foolish games

hilary: nothin yet
hilary: i hate these stupid games
hilary: god
robert: be careful, you're turning into a jewel song
hilary: wait 4 days ro respond..blah blah
hilary: and that's foolish, thank you
robert: BAHAHA of all the people i thought would get a jewel reference, you were not high on the list.
hilary: god no
hilary: but i mean, what is with it seriously
hilary: you either want to talk to someone or you don't
hilary: there is no gray area
hilary: just pisses me off
robert: srsly
robert: foolish games are breaking my heart
hilary: shut up

venting.

well, i nearly made it an entire week without getting into a fight with my newly-ultraconservative mother about the national review, which is her new bible. she's turned off npr (too liberal), unsubscribed to u.s. news and world report (apparently too liberal), and turned on ponca city's country station (which, she screamed at me three days ago, is the only thing on the radio she likes to listen to).

against my better judgment, i picked up her newest national review and flipped through it, looking for any anti-gay rhetoric. i mean, hello, there has to be something in some article. i didn't have to flip very far before i came across an article talking about how awful it is that america's universities are being overtaken by--get this--the feminist agenda. it says something like, "these schools happily open their arms to gay and lesbian centers but refuse to let the army recruit on campus." uh, yeah. that's a bad thing? i wasn't going to say anything until i got to a bit where it actually says, and i quote, "MEN ARE BETTER AT MATH." men are better at math. my mother is paying to read something that's telling her that her gender is stupid. OHMYGODOHMYGOD.

my mother knew instantly what i was freaking out about and started in on a tirade about how she "keeps mer mouth shut" about all of these things (presumably how i'm a big east-coast cocksucking faggot) and how all of the policies i'm "berating are what have given me the opportunity to live however the spirit moves me, but she can't say that because i might get offended by the use of the word spirit." mind you, i've just sung two services--sick as a dog--in her church, took communion, said the lord's prayer, and smiled at all of her friends. and as far as her holding her tongue...she doesn't have to do that much because she knows literally nothing about my life. because she doesn't want to know. because she doesn't like cocksucking faggots.

ok, i've been in oklahoma since last friday and that was a much-needed vent...forgive me.

for dennis

dennis

dennis dennis

dennis dennis dennis

dennis dennis dennis dennis

dennis

only in oklahoma

words can't really convey what a different world oklahoma is from baltimore. or the midwest, for that matter. the longer i live away from home, the stranger things about oklahoma seem to me: the way that girls all start wearing the same miss america makeup at age 16 and keep doing it until their 50s; the way that christianity is absolutely ubiquitous, unqestioned.

i just have to share one only-in-oklahoma experience from christmas with my grandparents:

-the doorbell rings-
me: who's that?
robin: jackie.
me: who's jackie?
robin: you know, jackie, that black lady who works at the club. -dubious look- she's come to serve dinner.
me: WHAT?

that's right, dear readers, apparently the concept of colored help is alive and well in oklahoma. as if it wasn't enough that i grew up amidst expensive houses and country clubs, i actually sat at my grandparents' dining room table while a nice black lady walked around and picked up plates and refilled water glasses. and the entire time i'm sitting there thinking, what's funny is that i'm usually on the other side of the coin here. i'm usually the help.

really i'm making it sound worse than it was. my grandparents are 85 and 90 years old, bless their hearts, and it's not like they're whizzes in the kitchen anymore; and they know they can't expect the punkass younger generation to clean the dishes....

i think that this picture really says it all. damn that delicately-placed hay. merry christmas, everyone!

oklahomathon: day 1

i love my mother. really, i do. no, seriously. but, dear readers, i've been sick with a wretched cough for over a week and have nearly completely lost my voice. i nyquiled myself to death last night and slept a full eleven hours. how did i wake up this morning, my first morning home in oklahoma? on christmas eve. to the sound of santa's jolly sleighbells? to the smell of bacon frying (oh wait, my mom doesn't cook.)? no. to my mother racing into my room to wake me up and ask me if i know i'm singing in church tonight or not.

do i know? well, hmm, let's see. i just woke up. do i have a voice today? good question; i was asleep. i managed to squeak out that i would get up, drink my coffee, try to warm up and i'd let her know by eleven--a full two hours before the rehearsal with the pianist that she's set up for me is scheduled to happen.

oh, and the best part about having my mother surprise-awaken me? i had to like frantically grab at the covers and pull them up to my neck like i was in some 80's movie and was the hussie who's been caught in bed with a senator by news cameras. because my mother has no idea that i have tattoos. and she would literally. flip. her. shit. i know that i'm twenty-five (or, as my sister puts it, "nearly 26." ahem, i have 5 more months of being 25, thank you very much, robin) and that she can't ground me, but i sure don't wanna deal with it. i remember my first ear-piercing and that was just an ear piercing.

it's going to be an interesting week...

one last thing

oh yeah...before, i go, here's today's dirty laundry. i think i know who'll never be speaking to me again....

Like We’re Strangers
By Robert

Evan leaned over the railing and caught my eye, motioning to me with one hand and holding a vodka and cranberry in the other. I made my way across the dance floor and looked up at him, feeling the monotonous thud of the speaker against my legs. It was the two-year anniversary of our breakup, a messy, teary ordeal that happened over the phone while I was at my parents’ house in Oklahoma; I’d walked halfway down the block, unable to stop pacing, snot and tears freezing on my face. In the two years that followed, though, we’d formed a kind of rocky friendship, one charged with blame and hurt and sexual tension. He was fiery, unpredictable, Latin to the core. And of course this made him irresistible to me.

He leaned over and shouted into my ear. “You and Adam are going to be great together,” he told me. “But I never want to talk to you again.” I was shocked: I barely even knew Adam; I’d met him when he and Evan dated but hadn’t hung out with him since they broke up. We’d been talking that night but I had no intention of taking him home, much less giving up Evan’s friendship for him. I tried to stammer a response, but he was already walking away with the studied, self-assured swagger that had drawn me to him in the first place.

I’d never been faced with a situation like this: my ex-boyfriend was blessing, backhandedly, a relationship that I wasn’t even in. The seed had been planted, though, and I took Adam home with me that night, the chemicals in my bloodstream making my decision easier. I left for Connecticut early the next morning and Adam walked me to the train station. I was surprised when he told me I should call him when I got home. This man I hardly knew, this New Years’ Eve trick, one in a string of men I was sure I’d never talk to again, was asking me out on a proper date. I told him I’d call.

Was it worth losing Evan’s friendship to see what happened with Adam? Even if I never saw him again, was my friendship with Evan over? If, in the cold light of day and without the aide of six stout drinks, Adam and I found out that we had nothing in common, was it worth the risk? I decided to call Adam when I got home from Connecticut; we moved in together the next August. Even now that we’ve broken up and he’s moved away, I’ve always said the same thing: I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for the time we spent together. Not money, not power. And not Evan.

Why, then, can’t I shake the feeling that I betrayed him? Why do I still get butterflies when I see him on the street or at the bar? And why does it still shock me when he walks past me like we’re strangers? Even though I get so mad, I can’t help but feel like he’s the one that’s right; that I’m the bad guy after all.

I was sitting at lunch today with Adam, who’s visiting this week, and he said that he’d run into an ex of mine in Chicago. “Just tell me you didn’t sleep with him,” I said. “Even if you did. I just couldn’t deal with it.” I’d feel so jealous of both of them, so left out, like I wasn’t good enough for either of them but they were good enough for each other.

“Of course we didn’t,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Ok, good,” I said.

Then I thought of Evan. That sick feeling in the pit of my stomach I got thinking about Adam and my ex, that jealousy mixed with hurt and anger, is what I inflicted on him for a year and a half. I held Adam’s hand at the bar, threw housewarming parties with him to celebrate the life we’d started together. And somehow I expected him to just get over it, to be the bigger person.

Now I see, though, there are some things for which I can’t be forgiven, some decisions I’ve made in my life that can’t be taken back. Would I trade the time I had with Adam, any of the memories of quiet content, the jokes that only the two of us knew? I wouldn’t; nor can I have it both ways. When I’m faced with something like this, something that seems completely unfixable, I like to think to myself, Will this matter in ten years? With the small betrayals, the words spoken in haste, the answer is always no. But something tells me that this is different.

I don’t expect Evan to ever talk to me again, nor do I blame him for ignoring me. Sometimes people hurt each other, sometimes they make mistakes. And sometimes they’re forgiven. And so I move forward, having lost one friend to gain another.

But maybe one day I’ll have both.

the twelve days of men of mount vernon calendar to benefit baltimore pride: day 12

well, dearest readers, we've reached the end. today's--the last--calendar boy is alex. as much as i want to write something clever, i'm late for my plane to oklahoma...so, i'll just say merry christmahanukwaanzukah and i'll see you soon!

The Men of Mt Vernon calendar features 12 hot and sexy men from Baltimore and benefits Baltimore Pride 2006. The calendar features beautiful black-and-white photography by D.C. photographer Scott Henichsen, so making a date in 2006 will be sexy fun. Miller Lite, COMMAND MC, Grand Central, and Gay Life sponsored the calendar so 100 percent of the proceeds benefit the Pride celebration in June 2006. The calendars cost $15 and you can buy them at Lambda Rising in Baltimore (241 W. Chase Street) or online at www.menofmtvernon.com.

top ten, sort of

having been inspired by hilary's top ten, which was inspired by bucket's top ten, i'm going to attempt to post my top ten albums of 2005. except that i don't really remember when all these things were released so it's actually going to be the "10 best albums i bought in 2005." and then i got busy choosing albums and discovered that there were actually 18 albums that deserved mention, so i present to you (drum roll, please):

the receptionist's top eighteen albums of 2005 or 2004 or whenever they were released but i bought them sometime possibly in 2005:

18. Missy Elliot, The Cookbook
17. Le Tigre, This Island
16. Jill Scott, Beautifully Human
15. Ben Folds, Songs for Silverman
14. Tracy + The Plastics, Culture for Pigeon
13. k.d. lang, Hymns of the 49th Parallel
12. Nikka Costa, Can'tneverdidnothin'
11. Morrissey, You Are the Quarry
10. Ani DiFranco, Knuckle Down
9. Bjork, Medulla
8. Sufjan Stevens, C'mon Feel the Illinoise
7. Fiona Apple, Extraordinary Machine
6. Madonna, Confessions on a Dancefloor
5. Nine Inch Nails, With Teeth
4. PJ Harvey, Uh Huh Her
3. Beck, Guero
2. Sleater-Kinney, The Woods
1. Andrew Bird and The Mysterious Production of Eggs

woof that was hard to do. so many of those cd's are so good. if you don't own numbers 1-9, do yourself a favor. go buy them.

the only kind of brazilian i ever want to have

woot! let's hear it for the dark and brooding types.

the twelve days of men of mount vernon calendar to benefit baltimore pride: day 11

today's calendar boy (man), sam, is proof that baltimore's an extremely small place, especially when it comes to the gay scene. i first met sam the fall i moved here through the guy i was dating at the time, ed. i've seen him roughly twice a month since then, and he never fails to give me a friendly hello, even though we barely know each other. and hello, he's fucking ripped. so, ladies and gentlemen: sam.

The Men of Mt Vernon calendar features 12 hot and sexy men from Baltimore and benefits Baltimore Pride 2006. The calendar features beautiful black-and-white photography by D.C. photographer Scott Henichsen, so making a date in 2006 will be sexy fun. Miller Lite, COMMAND MC, Grand Central, and Gay Life sponsored the calendar so 100 percent of the proceeds benefit the Pride celebration in June 2006. The calendars cost $15 and you can buy them at Lambda Rising in Baltimore (241 W. Chase Street) or online at www.menofmtvernon.com.

oh terr

terry writes in an email just now:

"so jarrett was labeling tubes and for the life of him couldn't get as much information on the tubes as i was able to. so he askes me how i am able to write so small. do i tell him years of practice? of course not. instead i tell him that i learned from a chinese man who writes little notes on rice. you know, the ones who have those booths in the middle of malls. i told him that i went on a date once and we took lessons from one of those guys. of course, i go into all sorts of detail about how you need something with a really fine point, a magnifying glass, and of course, a really steady hand to be able to do it. but since we don't have anything like that in the lab, it's not going to be as small as i could normally get it. am i going to tell him otherwise. nah. some day, it'll come up again and i'll get a good laugh out of it."

he once told me that he played guitar in a rock band in high school. and then, like 8 months later, i referred to him playing guitar. and he goes, "what? i never played in a rock band." it's this kind of comedy--the kind that takes a year to play out--that's the most brilliant.

the only picture you need to see.

no comment. ever.

teef. the gold kind.

my friend phong just informed me, after i told him about a baltimore olympic sport being "gold toof polishin'," that his friend says that the plural of teeth in baltimore is "teefeses." as in, "i just got done brushin' my teefeses."

wow.

cookie update

ok so i just went next door to heat up my lunch and there are now five--FIVE--one-pound italian chocolate bars sitting in there for the taking, along with a newly-added box of "after eight" chocolate-covered cookies.

this is crazy, people! CRAZY!

for hilary, who's apparently the star of today's receptionist.

hey main!

fatties, part the second

i'm sitting here eating a donut. my second donut of the day. i usually don't eat donuts. i do my damndest to keep from buying them; there was a time that i'd eat maybe two donuts a year. i can't help it, though, when donuts are literally stuffed under my nose. when someone brings donuts into the office--a dozen of the wonderful, sugary, simple carbohydrate monsters, dressed up in sprinkles and chocolate and christmas deocrations--and then walks by my desk with the box open offering me one i just cain't say no.

at the risk of this post sounding like hilary's blog, i just have to say how astounding it is the way that people try to fatten you up at christmastime. every day this week and last there has been a new homemade batch of cookies sitting either on the unoccupied desk adjacent to mine or next to the watercooler. the temptation, especially on days that i'm not in the clinic and am spending a lot of time at my desk, is absurd. every time i go to fill up my water bottle; every time i print something out and have to go past the cookiedesk, they're there, staring up at me. satan himself, dressed up in a reindeer headband, his little cloven feet bececked with little red-and-green pompom jingle bells, is jumping up and down next to the tupperwear container, handing me cookies. "it's christmas," he says. "you've been to the gym every day this week. you can afford the calories." then he pokes my ass with his tiny pitchfork until i take a cookie. and then i try to eat the cookie really slowly so that i can really enjoy it, hoping that relishing the cookie i'm eating will keep me from eating another one in twenty minutes. and then i go to pick up the operations memo i've just printed out and take another cookie.

it started with the three pounds of oreos--three pounds--that the head doctor brought in last week. it's just gotten worse. thank god i'm going back to oklahoma on friday, where the bulk of calories i injest will be my mother's cheap white wine. don't even get me started on satan-as-sommelier.

the christmas card my boss just gave me.

i have to share.

"dearest robert,
a.k.a. pumpkin/pumpkin chops,

hope this christmas season is filled with all your favorite things...

opera...
hilary...
low credit debt...
big arms...
6 packs...
thongs...
work...ha-ha...

karen"

what's sad is that when i think my boss doesn't know me at all she turns out to know me so well...

the twelve days of men of mount vernon calendar to benefit baltimore pride: day 10

i'd really like to make some smart-ass comment about today's model, john, but let's face it. he's hot. nice arms, nice six-pack, nicely-unbuckled belt suggesting the nice things he's about to do. i have my suspicions, however, that he's not really a man of mount vernon because i've never slept with him. er, i mean seen him. yeah, that's the ticket. seen him.

The Men of Mt Vernon calendar features 12 hot and sexy men from Baltimore and benefits Baltimore Pride 2006. The calendar features beautiful black-and-white photography by D.C. photographer Scott Henichsen, so making a date in 2006 will be sexy fun. Miller Lite, COMMAND MC, Grand Central, and Gay Life sponsored the calendar so 100 percent of the proceeds benefit the Pride celebration in June 2006. The calendars cost $15 and you can buy them at Lambda Rising in Baltimore (241 W. Chase Street) or online at www.menofmtvernon.com.

happy christmas, here's a rock.

the elevators at hopkins hospital are perhaps the worst piece of machinery ever invented. when i say that i'm including nazi gas chambers and the iron maiden. these elevators are much, much worse. they torture in a very different way, one that's more subversive, one that really eats at your psyche slowly and methodically, until you're foaming at the mouth and your brain's turned to so much grape jelly. after pushing the button to go in either direction, you're subjected to a fifteen-minute-plus wait for an elevator, which when it finally comes is completely full. full of sick patients or yelping lab animals. when you've squeezed yourself in between them, you have to stop on literally every floor between yours and your destination. each time the elvator slowly grinds to a halt on a different floor, you hear the entire group of riders heave a frustrated sigh.

these elevators are enough to drive a sane person crazy, a nice person mean, any time during the year. during the holidays, however, the hatred seems to have reached a critical mass. i've witnessed frustration on a new level: twice in two days i've been riding the elvator with women (wasp-y looking women at that) who have vocally vented their anger, heaving a pissed off "JESUS CHRIST" every time the elevator stops on a floor.

it's not just the elevator, though. the christmas season seems to bring people to some sort of critical mass. everyone's maniacally, incessantly telling each other "merry christmas!" "have a happy holiday," they say with a crazy look in their eye. it's like being forced to shop, forced to cook, forced to drink and be merry is just too much for some people. like, sure, it's exciting. but does it matter if you haven't made your 25 fruitcakes yet? you don't have a present for your sister's new husband's cousin yet? big deal, i say. yet to some people, it's a very big deal.

that's why i'm just giving out coal for christmas. actually i can't afford coal, so it's just rocks painted black. but i can't afford paint, so i'm just giving out rocks. christmas rocks.

you're welcome, part the fourth

ho.

ly.

shit.

andrea.

yeah, girl.

the twelve days of men of mount vernon calendar to benefit baltimore pride: day 9

today's calendar boy is dawayne. that's da-wayne. two syllables. i don't know what some of these guys had to do to get abs like this, but it's clearly something that i'm not. would i trade taco bell for those abs? i'd like to say yes, then i remember the mexican pizza...

The Men of Mt Vernon calendar features 12 hot and sexy men from Baltimore and benefits Baltimore Pride 2006. The calendar features beautiful black-and-white photography by D.C. photographer Scott Henichsen, so making a date in 2006 will be sexy fun. Miller Lite, COMMAND MC, Grand Central, and Gay Life sponsored the calendar so 100 percent of the proceeds benefit the Pride celebration in June 2006. The calendars cost $15 and you can buy them at Lambda Rising in Baltimore (241 W. Chase Street) or online at www.menofmtvernon.com.

the medical know

kel: whats it on [this week's column]?
robert: ed
kel: wow
kel: hmmmmm
kel: interesting topic
kel: u pick?
robert: yeah
robert: well of course i pick
kel: where did that come from?
robbi607: ed?
kel: ed
kel: who's ed?
kel: i thought you meant
kel: erectile disfunction
robert: WHAT!?
robert: BAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA oh that's getting blogged
kel: heheheeh
kel: well you know, ed stands for erectile disfunction and i just thought since we are both in the "medical know" that that is what you were referring to
robert: yes darling i know
robert: but no, no columns about erectile dysfunction anytime soon
robert: if anything i have the opposite problem
kel: i know
kel: and so do i most of the time
kel: but i thought hey, mabe he's "branching out"

mt vernon

every time i log into myspace, there's an ad for a gay singles site that promises the opportunity to "meet gay men in my neighborhood."

honey, in my neighborhood it's hard not to meet a gay man.

snippets from asthma

something that could only happen in the field of science:

there are all these cookies and sweets next door because it's christmastime and apparently we're all supposed to get fucking fat. one of the tins of cookies reads on the top:

"optipharm: for the safe and optimal use of plasma."

a tin of cookies from a plasma company. EW. ew ew ew.

skrimp dreams

two short stories:

on thursday my office had its christmas party at amicci's in little italy. last year's party consisted of a gross luncheon that was held in the elevator lobby of our building. the office manager made us play christmas party games. it was, in a word, wretched, and was only made worse by the fact that terry's lab took him to mccormick and schmick's for a whole afternoon. this year, however, was so much better. the whole floor went to amicci's free of charge, all the wine and beer you could drink (literally), with a choice of four really good entrees. i got gnocchi, but one of the choices was shrimp on a bed of spaghetti with marinara. i'd had two glasses of wine, and couldn't for the life of me figure out what the plural of shrimp is. i had to ask the people across from me: "this sounds really stupid, but is it shrimp or shrimps?" they looked at me, dumbfounded. ok, so it's shrimp. no s. i've really lived in baltimore too long. i told this story to michael and he informed me that "it's neither. it's skrimps."

story two:

terry woke up this morning (in my living room, not my bed, thank you very much all you accusatory readers!) and told me that he'd had a dream that he was on manhunt. when i gave him a quizzical look he said, "manhunt the show." implying not manhunt.net. ha. because of course that's the first thing i thought because hi i'm a whore. so on manhunt they make the models do all these "challenges." at least in terry's version of the show. one of his challenges was to go to a bookstore and find a book that best represents your life. i was busy thinking of which book it would be--what a hard decision. would it be fiction? all my favorite books are sad, so it'd make my life look really depressing. terry's literary decision? "there weren't any books there that i'd read (me: "like charlotte's web?") so i just picked magazines. me: "your life is represented by magazines, terry. what does this tell you?" then again, the magazines he picked were men's health and science, so yeah, that's pretty close.

the twelve days of men of mount vernon calendar to benefit baltimore pride: day 8

today's calendar boy is tom. try as tom might, he's just not able to climb that doorway. he figures, if that little hottie toby maguire can do it, why can't i!? because, tom, toby had a team of special effects wizards and the love of kirsten dunst cheering him on. ladies and gents, tom.

The Men of Mt Vernon calendar features 12 hot and sexy men from Baltimore and benefits Baltimore Pride 2006. The calendar features beautiful black-and-white photography by D.C. photographer Scott Henichsen, so making a date in 2006 will be sexy fun. Miller Lite, COMMAND MC, Grand Central, and Gay Life sponsored the calendar so 100 percent of the proceeds benefit the Pride celebration in June 2006. The calendars cost $15 and you can buy them at Lambda Rising in Baltimore (241 W. Chase Street) or online at www.menofmtvernon.com.

the twelve days of men of mount vernon calendar to benefit baltimore pride: day 7

today's calendar boy is kip, a man that terry apparently knows from the gym. since this is the "men of mount vernon" calendar, chances are a lot of these guys go the gay gym in town. not that i'm outing anyone, mind you. does the fact that they're nearly naked in a calendar supported by gay life and grand central necessarily make you gay? of course not. yet i digress. ladies and gentlemen, kip.

The Men of Mt Vernon calendar features 12 hot and sexy men from Baltimore and benefits Baltimore Pride 2006. The calendar features beautiful black-and-white photography by D.C. photographer Scott Henichsen, so making a date in 2006 will be sexy fun. Miller Lite, COMMAND MC, Grand Central, and Gay Life sponsored the calendar so 100 percent of the proceeds benefit the Pride celebration in June 2006. The calendars cost $15 and you can buy them at Lambda Rising in Baltimore (241 W. Chase Street) or online at www.menofmtvernon.com.

the twelve days of men of mount vernon calendar to benefit baltimore pride: day 6

today's model is kenny. don't you think that this picture just screams "oops, you caught me doing some houserepair--shirtless!" i couldn't count the times that i've happily carried ladders around my back courtyard, tits to the wind. with any luck, those jeans will just go ahead and fall off.

The Men of Mt Vernon calendar features 12 hot and sexy men from Baltimore and benefits Baltimore Pride 2006. The calendar features beautiful black-and-white photography by D.C. photographer Scott Henichsen, so making a date in 2006 will be sexy fun. Miller Lite, COMMAND MC, Grand Central, and Gay Life sponsored the calendar so 100 percent of the proceeds benefit the Pride celebration in June 2006. The calendars cost $15 and you can buy them at Lambda Rising in Baltimore (241 W. Chase Street) or online at www.menofmtvernon.com.

i don't know what you're talking about

if you didn't see this interview with nathan lane this morning on the today show, do yourself a favor: go watch it.

my humps, part the 3rd

"Irony and camp have recast taste as an ethical shell game and we feel no guilt celebrating things that are, in the parlance of VH1, Awesomely Bad. But are there still songs that qualify as "bad"? Consider the Los Angeles hip-hop quartet the Black Eyed Peas. Their current single, "My Humps," is one of the most popular hit singles in history. It is also proof that a song can be so bad as to veer toward evil."

brilliant. it's not just me and hilary that hate this song, apparently there's a whole movement against it. and enough interest in that movement for someone to write a smart little discourse on just why it's so bad.

read the article here.

partonville

there is a god after all:

Genre: You’re composing the songs for a Broadway musical of 9 to 5. How’s it coming?

Dolly: They’ve already accepted 10 of the songs I’ve written and are reworking some stuff. That’s supposed to go into workshop next year, and open on Broadway in 2007. I’ve never done anything like it—it’s a whole new world for me. You get to play act [the characters] when writing these songs, so I’m getting a big kick out of it.

read the rest of the interview here (via queerty)

the twelve days of men of mount vernon calendar to benefit baltimore pride: day 5

today's nearly-naked male calendar boy is ron. not the ron that hilary and i spend our days lusting after (see the ripped stud in the yellow tank in the halloween pics. see why?), but a different one, one that i don't know. i'm sure he's just as nice, but can he teach a gay abs class? i think not.

it's still in my ears

finally, some easy step-by-step instructions for all of us novices!

navy in the right hand pocket

queerty just put up a post about the hanky code and i think it's absolutely mind-blowing. i knew a few of them--top, bottom, for instance--but some of the things they apparently have codes for are crazy. john looking for a hooker? there's a code for that! double-fisting bottom? yep, that too. no matter what kinda crazy shit you're into, there's a colored hanky to let the world know what you're into.

one of the things i love about the baltimore eagle, though i haven't been there in two years and the last time i went it was totally tame and boring, is that they have an old, tattered, home-made poster (written with a yardstick and colored markers) of the hanky code. ah, leather culture. maybe i should ask for a harness for christmas...

which color are you?

the twelve days of men of mount vernon calendar to benefit baltimore pride: day 4

today's model is chris. either they flew chris to san francisco or managed to find baltimore's only downtown wooded hillside. or they just took him up to don davis's balcony and stood him next to a potted plant. on second inspection, that seems to be what happened (judging by all that suspicious white powder on the ledge he's leaning on).

The Men of Mt Vernon calendar features 12 hot and sexy men from Baltimore and benefits Baltimore Pride 2006. The calendar features beautiful black-and-white photography by D.C. photographer Scott Henichsen, so making a date in 2006 will be sexy fun. Miller Lite, COMMAND MC, Grand Central, and Gay Life sponsored the calendar so 100 percent of the proceeds benefit the Pride celebration in June 2006. The calendars cost $15 and you can buy them at Lambda Rising in Baltimore (241 W. Chase Street) or online at www.menofmtvernon.com.

carrie!

i was watching the today show this morning (doesn't it seem like a lot of my posts are starting out like that lately? maybe it's because it sadly forms most of the bulk of my daily television intake.) and who should be interviewed by that gummy sprite catie couric but my very favorite carrie bradshaw (beisdes myself), sarah jessica parker.

s.j.p. (as her friends call her) looked great. she was dressed perfectly, with perfect makeup, perfect calves jutting out of her perfect stilettos. she was funny and self-effacing and told great stories. she didn't shy away from using her extended vocabulary, she was informed about world events. basically, she's the kind of famous person that i'd want to be. she's like the anti-paris hilton. the anti-gastineau girl. she's famous and loaded because she's worked goddamned hard for it, she's smart in business, and doesn't seem to shy away from being part of the quintessential new york entertainment industry power couple.

i've said for a long time now that i don't care about being famous. i think that every kid, when they're growing up, thinks that there's a possibility that they might be famous someday. even through high school i just kind of expected it. in some weird egocentric way, it just seemed to me that, hell, here i am--me--and people, a lot of them, will eventually know who i am. then one goes to college, and then one gets their master's degree, and then one discovers that life goes by really fast. and unless you're madonna and have moved to new york by the time you're nineteen and have made yourself get noticed by every mover and shaker, your chances to get famous pass you by.

and i suppose this is a strange thing to say for someone who's trying to be a professional performer, but i don't really care about being famous anymore; if i am someday able to make a living making music in some capacity i don't need fame, though fortune would certainly be nice. watching sjp on television this morning, though, made me reconsider for a moment. i wanted to be that funny, self-effacing, envied person whose interview everyone wants to watch. i suppose if fame's not an option, infamy always is...

the twelve days of men of mount vernon calendar to benefit baltimore pride: day 3

today's pierced and self-groping shirtless model is paul. this upstanding young man not only dated a good friend of mine, i also saw him gyrating his business on a platform at the hippo last new year's. so we know he's for real. he didn't look quite that serious at the time, but i gotta say: the boy takes a good picture.

The Men of Mt Vernon calendar features 12 hot and sexy men from Baltimore and benefits Baltimore Pride 2006. The calendar features beautiful black-and-white photography by D.C. photographer Scott Henichsen, so making a date in 2006 will be sexy fun. Miller Lite, COMMAND MC, Grand Central, and Gay Life sponsored the calendar so 100 percent of the proceeds benefit the Pride celebration in June 2006. The calendars cost $15 and you can buy them at Lambda Rising in Baltimore (241 W. Chase Street) or online at www.menofmtvernon.com.

happy holidays

in my seemingly unending quest to do the most fucked up shit that one possibly can while living in baltimore, i spent an hour last night singing christmas carols in the lobby of the downtown athletic club. not really christmas carols that you've ever heard of, either. christmas carols from this book of like anglican christmas songs from 1954. when we'd sung the four songs that we recognized from that book, we just turned to the pianist, this old black man with a penchant for extremely slow playing, and said, "so, what christmas songs do you know?"

"yeah, something upbeat!" lesley craigie kept trilling in her scottish brogue. which is how i found myself singing "rudolph the red-nosed reindeer" in harmony with a scottish lady and an old black guy in the lobby of the gayest gym in baltimore.

the upside to the whole situation? i get a MONTH free--that's right, a month--for every hour i sing christmas carols. the downside? my voice is officially shot. oh well, at least i'll have abs.

drool

i didn't know whether to call this "hilary's boyfriend" or "hilary's reason to live," so i'll just call it RIDICULOUS.

hilary ran into this guy in nyc. seriously.

awesome. (via towleroad)

By Jeannette Walls

MSNBC

Updated: 2:46 a.m. ET Dec. 12, 2005

Moby is re-igniting his feud with Eminem.

The techno musician made headlines a few years back when he accused the rapper of promoting homophobia with his songs. Now, Moby is telling Eminem and anyone who promotes his “misogynistic” music: “you have blood on your hands.”

Moby’s outrage stems largely from a recent case in which an Eminem fan and impersonator recently was convicted of murdering a woman and stuffing her in a suitcase. The man had just finished a karaoke performance singing Eminem’s music. In his video, “Stan,” Eminem murders a woman he put in the trunk of a car.

“If a musician made a record wherein he talked about killing blacks and Jews would he get covered in the press and played on radio and MTV? If the answer is ‘no’ (as it should be), then why is radio and MTV filled with music that has lyrics about killing and brutalizing women and gays?” Moby asks on his Web site. “Any employee of a record company or journalist or radio programmer or MTV employee who has promoted and celebrated misogynistic or homophobic music should be ashamed. You have blood on your hands, and you should be deeply, deeply troubled at the culture that you’ve helped to create.”

Regarding the murder case, Eminem has joked that he’s “completely innocent. I should be cleared of all charges” and has said that the “hype” surrounding the case should be good for his career.

the 12 days of men of mount vernon calendar to benefit baltimore pride: day 2

good morning to all! today's shirtless local stud is ty. when asked how he felt after winning the men of mount vernon calendar contest, ty said, "obviously i'm very happy. i've worked really hard to get this body and i love love love showing it off. can i come out of this dark room now? please? it's really cold in here." no, ty, you may not. now drop and give me 20.

The Men of Mt Vernon calendar features 12 hot and sexy men from Baltimore and benefits Baltimore Pride 2006. The calendar features beautiful black-and-white photography by D.C. photographer Scott Henichsen, so making a date in 2006 will be sexy fun. Miller Lite, COMMAND MC, Grand Central, and Gay Life sponsored the calendar so 100 percent of the proceeds benefit the Pride celebration in June 2006. The calendars cost $15 and you can buy them at Lambda Rising in Baltimore (241 W. Chase Street) or online at www.menofmtvernon.com.

soggy

though i'm sure you could feel it in the air, those of you in baltimore, or at least smell it, t-ray's back in baltimore for twelve days. i actually thought it was nine days and then last night terry said, "you mean twelve." and i was like, "no, today's the eleventh and you're leaving on the 23rd." right. remember that thing i said earlier about math? anyway, terr's back and it's so good to see him. i can't really believe that it's been four months since he moved. everyone keeps asking me, "isn't it hard to have him staying with you? isn't it weird?" it's just...not. it's not weird and it's not painful; it's quite fun so far.

we went to wet underwear at grand central station last night, since i apparently can't seem to get enough trashy gay shit lately. unlike thursday's debauchery, however, i wasn't up til 3am, i wasn't trashed out of my mind, and i wasn't competing. since they only had three people signed up for the contest, the girl at the door was like, "i know that one of you wants to compete." i could see in terry's eye that he really did but wasn't going to. "ah, no," i told her.

i was telling hilary about it this morning and realized that the "wet underwear" contest just doesn't seem that shocking to me any more. when it first started it was just ridiculous. i mean it was always like 7 guys, usually nasty, with hard-ons grinding in a kiddie pool. with water from the kiddie pool splashing down from the stage onto the sound system and making it crackle and spark. last night it was three guys, all of whom i've already seen compete in this little contest, grinding around for a crowd of maybe 30 people. who were very sedate. no hooting or hollering. the audience basically sat there watching the contest, nursing their beers.

baltimore must be too small, i think, because there seems to be a rotating array of the same contestants. there just aren't that many people who look good in their underwear, i guess, or who are that foolish.

the 12 days of men of mount vernon calendar to benefit baltimore pride

i've never been a whiz at math and i don't really feel like going through the calendar right now. so, whether or not it's twelve days until christmas (or christmas eve. again, math.), i'm treating you all to my own version of queerty's "morning goods." every morning, before i do anything else, i'm going to treat you, dear readers, to a sample of the the men of mount vernon calendar that's currently for sale and benefits baltimore pride. what's this little blog event going to be called? i think that "the 12 days of the men of mount vernon calendar to benefit baltimore pride" has quite a ring to it.

let the shirtless pics begin...today's model is "britt." he enjoys long, sunset walks around the inner harbor and crab boils. turnons include...oh who am i kidding? i'm making this stuff up. but his name really is britt.

The Men of Mt Vernon calendar features 12 hot and sexy men from Baltimore and benefits Baltimore Pride 2006. The calendar features beautiful black-and-white photography by D.C. photographer Scott Henichsen, so making a date in 2006 will be sexy fun. Miller Lite, COMMAND MC, Grand Central, and Gay Life sponsored the calendar so 100 percent of the proceeds benefit the Pride celebration in June 2006. The calendars cost $15 and you can buy them at Lambda Rising in Baltimore (241 W. Chase Street) or online at www.menofmtvernon.com.

gunns

opera singer? stud? why not both!

chilluns

in the flurry of post-lube-wrestling exhaustion i nearly forgot that a new column came out today in gay life! baaarum pum pum pum (that was a drumroll):Kids These Days


I've always been a little afraid of kids. I guess it's more accurate to say that I've always been uncomfortable around them. Kids lack the filter that adults have--if an adult doesn't like your shoes, for instance, they're not likely to come out and say, "What are you doing in those shoes?" OK, so maybe some of my friends would. But a kid will just tell you flat out, "Your shoes are weird." It's this unpredictability that worries me. Kids have always seemed a little bit like cats to me—wily and dexterous and completely erratic.

But now that my job now requires that I work with kids, I've surprised myself. I've found an easy rapport with most of them and have even started thinking about having kids of my own. I tell my friends that I want to adopt someday, and they remind me that I'm the guy that spent his early adulthood glaring at people who dared to bring babies to restaurants, movie theaters, or anywhere else out of their houses for the first six years of their childrens’ lives. Now that I see kids every day, though, I know how to handle them.

But last week at work I came across a young man that I just couldn't get through to. After he went home I asked a coworker if she'd had problems with him.

"Oh, I thought he was fine," she said.

"Really? Because I couldn't get two words out of him," I told her.

"Maybe he doesn't like gay guys," she responded.

Um, excuse me? I took a moment to process what she'd just said. "Why do you say that?" I asked her.

"Well, when I went in to see him he looked really pissed off, so I just said, 'Hey, what's your problem?' He didn't say anything, so I said, 'What is it, you just don't like gay guys?' And he just smiled a little and nodded."

I've made a concentrated effort not to come across as "too gay" to my kids at work. Don't ask me what I think being "too gay" around a kid means--it's not like I'm going to tie them to a chair while I blare Madonna and do their hair. I don't mean that I'm stepping back in the closet, either. It's just that it's never come up—until now.

"Why should it matter to him that I'm gay?" I asked. I don't talk about my personal life with my kids and I don't see why it has any bearing at all on the job that I do.

"Listen, Robert," she told me. "It's just a fact of life. Some people just don't like gays."

She just said GAYS, I thought.

"You have to just accept that and move on with your life," she said.

Since I only surround myself with queers and people who are queer-friendly, I don't often hear opinions like this one. I've never once had someone tell me that homophobia is just a part of life--that some people have the right to hate me for who, or what, I am.

I wanted to ask her, "What if I were black? Would you have asked him if he just doesn't like black guys? If I were Jewish would you be telling me to get over it because some people hate Jews?" I wanted to tell her that attitudes like hers--pandering to homophobes and bigots, allowing them their ill-informed opinions--are part of the reason that gay people still don't have the same rights as everyone else. I wanted to tell her that no matter how gay-friendly she considers herself, attitudes like hers are part of the reason that gay people are still dragged behind trucks and ridiculed and hanged. I wanted to tell her that my straight girlfriends are the strongest fighters for gay rights that I've ever met, people who have fought alongside me. It's not good enough to be gay-friendly. You have to speak up when you hear injustice, not just laugh it off and tell me to accept it and move on.

Since she's just my coworker, I tried to shrug it off like it meant nothing, like I wasn't upset that this is how some of the kids I work with see me. I tried not to show her how surprised I was that outside the queer bubble in which I live there’s still homophobia and bigotry, and that it's accepted and laughed about.

I refuse to accept that some people are going to hate me for who I am. Because as soon as I've accepted that, I've accepted that I'm less of a person than they are--that what they think about me is right.

But they're wrong.

so much to blog, so little sleep

brace yourself, dear readers, for some shocking news. i've done something that i once swore up and down that i would never do: no, i haven't gone and made it with a girl. last night, hysterically, i lube wrestled at grand central station. for those of you not from baltimore, or just those of you that have some pride and haven't gone to baltimore's most horrifying homosexual pastime, lube wrestling involves a 15-foot swimming pool in the middle of grand central's dancefloor doused in wet lubricant. they have, literally, gallons of the stuff. contestants wrestle each other in their underwear, covered in lube.

and i did this. let me just tell you how it happened:

two days ago kel and i were at the gym and were talking about going to lube wrestling (not participating). we were talking, and decided that the only way either of us would do it would be if we were guaranteed to only wrestle each other. i'm not in the business of getting lubed up and wrestling either a) a hard-core freak wrestler or b) a nasty 45-year-old in a jockstrap. yesterday i was talking to ron, an organizer of the event, and told him that kel and i were jokingly talking about lube wrestling. of COURSE he was like, "sure you could just wrestle each other!" as soon as this news got to kel, he informed me that we were doing it. when i got to the gym yesterday i wasn't certain. by the time we left, the plan was on.

not only did lube wrestling involve getting in front of a bar crowded with gay men in my underwear and rolling around in lube, it involved mingling with the crowd in my underwear for 30 minutes before the thing started. and then sitting there ON STAGE in my underwear for like 30 minutes before we went. oh my god oh my god.

what's funniest is that by the time we got up to GC's horribly seedy i'm-sure-something-bad-has-happened-here back room and undressed i wasn't nervous at all. the anticipation was the worst part. amazingly, especially for me, walking around grand central in my underwear wasn't scary at all. it didn't even feel that weird. maybe it's because i've been wearing a speedo for the last two summers. i have no idea. there i was, standing there drinking and talking to kel and jerome and norwood and some guys from peabody, IN MY UNDERWEAR. it also helped that everyone was being cool about the whole thing--not pointing, not laughing, but definitely checking out the goods--and my friends made sure to tell me how hot we looked. when you're standing there in your 2xist briefs you need this kind of validation. and i have to admit, i enjoyed being objectified a little bit. i'm not someone who goes to the bar and gets checked out. so to have all eyes on me and kel for a night was fun. a once-in-a-lifetime fun, mind you, because i'm not going to be getting naked at a gay bar again anytime soon.

the actual lube wrestling was a total fucking riot. kel and i had had 2.5 drinks and a shot by this time (in the course of about an hour) so it was just...hysterical. i have no idea how to explain it. since kel nor i have any idea how to wrestle--nor did we know the objective of wrestling before ron explained it to us--it was basically just us rolling around in a vat of lube and laughing at each other.

i've been very adventurous lately--first trapezeing and now lube wrestling. strangely all of these adventures are planned by ron. i hear that his next birthday involves sky diving. over my dead body. i might get naked and lubey in front of a room full of queers but i ain't jumping out of no plane.

i have to draw the line somewhere.

rock grandma

for anyone who didn't believe me:

PUNK ROCK KNITTING!

s-k rulz

i'm sure i've posted these before, but i'm listening to this right now and i'm gonna do it again. because it's one of the most brilliant rock songs ever written. it ties corin tucker's nearly-dying son in with 9/11 and her agnosticism...brilliant. "sympathy" by sleater-kinney:

I know I come to you only when in need
I'm not the best believer
not the most deserving
but all I have all I am all I can
For him
I'd beg you on bended knees for him:
Precious baby, is your life hanging by a thread?
A thread I'm standing on, praying on today
All I have all I am all I can
For him
I'd beg you on bended knees for him
I've got this curse in my hands
All I touch fades to black
Turns to dust turns to sand
I've got this curse on my tongue
All I taste is the rust
This decay in my blood
I don't like the doctor with the deep long face
Only wants to give us the very worst case
I'd rather shout out and shake him and do anything
For him
I'd beg you on bended knees for him
When the moment strikes
it takes you by surprise and
leaves you naked in the face of death and life
there is no righteousness in your darkest moment
We're all equal in the face of what we're most afraid of
And I'm so sorry
for those who didn't make it
and for the mommies who are left with their heart breaking
Search for meaning in sores
The sentences they might form
It's the grammar of skin
Peel it back, let me in
Look for hope in the dark
The shadow cast by your heart
It's the grammar of faith
No more rules, no restraint
How angry I would be
If you'd taken him away
I wish I was wiser but instead
I'll be grateful I'll say thanks
For the joy for the love for the smile on his face
I'd beg you on bended knees for him

the gym

hilary: MAAAAAAAAAAAGAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
hilary: SLOBBER
robert: that makes me want to die
hilary: his name is RUSTY JOINER
hilary: how much pornier can he GET
robert: at least it's not rusty nailer
hilary: RUSTY
hilary: JOINER
hilary: GAHHHHHHHHHHH
robert: wow, pardon me, i have to get to the gym
hilary: he is unreal
hilary: hahhah
hilary: uh ya
hilary: pardon me, i have to throw up
robert: haha
robert: be right back.

the mountains

thank you, george, for this link. i'm going to be SO UNHAPPY if this doesn't come out in baltimore tomorrow. c'mon, assholes, baltimore's where it's AT.

hard kors

it's a goddamned shame that my bedtime is 11:30, because last night's premiere of project runway was this two-hour overblown extravaganza that didn't end til midnight. for the first hour you saw all 16 potential contestants sewing their clothes. two of them got kicked off at the end and they were the two that ashli and i voted for. i really liked the hick girl from alabama, but her dress looked like something that i could make. by hand. in the dark. with one yard of fabric and some lace. but she insisted on hugging cold skinny german bitch heidi klum, so i liked her. and when heidi said "auf wiedersehen," she goes, "ah don't know whut thayat means, but bah!" priceless. project runway is pretty much the perfect show for creative girls and faggots because it involves so many of our favorite things: sewing, designing, bitchery, models, and talentless michael kors. i might not be a fashion guru, but i've seen the shit that man designs at department stores (not to mention filene's basement) and it's wretched.

for your reading pleasure, here's the conversation that i just had with hilary about the show:

robert: i was all wired from having ash over though
hilary: all that tina you guys did
robert: AND coke
hilary: wow
hilary: what a night!
robert: i know
robert: that's why blowout was so crazy
hilary: hahaha
hilary: blowout?
robert: er um
robert: runway
hilary: YOU'RE a blowout
hilary: ha
[just try to tell me that she's not a gay man trapped in a woman's body after that comment.]
robert: which i keep calling blowout
hilary: hahahahahh
hilary: um, excuse me, i am HAIR
robert: i am hair, man.
hilary: bro
robert: i want you to get the best engineer that i can talk to today
hilary: HAHA
hilary: i was JUST typing that
robert: "um, jonathan, this is paco. he's more of a lawn care professional, but he's the best engineer we could get today."

oh, and last night before runway i watched my new replacement for crack: martha's apprentice. while i baked a loaf of banana bread. why am i an urban gay when i was obviously destined to be a grandma?

pediatric immunology, to be exact

i just saw my super's wife (the same one who told me that having mice was simply part of living in a city) and she goes "oh look, it's the asthma and allergy guy!" mind you, this is the same woman who hears me practicing in my apartment on a daily basis. yet she remembers that i work in asthma and allergy. i don't even remember telling her. wow.

gay pride blog

every wednesday morning in lab meeting, the two studies that meet discuss a particular case study that happened recently to one of their participants. ours wasn't anything very interesting--this kid had to go to the PICU because he had bad asthma. and had been either lying about what meds he was on or had forgotten, both of which are totally possible.

the other study's case, though, made me sit up and take notice:

apparently this woman they've been going to see has a three month old baby. the whole house, they report, is dark and filthy; the baby's got a raging case of diaper rash; the mom not only can't remember what formula the baby's on because she's changed it so many times, she's been feeding the baby fruit, cheese, mashed potatoes, and cow's milk. a three month old baby. with no teeth. cheese and fruit. if they were at some swanky art gallery opening where cheese and fruit were the only options i could maybe understand it. but trust me, i'm sure that wasn't the case. apparently there are like extension cords running all over the house (you know, having a three month old and a year-old baby [god she must've worked fast] totally says "let's have faulty wiring running all over! maybe they'll chew on it!") and the mom's been institutionalized before.

so here's my deal: there are many states in the U.S. that are trying to keep faggots and dykes and trannies from adopting children. i have to think about where i'll make my permanent home based not only on which state will allow me to marry (if W hasn't banned all of them by then), but also which state isn't going to pass a law that will not only keep me from adopting but could potentially take away children i'm already caring for. sometimes even if i'm the biological father. all because i'm a faggot.

yet people like this woman, people who feed their three month old babies mashed potatoes and can't bother to wipe their asses so that they won't get diaper rash, have babies every day. and unless she shows some really serious signs of neglect, she'll continue to have that baby. yet my people, queers who have to work extremely hard to get kids and more often than not take extraordinary care of them, are having to fight just to keep them.

it must be june because this has suddenly become gay pride blog.

britty

this was already on pink and shelby, but fuck it, i'm gonna link it too.

madge.
midge.
madge.
mash?
enough.

bitchery

robert: oh dear god
hilary: hahahahahah
robert: have you seen [name suppressed]'s new boyfriend!?
hilary: YES
hilary: ew
hilary: hahhaahha
robert: we might be single
robert: but girl we ain't datin' THAT
hilary: hahahahah
hilary: and NEVER will
robert: amen sister

preaching to the choir

as i just might've mentioned a couple times before on this here blog, i spend quite a bit of time alone. i suppose that's what happens when your best friends either move away or move uptown. i don't really mind it...it gives grandma time to punkrock knit and catch up on her stories (medium on monday, the office on tuesday, and mahtha on wednesday). it also gives her a lot of time to watch netflixed gay movies, particularly gay documentaries. this week i've watched the celluloid closet, a documentary based on vito russo's groundbreaking nonfiction book of the same name. it's about the history of queers on film. anyone who hasn't see it really should see it.

the reason i write this post, though, is because of the documentary i watched last night, after stonewall. apparently it's the second in a series; the first one, made in 1985, was called before stonewall. go figure. the point is, it was a really good overview of the progress gays have made since 1969--i'm netflixing the first one soon. it got me to thinking, though: i don't know many queer people who actually know very much queer history. i've talked to lots of queer people, actually, who have no idea what stonewall is, less idea what the mattachine society was, and seem surprised to find out that fags used to be beaten up by cops and thrown in jail just for being in gay bars.

now i'm not saying that i'm like buddha (wait, is that the all-knowing being i mean? probably not.) when it comes to queer history, but i do think that it's fucking important to know where we came from. i think that if queers had a little more pride in what our forefathers went through they'd take a little more pride in themselves. i think that maybe some of those vapid queens, the ones who live for their diesel jeans and retail jobs and going out on saturday nights, the ones who find activism laughable, the ones who insist on putting tina up their noses, could really benefit from finding out what people were going through just fifteen years ago.

when i was watching this documentary, i just couldn't help but think: did all these people sit through sweaty, secret basement meetings and get arrested and risk their lives and reputations so that my generation would have the right to kill themselves with drugs?

what they were fighting for is our right to express ourselves, get married, be treated equally, and it's a fight we're still in. i'd like to broadcast after stonewall on the washington monument (ours, not dc's) just to remind everyone that.

for terry

george: when are the science guns coming
george: ha ha i like how his arms have become a topic of conversation within this (twisted) circle
robert: hahahaha
robert: sunday
robert: ohmygod we have to start calling him the science guns

for lou

george: ha ha
george: so yeah crazy gays
george: what's with them
robert: craaaazy guys
robert: seriously what's with them
robert: i've had enough
george: hopefully you'll meet some cool dudes in nyc
robert: and yes they will be "dudes"
george: bros
robert: some cool dogs
george: right here,
george: i got your beer
george: right
george: here
george: bro-dog
robert: dogbrodogdogdogdogbrodog

aunt flo

anonymous girlfriend: i'm also supposed to go to teh GYN tomorrow
anonymous girlfriend: but i got an *ahem( visitor today
anonymous girlfriend: so now i'm gonan have to reschedule that!
robert: hahaha
robert: -ahem-
robert: who, anonymous girlfriend? your mom?
robert: a friend of your anonymous sister?
anonymous girlfriend: hahahaha
robert: oh you mean AUNT FLO
robert: YOUR PERIOD
anonymous girlfriend: hahahahha
anonymous girlfriend: yes
anonymous girlfriend: i mean
anonymous girlfriend: YES
robert: OKAY

crohnsattack!

after what seemed like a really long weekend--i didn't have church on sunday morning, so i was off all day saturday and sunday, which is completely unheard of--i made it back to work, trudging, nearly two hours late today. why, you ask? because i went to a crazy party last night? maybe i got a little stoned and went to baltimore's famous all-night underground rave/disco? no, dear friends, i was up late because my stupid crohn's decided to kick into high gear for the first time in like 5 months. was it the tostada? the subway i ate yesterday (and the day before. god what's wrong with me?)? who knows. it's not as if i ate a bowlful of whole wheat noodles or a whole bag of popcorn or a chargrilled chicken breast that i washed down with a pint of ice cream. (for those of you not in the know, to this day i believe that it was a bag of popcorn and a pint of ice cream that sent me to the hospital for the first time.) whatever, my boss is cool so she told me to come in late. well she actually told me that i didn't have to worry about coming in at all, but i have stuff to do. so here i sit.

in other boring, stomach-related news, i just spent thirty minutes trying to figure out where the hell to send this authorization for release of medical records. get this: the return address on the letter is "houck b-150." it took me 15 minutes to figure out that the houck building became the phipps building. LIKE THREE YEARS AGO. so here these people are sending out all this official correspondence, using a return address that doesn't exist. oh, and there's no phone number. nor can i find one anywhere on the hopkins website.

ok, end bitch session now.

war-un-tee

ok, it's five minutes of one am on saturday night (ok, so sunday morning). jorge came over tonight and we watched in america and i had a good cry. now i'm watching the ass-end of SNL, which of course sucks.

a car commercial came on and the announcer said "backed by a five-year war-un-tee." and i thought to myself, why do they always try to make the word warranty sound like guarantee? are they trying to fool us? like if it sounds like it's a guarantee we'll buy it?

then i have to wonder, when did i start staying home on saturday nights and overanalyzing car commercials?

buzzed

does anyone need a good lol (or ror if you're george)? well then, head over to wiltzius's blog and see what happens when you drive two blocks drunk in small-town wisconsin.

worst of

incredibly, frighteningly, even, my aim buddylist had a commercial on it that actually pointed to something that i wanted to read. pick yourself up off the floor and read this, the "worst of baltimore 2005" compilation. it includes fine quotes such as:

The Worst Reason to Leave Here:
Crime

"Don't bail because of the crime, pussy. What are you gonna do, move to the suburbs? They're bad, too. The fact is, if you know where you're going, crime isn't much of an issue, and it's well worth living here for the street cred. Think about it, this place is so tough even Tupac left."

enjoy.

who's viewed me

now, thanks to the majesty of the new "who's viewed me" feature on friendster, every fag and his hag on the eastern seaboard (and some in chicago and LA) will think that i'm stalking him. am i? maybe.

the arms race

so terry's put a new picture up on his friendster profile (go see for yourself) that makes his arms look like he should be holding up the world instead of doing cancer research (that is what you do, right t-dog?). i've gotten several opinions--hilary and george didn't so much give me an opinion as they just drooled, but kel insists that his arms only look so gargantuan because they're all squished up on the back of a chair. even squished, terry's apparently gotten himself some big ol' arms.

and since t-dog's gonna be here a week from sunday, big arms and all, it's made me feel really guilty for not going to the gym this week. i'm like, must...grow...big...arms...now. of course, if i haven't grown big arms in the last two years that i've been working out five (ok so maybe four) times a week, they're not going to just magically pop up before the eleventh of december. but a fag can dream, can't he?

hilary said, "oh, so this is a competition all of a sudden?" "of course it's a competition," i said. ok, so not really. the competition was lost when terry ran his first marathon, before i even knew him. terry works out because he wants to be healthy and loves doing things like running 26.2 miles, something i will never in a million years understand. i work out because i'm vain, and i decided a couple of years ago that as i get older my body has to get better and better. down goes the face, up goes the body. does that sound absolutely sick? yes it does. but you try being an urbanite fag and tell me you don't come to the same conclusion.

excuse me, i have to get to the gym.

in thirty minutes or less

i shouldn't be surprised at all that this bitch has gone and done this. she is, after all, her own brand. and it's a brand that annoys most people with its thousand-tooth smile, by giggling at its own jokes, and by cooking with ultra-kitsch brands that you'd never find on store shelves.

america, brace thyself: rachael ray has her own magazine.

chicago

okay so i never post lyrics. well, i shouldn't say never, but i barely ever post lyrics. i only post lyrics when i've been obsessively listening to a song. i've been listening to "chicago" by sufjan stevens all morning because it has an expansiveness, an excitement that really does remind me of how chicago feels. it talks about selling all your possessions and driving with a singularity of purpose and certainty in your destination. did he ever actually do it? will i? probably not. but it's good to dream.

I fell in love again
all things go, all things go
drove to Chicago
all things know, all things know
we sold our clothes to the state
I don't mind, I don't mind
I made a lot of mistakes
in my mind, in my mind

you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
all things know, all things know
you had to find it
all things go, all things go

I drove to New York
in the van, with my friend
we slept in parking lots
I don't mind, I don't mind
I was in love with the place
in my mind, in my mind
I made a lot of mistakes
in my mind, in my mind

you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
all things know, all things know
you had to find it
all things go, all things go

if I was crying
in the van, with my friend
it was for freedom
from myself and from the land
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes

you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
all things know, all things know
you had to find it
all things go, all things go

you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
(I made a lot of mistakes)
all things know, all things know
(I made a lot of mistakes)
you had to find it
(I made a lot of mistakes)
all things go, all things go
(I made a lot of mistakes)

gaylife

hilary and ashli ryon, you are both STAHHHHS!

break my himan

look, everyone, it's my boyfriend! ok, so i met him once. but i have pictures.

a brawltimore tradition

i don't know if i've told you this before, but i now sing at the world's super-sweetest church job. ok, so maybe amanda has a better deal because she sings at the church she grew up in and makes TWICE (yes, i nearly fell over, too, when i found out, so feel free to scream, pull your hair out, make monkey noises, or shit yourself.) as much as i do. TWICE. but ah well, she's in fairfield, connecticut and i'm in brawltimore, murderland, so i can't really compare. as far as baltimore church jobs go, i have pretty much the sweetest deal.

1. i make more money than i did at my old job and only have to go to two rehearsals and three sunday mornings a month.
2. i sing in hilary's choir, which means that i get to see my bestest friend AND have fun with her at rehearsal. as well as getting to sing with her.
3. it's an all-paid choir, which means that all the singers are required to know their stuff when they come in and we never spend time learning notes. whether or not some of the singers ever get their shit right is a point of contention, but oh well. it means that we get to sing pretty awesome, difficult rep, and for the first time since high school i'm singing in a choir that i'm actually really proud to be a part of. how dorky does that sound? DORK!
4. as i mentioned before (1), we only have two thursday rehearsals a month. that means, dear friends, that i'm able to, for the first time since moving to baltimore, take part in what some people i've talked to call their favorite baltimore festival: the monument lighting in mt vernon.

it's called "a monumental occasion" and i heard that john waters is going to be there as part of the festivities. i've lived in baltimore three years and consistently hung out where john waters supposedly hangs out, yet i've never seen the man. that'll be cool. oh, and our hott-ass mayor, mayor martin o'malley, the same hott-ass mayor that i once was naked with in the DAC locker room (no, i sadly didn't look down south and i've spent 2 years wishing i had). and my friends scott and ron from the paper are having friends meet at the tusk lounge for martinis beforehand. and hilary and ashli are coming down from roland park for the occasion.

as if putting up my own christmas tree hadn't gotten me in a christmas-y enough mood, now i've got friends and local yuppies hanging out in the park to light up the big fakechristmastreemonument in mt vernon square. and the martinis don't hurt. and since they don't ever take the lights down until june (i think they run out of money a little earlier in the season), i'll be able to feel the christmas spirit practically all year round. i hear it's quite a "monumental occasion." har har.