The Metamorphasis

I planned a quiet, respectable, even bored Wednesday night. But before the evening was done, my evening had morphed into this horrible beast that threatened to destroy everyone and everything around it. No, I’m not being melodramatic. The night involved Mark, a baby, the full moon, and strange use of a razor. Halloween came early to my little group, and with a vengenance. Here’s the story:

Carlos had class Wednesday night, so I planned to go to Home Depot after work and then swing by Changes for a couple of beers. That would give me plenty of time to get home and make some dinner and look like a hero to the boyfriend. But around 3:00, Matty invited me to the Tower Club for drinks with Mark and his mother and step-father. Of course I couldn’t miss that, so I jettisoned the Home Depot/Changes plans. I also emailed Carlos, telling him I’d be home by 7:30. He’d be home by 9:00, and that would give me some leeway in case drinks ran late. I thought I had it all figured out, which was my first mistake.

I got to the Tower Club early, and watched the sunset while I waited for the boys. Matty and Jerome got there first, with Jerome’s boyfriend Mark (not the guest-of-honor Mark). Rick showed up with Paul and Curtis and we all settled in to wait for Mark and the ‘rents. We waited, and waited….. Paul suggested at one point that maybe the trip was a ruse; that the ‘rents had come up to do an intervention and take Mark to treatment. That would explain why they hadn’t shown up, and why Mark didn’t answer his phone. This was kindof funny, but just a little too plausible for comfort. The other amusing moment came when talk turned briefly to my blog and JPK. Someone said, “Why waste your time? He’s a 20-something twit who thinks he knows it all. He’s not going to listen, people like that never do.” Kudos, I wish I could remember who said this, because it was the best one-line description of Jason that I’ve ever heard.

Finally, at 7:00 pm Paul was able to reach Mark. Shockingly, he’d fallen asleep, leaving his parents waiting at the hotel and all of us drinking heavily for an hour and getting a bit cranky. They arrived just as we were closing the tab, so it was re-opened and we proceeded to have a few more rounds. Mark’s parents were delightful. His step-father was one of the most engaging people I’ve ever met, and his mother was beautiful, charming, and very funny. We spent an hour drinking with them, and decided the evil must have come from Mark’s biological father. Satan.

By 8:40 things were wrapping up at the Tower Club. Woodsy had invited everyone over to watch the lunar eclipse from his roof, so the group (minus Mark’s parents) decided to head over and wipe out his liquor cabinet. I was going home to my boyfriend, but Matty grabbed me and offered me a ride. And here the beast that was Wednesday evening began to reveal itself. Matty, inexplicably, bypassed my house and went straight to Woodsy’s saying, “Have one drink, look at the moon, and go home. Carlos will be fine.” Well I had more than a few under my belt, so I didn’t put up much of a fight.

Turned out we weren’t the only ones Woodsy had invited. Reasonably enough Jimmy was there, and a couple of other people who immediately fled when we all staggered in. But the one surprise was a nice woman (I didn’t catch her name) who was there with a BABY. We were concerned about Mark being in the same room as the kid, but decided since he was at least 9 months old, Mark had probably already chatted him up online. We poured some drinks and headed upstairs (without the baby, that would have been too creepy) to look at the moon.

The eclipse was disappointing, but the Space Needle was beautiful. Woodsy is about 4 blocks from it, and it’s lit from below so it glows at night. GLOWS. It's an amazing sight. But I was only outside for about 10 minutes before I started to freeze, so I went back in for another drink. By this point things were shaping up for a long night out. There was talk of R Place, and I was game since I was already late and Carlos was going to be a bit cranky. In retrospect I just wasn’t thinking clearly; I was 2 hours later that I’d said in my email, and at least 30 minutes past the time I expected he’d gotten home. I should have known it would be bad. Then he called, and I discovered that it was much worse than I could have guessed.

I had missed a call at the Tower Club, but the caller hadn’t left a message. Well I got a call from the same number again, and this time I caught it. It was Carlos. He had gone across the hall to use the neighbor’s phone. Turns out he hadn’t gone to class because he was sick, and had been sitting at home waiting for me since 7:30. And he was pissed. So, did I say a hasty goodbye and rush home to take care of my sick and angry boyfriend? Well, no. I called Adam and tried to make him order Chinese food to be delivered to Carlos so I could go to R Place with my friends. It was not one of my finer moments. Adam basically told me to pound sand and hung up, so then and only then did I down my drink and rush home, picking up dinner on the way. My reception at home was considerably worse than what a condemned soul gets upon entering Hell.

Meanwhile (this is all third-hand, but reliable) the party moved up the Hill. Matty and Woodsy pulled into the parking garage and ran into BT and Toby, who had just come from the airport. Toby was changing into civilian clothes and having a quick shave. After saying hello, Matty and Woodsy went to Manray for a drink with Jerome and Mark, and BT went with Toby to R Place.

When Matty and Woodsy made their way from Manray to R Place, the rest of the group had congregated upstairs. They stopped to say hi to BT and Toby, as well as Patrick before going over the people group from Woodsy’s. And that’s where we enter the twilight zone. Toby came over and asked Matty, “Do you have a problem with me?” Now, Curtis, Mark, Paul, and Seattle Police Department will all vouch for Matty’s willingness to raise any problems he has with anyone. Mystified they went back and forth, confused, until Toby retreated unsatisfied, and Matty was left wondering what he had done.

Turns out in the parking garage, Matty said something about Toby shaving. Woodsy was there and remembered it just as a passing comment. But apparently it was enough to get Matty voted off Toby Island, and the next day BT Island as well. I guess boyfriends have to stand together in solidarity. Meanwhile, Matty is having the locks changed.

For me, a quiet night running errands and making dinner became a big drunken fight at 11 pm. And for the rest of the group, the evening wrapped up at Matty’s, with the few left that weren’t inexplicably pissed at him, watching the moon de-eclipse from the hot tub. Fortunately no babies were invited.

Channeling "Hot Lips" Hoolihan

In 1981 Blake Edwards made a movie called SOB, a scathing farce about the film industry starring his wife, Julie Andrews. The movie had a great ensemble cast, including Loretta Swit (MASH’s Margaret “Hot Lips” Hoolihan) as a Hedda Hopper-type Hollywood columnist. Swit clearly had a great time playing the character, and channels every single ounce of the bitchiness that she used so effectively playing Hot Lips. The best scene is when Swit’s character is lying in the hospital, trying to get transported to the sound stage where Julie Andrews is shooting a topless scene. Swit screeches into the phone, “Irving, if you don’t get me on that set, I will CRUCIFY you in 160 newspapers in EVERY city in this country, every SINGLE day for the rest of your USELESS life!” It’s a great line, and Swit delivers it at full bore, with a level of hysterical rage that leaves her out of breath. It’s a scene that, inexplicably, has been playing over and over again in my mind the past few days.

Last night was Matty’s long-awaited, and perhaps temporary return to Seattle. I met him and Adam at the Columbia Tower Club for drinks and hors d’oerves before Spanish class. Adam had his first flying lesson this weekend, and he told us about flying around the Puget Sound and his plans to get licensed. Licensing is a lengthy process, and hopefully involves Adam getting an internal defibrillator, because his flight physical pegged his cholesterol level in the 270s! The kid wants me to go flying with him, but I will need to see a cholesterol test under 200, and a note from the doctor that he’s not going to have a heart attack while we’re putt-putting over Seattle in a Cessna. Anyway, we watched the sunset from the 75th floor, and saw I-5 turn into a winding river of headlights heading north, and taillights heading south. The Tower Club has the décor and service of a second-rate airport bar, but the view more than makes it a worthwhile place to have a drink.

After class we settled in at R Place, first at the bottom of the stairs, and then on the couches on the second floor. Initailly it was just Matty, Paul and I. But Adam showed up after a bit, and Woodsy, Mark, Rick, Brian Trouble, Mike, Ben, and eventually Jimmy joined us. When we first arrived, Matty pointed out a young man sitting alone at the end of the bar. Turned out his name was Matt, and he was none other than the trick that stole $40 from Woodsy a couple of months back. I was hoping for a little confrontation (I take my blog material where I can get it), but it wasn’t to be. When Woodsy arrived, he rather philosophically ignored little Matt, and when Paul and I offered to assist in the take-down, he said he was past it. Matt continued to drink obliviously at the end of the bar, chatting up some guy who would no doubt find his wallet lightened in the morning.

After a bit, Adam and I went upstairs to hear some karaoke and check out the crowd. It was smoky and not very busy, but we spotted a little eye candy and listened to one or two good performers. Usually Adam acts like he’s a eunuch when he goes out, but last night he was a bit on the prowl. It was good to see, but unfortunately, he was just drinking water, and without a little liquid courage few of us will go talk to a cute stranger. I prodded him all I could, but in the end we just talked then grabbed a beer for me and a drink for Matty and headed down to the second floor.

Downstairs, Jimmy had arrived from gymnastics and was cuddling on the couch with Woodsy. He was wearing a pair of 70s style Puma shorts, cut high with three white stripes down each side. He looked, well, like he’d just come from gymnastics. The group was well into the 5th or 6th round, and seemed to be settling in for a quiet night. It seemed like a going time to go, so I said my goodbyes and went home to Carlos.

For a day that started with shrieking attacks and counterattacks on JPK’s blog (he’s taken down all the comments or I would link so you could read them), it ended peacefully and even pleasantly with all my friends. Here’s hoping Matty doesn’t move to LA too soon.

Domestic Bliss (and the Lack Thereof)

This weekend confirmed that I am more or less settled into domestic bliss. Friday night I took Carlos out to dinner, then we wandered up to the Eagle for a couple of beers with Johnny. We were home and in bed by 10:30 pm, and I felt like it was basically a perfect night. No going out, no drama, just a quiet and civilized evening. The next evening was not quite so perfect.

After working and fighting the crowds at IKEA, Carlos and I went out to Manray and then the Cuff. Johnny came with us, and we met Arthur, J-Lo, and Pepe at the Cuff. We were both tired and frayed from a long day of shopping for sensible Swedish furniture, and by the time the evening was wrapping up we were pretty trashed. I’d easily had 6 glasses of beer when J-Lo bought a pitcher and announced it was mine. Being a trooper I drank most of it, but wasn’t good for much of anything afterwards but staggering around. Which I did a lot.

And then it went sideways. On the way out the door We ran into these two guys we’ve met there before, and one of them has a big crush on me. Carlos said hi and departed for the bathroom (he doesn’t like Crushboy). Well Crushboy immediately draped himself over me, started whispering in my ear that we should run away together, and with perfect timing tried to kiss me just as Carlos came out of the bathroom. I’m sure you can imagine his reaction.

The next couple of hours weren’t so fun, although we got it all hashed out. The problem is I’m a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, and I can be a bit of an attention whore, so I don’t immediately say “get off me” when something like this happens. And Carlos is very attached and understandably doesn’t want people kissing his boyfriend (although why he’s attached to ME is a little mystifying). I guess I need to rebuff my hordes of admirers more quickly so things don’t get out of hand. And confidential to Crushboy: Carlos is gunning for your ass, and not in a good way. If you see him coming at you with a broken bottle, it’s not to ask where the recycling bin is :)

And it wouldn’t be a blog entry without a mention of JPK. He’s been a busy boy; check out his post on the subject of “Monogamy.” No, really, he wrote an entire entry about it. Stop laughing, he’s very very serious. Anyway, in the 15 days since he met D4L Jason has decided THIS man is his life partner, and this is the glorious relationship all his past relationships were building up to. Now he can discard everything else in his life and live happily ever after with his beloved Dress For Less. Well, until the lease runs out.

Carlos and I had drinks at CC’s Sunday afternoon with Paul and Curtis. Shortly after we got there, the bartender put Rocky Horror Picture Show on all the TVs in the bar. Neither of us had ever seen it so we watched most of it while we drank a couple of beers and visited with Curtis and Paul. It was a very pleasant way to finish the weekend, and I went home feeling happy and rested and ready to start the week. While we were talking, Paul mention something that has been at the back of my mind since. He asked, “Do you think JPK is manic-depressive?” I hadn’t considered it before, but Paul pointed out the sad, teary JPK followed by the wild, impestuous JPK, and back again. Carlos and I went home for the domestic bliss of a quiet dinner and watching TV on the couch, and the whole time I was thinking about JPK’s oddness. Could it be he’s manic-depressive? Could the right pill make him the balanced, reasonable JPK we all know is in there somewhere? What do you think? Drop me a comment!

Is Grandma's ex-Boyfriend My Baby's Daddy?

I'm home sick today with either the beginning of a cold or a nasty bout of allergies. I'm a real wimp whn I'm sick, so instead of doing anything productive I've spent the morning watching Springer and Maury and eating box mac and cheese. It's my little white trash vacation and I'm enjoying it throughly. Springer was the usual series of stupid, ugly people coming clean about cheating and taking off their clothes. But Maury pulled out all the stops this morning: he's meeting with young women who want to know, Is Grandma's ex-Boyfriend My Baby's Daddy?

In a sane world no one would have to ask this question. But we don't live in a sane world, we live in a world where there are crazy people everywhere, doing crazy things every day. And before I go any further I'd like to make a distinction between using bad judgment and doing something crazy. Bad judgment is having a baby when you're not married and not financially or emotionally ready. Crazy is when the pool of potential fathers includes someone who has been dating your grandmother. Craziness may be different from bad judgment either in degree or in kind, but you know it when you see it. Unless you're the crazy person. Which brings us to the latest and hopefully last entry concerning JPK.

Yesterday, I mentioned that Jason's move to Issaquah might be motivated by a desire to be close to D4L (Dress for Less, Ross's official designation). Kids, it's so much worse than that. Three different people have told me that Jason has signed a 1 year lease with D4L, someone who Jason has known (as far as we know) for about 10 days. A man that, the last time we talked, Jason flat out denied was his boyfriend. Why on God's green earth do something that is so obviously a really, really bad idea? Well, maybe this lease is a backdoor attempt (pardon the phrase) to keep a boyfriend for more than a couple of weeks. Now the guy is contractually obligated for a year. Of course, it's just a theory, and I'm anxious to see how this little adventure plays out.

Last night after Spanish class Paul and I went to R Place, where we were met by Carlos, Curtis, and Mark. Apparently it was short guy night at the bar, because there were 4 or 5 really cute, short guys running around. Paul was drooling; he has this weird fetish for deaf midgets. No, they weren't deaf, but Paul drools over any guy shorter than him because they're few and far between. I got busted checking out this str8 guy that was standing outside the window with his friends. Took us awhile to figure out what they were doing: they could see the Red Sox-Yankees game on the TV through the window, and they were standing outside watching it. But they were afraid to come into the bar, I guess they thought the beer might make them gay or something. To paraphrase Haley Jo Osmet in The Sixth Sense, "Can I tell you a secret? I see crazy people. They walk among us not knowing that they're crazy, but they are."

JPK, We Hardly Knew Ye

Let me start by saying: this isn't a "beat up JPK" blog. Unfortunately, he's the only person I know that has been doing anything interesting. And boy is it interesting. So at the risk of focusing too much on one person, this entry is dedicated to our beloved JPK on the eve of his move to Issaquah.

Yesterday Jason posted this comment:

Wow -- took Andrew a long time to run out of stuff to contribute. I'm moving to Issaquah...chew on that one! --Posted by Jason Krech to Bored at Work at 10/18/2004 09:58:18 AM

Not a huge surprise: he'd been looking for a new place and he's been known to move to the boonies (remember Tacoma?). Issaquah is a pleasant place, there's convenient bus service, and it's comfortably away from the Hill. Not a choice that I would make, but if Jason is looking for a break from going out and being seen, and he wants to commune with nature in a sleepy little town, Issaquah is the perfect choice. I know several people who have moved there for peace and quiet, and although they've never been heard from again, I ssumed they were happy with their choice. As an aside, his comment implies as well that this is a punishment for me, but I'd say he's punishing himself and a nice little town instead.

I've heard one troubling thing about the move to Issaquah: that the non-boyfriend Ross (shall we call him Dress for Less, or Fists of Fury?) lives and works there. And there have been rumblings about a one year lease. But moving to Issaquah for someone (in with someone?) you've known 10 days seems a little crazy, so I'm assuming there's another explanation. Regardless, I want to send Jason my best wishes and I hope he finds the peace and tranquility in Issaquah that has thus far eluded him in Seattle, Tacoma, and Fremont.

Switching gears: this morning I was talking to Matty on my way to work, and among other things we touched on the problem of using language to mislead. Granted, language is a living thing, and words can and should have a certain flexibility in meaning. But flexibility can go too far, and there's been an epidemic of that lately. Take just 2 examples: recently the phrase "right now" has been stretched to mean "a week from Friday." And "I haven't had sex in XX days" means "I've been hooking up with lots of guys, but I haven't had anal sex with them." Come on kids, you're not a Presidential candidate, so don't try to mislead us.

And that's all the news that's fit to print for now. I really hope someone does something trashy or embarassing, because I'm running out of material here and I really don't want to go to the effort of figuring out something to say. Keep your fingers crossed that someone acts out at R Place after Spanish class tonight, and I will gladly (if somewhat fuzzily) report what I can remember!

Nothin' Going On

It was a quiet weekend for me, and unfortunately there's little new gossip to report. Here are the tidbits I have to share:

We all learned a valuable lesson last week: before you "Reply All" to an email, take a look at who is on the distribution list. If you didn't get his missives Friday afternoon (meaning you live under a rock), JPK used "Reply All" to tell me and everyone I know that he hopes I get hit by a bus. Responses ranged from "who is this psycho" to "that wackjob Jason is sending death threats to my GODDAMN work email." Thank you Jason, for throwing YOURSELF under the bus in order to give everyone a little lesson in etiquette.

On Friday night Carlos and I met Matthew out for a couple of drinks. I know it's shocking to anyone who knows us, but a couple of drinks at CC Attle's turned into a pub crawl down the hill through Madison Pub and Manray. Complete with shots. Not a big deal for me or Matty (the Benz got to spend the night in the parking garage because I couldn't drive) but it was a little much for Carlitos. Of course I didn't realize there was a problem until we had a bit of a scene. Note to self: don't make the boyfriend keep up with you, you outweigh him by at least 60 pounds.

To wrap up the weekend, Carlos and I went to a "party" in Algona. Where's Algona? F*ck if I know, but you drive south for a long time until you run into large fields full of either pumpkins or double-wide trailers. The party was a celebration of recent baptisms and birthdays, and it was mostly expatriates from the Mexican state of Oaxaca. As the solitary gringo and "Carlos's boyfriend" I was the object of some curiosity. I tried to chat, but in addition to the language barrier, there was a band playing at about 800 decibels. So I just drank Corona (they had more beer than a frat party, I love these people) and gawked at the cute str8 boys when Carlos wasn't looking.

And last, but certainly not least: I heard a vicious rumor that a photo of JPK's non-boyfriend might exist somewhere on the internet. If it could be found would it be wrong of me to post it on this blog? Drop me a comment and let me know.

The Manifesto

At the beginning of the movie Y Tu Mama Tambien, the two main characters rattle off an 8 point manifesto that was adopted by their group of friends. I'm not sure why they had a manifesto, or what the 8 points were, but a manifesto seems like a good way to kick of a blog. Here goes:

1. No one will actually read this. A few friends might check it out in the beginning, but really no one else cares. And my friends will read it just for the gossip value, leading to Manifesto Point #2;

2. There will be gossip. It's pretty much all I have to relate. And the gossip will be malicious, nearly slanderous, borderline treasonous. If I can't hear wailing and gnashing of teeth, and I mean at a biblical level, I'm not doing my job;

3. You should leave comments. If there aren't comments, at least from my friends, I'll do a lot of whining about how I'm being ignored;

4. This ain't a democracy. That's what the Amazing/Annoying JPK told me about his blog when I complained that a comment had been removed. I have a pretty thick skin though, so I don't plan to abuse this Manifesto Point;

5. I will name names. While avoiding libel (see Manifesto Point #2), I don't plan to change names to protect the innocent. If you don't like it, hire a lawyer and SUE; and

6. Drinking will dominate this blog. They say write what you know. Ideally when you're sober enough to hit the right keys.

That's it, I can't think of any more points for my manifesto. But now that you've read this far, drop me a comment on the subject of JPK's Fisting Adventure: Fact or Fiction?