if there's one word...

...I could use to describe the Atlantaq gay nightlife scene, it's - TYPICAL.

TYPICAAAAAAAAALLLLL!!!!!!!

It's official, I believe.

Not that any of you need me to confirm this notion. Nor am I the first to express it.

But My. God.

Atlanta's night live is d-e-a-d and this "drag show every night at the bars" thing has just got to stop.

I mean, the AJC just reported that there are about five MILLION people in the metro-Atlanta area. Now, I know that includes several outlying, wouldn't-wanna-live-there-no-matter-how-good-the-schools-are communities. But even so - you'd think there'd be enough boys OUT OF FIVE MILLION to support at least a STINKIN' LOCAL NEIGHBORHOOD BAR WHERE A GUY COULD GO JUST TO HAVE A DAMN DRINK WITH SOME BUDDIES ON WEDNESDAY NIGHT!!!!!!

And yes, I mean to yell.

I hate to go off on this kind of stuff, because it makes me sound like the TOQ (Tired Old Queen) that I swore I'd never become. But sheesh...we watched the drag event at Blake's this evening, and it was tired. No other word to explain it. Tired. Sad "performers," a boring crowd, an uninspired environment, and no real social anything going on in that place. Gross gross gross gross gross gross.

And that never was the case in recent years.

Halo previously pulsed. Any OTHER night of the week at Blake's you could find a few dozen locals who were lookin' to hang out with friends. Hell, even Red Chair could always be had for a laugh.

But no more. Halo is asleep, Blake's had fallen prey to the drag "community" (whatever that is) and Red Chair has closed in the threat of the property's redevelopment. WetBar alternates drag and dumb DJ's, Hoedown's now host Charlie Brown's Drag Cabaret 4 nights per week, and...well...the rest of the bars on the registry just don't appeal to me. Yes, I should broaden my horizons. Yes, I should be more open-minded. But I should NOT have to work so hard to just go out with some friends and have a drink at a gay bar without enduring the mind-numbing effects of this tired, sad, boring, drag thing.

And I LIKE drag, as I've previously noted.

And yes, I am a snob. I don't want to go out with the hairdressers from Warner Robins or Dacula who have come to town for a big weekend. I do not think that some boy with implants and a cheap dress, prancing around and demanding money for DOING NOTHING is a decent social option.

I also have NO interest in "circuit" events. I did that for about ten minutes, and couldn't abide it. It was like the ONE rush event I attended in college. I figured, "Ya can't knock it 'til ya try it." Well, I tried it and I'll knock it 'til the end of my days. That stuff is bullshit - both the circuit and the frat life. Bull. Shit.

And we're all young men - that's the problem. We're not stodgy or puritanical. We wanna have a good time, but the city has said no no no no NO. Whether it is from government intervention or popular demand, I'm not sure.

But you know what? I'm gonna get loud. I'm gonna make my own fun, and I'm gonna do it MY WAY. Because I know that I'm not the only one who feels this way. It's time to take back Atlanta, tell the guv'ment to Fuck OFF and goddamn start havin' a good time again...

people i wish would go away (part one of ?)

* Tyra Banks
* Rosie O'Donnell
* all the girls who show up at gay bars and bitch about the bathroom situation
* anyone who's ever been on "My Super Sweet Sixteen" on MTV
* Lindsay Lohan
* local news channel weather reporters
* anyone who works for Entertainment Tonight
* Sanjaya
* the drag queens at Blake's/Hoedown's/WetBar/Any Atlanta Bar of Homosexual Clientele
* Carnie Wilson

Don't ask.

do jews do this shit?

This week's pithy church marquee komment, from the Brookhaven Babtist Church on North Druid Hills Road:

"Forbidden fruit makes all kinds of jams."

You can thank me later for this weekly dose of perspective.

god bless cabaret!

Oy. Working like clazy. I love my work, but now...I have a higher purpose.

I'm going to do a cabaret.

Yes, it's true. Recently, I was lamenting the preponderance of krappy dumb-ass, omnipresent, and just plain bad drag shows here in town. On any given night in Atlanta, you can go witness some bad, tired, and over-"enhanced" queen prance around and do nothing while demanding that you give her a dollar - and bitch at you because it's not five or ten.

Seriously: at Blake's, when they introduce the queen, there is an embarrassing smattering of applause. The hostess then says, "OK! We gon' try this again! Let's give it UP for...blah blah blah blah blah...."

Honey, if you have to BEG for the love, it's time to hang it up.

So. Long story short (too late!), I was expressing this very sentiment to a friend recently. We were discussing the whole problem with drag (and live performances in gay bars in general), when he suggested a night at Mary's. You see, there is no THEATER to the drag nowadays, and Mary's might be just the venue for something new...and old. A real throwback to the good old days of fun, campy, silliness.

Well, well, well...bibbidee-bobbidee-boo. We might just have a date.

I have some big ideas, and a lot of help from some very capable friends. I'll sing my own music, too...with live and recorded accompaniment. Also, a few special guests. Think of "The Carol Burnett Show" meets "Laugh In" by way of "The Match Game."

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

a list

As I sit here, late at night, winding down from yet another 13-hour day, I have several completely random thoughts:

* I seriously doubt that there are a MILLION ways to have fun on a Karnival Kruise (the ad just came on TV). At least they ditched Kathie Lee as the spokessinger..."In the mornin'...in the evenin'...ain't we got fun?"

* Today was the fourth consecutive 13-hour work day and I love it. I'm working on a show, and we're in tech, so that's always a trial. But it has been going swimmingly, and that makes me very, very happy.

* The most annoying "Will and Grace" is on right now. It's the one where she's all mad because Will....you know...has a life and doesn't want to sit around and moisturize his vagina with her, that he prefers to go out and have some fun. Typical.

* I woke up feeling sooooo inspired and positive, eagerly anticipating the future. No...there were no prescription drugs involved...or sex...or booze...or anything...

* I have a knack for calling people out on their Lady Macbeth-ness. Lots and lots of folks have been protesting a bit too much lately, and it makes for a wonderful comedy of errors...eww. Sorry.

* I have a work-laden weekend before me, but a bit of free time as well. On tap? Clean teen-ery, dinner, movies, and good times.

* I know that it's not even Easter yet, but P'town Labor Day 2007 looms, and I plan to be ready. Took the first steps today, in fact...

Yay.

ewww

And today, this, in the AJC:

"Two Atlanta men survived an attempt to kill themselves Friday by cutting off their arms with a circular saw, according to Atlanta Police Major Lane Hagin.

The men managed to sever three of their arms about six inches above the wrist, he said.

The two men — ages 40 and 41 — left a suicide note with the manager of their Atlanta apartment building saying they were committing suicide because their business had failed and they were recently diagnosed with HIV, Hagin said.

After reading the note, the manager called police who found the two men in their apartment with "a lot of blood," the major said.

Their names were not released. Police spokesman Steve Coleman said both were in stable condition at Grady Memorial Hospital late Friday and will undergo psychiatric evaluation.

No charges will be filed in the incident, police said."

Why do I suspect that there are other elements to this story? Perhaps involving crystal meth? I do hope to hear more about this, really, I do...

a blessing or a curse?

So the DJ and I had a little din-din at Ecco last night. Being responsible, eco-friendly intown residents, we decided to pick a place that was both charming and within walking distance of our condos. We also prefer to avoid any instance of drunk driving, as the cops in this town do NOT negotiate on that point.

We strolled to Ecco, and it was warm in the room. Atlanta's seasons are in flux right now (well, I suppose EVERYONE's seasons are in flux right now), so it was clear that the restaurant didn't crank up the A/C and since it was a full house, it was quite warm. So I decided I wanted a cool drink, something a little sweet, but not a cosmo. Sometimes they make cosmos with that krappy high-fructose corn syrup mix, which guarantees a fun night of some really hot reflux action. A group of well-made gals to my right were all drinking a very light, fruity-looking martini with a slice of blood orange in it, and it looked like to would satisfy, so I asked what it was.

"Delicious," one of them said.

"Could you be more specific? I don't think I can order a delicious from the bartender."

"Oh...it's a cosmo but it's made with honey melon vodka, so it's sweet but not tooo sweet."

Perfect. I ordered two and opened a tab. And the drinks were indeed delicious. Eventually, we found a table, and I went to close out with the bar. The bartender handed me the check, and I almost fell down.

It was $35 for the two drinks.

$35. WHAT?!?

Now, I hate to make a scene, and I just downright NEVER question a bill (a topic for another day), but I had to ask if there was some mistake. There wasn't...apparently, that neat honey-melon-vodka is quite expensive.

What is this, Miami? The new Ian Schrager hotel in London? Jeez. I'm glad that Atlanta is stepping things up, but come on, y'all. Needless to say, we moved on after dinner, and found some cheaper drinks. But again, that's a tale for another day...

mortified

Last night, the OSW and I went to Karroll Skreet for our "Ladies Who Lunch" dinner. You know what? Good times and bum times, that place never disappoints. Sure, the experience is not always picture perfect, but there's something about that restaurant that always provides a good time. We sat at the bar (our table of preference), and our bartender (with whom we're familiar) was real, real out of sorts: forgetting things, dropping shit, errors on the bill -that sort of thing. When we asked if he was ok, he told us that he's been a little discombobulated since his daughter was born three weeks ago. I can forgive a few forgotten drink orders for someone who's dealing with a newborn baby...sleep, anyone?

We also chatted with the two girls who sat next to us at the bar. Well, the OSW and I actually didn't do much talking, but we sure heard every word they said. My GOD. In all honesty, I feel bad for so many women, because it seems that somewhere in their lives they were taught that in order to effectively communicate, that you have to whine and act like an idiot. These girls sounded like they were consciously trying to imitate Reese Witherspoon in "Legally Blonde." Knowing many, many women who do NOT suffer from this disease, I'm not afraid to make the comment and endure the endless "you can't make generalizations like that" emails. Spare me. Anyone with any sense of reason or intellect would have been just as bothered. Unfortunately, it was a crowded room and we couldn't move.

We chatted with Derwood, the adorable British manager of the place, and learned some details of his plans for the future, which sound amazing. It's inspiring to be around people who are excited and motivated by risky ventures; however, having been a loyal customer of his for several years now, I'm sure the risk will be minimal.

Upon leaving, an agitated waiter brushed past me and into the street. She stopped a few feet up the block, and I noticed that she was holding a small wad of cash, and wore an extremely disappointed expression on her face. As she walked past me, I asked if she had gotten stiffed on the bill. She said, "Worse...I got a $4 tip on a $75 bill." Now, it's been a LOOOOOONG time since I waited tables, but my heart instantly went out to this girl. Naturally, I don't know the whole story, but KS generally has a pretty with-it staff (newborn babies excluded), so I can only imagine that this girl was the victim of...how shall I put it?...Atlanta's more self-entitled customers. It was her attitude about the whole thing that most inspired me. She said, "You know, it sucks but I'm not going to go chasing people up the street over a little bit of money," and she went back in to work.

Never a dull moment at the Skreet.

chalk one up for the single guy

So. I purchased a lovely set of shelves from West Elm today, despite the protestations of some of my more - how does one put it delicately - PRETENTIOUS friends. Sorry, I don't make $300k per year, nor can I afford to have someone else make all of my decisions for me. I needed storage, the shelves were well-priced, attractive, made of real wood, and available. The only thing required was some home-assembly.

I picked up the HUGE box from the store, and carted it home by myself. I also put it on a (hello) dolly and carted it up the stairs, through my lobby, and into the elevator (I also don't make enough money to afford a condo with a doorman). I then uncrated the frame and the shelves and assorted hardware, and put the thing together - by myself.

I keep reiterating the "by myself" thing because there are cautions plastered all over the box and instructions: "Proper assembly of this item requires two (2) people."

A petty triumph, but I'll take what I can get...

hmmmmmmm

I love weekends.

On Friday night, I had a night out with the boys. Started at Apres Diem for some mediocre, overpriced food with friends. We then drifted to the OSW's house, then to MidCity Cafe to hear a fabulous DJ. Love love love that little place, and hope it doesn't go the way of sooooo many cool places in our fair city, and fall to the streak-haired Buckhead masses...

Saturday was a Quiet Day In, during which I cleaned and watched a lot of television. For the evening's events, I ordered in some amazing Chinese food and watched "The Devil Wears Prada." As difficult as it is to believe, it was the first time I'd seen the film. Seriously. La Streep brought her customary class and skill to bear in that wonderful role, and Miss Hathaway was a delight. I H-A-T-E-D the "mousy boyfriend" subplot. I mean, in EVERY film or TV show, the moment that one half of a couple exhibits a little bit of ambition, the mousy spouse/lover starts whining. Gross. The ambitious young DA has to work late and his wife moans about it. The charming ER doctor gets bitched at every time she gets paged, her boyfriend lying there saying something like,"I wish you cared about us as much as you care about your patients." Gag. There has to be a more interesting dramatic problem to put in these movies. I suppose that if the boyfriend/spouse/lover were supportive that there would be no conflict, but just look at Harrison Ford and Anne Archer's relationship in "Patriot Games" and you'll see how it should be done.

On Sunday, LJ reappeared in my life and we hit Einstein's for a nice-ish brunch with a side of pretension. Nuff said. We shopped afterwards (I need shelves to facilitate my apartment clean up), and then hit Zocolo, for some of their atomic, sneak-up-on-you-and-kick-your-ass margaritas. We met all kinds of crazy kids there, one of whom made me sick, another who made me swoon. I mean, SWOON. Unavailable to me, which is probably why I'm interested. *Sigh*

Today? Lunch with YogaJason, a trip to the Depot and My Whole Foods, and continued cleaning. I want to have a get together on Friday, and there's nothing like entertaining to kick your spring cleaning into gear...

goodness

So many of you have written about my absence. Please accept my profoundest apologies. Truth be told, I've been extraordinarily busy. And that's all I'll say.

Well. My vacation began today, unofficially. It wasn't supposed to start until Monday, but I just decided that I didn't need to be a work today. It was not a problem for my partner-in-crime at work. Knowing that I don't have to do ANYTHING for work until over one week from now has already infused me with a sense of relaxation, with a side of "let's do the spring cleaning." Yes, ladies and gentlemen - I'm cleaning up my act. My goal is to de-clutter to the point that I can have a housekeeper come in by Wednesday to scrub the place down. Not that it needs such a drastic overhaul as I've implied, but for some reason today I am filled with the spirit of renovation, and I plan to milk it for all it's worth.

It's been a busy day at the office for the WBR's of the world (WBR = Wind Blown Reporter). Tornadoes struck our area last night and killed some folks, which is tragic. Also, a busfull of college baseball players fell off an overpass here in Atlanta, killing four players, the driver, and his wife. So sad. They were all asleep and then the next thing you know they flipped over the concrete wall and plunged into the traffic below. In the case of both tragedies, the reporters were on the spot instantly, dragging the victims through the emotional mud. We don't know exactly what happened to that bus, but we sure do know how those boys were feeling during the chaos. I'd like to watch the news, but these days I just wait until the day after the event in the hopes that the minutiae of bad journalism will come out in the wash.

In other news...well, I have no other news. The weather forecast for this weekend looks promising, and I plan to get out in it, see some friends and clean house. Good times.

a real gem

Oy. A whirlwind of a weekend. Lotsa work, lotsa play, and I mighta found a drink or two.

On Friday night, the OSW and I headed to East Atlanta for a party thrown by a delightful gal with a nifty sense of humor. So nifty, in fact, that she decided to make her party an "I Miss Summer Party" and crank up the heat indoors - with added space heaters. I kid you not: it was 90 degrees in her house. Apparently, she intended for everyone to come dressed in warm weather attire, but I missed the memo. It was a charming party - lots of fun and interesting folks - but we lasted about thirty minutes before having to head off to other adventures. It was about thirty degrees outside, and I was never happier for the cold.

The rest of the weekend progressed as might be expected, and unlike everyone else in town, I had to work on Monday. Well, let's be honest - I had to show up and endure some of the most mind-numbing "seminars" I've ever suffered. To be totally truthful, most of the day was informative, but one of our major seminars was about "ADD/ADHD and Educating the Learning Disabled Child." First off, I'm not a big believer in the cult of ADD/ADHD. For the record: I do believe that it exists, and that it does affect many people in this country.

But jeez louise. We were presented with information that suggests vast numbers of people with this ailment. Vast. I would quote the research that was handed to me, but I've already tossed it out in disgust. Again, I have no doubt about many people are plagued with these problems, but this expert was basically telling us that we need to be prepared to accommodate every individual in a manner that speaks to their particular "disorder." Furthermore, we were all educated in the notion of the various "intelligences," a theory which basically pigeonholes people into eight categories (i.e., musical, existential, verbal, etc.). We were told to take a test that would tell us what kind of "intelligent" we were, and - get this - that if we came up with two or more results, that we were to go back and retake the test because IT IS NOT POSSIBLE TO BE MORE THAN ONE TYPE OF INTELLIGENT.

You know what? I HATE being told that I am nothing more than the sum of my parts, that I have no facets, and that I can be so summarily reduced to a single perspective. It sickens me that people are being reduced to a collection of disorders. I would wager that should I have a private session with the expert, that she would diagnose me with a variety of things that would explain why I'm not rich or the President or something. I'm disturbed that there is an entire industry out there (and it is an industry, y'all) that is helping people to blame every misfortune of their life/childhood/day on some disorder over which they have no control.

I'm reminded of my favorite episode of "The Simpsons." Bart (naturally) has been diagnosed with ADD. His parents bring him to the pharmacy, where the scientists suggest a new anti-ADD drug called "Focusyn." When Marge asks if it works, the pharmacist says something like, "The only thing proven more effective is plenty of fresh air and exercise."

God help us. Oops...I'm sorry...it has been shown that belief in a higher power is a disorder, too. WAIT! That's only a disorder in Baptists... I MEAN alcoholics....HOLD ON...alcoholism is a disorder...but what if you just like to have a drink and a few laughs? Well, if you chart the number of drinks you have per week and compare it to the laughs obtained, you'll find that you are a blahblahblah intelligence, which is borderline alcoholic with tendencies towards the frivolous. Now, if we properly address the disorders displayed, we can eliminate any and all movements towards originality, humor, individuality, spontenaiety, or creativity, resulting in someone just like the researcher, who clearly has it all figured out while simultaneously avoiding any and all offense, problems, or even a furrowed brow.

Whew.

s.o.s.

So.

The notion of hating Valetime’s Day is almost as much of a cliché as Valentime’s Day itself.

But…

I got hit hard by Valentime’s Day this year. And usually I can snap back from these things pretty quickly. But it was a bit much this year, and I’m real, real glad that the damn day is gone. Don’t get me wrong: my favorite lyric is still “No I’m no one’s wife but…oh, I love my life” and all that jazz, but it seemed that every experience I’ve had this week has uh…reminded me of my solitude, and I’m man enough to admit that had a hard time choking it down. In fact, after dinner with the OSW, I found myself at home, texting LJ: “I’m bored and mad and I don’t want to be at home.” Neat.

Anyhoo…speaking of OSW, please don’t believe him when he implies that I dragged him out on VD for dinner. It was a fascinating cultural experiment. I’m just thrilled that he didn’t throttle the shitty waitress at the restaurant. The waitress acted like she had thirty tables to manage, when she in fact had only four plus half an empty bar. Waiting tables ain’t rocket scientry, y’all…

I decided to do some retail therapy the next day, and was assaulted by the Israeli lady at the “Dead Sea Salt” kiosk at the mall (first mistake). Literally assaulted. She was VERY aggressive and before I knew it, she had buffed two of my fingernails. With a smug, self-satisfied look that said, “There! Isn’t that fabulous?” she asked what I thought. I said, “It’s a little too ‘Jersey mafia hood’ for my taste,” and walked away. I mean, I don’t let Lily at the Gorgeous Pretty Beauty Nail Salon buff my nails, why should I let Rivke from Tel Aviv do it…?

Sheesh. I gotta drag myself out of this funk.

VD

You know, I was about to write a critique of this stupid day of Valentine, but I deleted it before it was finished. It sounded so bitter...and I'm not - really. Stop laughing. Besides, thousands of people have expressed the sentiment better than I ever could. I mean, does anyone out there NOT know that Valentime's Day is a construct of various consumer industries?

I weep joyful tears at the honest and true expression of real happiness and love. The reverse of that makes my stomach turn, so I'll just pop a few Maalox before I start my day tomorrow.

a cobblestone road to hell

I'm probably going to get to hell all-the-faster for saying this...

But...

I'm completely nonplussed by the fact that A.N.S. has "passed herself away." We'll probably learn that she OD'd. I predict that TrimSpa had something to do with it. At least that's what the media will say. I dread the coming months, when A.N.S. is crammed down our throats. *Sigh*

I do have one question, though:

What's to become of Bobby Trendy?

i'm tryin'

I have challenged myself to do a number of things lately, and this blog is one of my personal challenges.

You see, I used to blog under a different "cover," but I stopped doing that for a variety of reasons. I discovered that I missed it, so I decided to pick it up again...with a few new rules. Too much of my own personal and professional life was available to the world for its review and comment, and that was a bit much to handle. But I really, REALLY missed writing - and the fun, interactive nature of blogging. In this blog's last incarnation, I did adopt a "don't write anything about anyone that you wouldn't say directly to them," but the need for discretion has increased. I could throw caution to the wind because I'm sure that I would defeat any professional objection to my comments in this forum, but that would amount to a big battle and I have better things to do. Odd, to think of "discreet blogging," since that usually translates to "boring."

So my challenge is to confess and entertain (myself and anyone who cares to read my words) within certain stylistic and thematic...um...guidelines. I hope to not bore you.

So. Fun thoughts for today:

* Rev. Haggard has been prononuced "completely heterosexual." Neat. He's been cured. As I mentioned to some friends today, I'm sure that we'll all agree that the cure is worse than the disease...

* LJ and I have already started planning our "Ding Dong the Witch Is Dead" party for Bush's departure. I may have my home cleaned up just in time...

* I got a "job" offer at the grocery store this evening. But I can't fit the show into my schedule, and the part's a bit too high for me. Sad, though...I LOVE the show...

* I, for one, don't care that Paris Hilton dropped the n-bomb.

* I have Saturday off this weekend, for the first time in a looooong time. What to do...what to do...?

neat

I did a lot this weekend. Highlights included...

...a few thousand jazz hands

...an adult beverage or two

...a *gasp* Super Bowl Party

...the dawning realization that EVERYONE seems to have paired off

I'm exhausted, physically and emotionally. However, I was inspired this morning, on my way to work. The Brookhaven Babtist Church on North Druid Hills Road always has a fascinatingly pithy blurb on their marquee, and today's was no exception:

"Don't worry - Moses was once a basket case, too."

I feel better already.

call me miss cleo

First it's Mary Hart. Now, Senator Joe Biden (about Barak Obama, via cnn.com):

"I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy," Biden said. "I mean, that's a storybook, man."

Whatchoo talkin' bout, Biden?

Hump day list:

* I've never really been all that much a fan of genex's blog (one day I'll stop being retarded and figure out how to link to him from my page). However, his recent post about annoying thirty-something women trying to buy sushi is hysterical. Funnier still? The comments.

* The OSW sent many emails today about hot guys in his immediate vicinity. Thanks for sharing. You mean, there are hot guys in NYC? You're KIDDING.

* We're bracing for a winter blast tonight. I'm glad I bought my bread and milk yesterday, 'cuz I ALWAYS crave bread and milk when it snows. The morons in our local news StormCenterWeatherWatchTracker2000 have the biggest boners right now...

* I need a vacation. Anyone going to P'Town for the Fourth?

* I also need to spice up my life, ifyaknowwhatimean. Ok, ok, ok...I'll put down the fried chicken, throw out the Chinese take out menus, and walk to the gym. Ew - sorry - I hate posts like that.

and barak obama sho do like him sum fried chicken!

So I happen to be flipping channels and stumble upon "Entertainment Tonight." I despise that show and it's gorgon of a hostess, Mary Hart. Clearly, she has sold her soul.

Anyhoo, she and Cojo are dishing on the SAG Awards red carpet fashions, when they come to Chandra Wilson. You know her - the amazing Broadway actress/star of "Grey's Anatomy." La Chandra gave one of the loveliest acceptance speeches in recent memory, about her success despite her height, weight, and skin color. And she looked fabulous, to boot.

Hideous Hart's komment?

"...you're right, Cojo...and she's so articulate."

You have got to be FUCKING kidding me.

you gotta have friends

So. A certain pallid friend of mine thinks my blog title is too long. I was going to write a scathing parody of his blog, but then I scrutinized his links list, and discovered that mine is INDEED the longest blog title ever. So the scathing parody must wait until he really pisses me off...

In other news...

There are two topics that just make my blood boil every time they come up in otherwise civilized conversation.

The first is Atlanta traffic. We have traffic. It stinks. Deal with it or suggest/lobby for/demand alternatives. Why twist the knife by boring your friends with the recap, unless it involves a particularly interesting, and unique solution to the problem (hopping a median, driving on a sidewalk, that sort of thing).

The other is cell phones, which are the new little red sportscar among men. I use an ancient, three pound Nokia that works beautifully, and does everything I need. But I'm the constant but of jokes about it, though I usually have the last laugh: you could run over my phone with an SUV and it would still work. Most of my friends are usually WITHOUT a phone, their Razr having just snapped in half or some such. Naturally, we all need these items, but I was recently out with a few friends, and they were all comparing phones and features. Funny...we're all in our mid-thirties and up. Little red sportscar indeed...

I only mention this because I endured a conversation today with a friend ABOUT THE TRAFFIC HE WAS IN, WHILE HE WAS BITCHING ABOUT THE CELLPHONE ON WHICH HE WAS SPEAKING. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.


On tap for the weekend? Work, perhaps a little play, and more work. I'm just fine with that.