“I want to say one word to you…plastics.”

I have a little investment tip for you, one that’s going to make you and me a lot of money in the coming years. But being a lawyer, first I must give a disclaimer (Lord, how I love disclaimers): I am not any sort of investment professional. In fact, my investing career has consisted of 1)losing most of what I put into my 401(k), and 2) buying stock in a company where my ex worked and promptly losing half my investment. Use your own judgment in following my advice, because I’m most likely wrong. In addition, it’s not based on anything I saw at work. I never, ever, ever work with or see this anything related to this (as my billable hour records plainly show), and even if I had, the thought of suffering Martha Stewart’s fate would make me clam up and wet my pants. I’d sooner cut off my drinking hand than risk losing my license over anything that had even a whiff of coming from the inside. I came up with this on my own, so ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO INVEST HERE.

That do it? Anyway, the other day I had an epiphany. It came, like any good epiphany should, accompanied by trumpets and a brilliant ray of light shining from a cloud. I had taken a break from working on my computer to do a little web-surfing (on a group computer). I looked a couple of amusing sites, and followed a link or two. Just a bit of a light-hearted lark around the internet, a little mental break, nothing earth-shattering sought or expected. And then, I clicked on the link that revealed to me my fortune. You know what it was? A picture of a nice young man (ok, a smokin’ hot, dumb-as-a-post fratboy) showing off a tattoo on his right, ahem, cheek: “Grade A Prime Beef.” And that, boys and girls, is when the heavens opened up and angels began to sing. Now, we all know a few guys who would consider that nothing more than truth in advertising. But just from looking at the picture, I have a feeling this meathead (or his future wife) is going to want that little tat gone once he discovers all the attention it will get him in the locker room at his local gym. How dumb can someone be? And how many more out there are like him? Happily, I believe they may just be legion.

All of which brings us to the investment of the future: medical dermal lasers. Happy investing!

Random Sunday Night

Did you make any New Years Resolutions? I did, and it seems like everyone else has too. They range from the traditional, “lose some weight,” to the optimistic, “stop drinking.” One guy told me last night he’s resolved to “fix his life.” Laudable, I should give that a try. But in the meantime I spent my Sunday evening barhopping with Seth, Madge, and Jae. We ended up at the Cuff, which (in case you were wondering) does not get going until after 10 pm. Sigh. I thought it was going to be an early night.

But before all that, I had coffee with Danielle at B&O Espresso. The B&O is my favorite non-bar hangout: the food is good, the atmosphere is great, and the desserts are amazing. I skipped dessert (resolution, don’t you know) and just had a chai. Dani had a little present waiting for me when I arrived, a copy of “Brokeback Mountain” she’d found in a bookstore in Cascade, Idaho. Yes, a bookstore in Idaho actually stocks the short story, bound in a little book with Heath and Jake on the cover. It’s going on the top of my “to read” stack of books, it’ll be a quick one.

And here’s a little poll: did anyone have a good, or even average holiday season? It left me worn out and depressed, and Dani said she feels the same way. Nearly everyone she’s talked to either had disappointing or downright awful holidays. How was yours?

Punk'd

Yesterday I got punk'd (or at least pranked). It was good. In fact, it was beautiful. If it hadn’t been me on the receiving end, I would have laughed my butt off. But now that I’ve regained my composure and slept on it, I do have to chuckle a little. Not that the perpetrators won’t be punished, but it was pretty good. Here’s the story:

Yesterday I was depressed, and I emailed my friend Kris in Montana to complain. It was the usual: life sucks, work depresses me, I’m stressing over bills I need to pay, I’ve got to deal with things I’d rather avoid. We emailed back and forth a few times and I told her what else was going on with life and Carlos. Including that Carlos wants a plasma TV. Now, we all want a plasma TV. Preferably a really big one. But wanting one and getting one are two different things, and usually I’d consider the suggestion just a random thought. You know, when your mate starts babbling and says whatever comes into his pea brain. But yesterday I was a little emotionally raw. And I was feeling broke and not happy about it. So in the course of whining to Kris, I got into a little rant about Carlos and the stupid TV. Not a big rant, just a little one. But it was enough.

Kris and I had done our emailing around lunch, and then I went back to work. Around 5:30 pm I went to the soda machine, and came back to find there was a new voicemail on my phone. The message was, “This is Troy from Best Buy, the 60 inch plasma TV that Carlos ordered is here whenever you’d like to pick it up.” Oh yes, 60 inches no less. I had to play it twice to make sure I wasn’t hearing things.

Now, I try to be a reasonable guy: normally I stop and count to “diez” before I call Immigration. But not this time; I hit “Send” before I even reached “tres.” Fortunately for Carlos, the INS was closed (seriously, do those people EVER answer the damn phone?), and I was left in a combination of impotent rage and panic. Conveniently he has no phone, so calling and screaming was out of the question. The INS clearly was going to be of no help to me. And, I’d have to make the long walk home before I could choke the life out of him with my bare hands. On the verge of exploding, I saved the message and planned to have a VERY serious chat once I’d done a few shots and calmed down.

You’re seeing where this is going. Hanging onto the shredded remains of my nerves with both hands, I emailed him and gently asked if he had ordered a TV. No response. I worked and stewed for another 2 hours before I left, headed for the first bar where I could get a drink and collect myself. On the way I called Kris to bitch….and she asked if Carlos liked his new TV. Yes, she’d gone out after work, had a few drinks, and gotten the bartender to prank-call me pretending to be from Best Buy. I’d been punk'd.

But I love her anyway…and paybacks are hell.

Stiffening the Ol' Resolve

Sigh. I’ve been getting complaints from far and wide that I never update the blog anymore. They’ve run the gamut anywhere from “I don’t know what’s going on with everyone” to “Did you die and forget to share the good news,” and include the always cheery sentiment “Did you finally get a real job?” Well no, I haven’t gotten a real job. And I didn’t die, you’ll know that’s happened when all the gay bars on Capital Hill go bankrupt. I just got a little lazy (ok, a lot lazy) and lost that ol’ bloggin’ feeling.

But it’s the New Year, and we’re supposed to have resolutions, right? Well I’ve got a truckload and one is to be a better blogger. Hopefully entertaining, probably embarrassing, but regardless I’ll be HERE. A sentiment expressed, I believe, both by Whoopi Goldberg in The Color Purple and Shirley MacLaine in Postcards From the Edge. I’m more a Postcards kind of guy, but I’ll cling to whatever coattails I can grab. So hopefully I can continue to not only be HERE, but to make it seem interesting at the same time. Here’s to lots of blogging in 2006.