissing. For this, I apologize.
By the way, remind me to tell you about the drunk underage girls at the Sweet 16 party, or when the teenager passed out on the banquette threw up on the dining floor, or when I cleaned up the to-go bag filled with vomit, or when S######## had to pick up the used tampon from the ladies' room floor. Now, now, I have to save something for Tuesday ....
sorry if you get a nasty phone call ....
Monday, February 11, 2008
Y'awl Is A Idiot, Y'awl
So I'm watching a DVR episode of America's Best Dance Crew while I'm having some lunch. Great idea, like the format, love the dancing. Although would it kill them to have found a crew full of lightly muscled Latin boys? I'm just sayin'...
But the reason I'm making a rare double post today is about the judges. Specifically Shane Sparks, who achieved a certain notoriety judging and choreographing for So You Think You Can Dance. I watched him many times on that show without noticing it, so why the hell is MTV letting him say "Y'awl" every two seconds? He substitutes it when he means "you guys" or "you" and "your". He starts and ends sentences with "y'awl" and drops it in the middle of things where it clearly doesn't mean anything at all. Aside from sounding like a freakin' idiot, do we really need even more teenagers running around thinking this kind of thing passes for basic English? Why don't we just pass out millions of Burger King applications and get it over with?
Seriously. I want to throw a lamp at the TV. Make him stop, MTV.
But the reason I'm making a rare double post today is about the judges. Specifically Shane Sparks, who achieved a certain notoriety judging and choreographing for So You Think You Can Dance. I watched him many times on that show without noticing it, so why the hell is MTV letting him say "Y'awl" every two seconds? He substitutes it when he means "you guys" or "you" and "your". He starts and ends sentences with "y'awl" and drops it in the middle of things where it clearly doesn't mean anything at all. Aside from sounding like a freakin' idiot, do we really need even more teenagers running around thinking this kind of thing passes for basic English? Why don't we just pass out millions of Burger King applications and get it over with?
Seriously. I want to throw a lamp at the TV. Make him stop, MTV.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
I Didn't Vote For ....
anybody. Fuck you. I'm not part of the solution. I'm firmly in the category of part of the problem. Vote for me to win $10,000 as a blog fan favorite. I didn't do a thing for it just give me money.
In case you can't tell, I worked a 13 hr. day. I didn't even take a dinner break. I had soup at noon. I'm tired and cranky.
The next person that works the phrase "this is unacceptable" into a complaint to me is getting a boot to the ass.
I'm goin to bed .... grumble grumble, mutter mutter ...
In case you can't tell, I worked a 13 hr. day. I didn't even take a dinner break. I had soup at noon. I'm tired and cranky.
The next person that works the phrase "this is unacceptable" into a complaint to me is getting a boot to the ass.
I'm goin to bed .... grumble grumble, mutter mutter ...
Sunday, January 20, 2008
In-SIN-cere?
So as you may or may not know, I belong to a group here in NYC known as SIN. If you're too lazy to click on the link, it's a social/support group for HIV+ men and their friends, boyfriends etc. But it's mostly for HIV+ men. It's a social group more than a hookup site, and they get together once a month for a bar night, other times for a board game get-together. They've done a bowling night, lots of brunches, theater outings, you name it. Basically, it's billed as a safe, relaxed place where POZ guys can meet other POZ guys without worrying about your HIV status. Even if you don't meet anyone date-wise, the theory is that there's some common ground built in to the shared experience. And there is. It's a wonderful group that I don't take nearly enough advantage of.
Along with being a member I have signed up for the group e-mail list, and periodically get e-mail sent to the group about social events, doctor referrals, political meetings etc. Again, they run the gamut. But I have to say I was a tad surprised yesterday when I checked my e-mail and found this little missive in my In-box. It was a group e-mail sent out by none other than Project Runway dropout Jack Mackenroth. Here is the e-mail in it's entirety:
Hey Everyone--I need your help. If you don't know me or know of me, I was the openly HIV+ contestant on Project Runway this season. My name is Jack Mackenroth and I have been to several SIN events and promote it on all my websites. Bravo is currently having their fan favorite voting contest. I NEED YOUR VOTE! You can vote up to 40 times and with every entry you have a chance to win a $10,000 shopping spree yourself. If I am voted fan favorite I win 10K and I could really use the money. Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.
Now first of all, opening an e-mail to an HIV+ support group with "I need your help" and then following it up with a plea for on-line votes to win 10k sets my teeth on edge right off. You don't need my help Jacqueline, you need me to take precious time out of my busy day to stuff the on-line ballot box so you can win money.
Why would I do this for you? Because you're HIV+? Am I helpin' a sistah out? Then why don't you at least cop to it? Why mention that you've been to several SIN events (only one that I know of, but I have no proof it isn't more) and that you "promote it on all your websites (sic)"? Really? I can only find the one web site(s). And it's decidedly thin. Less than a dozen posts in total. And you don't link to anything. And you only talk about you. Oh wait, there's a fresh post asking for votes. Damn, girl, you don't miss a trick. So what, exactly, do I get out of this besides helping some self-involved Chelsea "designer" (now there's a rare breed *snicker*) enrich his checking account? How much does Special K cost these days, anyway?
Along with being a member I have signed up for the group e-mail list, and periodically get e-mail sent to the group about social events, doctor referrals, political meetings etc. Again, they run the gamut. But I have to say I was a tad surprised yesterday when I checked my e-mail and found this little missive in my In-box. It was a group e-mail sent out by none other than Project Runway dropout Jack Mackenroth. Here is the e-mail in it's entirety:
Hey Everyone--I need your help. If you don't know me or know of me, I was the openly HIV+ contestant on Project Runway this season. My name is Jack Mackenroth and I have been to several SIN events and promote it on all my websites. Bravo is currently having their fan favorite voting contest. I NEED YOUR VOTE! You can vote up to 40 times and with every entry you have a chance to win a $10,000 shopping spree yourself. If I am voted fan favorite I win 10K and I could really use the money. Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.
Now first of all, opening an e-mail to an HIV+ support group with "I need your help" and then following it up with a plea for on-line votes to win 10k sets my teeth on edge right off. You don't need my help Jacqueline, you need me to take precious time out of my busy day to stuff the on-line ballot box so you can win money.
Why would I do this for you? Because you're HIV+? Am I helpin' a sistah out? Then why don't you at least cop to it? Why mention that you've been to several SIN events (only one that I know of, but I have no proof it isn't more) and that you "promote it on all your websites (sic)"? Really? I can only find the one web site(s). And it's decidedly thin. Less than a dozen posts in total. And you don't link to anything. And you only talk about you. Oh wait, there's a fresh post asking for votes. Damn, girl, you don't miss a trick. So what, exactly, do I get out of this besides helping some self-involved Chelsea "designer" (now there's a rare breed *snicker*) enrich his checking account? How much does Special K cost these days, anyway?
At least we finally get a germ of truth at the end, when the whiny MRSA victim finally just bald-faced admits "I could really use the money". Here's an idea you probably haven't considered Miss Jackie O-no-you-didn't. Howzabout you get yourself one of them newfangled jobs I been hearing so much about?
Sorry to harsh every one's day, but my initial reaction upon reading this e-mail was the same one I get when I happen across a picture of a vagina unexpectedly. Not out and out revulsion, but just a tiny bit "ew", you know? But the more I read it and thought about it other words came to mind. Like smarmy. And pandering. With a dash of exploiting your HIV status and me for cash, thrown in. Sorry Jack, you shady Queen. You and your hideously swollen lip will not be getting my votes. If I cast them at all I will give my votes to the Project Rungay designer that actually has some talent. That would be your replacement, Chris. Did you see those portfolio shots? Fagulous!
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Christmas Day, Party Of One
So I ended up working on Christmas Eve after all. It occurred to me after I posted about possibly getting the day off that my supervisor hadn't actually scheduled me to do payroll for this week. It's usually due by noon on Wednesday and my next scheduled shift isn't even until Wednesday night. So I decided to go in for a few hours on Christmas Eve and get the payroll done rather than wake up under the gun or be forced to rush through it on Wednesday. The alternative, where no one gets a paycheck during Christmas week would have made yours truly a most unpopular individual. And we can't have that now can we?
Christmas Day I woke up after dozing fitfully and puttered around watching morning TV. The Disney parade on ABC is just one giant infomercial for Disney nowadays isn't it? I think the Disney Imagineers could go ahead and replace Regis and Kelly with animatronic characters for all the fake enthusiasm they bring to the show. Maybe it's always been that way and I'm getting crusty in my old age.
Had a little coffee and took Jet to the park for a walk. After I got him home we opened his Christmas stocking. Yes, my dog got a Christmas stocking and yes, I shopped for my dog. I'm not completely crazy I didn't wrap anything. He got yet another squeaky toy and about 3 different kinds of rawhide as well as a bag of dog cookies. At one point he kept jumping back and forth from the rawhides to the squeaky toy until I decided that he was just getting confused and put some away for another day. I've already given him more biscuits and cookies today than I ever usually do.
I made myself a nice breakfast of scrambled eggs with cheese and mushrooms along with three fat slices of Canadian bacon and toast. Then I unwrapped the cards and presents that the family had sent last week that I kept under the tree as well as a couple of gifts from the kids at work. Mom and dad sent socks (which I count on every year), some clothes, about 4lbs. of pistachio nuts, three tins of homemade Christmas cookies (courtesy of dad) and a modest check. My niece sent me a beautiful framed picture of herself that her father (who was a professional photographer) took. I absolutely love it. Also got some candles and a Jet Blue gift card to offset the ticket price when I really can go to visit the family.
I took Jet out again in the afternoon. There were other people walking dogs everywhere. I decided to sit in the park for a while and give him a good brush. He's a gay man's dog all right and will sit for a brushing as long as I want. Plus he knows a biscuit comes at the end. Then I went back to the house and made some Christmas phone calls to family and friends to say a proper thank you for the gifts. After which I dozed off for an hour. I'm usually not one for a nap but I haven't been sleeping too great lately and I had nothing else to do so I gave in. I woke up and made some chicken and mushrooms with diced tomato and Spanish rice. I also baked a potato and have a tray of stuffed peppers I made yesterday. Dinner and/or lunch is set for at least a few days.
The one thing I didn't do all day today was go to into a single open store or restaurant. Not a 24 hr. drugstore or diner and most certainly not a grocery store or restaurant. Many years ago we developed this rule in our family. It comes from years and years ago when my dad used to have to go to work on Christmas day. Before that, stores were always closed. But somewhere along the way, as stores opened up and people started spending money, more and more restaurants and then groceries then all manner of stores, theaters and businesses opened. Because people came in. Money was made. And then more and more people had to leave their families or interrupt or delay Christmas while loved ones had to work. Because people are too lazy or too dumb to figure out what food they'll need one day in advance. Or maybe the toy they bought needs batteries. Or perhaps the camera on Christmas might just need, oh I don't know, film? How surprising it must be that the car will need gas for that trip to visit relatives today. So all manner of selfish fucks will flood groceries because they absolutely can't live without mini-fucking-marshmallows or bread crumbs. And instead of planning ahead and buying a jug of cheap wine because the family will drive him to drink, get belligerent and scream at his little girl, another dumb ass will go into a bar on Christmas night and remark about how sad it is that the bartender has to work. Not sad enough to push his beer gut away from the bar and get his alcoholic ass home, but sad nonetheless.
So needless to say I have no illusion that I will be part of the solution. That genie ain't going back in the bottle. But I refuse to be part of the problem. I have food, my dog has food. I've got milk, bread, contac lens solution, condoms and lube and clean socks and underwear. I've got several DVD's I've never watched, and a few I could always watch again. I've got video games I've never mastered and a book I'm working on. I even stole my neighbor's New York Times this morning. So I don't even need to visit a newsstand. If a few million more people would do the same, maybe someone else's dad wouldn't have to go to work on Christmas. I'm just sayin' ...
Christmas Day I woke up after dozing fitfully and puttered around watching morning TV. The Disney parade on ABC is just one giant infomercial for Disney nowadays isn't it? I think the Disney Imagineers could go ahead and replace Regis and Kelly with animatronic characters for all the fake enthusiasm they bring to the show. Maybe it's always been that way and I'm getting crusty in my old age.
Had a little coffee and took Jet to the park for a walk. After I got him home we opened his Christmas stocking. Yes, my dog got a Christmas stocking and yes, I shopped for my dog. I'm not completely crazy I didn't wrap anything. He got yet another squeaky toy and about 3 different kinds of rawhide as well as a bag of dog cookies. At one point he kept jumping back and forth from the rawhides to the squeaky toy until I decided that he was just getting confused and put some away for another day. I've already given him more biscuits and cookies today than I ever usually do.
I made myself a nice breakfast of scrambled eggs with cheese and mushrooms along with three fat slices of Canadian bacon and toast. Then I unwrapped the cards and presents that the family had sent last week that I kept under the tree as well as a couple of gifts from the kids at work. Mom and dad sent socks (which I count on every year), some clothes, about 4lbs. of pistachio nuts, three tins of homemade Christmas cookies (courtesy of dad) and a modest check. My niece sent me a beautiful framed picture of herself that her father (who was a professional photographer) took. I absolutely love it. Also got some candles and a Jet Blue gift card to offset the ticket price when I really can go to visit the family.
I took Jet out again in the afternoon. There were other people walking dogs everywhere. I decided to sit in the park for a while and give him a good brush. He's a gay man's dog all right and will sit for a brushing as long as I want. Plus he knows a biscuit comes at the end. Then I went back to the house and made some Christmas phone calls to family and friends to say a proper thank you for the gifts. After which I dozed off for an hour. I'm usually not one for a nap but I haven't been sleeping too great lately and I had nothing else to do so I gave in. I woke up and made some chicken and mushrooms with diced tomato and Spanish rice. I also baked a potato and have a tray of stuffed peppers I made yesterday. Dinner and/or lunch is set for at least a few days.
The one thing I didn't do all day today was go to into a single open store or restaurant. Not a 24 hr. drugstore or diner and most certainly not a grocery store or restaurant. Many years ago we developed this rule in our family. It comes from years and years ago when my dad used to have to go to work on Christmas day. Before that, stores were always closed. But somewhere along the way, as stores opened up and people started spending money, more and more restaurants and then groceries then all manner of stores, theaters and businesses opened. Because people came in. Money was made. And then more and more people had to leave their families or interrupt or delay Christmas while loved ones had to work. Because people are too lazy or too dumb to figure out what food they'll need one day in advance. Or maybe the toy they bought needs batteries. Or perhaps the camera on Christmas might just need, oh I don't know, film? How surprising it must be that the car will need gas for that trip to visit relatives today. So all manner of selfish fucks will flood groceries because they absolutely can't live without mini-fucking-marshmallows or bread crumbs. And instead of planning ahead and buying a jug of cheap wine because the family will drive him to drink, get belligerent and scream at his little girl, another dumb ass will go into a bar on Christmas night and remark about how sad it is that the bartender has to work. Not sad enough to push his beer gut away from the bar and get his alcoholic ass home, but sad nonetheless.
So needless to say I have no illusion that I will be part of the solution. That genie ain't going back in the bottle. But I refuse to be part of the problem. I have food, my dog has food. I've got milk, bread, contac lens solution, condoms and lube and clean socks and underwear. I've got several DVD's I've never watched, and a few I could always watch again. I've got video games I've never mastered and a book I'm working on. I even stole my neighbor's New York Times this morning. So I don't even need to visit a newsstand. If a few million more people would do the same, maybe someone else's dad wouldn't have to go to work on Christmas. I'm just sayin' ...
Sunday, November 25, 2007
I Don't Like You
Praise the spirits! Now that you are all finished with your holiday weekend and are getting ready to get back to work, I am just about to start mine. (Ha, Ha. Suck it!)
Traditionally, in the restaurant/bar business a long holiday weekend will bring out some of the most obnoxious, unreasonable groups of people you would ever want to come across. This weekend proved that true, although quite honestly, I've been through worse. I used to remark it was as if they never go out in public more than once or twice a year, until I finally realized that it was probably a good guess. It's the people that don't know how to order their food or wait for a dirty table to be cleaned and set or why they might aggravate someone by asking me to split off a check so they can put that amount on a credit card ... unless of course that credit card is declined in which case they would like the checks put back together so they can just go ahead and put the entire amount on the original credit card they had first provided. Sure, pinhead! I have all kinds of time this weekend to do pointless tasks for you.
But at least another nightclub was kind enough to provide a fatal stabbing on Thanksgiving (nothing says happy holiday like a punctured lung!) that made the papers, thereby insuring that our little gang related beat-down with accompanying grand larceny never registered more than a blip on the police blotter.
In case you can't tell, I'm a little at a loss for love of my fellow man. Unless he's Puerto Rican. But that's another kind of love. My patience is finite and the well is dry. Fortunately, I can tell that my soul will be restored by a little cardio workout, a healthy dose of man-on-dog lovin' and lots and lots of retail therapy. I best get to work.
Traditionally, in the restaurant/bar business a long holiday weekend will bring out some of the most obnoxious, unreasonable groups of people you would ever want to come across. This weekend proved that true, although quite honestly, I've been through worse. I used to remark it was as if they never go out in public more than once or twice a year, until I finally realized that it was probably a good guess. It's the people that don't know how to order their food or wait for a dirty table to be cleaned and set or why they might aggravate someone by asking me to split off a check so they can put that amount on a credit card ... unless of course that credit card is declined in which case they would like the checks put back together so they can just go ahead and put the entire amount on the original credit card they had first provided. Sure, pinhead! I have all kinds of time this weekend to do pointless tasks for you.
But at least another nightclub was kind enough to provide a fatal stabbing on Thanksgiving (nothing says happy holiday like a punctured lung!) that made the papers, thereby insuring that our little gang related beat-down with accompanying grand larceny never registered more than a blip on the police blotter.
In case you can't tell, I'm a little at a loss for love of my fellow man. Unless he's Puerto Rican. But that's another kind of love. My patience is finite and the well is dry. Fortunately, I can tell that my soul will be restored by a little cardio workout, a healthy dose of man-on-dog lovin' and lots and lots of retail therapy. I best get to work.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Take A Memo
To Top Chef non-finalist Sam:
Real sorry you lost the competition big guy. Big, tatted-up deep-voiced guy. But you are most assuredly my "top" chef. And to prove it, I'd like you to come over and fuck me 'till I cry.
To the AngerDyke supervisor I currently report to:
I'm done playin'. I like my job and I'm good at it. You're in my way, you suck as a manager, and I'm sick of you making me feel bad about myself. You don't know who you're playing with. I stared down death, bitch. Live and Let Live Spiritual Me has been sent away. Evil Scheming Angry Fag is loose. You're toast.
To people approaching the checkout counters where I work:
Hang up your fucking cell call and acknowledge the presence of the human being saying hello, taking your credit card or cash and putting your purchases in a bag for you. It's unbelievably rude!
To the naked, overweight Indian man that spent a 1/2hr. wandering without a towel around the shower/sauna area at my gym:
The hair dryers are not provided so that you can dry off your balls. Find a towel and then use it. And keep your "super-heated ball air" from blowing over my way as I'm getting ready to leave. I don't feel like smelling like overweight Indian genitalia all day. Thanks to Sean for reminding me on that one.
Real sorry you lost the competition big guy. Big, tatted-up deep-voiced guy. But you are most assuredly my "top" chef. And to prove it, I'd like you to come over and fuck me 'till I cry.
To the AngerDyke supervisor I currently report to:
I'm done playin'. I like my job and I'm good at it. You're in my way, you suck as a manager, and I'm sick of you making me feel bad about myself. You don't know who you're playing with. I stared down death, bitch. Live and Let Live Spiritual Me has been sent away. Evil Scheming Angry Fag is loose. You're toast.
To people approaching the checkout counters where I work:
Hang up your fucking cell call and acknowledge the presence of the human being saying hello, taking your credit card or cash and putting your purchases in a bag for you. It's unbelievably rude!
To the naked, overweight Indian man that spent a 1/2hr. wandering without a towel around the shower/sauna area at my gym:
The hair dryers are not provided so that you can dry off your balls. Find a towel and then use it. And keep your "super-heated ball air" from blowing over my way as I'm getting ready to leave. I don't feel like smelling like overweight Indian genitalia all day. Thanks to Sean for reminding me on that one.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Lindsay Lohan Is A Fucking Idiot
I mean, I usually leave the goss to the professionals, and I rarely regurgitate news and try to pass it off as content but honestly, is this girl really and truly this stupid?
Lohan says she wants to state her opinions on "how our society should be educated for the better of our country. Our people . . . because I have such an impact on our younger generations, as well as generations older than me. Which we all know and can obviously see."
Dear Miss Lohan,
You have zero impact on any of the generations I have ever known or want to know. Now shut up and read some books.
Lohan says she wants to state her opinions on "how our society should be educated for the better of our country. Our people . . . because I have such an impact on our younger generations, as well as generations older than me. Which we all know and can obviously see."
Dear Miss Lohan,
You have zero impact on any of the generations I have ever known or want to know. Now shut up and read some books.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Over Sensitive?
While I'm in full-on irascible crank mode, I was perusing a few other blogs and came across this post on Towleroad. Now, the post itself is innocuous enough. Quite frankly, I could care less about it, and I'm sure there are literally thousands of gay couples attending US Open matches. I may go myself. Obviously not as a gay couple. The part that totally frosted my balls is buried down in the comments. To wit: the comment/"joke" by one Jared that whatever is perceived as "wrong" with Lance Bass' face is because of protease inhibitors. Because they're gay. And all gay people are HIV +. Cause they all have a disease. From being gay. Funn-nee! So I sent him a little note:
Hello. I read the little joke comment you left on the Towleroad blog. I’m assuming the “joke” is that all gay people are HIV positive. Real clever. Since you decided to post in such a public forum, I have no hesitation in letting you know I found it completely unfunny. You’re a bigot and a complete asshole.
I feel better, anyway.
In a semi-related vein did you hear? NYC gave away 12.2 million condoms last year as a way to help stem the spread of HIV. Do they have any that say I (heart) NY? Cause I would totally use them. Maybe there's some at the US Open.
I like to do a test run whenever I get new pills from Dr. Nick. In case they've slipped me a placebo and I find out while waiting in the dentist's office. Since I was already in angry man phase it seemed like a good time. I'm happy to report I'm quite high. Wheeeeeee!
Hello. I read the little joke comment you left on the Towleroad blog. I’m assuming the “joke” is that all gay people are HIV positive. Real clever. Since you decided to post in such a public forum, I have no hesitation in letting you know I found it completely unfunny. You’re a bigot and a complete asshole.
I feel better, anyway.
In a semi-related vein did you hear? NYC gave away 12.2 million condoms last year as a way to help stem the spread of HIV. Do they have any that say I (heart) NY? Cause I would totally use them. Maybe there's some at the US Open.
I like to do a test run whenever I get new pills from Dr. Nick. In case they've slipped me a placebo and I find out while waiting in the dentist's office. Since I was already in angry man phase it seemed like a good time. I'm happy to report I'm quite high. Wheeeeeee!
Friday, April 14, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, April 10, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, April 07, 2006
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?)
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