Thursday, October 13, 2005
Cruisingforsex.com vs PayPal
This evening I read an article about a lawsuit crusingforsex.com has filed against the internet money exchange PayPal. Apparently, PayPal has refused to allow the site to use it to collect money to aid the victims of Hurricane Katrina. It's a more complicated issue than it may appear on the surface, and I have conflicting feelings about the whole debacle.
First of all, you have to understand that cruisingforsex.com is about as adult and sexually-oriented a web site as you can imagine. One of the mainstays of the site is a global listing of locations where gay men can find and hook-up with other gay men for sex. Part of this listing, in addition to bath houses and sex clubs, are "cruisy" public spots, such as rest areas and bathrooms, that gay men frequent for the purposes of sex, often public sex right there. Even me, a rather open-minded gay man, can see the obvious moral pitfalls of such activity. Public sex has implications beyond the two (or more) consenting adults involved by the very nature of its being "public." If I were a parent, for example, I wouldn't want my child to be inadvertently exposed to sexual activity (gay or straight) by simply walking into a bathroom. Of course, I can also see the flip side. Entrapment by law enforcement agencies (such as what happened to George Michael) is a waste of police resources, particularly when there is always a different standard applied to homosexual activity then there is to heterosexual activity. (i.e. Sex by a gay couple engaged on a secluded beach would always be treated as a more serious infraction than that of a straight couple caught in the same act.) I certainly don't make any moral judgments against cruisingforsex.com. In fact, I have their web sites bookmarked on my browser, and I use them as the source of my internet porn (no safer sex than sex with yourself!) and have consulted their listings regarding bath houses and sex clubs. I also see nothing wrong with their hosting personal ads for men looking strictly for sexual encounters. Public sex, however, falls outside of the purview of what I see as a fundamental foundation for gay rights: What two (or, again, more) consenting adults do in private (whether their home or a private location for such activity) is no one's business except the people involved.
Secondly, I applaud cruisingforsex.com's effort to raise money for those who lives were devastated one of the worst natural disasters in American history. The site is apparently based in New Orleans, and its owners and operators were personally affected by Hurricane Katrina. I truly feel that their only motivation was a sincere desire to help, and I have nothing but praise for their efforts.
Now comes PayPal's point of view. They apparently have a policy where they refuse to be involved in the "sale of adult, sexually oriented or obscene materials or services," and according to spokesperson, they do "not permit our services to be used on adult Web sites." These policies are what make me side on behalf of PayPal, at least as far as the lawsuit is concerned. If they apply their policy equally to all sexually-oriented web sites and if they don't pick and choose between adult sites they find acceptable and ones they find morally objectionable, then frankly I don't see cruisingforsex.com's lawsuit as having much merit. I believe that a company has the right to establish their own business practices as long as they apply those practices fairly and without prejudice. I don't know if cruisingforsex.com was attempting to play the "minority card" in their lawsuit. The article seemed to intimate this, but that could have easily been a case of irresponsible journalism.
That brings me to the take-home lesson in all of this, as far as I'm concerned. The struggle for equal rights among minorities is based on solid arguments that when you treat a group of people differently (and usually unfairly) on the basis of perceived differences rather than the integrity and actions of individuals, you commit a flagrant moral and ethical violation of the respect all people are entitled to under God. But this principle, as all principles, works both ways and must be applied equally. Racism, for example, is simply and unequivocally the unfair treatment of a person based upon his or her race. The convenient and politically-motivated definition that racism is the discrimination of the dominate race in a society against a minority race is just not valid. I remember watching a news magazine program in the wake of the Rodney King beating. A black "leader" was shown footage of the beating of the white truck driver Reginald Denny by a group of black men. While this man felt that Mr. King's beating was a racist atrocity, he saw Mr. Denny's beating only as an excusable lashing out against "white America." This opinion is nothing more than reprehensible self-interest, and it robs the pursuit of minority justice of legitimate basis, if effect cutting the legs off one's moral and ethical stance. Such a point of view embraces only "might makes right" or gain at any cost and abandons the legitimate arguments of fair treatment and humanity.
First of all, you have to understand that cruisingforsex.com is about as adult and sexually-oriented a web site as you can imagine. One of the mainstays of the site is a global listing of locations where gay men can find and hook-up with other gay men for sex. Part of this listing, in addition to bath houses and sex clubs, are "cruisy" public spots, such as rest areas and bathrooms, that gay men frequent for the purposes of sex, often public sex right there. Even me, a rather open-minded gay man, can see the obvious moral pitfalls of such activity. Public sex has implications beyond the two (or more) consenting adults involved by the very nature of its being "public." If I were a parent, for example, I wouldn't want my child to be inadvertently exposed to sexual activity (gay or straight) by simply walking into a bathroom. Of course, I can also see the flip side. Entrapment by law enforcement agencies (such as what happened to George Michael) is a waste of police resources, particularly when there is always a different standard applied to homosexual activity then there is to heterosexual activity. (i.e. Sex by a gay couple engaged on a secluded beach would always be treated as a more serious infraction than that of a straight couple caught in the same act.) I certainly don't make any moral judgments against cruisingforsex.com. In fact, I have their web sites bookmarked on my browser, and I use them as the source of my internet porn (no safer sex than sex with yourself!) and have consulted their listings regarding bath houses and sex clubs. I also see nothing wrong with their hosting personal ads for men looking strictly for sexual encounters. Public sex, however, falls outside of the purview of what I see as a fundamental foundation for gay rights: What two (or, again, more) consenting adults do in private (whether their home or a private location for such activity) is no one's business except the people involved.
Secondly, I applaud cruisingforsex.com's effort to raise money for those who lives were devastated one of the worst natural disasters in American history. The site is apparently based in New Orleans, and its owners and operators were personally affected by Hurricane Katrina. I truly feel that their only motivation was a sincere desire to help, and I have nothing but praise for their efforts.
Now comes PayPal's point of view. They apparently have a policy where they refuse to be involved in the "sale of adult, sexually oriented or obscene materials or services," and according to spokesperson, they do "not permit our services to be used on adult Web sites." These policies are what make me side on behalf of PayPal, at least as far as the lawsuit is concerned. If they apply their policy equally to all sexually-oriented web sites and if they don't pick and choose between adult sites they find acceptable and ones they find morally objectionable, then frankly I don't see cruisingforsex.com's lawsuit as having much merit. I believe that a company has the right to establish their own business practices as long as they apply those practices fairly and without prejudice. I don't know if cruisingforsex.com was attempting to play the "minority card" in their lawsuit. The article seemed to intimate this, but that could have easily been a case of irresponsible journalism.
That brings me to the take-home lesson in all of this, as far as I'm concerned. The struggle for equal rights among minorities is based on solid arguments that when you treat a group of people differently (and usually unfairly) on the basis of perceived differences rather than the integrity and actions of individuals, you commit a flagrant moral and ethical violation of the respect all people are entitled to under God. But this principle, as all principles, works both ways and must be applied equally. Racism, for example, is simply and unequivocally the unfair treatment of a person based upon his or her race. The convenient and politically-motivated definition that racism is the discrimination of the dominate race in a society against a minority race is just not valid. I remember watching a news magazine program in the wake of the Rodney King beating. A black "leader" was shown footage of the beating of the white truck driver Reginald Denny by a group of black men. While this man felt that Mr. King's beating was a racist atrocity, he saw Mr. Denny's beating only as an excusable lashing out against "white America." This opinion is nothing more than reprehensible self-interest, and it robs the pursuit of minority justice of legitimate basis, if effect cutting the legs off one's moral and ethical stance. Such a point of view embraces only "might makes right" or gain at any cost and abandons the legitimate arguments of fair treatment and humanity.
"What one Christian does, one Christian does. What one Jew does, all Jews do."In my last word, I will say that I really fell that PayPal should have continued to allow cruisingforsex.com to collect money for the victims of Hurricane Katrina using its service. I don't necessarily believe their refusal constitutes a cause of action, but since cruisingforsex.com was collecting funds for a purely humanitarian aid and not "sexually oriented or obscene materials or services," I do believe their allowing a web site, even an adult web site, to use their services would be in the better interest of the common good.
—Anna Frank
Monday, October 10, 2005
How Not to Catch a Man
In spite of what you might think, it is possible to suck in your gut and breath at the same time...It's just extremely uncomfortable. I was employing this trick tonight at Ralph's. My drug dealer doesn't drive, so I took her to the grocery store tonight as a favor. She was looking through the meat section for some lamb, and there was this incredibly handsome man in the same section. He was a big guy, which I love. He wasn't fat, or even football-player big. He was just tall with a lot of well-proportioned meat on him. He had dark, curly hair with beautiful eyes and and dark lashes. My companion asked him for some help, and so I took the opportunity to chat him up at the same time. He had a Southern drawl, and I poinced on the whole regionalism thing. It turns out he's from Louisiana. (My grandparents lived most of their lives in Baton Rouge.) We had a nice conversation, and he introduced himself and shook my hand as he left. But that, as they say, was that. He didn't offer me a phone number, and (fortunately) I didn't try to give him mine. I was looking pretty schlumpy and not exactly God's gift, anyway.
Next Step: Restraining Order
A few weeks ago I kept getting these Caller IDs from the Geffen Playhouse. I don't know who was calling me, but last time I saw actor boy, he mentioned being in a play. I got the hope in my head that maybe he'd been calling me from there during rehearsals or whatever. Tonight, in a bold and foolish move, I decided to call him and find out. He never gave me his phone number, but I stopped by Talking Book World and got it from the customer database. So I called him, and he said "No" his play isn't at the Geffen and "No" he hadn't been trying to call me. He was very friendly and pretended to be glad to hear from me, but I could tell he was in a hurry to get off the phone. I, of course, obliged and apologized for disturbing him. He said he didn't mind, but all I really hope is that he wasn't too creeped out by it.
The Boys Below
I've been hearing the gay couple downstairs fighting the past couple of days. It doesn't sound good, when gay's fight, they fight big! Hopefully things will end amicably enough, and maybe I can console the loser. (If I can't be someone's first choice, then I'm not too proud to be a rebound.)
Speaking of Which...
My turbulent friend just called me to tell me that he and his boyfriend had a violent breakup last night. Apparently, after a rather heated quarrel, my friend left to buy some cigarrettes. His erstwhile boyfriend then called the police and accused him of threatening behavior with a knife. A whole bunch of cops came and ambushed my friend at the local 7-11. They arrested him with public intoxication, and he spent last night and part of the day in jail. He's moved back in with his former roommate and is considering a two-week in-patient program. I hope he pursues it because I think some time removed from his daily life in the care of professionals would help him tremendously.
Next Step: Restraining Order
A few weeks ago I kept getting these Caller IDs from the Geffen Playhouse. I don't know who was calling me, but last time I saw actor boy, he mentioned being in a play. I got the hope in my head that maybe he'd been calling me from there during rehearsals or whatever. Tonight, in a bold and foolish move, I decided to call him and find out. He never gave me his phone number, but I stopped by Talking Book World and got it from the customer database. So I called him, and he said "No" his play isn't at the Geffen and "No" he hadn't been trying to call me. He was very friendly and pretended to be glad to hear from me, but I could tell he was in a hurry to get off the phone. I, of course, obliged and apologized for disturbing him. He said he didn't mind, but all I really hope is that he wasn't too creeped out by it.
The Boys Below
I've been hearing the gay couple downstairs fighting the past couple of days. It doesn't sound good, when gay's fight, they fight big! Hopefully things will end amicably enough, and maybe I can console the loser. (If I can't be someone's first choice, then I'm not too proud to be a rebound.)
Speaking of Which...
My turbulent friend just called me to tell me that he and his boyfriend had a violent breakup last night. Apparently, after a rather heated quarrel, my friend left to buy some cigarrettes. His erstwhile boyfriend then called the police and accused him of threatening behavior with a knife. A whole bunch of cops came and ambushed my friend at the local 7-11. They arrested him with public intoxication, and he spent last night and part of the day in jail. He's moved back in with his former roommate and is considering a two-week in-patient program. I hope he pursues it because I think some time removed from his daily life in the care of professionals would help him tremendously.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Mass of Self-Destruction
I'm so tired of being ruled over by my lust and desire. I hate homing in on every passable male, sizing them up and engaging in pursuit, like some sort of deranged sexual predator. (Even my own mother made the comment in Las Vegas that I'm "always on the prowl.") I'm so tired of being the pathetic cliché of the desperate, doughy middle-aged fag. The kind of caricature I always dreaded as a young man. Beyond my expectations for the expression of my sexuality, in my adolescence, I resolved to live an uncommon life. I've always had rather grandiose plans, but I'm not strictly speaking of fame or wealth or any such external trappings. I simply didn't want to sleepwalk through my life and place one preplanned foot in front of the other. I wanted to break out of the groove of expectation and forge my own path forward. Yet here I am, falling into the same tedious and boring patterns of reaction, rather than proaction, that I had always disdained.
Fantasy has always been an integral part of my life. It's why, I think, I ended up wanting to be a writer. I wasn't satisfied with empty vignettes in my mind. I made myself come up with elaborate scenarios and clever plot devices in which to express my taboo homosexual desires.
This morning in church, the music director captivated me during the Gospel Acclamation. (Yes, I can't even escape my lust and desire in church, which is why I go to the family-oriented Christ the King in Hollywood, rather than the "family"-oriented St. Victor's in West Hollywood.) He was handsome in a slightly nerdy kind of way, and I he had an incredibly sexy voice. I could see the passion for his music in him, and his friendly, open demeanor, without any accompanying attitude, despite his rather good looks. And I knew that he was perfect.
"The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want...I shall not want..."
"The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want...I shall not want..."
Then I saw them both in my line of sight. Two "perfect" men right within my grasp, and yet infinitely out of my reach. Two men and two conflicting fantasies. And I wondered which of them could be "the one." But, you see, THAT is the real fantasy. I have, and have always had, this belief—a perverse form of faith—that one day the perfect man will come and usher in my perfect life, the way my life is supposed to be. I will never feel sad again. I will never feel alone again. All of the psychological pain and difficulties I have struggled with my entire life would just magically wash away. And that delusion is a poison, corrupting my ability to appreciate and enjoy the good things, the real things, I had in my past, or that I have now, or that I might be able to create for myself in the future.
"The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want...I shall not want..."
Fantasy has always been an integral part of my life. It's why, I think, I ended up wanting to be a writer. I wasn't satisfied with empty vignettes in my mind. I made myself come up with elaborate scenarios and clever plot devices in which to express my taboo homosexual desires.
This morning in church, the music director captivated me during the Gospel Acclamation. (Yes, I can't even escape my lust and desire in church, which is why I go to the family-oriented Christ the King in Hollywood, rather than the "family"-oriented St. Victor's in West Hollywood.) He was handsome in a slightly nerdy kind of way, and I he had an incredibly sexy voice. I could see the passion for his music in him, and his friendly, open demeanor, without any accompanying attitude, despite his rather good looks. And I knew that he was perfect.
"The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want...I shall not want..."
"The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want...I shall not want..."
Then I saw them both in my line of sight. Two "perfect" men right within my grasp, and yet infinitely out of my reach. Two men and two conflicting fantasies. And I wondered which of them could be "the one." But, you see, THAT is the real fantasy. I have, and have always had, this belief—a perverse form of faith—that one day the perfect man will come and usher in my perfect life, the way my life is supposed to be. I will never feel sad again. I will never feel alone again. All of the psychological pain and difficulties I have struggled with my entire life would just magically wash away. And that delusion is a poison, corrupting my ability to appreciate and enjoy the good things, the real things, I had in my past, or that I have now, or that I might be able to create for myself in the future.
"The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want...I shall not want..."
Saturday, October 08, 2005
The Perfect Sturm und Drang
"Stormy" is definitely an appropriate adjective to describe myself, and a storm is an accurate metaphor for my persistent mental state, like a fury rolling around in unending waves inside my head. One reason for my mental chaos is that I have extremely weak ego boundaries. This is a subject that I could write volumes about, but I'll only touch on it here. According to Freudian theory, your Ego is the "you" that regulates your animal Id desires and society's Superego expectations. Its boundaries are the barrier between your own Self and the rest of the world's Other. Anyway, I have rather poorly formed ego boundaries, which means that other people's thoughts and opinions have an undo influence on your own Weltanschauung. Being able to see and understand so many different, conflicting points of view is a blessing in theory, but a nightmare in reality. I have every faith that being a homosexual is a legitimate and moral expression of my sexuality. However, the fact taht I am able to comprehend and appreciate the arguments of those who would hate me simply for being the man that God created me as creates an inordinate amount of internal tension. It is no wonder that I am an alcoholic and a narcotics fiend. These crutches afford me, at least for a very short time, the one thing missing from my life: Peace.
I'd Like to Partner with a Partner
I spent my years of sexual awakening as a student in an all-boy Catholic high school in Memphis (which is not unlike being a diabetic locked inside a candy store), so I have a long history of searching out fodder for my sexual fantasies in my surroundings. There are a couple of partner's at my law firm that I'd really like to have sex with. I wouldn't want either one of them to ruin it by talking, but at the same time, my attraction to them isn't strictly limited to physical desire.
When I first started working at the firm, I thought the first partner was flirting with me. He introduced himself to me the first time he saw me, and he would always greet me enthusiastically every time he passed my desk. He's a little older (late 40's, I'd guess) but still quite attractive, and so he really piqued my interest, even though he's married with children. I tried to strike up conversations with him, but then I noticed that, in spite of friendly and gregarious manner, he would cut me off short and go upon his way. He would ask me questions, but then brush me off as I tried to answer. Slowly I realized that he's just a huge phony and as slick as if the cat had licked him. He's one of those guys who wants to be seen as everybody's friend, and that kind of insincerity sickens me! But I will say this for the man, he's got a really sweet ass!
The other partner is a handsome blonde man, also in his forties. On my first day on the job, he greeted me with genuine warmth, which I truly appreciated. All in all, however, he's kind of a bitch and an egotistical, pedantic nit-picker. He believes that there is only one way to do everything, his way, and he ridicules anyone who doesn't do things exactly as he would have done them as an ignorant bastard. (In truth, there's a lot of ambiguity in the law—That's why there's lawyers.) He's constantly spouting off with his legal "war stories" and trying to demonstrate just what a genius he is. Frankly I would tag him as a good candidate for a diagnosis of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. On more than one occasion I've wanted to blurt out, "Look, I realize that your mother must have dominated you as a child and that your wife probably whips you at home, but don't take it out on me here at work!" Regardless, he's sometimes a decent guy to talk to, and he's been my fantasy du jour of late. (Replacing my fantasy of one of the middle-aged messenger's at the firm being my "prison bitch," but that's a *whole* other story!) Yesterday this partner and I were discussing crappy jobs we've held in the past, and he was telling stories about the summer he worked as a mover. Whenever they had to move large, heavy pieces of furniture, one guy would tilt it and then another guy would have to catch it. He said that the professional movers he was working with would always make him be the catcher. And I was thinking to myself, "Yeah, I'd like to make you be my catcher!" (I'm a top, you see.) Get it?!? Pitcher/catcher! Top/bottom! Ha Ha Ha!
Speaking of work, the other two junior paralegals (one a divorcee in her fifties, the other a woman about my age) both announced their engagements last week. I'm trying hard not to be petty, but it's hard not to be a little jealous. I always seem to be the eternal "fifth wheel" in my social situations, even in my own family. People in the office kept coming up to me and saying that I must be next, to which I responded that I'd have to have a date first. Upon hearing of their announcements, my boss e-mailed the three of us and asked if there was something in the air or water. She went on ask if anyone had given that something to me. I replied to all with "*sigh* Always a bridesmaid, never a bride!" My boss then e-mailed me that "One day your Prince will come..." which, if you think about it, was both touching and pathetic.
Viva Las Vegas
A couple of weeks ago, my parents flew to Las Vegas to meet up with a bunch of friends they know from Baton Rouge. I met them there the weekend before the rest of the group arrived for a visit. My parents and I had a really good time together, and I managed not to fuck things up. However, my parents are so bizarre. I tested the water by mentioning how Governor Schwarzeneggar was expected to veto the same-sex marriage bill passed by the California legislature. My father said that he didn't care, since he was against same-sex marriage. And that hurt my feelings. But later my father offered to buy me a ticket to see the "Thunder from Down Under" male strip show! Neither he nor my mother would go with me, but they would pay my way if I wanted to see it. (The poster did say "Gentlemen are welcome.") I didn't take him up on his offer since I have no desire to see beefcake strippers. Excalibur played advertisements for the show on monitors throughout the casino, and I remember watching in disgust as women (and, I guess, men) in the audience would reach up for their chance to paw and grope the performers. I still have a shred of dignity and would like to hold onto it. As far is Las Vegas is concerned, I didn't have much use for it. I have a low tolerance for overstimulation, and all of the crowds and buzzing lights and drunken weirdos didn't do much for me. Everyone I spoke to was surprised that I had never been, seeing how I've been in Los Angeles for five years, but I'm not in any hurry to go back.
The Metrosexual Agenda
I've noticed that our society's shallowness about looks has hit a new low. While I was driving to Las Vegas, I saw a billboard for some wrestling event featuring a muscle-bound hunk with beautiful eyes. Maybe being from the South makes me more aware of these things, but whatever happened to the big, hairy, ugly roughnecks? Nowadays, race car drivers and country singers are all pretty boys, and even boxers and wrestlers (as evidenced above) are gorgeous pieces of man-meat. Personally, I blame Jeff Gordon and Garth Brooks!
Boys, But No Toys
Actor boy came into the store today. In a way it was a good thing...I was so afraid that I'd creeped him out bad enough last time that he was never going to come in on a weekend again. Of course, it was also bad because I can personally guarantee that he's never going to call me, as a friend or otherwise. I tried to play it all cool. I did my best to be friendly and forthcoming, while maintaining an even hand. A couple of weeks ago I reached out to waiter boy in the form of an e-mail saying that I would be more than happy to get together with him as just friends. Several days later he e-mailed me back and said that he'd love to get together sometime, but right now he was just "so busy." I didn't respond because I wasn't sure he isn't just shining me on while playing the "nice guy." I figure if he'd really like to get together again, he'll contact me.
The Fairy's Tooth
One last item in this hodge-podge of an entry. I've had a lot of cavities in my life. Part of it is genetics and part of it is the fact that depression tends to make you apathetic about taking care of yourself. As a result, all eight of my molars are nothing more than hollowed-out teeth around a core of filling. Various dentists have explained that, as I grow older (Isn't that charming!), the remaining tooth portion grows weaker until eventually they'll give out. A couple of days ago, for the second time in my life, this happened, and a portion of one of my top back molars broke off. It's truly disgusting, and my tongue is constantly drawn to scrape against what feels like a huge, gaping hole. It seems as if this would be excruciating, but in fact I didn't have any pain whatsoever. Of course, that didn't stop me from angling the situation into a prescription for Vicodin. (This blog was originally supposed to be a chronicle of my efforts to stay relatively sober and improve my life, but such is the way of this wicked world.) At first, the dentist only prescribed 600 mg Motrin®. I mean, come on! Motrin®?!? Needless to say, I called him up to tell him how it wasn't helping my terrible pain, and (in what was probably an effort to shut me up) he called me in some Vicodin. "The squeaky wheel gets the drugs!" During the course of the day yesterday (while I was high at work), I started to think about how a lot of addicts such as myself would choose narcotics over sex, much in the same way studies have shown that mice will forego food in order to continually press a lever that stimulates their brains' pleasure center until they actually starve to death. Particularly in light of my OCD, I have a lot less hangup's about narcotics than I do about sex. So in that same spirit I present to you...
Three reasons Vicodin is better than a man*:
I'd Like to Partner with a Partner
I spent my years of sexual awakening as a student in an all-boy Catholic high school in Memphis (which is not unlike being a diabetic locked inside a candy store), so I have a long history of searching out fodder for my sexual fantasies in my surroundings. There are a couple of partner's at my law firm that I'd really like to have sex with. I wouldn't want either one of them to ruin it by talking, but at the same time, my attraction to them isn't strictly limited to physical desire.
When I first started working at the firm, I thought the first partner was flirting with me. He introduced himself to me the first time he saw me, and he would always greet me enthusiastically every time he passed my desk. He's a little older (late 40's, I'd guess) but still quite attractive, and so he really piqued my interest, even though he's married with children. I tried to strike up conversations with him, but then I noticed that, in spite of friendly and gregarious manner, he would cut me off short and go upon his way. He would ask me questions, but then brush me off as I tried to answer. Slowly I realized that he's just a huge phony and as slick as if the cat had licked him. He's one of those guys who wants to be seen as everybody's friend, and that kind of insincerity sickens me! But I will say this for the man, he's got a really sweet ass!
The other partner is a handsome blonde man, also in his forties. On my first day on the job, he greeted me with genuine warmth, which I truly appreciated. All in all, however, he's kind of a bitch and an egotistical, pedantic nit-picker. He believes that there is only one way to do everything, his way, and he ridicules anyone who doesn't do things exactly as he would have done them as an ignorant bastard. (In truth, there's a lot of ambiguity in the law—That's why there's lawyers.) He's constantly spouting off with his legal "war stories" and trying to demonstrate just what a genius he is. Frankly I would tag him as a good candidate for a diagnosis of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. On more than one occasion I've wanted to blurt out, "Look, I realize that your mother must have dominated you as a child and that your wife probably whips you at home, but don't take it out on me here at work!" Regardless, he's sometimes a decent guy to talk to, and he's been my fantasy du jour of late. (Replacing my fantasy of one of the middle-aged messenger's at the firm being my "prison bitch," but that's a *whole* other story!) Yesterday this partner and I were discussing crappy jobs we've held in the past, and he was telling stories about the summer he worked as a mover. Whenever they had to move large, heavy pieces of furniture, one guy would tilt it and then another guy would have to catch it. He said that the professional movers he was working with would always make him be the catcher. And I was thinking to myself, "Yeah, I'd like to make you be my catcher!" (I'm a top, you see.) Get it?!? Pitcher/catcher! Top/bottom! Ha Ha Ha!
"Well, remind me not to tell that one again when I'm sober."
"Chance would be a fine thing."
--Patsy & Saffy, Absolutely Fabulous
Speaking of work, the other two junior paralegals (one a divorcee in her fifties, the other a woman about my age) both announced their engagements last week. I'm trying hard not to be petty, but it's hard not to be a little jealous. I always seem to be the eternal "fifth wheel" in my social situations, even in my own family. People in the office kept coming up to me and saying that I must be next, to which I responded that I'd have to have a date first. Upon hearing of their announcements, my boss e-mailed the three of us and asked if there was something in the air or water. She went on ask if anyone had given that something to me. I replied to all with "*sigh* Always a bridesmaid, never a bride!" My boss then e-mailed me that "One day your Prince will come..." which, if you think about it, was both touching and pathetic.
Viva Las Vegas
A couple of weeks ago, my parents flew to Las Vegas to meet up with a bunch of friends they know from Baton Rouge. I met them there the weekend before the rest of the group arrived for a visit. My parents and I had a really good time together, and I managed not to fuck things up. However, my parents are so bizarre. I tested the water by mentioning how Governor Schwarzeneggar was expected to veto the same-sex marriage bill passed by the California legislature. My father said that he didn't care, since he was against same-sex marriage. And that hurt my feelings. But later my father offered to buy me a ticket to see the "Thunder from Down Under" male strip show! Neither he nor my mother would go with me, but they would pay my way if I wanted to see it. (The poster did say "Gentlemen are welcome.") I didn't take him up on his offer since I have no desire to see beefcake strippers. Excalibur played advertisements for the show on monitors throughout the casino, and I remember watching in disgust as women (and, I guess, men) in the audience would reach up for their chance to paw and grope the performers. I still have a shred of dignity and would like to hold onto it. As far is Las Vegas is concerned, I didn't have much use for it. I have a low tolerance for overstimulation, and all of the crowds and buzzing lights and drunken weirdos didn't do much for me. Everyone I spoke to was surprised that I had never been, seeing how I've been in Los Angeles for five years, but I'm not in any hurry to go back.
The Metrosexual Agenda
I've noticed that our society's shallowness about looks has hit a new low. While I was driving to Las Vegas, I saw a billboard for some wrestling event featuring a muscle-bound hunk with beautiful eyes. Maybe being from the South makes me more aware of these things, but whatever happened to the big, hairy, ugly roughnecks? Nowadays, race car drivers and country singers are all pretty boys, and even boxers and wrestlers (as evidenced above) are gorgeous pieces of man-meat. Personally, I blame Jeff Gordon and Garth Brooks!
Boys, But No Toys
Actor boy came into the store today. In a way it was a good thing...I was so afraid that I'd creeped him out bad enough last time that he was never going to come in on a weekend again. Of course, it was also bad because I can personally guarantee that he's never going to call me, as a friend or otherwise. I tried to play it all cool. I did my best to be friendly and forthcoming, while maintaining an even hand. A couple of weeks ago I reached out to waiter boy in the form of an e-mail saying that I would be more than happy to get together with him as just friends. Several days later he e-mailed me back and said that he'd love to get together sometime, but right now he was just "so busy." I didn't respond because I wasn't sure he isn't just shining me on while playing the "nice guy." I figure if he'd really like to get together again, he'll contact me.
The Fairy's Tooth
One last item in this hodge-podge of an entry. I've had a lot of cavities in my life. Part of it is genetics and part of it is the fact that depression tends to make you apathetic about taking care of yourself. As a result, all eight of my molars are nothing more than hollowed-out teeth around a core of filling. Various dentists have explained that, as I grow older (Isn't that charming!), the remaining tooth portion grows weaker until eventually they'll give out. A couple of days ago, for the second time in my life, this happened, and a portion of one of my top back molars broke off. It's truly disgusting, and my tongue is constantly drawn to scrape against what feels like a huge, gaping hole. It seems as if this would be excruciating, but in fact I didn't have any pain whatsoever. Of course, that didn't stop me from angling the situation into a prescription for Vicodin. (This blog was originally supposed to be a chronicle of my efforts to stay relatively sober and improve my life, but such is the way of this wicked world.) At first, the dentist only prescribed 600 mg Motrin®. I mean, come on! Motrin®?!? Needless to say, I called him up to tell him how it wasn't helping my terrible pain, and (in what was probably an effort to shut me up) he called me in some Vicodin. "The squeaky wheel gets the drugs!" During the course of the day yesterday (while I was high at work), I started to think about how a lot of addicts such as myself would choose narcotics over sex, much in the same way studies have shown that mice will forego food in order to continually press a lever that stimulates their brains' pleasure center until they actually starve to death. Particularly in light of my OCD, I have a lot less hangup's about narcotics than I do about sex. So in that same spirit I present to you...
Three reasons Vicodin is better than a man*:
- Vicodin is always gone after you've had your fun.
- Vicodin doesn't ask you to compare it to other drugs you've taken.
- Vicodin doesn't make you sleep on the wet spot.
Of course, there's always a darker side to everything, which brings me to...
One reason a man is better than Vicodin:
- Vicodin always expect you to swallow.
*Many, if not most of these, were consciously or unconsciously stolen from the book Why Cucumbers Are Better Than Men.
