looking back

Happy New Year... almost! I'm going to close out 2006 the same way I did last year with a month-by-month recap of posts.

Suffer.

JANUARY

Re: The Muppets
Here began what turned out to be a 13-part series. It chronicles first love and my process of coming out. Independently, those can both be brutal experiences. When you combine the two, it's completely overwhelming. I almost didn't survive it but hot damn, I made it through. Go me.

I haven't really gone back and read this all the way through after posting it. Occasionally, I'll catch a glimpse of paragraph or passage and honestly, I don't even remember writing it. It just sort of flowed out in a way that I can't explain.

I was scared to poke around in old memories and really hesitant to bare my soul like that to the world but something inside just told me to go for it. And I'm so glad I did. I feel like I finally put that part of my life to rest.

An added bonus to sharing my story was the response I got from people all over the world -- gay, straight, confused, male, female, transgendered, Christian, Jewish, Muslim and everyone in between. Some were too shy to comment and instead, sent highly personal emails to me sharing bits of their own lives and thanking me for sharing mine. It struck a chord I never could have anticipated and inspired a few people to write their own stories. I can't even properly articulate how much that means to me.

Thanks again to everyone who read the story and cheered me on as I labored through the tough parts.

Okay, enough mush. Next!

FEBRUARY

Cottonmouth Au Jus
Here is yet another of the many gems uttered by my beloved niece.

An Open Letter to the Building Facilities Person(s) in Charge of Ordering Paper Goods for the Bathroom at My Job
The custodial staff at my office building feels the business end of a complaint letter composed by yours truly.

Judge Not
Who knew Peter Cetera could set off such a firestorm of controversy?! (Psst! Read the comments on that post.)

MARCH

Erin-Go-A-Cup Bragh
A retelling of the acquisition of my first bra and an unfortunate nickname.

Courtney & Tina: A Theory
Were Kurt's widow and Jennifer Keaton one and the same?

APRIL

The Terrible Twos
My blog became toddler this past year. In case you're wondering, the whole potty training thing is still a work in progress. Don't rush me!

A Not-So-Good Friday
Another tale of Catholic hi jinx.

MAY

An Announcement
Fans of off-key oversinging everywhere rejoiced at the birth of American Midol, the smart-assed brainchild of Mejack, The Lovely Jess and myself. The new season starts soon so stay tuned for more shameless plugs!

In the Criminal Justice System
A footnote (pun totally intended) to the tale of my tortured tootsies.

On Why the Newspaper Guy Must Think I'm a Complete Asshole
This one got a Gawker link, bitches!

JUNE

What's Grosser Than Gross?
Ham & Cheese on Wry goes interactive! Here are the results of a poll on the most disgusting television commercials currently on the air. Caution: the term "nail bed" is used.

Duh, Baryshnikov
Mejack and I discuss plot holes in the Soviet-era film White Nights. You know, typical conversation...

My Way Gay Tale of Even Gayer Gayness
Here's the piece I read at my first-ever public appearance as Curly McDimple. Not only did my story garner a few laughs, I also didn't shit my pants. Success!

JULY

They Feel the Need, The Need for Speed[os]
Photos of Brighton Beach's finest on parade.

He Will 'Rize' Again
The Lovely Jess and I make suggestions to improve the Catholic Mass. Oddly enough, the Church didn't heed our advice. Fools.

Oh man, I'm going to have to say a good Act of Contrition for that.

AUGUST

Rule Of Thumb... And Pinky, Middle, Index & Ring
The results of a manicure given by my six-year-old niece.

Are You There God? It's Me, Curly
An appeal to a higher authority for my menstrual cycle to fuck off.

SEPTEMBER

Rod 'The Bod' and God Side-by-Side on the R Train
Screw The Naked Cowboy. This woman has the hottest act in all of NYC.

My 'Porchret'
The niece takes up portrait drawing as a hobby. Behold the birth of an artiste!

OCTOBER

Toreador, Don't Spit on the Floor
I got all fancy and went to my first opera with The Hot Russian. And it totally didn't suck and stuff.

On Altruism and Inadvertent Anti-Piracy Measures
Another Gawker link! They just love to showcase when I make an ass out of myself.

NOVEMBER

Our Version of Rate-a-Record
The Lovely Jess and I go toe-to-toe on the appeal of Faith No More and the Dave Matthews Band. Caution: The term "mushy peas" is mentioned.

DECEMBER

Acting? Thank You!
Save your pennies for some Broadway tickets and set your TiVos to record the next Tony Awards. 2006 is the year I became an actor!

They Do Know... They Just Don't Care
Band Aid was a noble effort. Really it was but dear God, those lyrics! Here I take Sir Bob down a notch... or twelve.

'cause we care and crap

In lieu of birthday drinks this year, I decided to shed some of the self-absorption and selfishness I acquired in the last year by inviting friends and family to join me in volunteering on New York Cares Day.

On Saturday, The Lovely Jess, A Lover and a Fighter, Azee, The Younger Sister, Steph and Amy, she of the chipmunk banging down, joined me in sprucing up a high school on Manhattan's Lower East Side.

We scrubbed graffiti and the odd bit of spunk off walls and desks, cleaned classrooms and painted doorways, trim and radiator covers, among other things. We scarfed down Munchkins (which I picked up along with the thirst-quenching coffee for the questionably-dressed panhandler), BS'd like there was no tomorrow and had an all-around awesome time in the process.

Cleaning ourselves up afterwards was a bit of a bitch, as you can see by Jess's nails. We tackled the stubborn paint with a one-two combo of slimy gunk supplied by the custodian and a big ol' jug of paint thinner. Many manicures were scheduled on Saturday, I assure you.

By 3:00, we were good and high on paint fumes and quite giddy as a result. While cleaning up in the slop sink, I was quite taken with the noisy faucet. Its whiny, whistling shriek seemed familiar to me. And then I had my turpentine-fueled epiphany: "Hey, that sounds like Rudolph's nose."

Everyone agreed. And we laughed like it was the.funniest.thing.in.the.world. At least I did. Forget bong hits, if you want a real high, spend some quality time with oil-based paint and little-to-no ventilation.

New York Cares is a great organization. For you locals in need of something meaningful to do with your free time, I highly recommend giving this group a whirl.

I want to thank everyone who came with me on Saturday and all of you who sponsored my time with a nice donation. I really appreciate it. See you next year.

on altruism and inadvertent anti-piracy measures

Picture it: The corner of Sixth Avenue and 23rd Street on a Friday evening. I had just surfaced from a short hop on the F train from Rockefeller Center and was waiting to cross the avenue teeming with rush hour traffic.

Over my shoulder, a soft voice asked a question: "Miss, when the light changes, can you help me get across?"

I turned around to see a blind elderly man facing in my direction with an expectant expression on his face.

I responded with a cheerful, "Certainly!"

"Thank you, miss. Would you mind if I held on to your arm?"

"No, not at all," I assured him as I offered my bent left appendage.

"Oh, thank you so much, miss."

"No problem. Ready? Here we go."

As we crossed the busy boulevard, people parted like the Red Sea and made way for the blind man with his cane bobbing from side to side and little ol' me cautiously leading him across.

Some people nodded at us. Others just did their best to not be that person, the one who bumps into the blind man.

I smiled as I once again found myself once again embroiled in a quintessential New York moment. Living in a walking city exposes you to insanity, offensive smells, piles of garbage and other unsightly things, not to mention the occasional bout of foot suckage, but it also gives you the opportunity to connect, however briefly, with someone outside your usual social set. For some, that's a turn-off. For me, I throw my arms around the opportunity and hug it to death. Um, except where my feet and unwanted advances toward them are concerned.

Despite my seemingly selfless act, there was a certain cockiness to my stride. I knew people were observing this display of man helping fellow man and just eating that shit up. And I won't lie to you... I really thought I was hot shit. I joined the ranks of those admiring my good deed and strutted across Sixth Avenue with a shocking amount of hubris. I rocked my halo with equal parts pride and "Gawd, I'm sweet!" arrogance.

However, my moments of grandeur and self-importance never last long. Not by choice, mind you. Instant karma does indeed get me. Right quick, in fact.

No sooner had I said, "Okay, we're coming up to the curb. Watch your step!" than the man barreled right into a display of bootlegged DVDs inconveniently situated on the busy corner of 23rd and Sixth. He then proceeded to stumble and stagger sending copies of Little Miss Sunshine and Open Season skidding across the pavement. He plowed through that pile of pirated movies like he was Jesus driving the money changers out of the temple.

I tried to regain control but he continued to stomp and smash everything in his path while saying, "Sorry! My fault! Pardon me! Oops! Sorry!" I was horrified by the bedlam that I helped cause. I echoed his rushed, sheepish apologies and then finally got a good grip on his arm and steered him away from the carnage. I offered him an embarrassed, "Sorry about that!" and then pointed him in his desired direction before hauling ass down 23rd Street. Awwwwwwwwwkward!

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to make a generous donation to Guide Dogs for the Blind as a means of doing penance for my "good deed"...

on why the newspaper guy must think i'm a complete asshole

Every morning on my way to work I buy a paper at a newsstand located on the Manhattan-bound 4/5 train platform at Borough Hall. The proprietor of the stand greets me every day with a, "Hello, my friend!"

I adore him. He has the best smile -- dazzling white teeth and just the hint of a dimple in his left cheek. His eyes twinkle with every grin. I look forward to my daily hello along with my copy of the Daily News.

Occasionally he gets forgetful and says to me, "Long time, no see, my friend!" Mind you, he had just greeted me like a lifelong buddy the day before. But no bigs. I don't take it personally. Perhaps I have one of those morphing faces where I look different from day-to-day? Or maybe he just has that many customers where he can't possibly keep track of all of us? To the latter I say, awesome! He works hard and deserves to have a bustling business.

But today I feel bad. Our exchange went a bit awry, you see. He went beyond the usual "Hello, my friend" and chatted a bit while handing me my change. Slightly jarred by the change in our routine and partially deaf due to the din of the subway station, I thought he said, "Yesterday's weather was very, very nice!" So I cheerfully replied, "I know! SOOOOO nice!"

He looked at me with a mixture of surprise and confusion. I didn't understand his reaction but whatevs, who has time to quibble over such things? I wished him a good day and walked over towards the 2/3 platform.

Just as I was about to step on the train, my knees locked and I gasped. I was frozen in a moment of horror and mortification as his thickly-accented words echoed in my head with brand new clarity: "Your dress today is very, very nice!"

Clearly, my foggy, pre-caffeinated mind was operating on a 60-second logic delay. That is SO NOT what I heard during our encounter. Oh.my.God. His perplexed response made so much sense now. Oh.my.God. After he complimented me, I totally said, "I know! SOOOOO nice!" Oh.my.God. What must he think of me?!?!

Well, for one, he must think I'm a complete beaver. An immodest, stuck-up beaver, at that. Oh, the shame! I swear, I'm not a complete beaver! Only a partial one! And that behavior is usually tied to hormonal changes anyway! I'm usually very gracious and well-mannered!

What to do in a case like this? I guess I'll just have to swallow my shame. I can't very well go up to him tomorrow morning and say, "Hey, remember when you complimented my outfit yesterday and you thought I acted like a right cunt? Well, it turns out that my seemingly inappropriate response was due to the fact that I didn't understand you because of your REALLY heavy accent..."

I'll look like an even bigger asshole. And it just won't fly. I have to leave it alone. It's like thinking up a devastating comeback hours after being paid a nasty insult. If you don't issue the proper response within a few seconds, that window of opportunity is slammed and nailed shut forever. You cannot revisit it at a later time or date. You just can't.

Oooh, maybe there's a chance that newspaper guy will think today's snatch was his "Longtime, no see, my friend!" friend, not his daily, "Hello, my friend!" friend. I might be off the hook. Perhaps I can even plant the seed of mistaken identity with a well-executed, "Can you believe the nerve of that conceited asswipe yesterday? Some people have no couth." Desperate and sad, yes, but still, it's worth a shot.

more subway stories:

:: my left foot
:: on matrimony, new additions and accidental hand jobs
:: but when you shake your ass, they notice fast
:: abdicating the throne
:: a real-life bugle boy moment
:: it's hard to be humble