How to call someone out during the holidays:
Don't you Pumpkin Spice Latte me, muthafucka!
Don't you Sister Act IIme! I will take you down!!
You did NOT EVEN pa-rum-pa-pum-pum me! I don't think so!
I've been waiting to use the first one since October.
Kimble's Favorite Chew Toys, In Order Of Attention Span
(or, How I Keep My Energetic Puppy Occupied Whilst I Save My Sanity, With Side Notes On How Beautiful The Toys Are):
1. Plush fluffy toy, composed of strips of fleece in fashionable colors (matches the apartment walls, yo). He is determined to kill this toy. This is good. When he wakes up at 1am, and I hear him thumping around in his crate, I peek and see him shaking it in a death grip.
2. The tennis ball material jack. It's shaped like a jack, but made out of tennis ball material. Brilliant. Hours of occupied attention. He loves stripping the yellow fuzz off of it. What's gorgeous about this toy is that, because it's a jack, it tumbles easily. Plus, it's got a 3-d asterix shape that cannot be beat.
3. Some swoopy designer bone. Just broke this out tonight, because he's decided to chew on my furniture. He won't stop chewing on it. Composed of a secret polymer, it's like rubber, but more of a hard plastic edge to it.
4. Kong, size small. In many ways, Kong doesn't count, he barely touches it unless there's food in it. However, when there's food in it, it takes him hours. I'm looking for a way to extend that time. It's also pretty ugly, albeit simple. Perhaps a camo-colored Kong would be nicer. Okay, I just looked over and he's chomping an empty Kong. Work the Kong.
5. Tennis ball material ring. Like the tennis ball material jack, this is a donut made out of the same material. The shape is pleasing, but it just bores him. He's really into toys that project off of the ground, so that he can chew them while lying on his side.
When I met you at the restaurant
You could tell I was no debutante
I couldn't believe one of the most gorgeous men in Manhattan (as voted by a magazine twice in a row, don't take my word for it) had invited me to this party, put my name on the list, managed it. The bar is new, unseen by everyone, except the Very Cute who had been invited, which apparently included me. I did my little bar-bunny hop around, checking out all the little nooks and corners, snooping around for my friend. I wore a sleeveless tee. I've added an inch to my biceps since August, and my shoulders are positively round. I felt like showing off. When I finally found him, he was leaning on the bar getting a drink. A friend (a suitor, perhaps?) was behind him. I walked past the other guy and grabbed my friend's behind, hard, giving it a little shake. He didn't jump or look around right away, just enjoyed the shake and turned his head. He grinned and gave me a big kiss.
I had a lovely time while he did his duty as a meet, greet, and be festive officer. It was a sight to behold. He's 28, and it's so effortless for him. When I left, I gave him a hug and he said that it really meant a lot to him for me to be there. Really? I mean, it was a seasonal magazine party, not the premiere of his first novel. But I knew the background; I am someone who appreciates nightlife, yet has no desire to regularly participate in it. He has few people like me in his life.
And, we have an ongoing conversation. The transition from having a social life in bars to a social life elsewhere. At Home. He's a few years behind me in progress. He's hosting some of the best parties in Manhattan, but is really bored, and hasn't chosen to shut it down yet. We click, over this and several other things. Not love-click, yet, but click none the less.
You asked me what's my pleasure
A movie or a measure?
I'll have a cup of tea
And tell you of my dreaming
So it came as no surprise that a few parties later, when we'd had a little bit to drink, at my friend's party, and there were sexy muscle bears floating about, oohing and aahing us, and I asked him if we could make out, either here in the kitchen or perhaps in the bathroom if he'd like a little privacy, he said no. Not yet. We're emerging, a friendship is blossoming, and he wants it to continue. We'll Do It later. A good No always turns me on. After all, it's simply a cover for an eventual Yes.
He had an early appointment the next day, so he left without me. I continued my circuit around the apartment. First, I asked a hunky panamanian I'd been eyeing all evening if he'd like to accompany me to the bathroom. He did. We made out. He loved my little body. Having established this, we asked his boyfriend to join us. The boyfriend is hunky and about 12" shorter than he, about 2" shorter than me (you do the math) and I got quite a bit of time with each of them.
A little later, I saw this guy who was about 50, had a gorgeous body, and was really lovely to talk to. I asked him if he'd like to make out in the bathroom (clearly, this was working for me). He did, even though his boyfriend wasn't around, and he wasn't sure how to navigate these waters. I hoped to give him a little taste. We made out for about ten seconds and he told me he'd rather do this with his partner around. Fair enough. I had a line at that point, anyway, and daylight was approaching.
Death, illness, close calls:
-The guy who took me to the hospital a couple of years ago is in ICU with pneumonia. For a while his status was "probably not going to make it". He made it. I didn't speak to him; a friend I ran into on the street was speaking to him on his phone when I bumped into him, and the guy in the hospital, through my friend, called me a slut. Actually, his words were "what is that little slut up to?". All better, I see.
-Someone I coach walked away from a car accident last month. His car was destroyed. I have been coaching him on his well-being, but he had not taken any actions yet. He fell asleep at the wheel. And four weeks later, he's getting 7 hours of sleep and fulfilling on (most) of his committments, and being authentic about the ones he misses.
-A good friend, and client, started taking some pretty powerful medication for HIV. He lent me his tricked out pimp mobile to pick up Kimble, and didn't blink an eye.
Out of these: life. I already know that people live their lives, in the face of any circumstances. And these people have continued to give to me.
I've never had so much fun as in these last few months. Tonight, I was tickled to be going to the theater alone. Such a pleasure to know I will arrive on time (at least twenty-five minutes early). I enjoy being seated before anyone else, watching the audience get seated, reading program notes, and acclimating myself to the group of people who are going to share in the performance. I immensely enjoy having time to build our little group. It's a time-structure that makes theater-going unique, fuller, deeper.
The Winters Tale is about time. Jealousy takes no time. It takes nothing but our will to create or destroy our love. The huge time gap in the middle. The audience referred to as “you, the spectators”. The disappointing ending.
There was a tall, thin cloud of sand falling in the center of the set before the show began. It was like a vertical cirrus cloud it was so fine, so married to the gusting of air from the arriving spectators. Our little group. The anticipation of the completion of that group, a dozen painted and becostumed people under better lighting.
Propeller, the brilliant actor's company whose mission is to combine strict adherence to the text with brilliant modern staging and movement, is all-male. They leave Shakespeare's genderfuck intact. The actors make the music, with wineglasses and kazoos. There is nothing outside of the men on the stage and us. All the people in the room. They triggered our group through their interpretation. Created love from nothing, and quickly, too.
"Why You Should Continue To Date Me: A Series Of Charts And Graphs" by Joel Friesen. Absolutely adorable. Although I admit, I would have come up with a dozen more, and in way more detail.
ps all work in this domain is copyright chad the minx.