Unexpected Get-A-Way

Last week at this time I was in Philadelphia with my dear friend Shannon. Previously, I have been in that wonderful city just to see her but I was up there on another task, one that I shamefully did not complete and I feel most terrible about it.

Shortly after our triumph at the Miss'd America Pageant, I began to get offers for gigs with the Red Ribbon Bingo being the most prominent among them. I love doing the bingo and I had always said that once I retired from the grind of performing on a regular basis, I would only do benefits or the rare appearance for a friend to celebrate a birthday or whatnot. I am really not prepared to do anything much more that that.

I gave away a great deal of my costumes and accessories to the newer "girls" once I decided to retire, leaving bags and bags of clothes in the dressing room at the club for everyone to pick over and take with them. When I started out, I was given cast-offs from the reigning performers in Atlantic City and it was a tremendous help when I was so young and green. It's a tradition I was happy to continue with, knowing how hard it is to build a stage wardrobe when you begin. On top of that, my former psycho-mate in the penthouse threw away my entire shoe collection. When I moved out, I had left a few things to pick up at a later date. Unfortunately, being the unstable and unreasoning prick that he is, he simply threw away everything I had left in the flat. Added to this, my living conditions are such that most of the items I own are sitting in a storage locker on the White Horse Pike, packed in there so tightly you couldn't add a penny to it without it busting at the seams. This includes nearly all of the costumes I did not give away which are sealed in boxes and bags and jammed in there, somewhere. So it seems I am hobbled, where my drag career is concerned, by circumstance and history and semi-retirement.

A good friend and promoter, Dan, had asked me, shortly after the pageant, to do an event in Philadelphia and I quickly agreed since I was still on a high from the success of the show. I was ready to accept any offer at that time. I didn't even look to see what it was that I was agreeing to, I just said an emphatic "YES!" and didn't give it a thought for the next few months. Time passed and the day quickly drew near and I had totally forgotten about it. I began to get a few text messages and emails from people, not just Dan but a few friends who heard I was going to be there. I actually panicked a little since I really had no idea what the hell I was supposed to be doing and now, people were contacting me telling me they were excited that they were going to see me. I had (insanely) hoped that it would just go away but it didn't so I bucked-up and rang Dan to find out what I was supposed to do, exactly.

It was all pretty straightforward, so to speak. I was either going to serve with the waitresses or host with the hostesses at Darling's Diner (http://www.darlingsdiner.com/). I have server/host experience from working at Evo (http://www.evorestaurant.com/) so I figured it would be fairly easy and I told him (and everyone else) I'd be there.

I decided to go to Philadelphia the evening before and Shannon graciously agreed to allow me to stay at her flat. The event was very early in the morning and it would be easier to go across town than to have to come from Atlantic City. I really had nothing to wear. I only had a few costumes from the past two bingo shows and chose two things from them and packed them with the rest of my gear and made my way to to the city. It was rather cool on shore and when I got to Philadelphia, I was amazed at how hot it was up there. The walk from 30th Street Station to Shannon's flat had me drenched in sweat by the time I got there. The humidity was ungodly. I settled in and we had a cock...tail and another friend came by, Anthony, and we sat and chatted all night.

All night.

During the evening, a curious sensation came over me. I was literally getting more and more anxiety about the event. It's normal to get butterflies before a show but I was getting...well...terrified. I couldn't sleep and didn't want to and my friends were nice enough to sit up with me and let me chat their ears off.

I haven't performed in Philly for a long, long time and as we were sitting there chatting, inside I was having a total anxiety attack. It was a thoroughly unsettling feeling. And the time drew closer and closer for me to get ready to leave, I couldn't do it.

I just sat there.

I have never had this feeling before. I was like a deer in the headlights, I couldn't move or decide what to do.

And there I sat. I kept thinking, "I'll just get ready in a few." and that "few" never happened. I even text messaged Dan at one point to tell him I overslept and I was running late but I didn't move from my spot and we kept chatting. My friends were obviously wondering why I wasn't getting ready but I kept giving them the lamest excuses and eventually it got too late and I just went to bed while Shannon went to play a softball game.

I totally froze and blew off the gig. I have never done that before. I am totally embarrassed about it and have avoided all messages from Dan and the others that were anticipating my presence. I feel so lame, I actually came up with some outrageous excuses to tell everyone but the truth, such as it is, is that I had immobilizing stage fright and I couldn't go and be "performer Mortimer". It's truly a sickening feeling.

After resting, Shannon came home (her team won) and we enjoyed the rest of my stay, ordering a pizza that night and watched some movies, curled up in bed together. It was very nice. Never mentioning the fact that I did not do the very thing that was the entire reason that I was there.

Monday morning came and I woke to her eating breakfast and all showered and getting ready. I was a bit perturbed, I thought we'd go to breakfast somewhere and that's when she informed me that she was on her way to work. I totally forgot that it was Monday and that people actually work for a living. While she did her thing, I sat in her place, mindlessly watching telly and playing with her cats, well, the just one of them. Lucky is rather lazy and sleeps every chance he can get. Dust actually builds up on him, he's that lazy. She came home and we went out to eat, finding a cute little restaurant that had al fresco seating and we sat outside, enjoying the wonderful weather in the early evening and having cock...tails whilst waiting for our meal. We had a few questions about the menu and the waitress was very patient with us and we ordered and sat there, laughing and chatting. At one point, curiosity overcame us and we wanted to know where the hell we were. The menu was no clue, there was only a profile of a rabbitpig at the top. Yes, I said "rabbitpig". That's what it was; a half rabbit, half pig silhouette. We looked into the restaurant and there was no clue there. The awning over our heads had nothing written on it. We were perplexed! Confounded! Mystified! We finally broke down and asked the waitron who informed us that the name of the place was "Pub & Kitchen". Clever. Concise. Easy.

Well, the food was amazing, we loved everything we ordered and once we were done, we went back to her place and finally to bed, watching movies until we fell asleep.

The next afternoon, Shannon came home for lunch and made us tuna fish wraps, which were scrumptious. She left me her keys and I got ready and decided to wander to Rittenhouse Square and check things out.

Before I knew it, I not only wandered through Rittenhouse, I went to Independence Hall, the Constitution Centre, Ben Franklin's grave (I always pay my respects when I can), wandered by Prive and the former Revival, ended up on South Street where I walked to Ninth Street and sauntered through my old neighborhood, looking at my former stoop and the apartments of my friends. I strolled through the gayborhood and then finally made it back to Shannon's flat, more than a little exhausted. I didn't plan on taking such a lengthy walk but I was glad I did, the day was perfect, not too hot and a nice breeze was blowing.

She came home and I figured I should go home. I was out of money and I needed to get back and do some stuff at my own house.

I got home and settled in only to have life intrude once again the very next day!

Post-Bingo Blahs

I am suffering from a serious case of drag-lag, that extreme case of the blahs one can get after a show. You don't want to do anything, go anywhere nor see anyone. Although the show was on Sunday afternoon, it's now Tuesday and I am still out-of-sorts. I ate all the wrong things on Monday, all day Monday, and I'm back on my diet this morning (although I think I inadvertently kicked off an eating frenzy because I am hungry as all hell!).
I also think I am a little down because I wasn't happy with my performance at the Red Ribbon Bingo this month. I am hyper-critical of myself and I know I wasn't up to par. Yes, the feedback has been great, as usual, but I didn't feel the spark I usually get when I'm done a performance. Oh well, you knock one out of the park or you strike out. I think last Sunday was definitely a strike-out where I was concerned.
It was great to have my "family" come and see me, though! Helene, Margo, James, Alvin, Rico, Kyra and yes, even Claudia and Doris were all in attendance and sat right up front. I wish I had done a number for them, it would have been nice to perform but Sandy picks and chooses who does what and I guess I do have the most time on stage (aside from Sandy), being the ball-caller and all. I am seriously contemplating getting more of my drag gear out of storage so I can really do this right. And I need to have more money coming in so I can get new outfits made. Miss Patti and I are dredging up some seriously bad material to make dresses out of and they are not up to my usual standards.

Unemployment put a serious dent in my budget this week, paying me only one of the two weeks I usually get. I have yet to determine why this happened. I logged online as usual on Thursday and got a message that I had to call in my information. When I did, at the beginning of the call the computer stated it was for the two weeks but when I finished entering the information and answering the standard questions, it said a check for one week would be sent to me on Saturday. Of course, I was dealing with a computer so I had no immediate recourse to argue/ask questions/freak out. This has happened in the past but I usually receive a two-week check anyway but, alas, not this time. So, that means I am now SERIOUSLY poor until I get my pay from the bingo gig. Believe me, I am still drawing off of my former salary at the club which was based on my three dollar and fifty cents an hour wage so I get very little to live on each week. Now that I received one of the usual two weeks, I am, in a word, fucked. I'll be ringing them up this afternoon to (hopefully) resolve the situation.

I can't wait to get to the gym today. Even though it's gloomy outside, I am determined to get there and work out. Margo gave me a compliment on Sunday, saying that I have lost a lot of weight since we "reunited" several months ago and that I look good. After thinking about it, though, it may be a back-handed compliment. Does that mean I was fat before? Hmm...I may have to beat her later!
I am happy being back in the gym. I know I keep going on about it but it is my little haven.

Ooo...I think the sun is coming out!!

My clothes are definitely starting to fit better, my jeans aren't as tight and my shirts are snug across the chest again instead of the waist. Yeah, I guess I did put on a bit of weight. Self-denial and rationalization are my mantras. Bad habits I need to break, or at least work on a little more.

I have had some bizarre dreams again, a lot of them about Delio. Why he is on my mind so much is beyond me, we haven't seen each other for nearly a year. And he blocked me from Facebook months ago, for some reason or other, so it's not like I have seen him online, either. I guess there are still some unresolved issues going on there. I do miss him, though, even with everything that happened between us.

My mother is selling her home and getting ready to retire which is giving me pause. Over Thanksgiving, she gave me some beautiful Chinese bowls from a family member who passed away and on my walk to the train through the city, it began to hit me that, eventually, I'll have to deal with...those things you don't want to think about, let alone put into print. And that little incident, coupled with her looming retirement, is making it harder and harder to ignore this inevitable fact of life.

I'll deal with this whole topic MUCH later.

Time for more coffee, a weather check and I'll be right back...

Okay, the sun is hiding once again but the rains seem to have gone and I have a nice fresh cup o'Joe in front of me.

"The View" is on in the background but the bitches are boring today. I miss the Rosie days. She caused more havoc during the "Hot Topics" section then the topics they were discussing. Now, under Whoopie's direction, it's back to boring, predictible, middle-of-the-road topics of discussion.

I guess I should get showered and ready for the gym.

Home. Gym. Home.

Being in a foul mood and on Facebook is not a good combination for someone like me. I have a tendency to speak my mind, generally, but I usually temper my bluntness with humour. It's the little bit o'sugar to help the medicine go down, as the song says. Miss Patti has told me over the years that I can be blunt to the point of mean. This being said, I realized this morning, as I was reading my friends Facebook status updates, that everything was rubbing me the wrong way. It wasn't anyone's fault but my own. Perception is everything and I was perceiving things through murky waters and I decided to log off, get my ass in gear and go to the gym. Right before I shut down the computer (and after writing a quick journal entry), I was going to re-load my mp.3 player with new music, I am so bloody bored with the hundred or so songs I have on there since I've been listening to them for the last month and a half during my four mile round trip journey to and from the gym. I realized, though, that my dino-puter hates me and it would be another hour or so for me to get it to recognize my little player and upload my music to it. Believe me, if I went to do it now it would load up right away. Because I was in a hurry earlier, it would take it's sweet ol' time and make me suffer. It was easier to shut the damn computer off take my walk without musical accompaniment. Although I wasn't relishing having to be with my evil thoughts. Time became a factor, though. I noticed during the news updates that rains were on the way and I didn't want to be caught in them during my walk so, after getting dressed in my gym clothes, I immediately left.

Off I went out the door. I felt the ocean-cooled air as soon as I left the porch and could see the clouds coming in from the south-west, the general direction I was headed. I wandered down Atlantic Avenue for a bit, passing the shops and stores that surround Little Rock Avenue and said "hullo" to the guys that I know at the salon in the neighborhood with a little wave and a smile. I cut down one of the streets to Ventnor Avenue since there are more businesses and people there. I wasn't in the best of moods but I wasn't that anti-social. I love to people-watch and Ventnor Avenue would have more people. I didn't take long for my attention and my thoughts to wander and I was looking at the trees and blossoms all along the way, taking in the intoxicating scents the flowers were producing. Springtime is a wonderful time of year on my island of love, heralding the coming summer and the show that nature puts on is a beautiful sight to see, smell and feel. I found myself reaching up and touching the petals of the flowering trees and standing there as they cascaded down around me when a gust of wind knocked them loose. For although I was in a dark mood, I still managed to enjoy the world around me.

At one point, though, a kid on a bicycle came barreling around the corner of one of the stores and nearly crashed into me. I muttered a few foul things and continued on my way down the avenue.

I got to Body Architects and it was blessedly free of people, a luxury I rarely had at Island Gym when I went there. So far, going in the early afternoon seems to be the golden time, few to no people which gives me the entire place to myself. I greeted the owner and said hi to the person he was training and began my workout. I have raised my weights again, getting closer and closer to the levels I was at nearly a year ago and that felt good but my mind-set was still dreary, as the oncoming weather, and it took me a while to get myself motivated. By the time I finished my chest exercises, I was feeling better. Kat, Helene's trainer, came in and we talked a bit and I had to speed up my workout a bit. She said that it had started to spritz when she came in. That meant the rains were coming a little earlier than anticipated.
Looking at myself in the mirrors there gave me a little ego boost. I can really see the results of the past month and a half of working out and dieting. I'm beginning to lose the fat weight and gain muscle mass again. I am getting that V-shape once more and I like how my arms are looking. My chest is always slower to build but it'll come along soon enough.
I finished up with my abdominal routine and grabbed my stuff, said my good-byes to the staff and off I went back home. It was ever-so-slightly spritzing and I figured I wouldn't get caught in the rain if I walked at my usual pace. My thoughts ran to-and-fro, thinking of everything and nothing of consequence. I seriously lack focus (except for the gym) and my mental state couldn't follow any serious train of thought if I tried. I think that's why I feel the need to write in my journal again. It really helps me maintain a more coherent thought pattern.

Although I'm not sure if this entry is a testament to that.

I had gotten a voicemail from Alvin whilst I was working out, inviting me to dinner once again. I lied yesterday to get out of a dinner engagement with him so he wanted to reschedule for today. I simply turned off the phone this time. It's not that I don't want to go with Alvin to dinner, I just don't want to go off my diet. Going to dinner at a casino buffet is way too much temptation. And if I just eat salad, it would be an insult. I figure that being unreachable is the best way out of this.
I got home, dreading an encounter with one of Helene's projects but, luck be mine, no one was here. I put my gym gear away and made lunch and a protein shake. Right now, I only eat Greek yogurt for breakfast, a shake and something healthy for lunch and then a salad for dinner. It's helped me shed the pounds but I am damned hungry!
As for the "Helene's project" quote above (of which I am one), she has a habit of taking in strays and Claudia, the latest one, can usually be found sprawled on the couch, eating all the food, endlessly chain smoking and talking non-stop. She's harmless (as far as I know) but annoying as all hell. She lives in her car and Helene told her she can use the shower if she needs it. She took that as an open invitation to move in during the day. Today, though, she's a no-show and it makes me a very happy Mortimer. I figure she got her unemployment compensation and is now pissing it away at the casino.

I guess I'll venture back into Facebook and see what's going on there. Then maybe I'll finish one of the many journal drafts I have waiting for me (since I seem to be on a roll, writing wise).

Here We Go Again

I have a few drafts of journal entries waiting for me to get back to them covering a wide array of subjects that I know would be entertaining and informative to Cafe readers but I haven't had the will or drive to actually finish them. Yes, I'm being disingenuous by stating this and not putting my nose to the grindstone and finishing them but it's my journal and I can do as I please.

I have thrown myself back into the gym with pleasure and hope. The pleasure of working out again on a regular basis has been cathartic, I have missed going to the gym and just focusing on the task at hand and seeing the results. Yes, it's slow going and I have been away for so long (a year, at least) but the progress is measurable and it gratifies a little part of my ego that needs some serious stroking at the moment.
My life, both personally and professionally, is in shambles. I am living with my ex-mother-in-law, I am unemployed and my love life has dried up to a wasted husk of it's former self. Trying to save money on the pittance of my unemployment wage is laughable at best so my prospects of finding a home for myself is a future situation. Far into the future if things don't change. Don't get me wrong, Helene is a wonderful person and I really love her. She has always treated me like family and I genuinely feel like I am a part of her family, as dysfunctional as it may seem to outsiders. It works for us! My ex, Joe, and I are on great terms. I really like his boyfriend, Angel, and I have hung out with them not only in clubs but at his sister's home for the holidays. There are no awkward moments and it's nice to be among everyone, especially getting to see my former nieces and nephew now all grown up. I don't mind my living situation but it does lack a certain privacy that I miss. There's always people around and it can be a bit...distracting. And since I don't really have a room to myself, it's even harder to just go off on my own and do my hermit impression.
As for work, I am annoyed that I lost my job and I am still wondering exactly why I was fired. Yes, I know I can be a bit abrasive and unfeeling (I hear Miss Patti right now in my head calling me a Vulcan) but I don't think that's any reason to fire me! I was very good at my job and I (actually!) liked doing it. I know it's hard to believe but I really enjoyed my oh-so-brief foray into the floral industry. Who wouldathunk I had the floral design gay gene! I owe Becky many thanks for giving me a start and being infinitely patient and supremely generous with me. She allowed me to follow my own path and learn things on my own, guiding me here and there with her wisdom and knowledge. I really miss that time (although not the hellacious conditions of the shop when it was located on Ventnor Ave. in Atlantic City). I was saddened by Lee's decision to shut the shop permanently but heartened that Darlene decided to buy the business and move it to a better location. I was so looking forward to the first summer in our new spot, right on the border of Ventnor City and Margate City, a great location for a flower shop and I couldn't wait to learn more about the business. It's a shame that Darlene and I mixed like napalm and the Vietcong. I guess it was inevitable but I still lament that things ended they way they did. Especially with her screaming "Get the fuck out of here!" over and over again.

Not exactly the best ending possible.

I am lucky they extended my unemployment, though, and I have a few prospects for a job in the future. I may get a bartending gig at Bally's Beach Bar. Keep your fingers crossed. There's also the Red Ribbon Bingo gig, which pays as well and a few other drag engagements I have coming up next month. These little bits of income are a welcome relief! Helene has a way of making me spend money I don't have. If she keeps this up, I'll be paying off my debt well into the next century!

As for my love life, the less said, the better. Maybe once I get my physical area back into shape, the mental part will follow and I'll be in a position to jump back into the dating pool. I am seeing someone on occasion in Philadelphia (which is why I have been spending a little more time that usual up there) but I think he has a view of me that is a bit removed from the actual reality. He thinks I'm way younger than I am and doesn't know about the whole "drag" part of my life. And before anyone chimes in, I want to declare that I didn't realize all of this until it was much too late and now I feel a little trapped that he has developed the wrong impressions of me. It's hard to dispel someone of their illusions, especially when they benefit me so well. I'm now in the process of deciding if I should cool things off with him and let it go or disavow him of said illusions and see where that takes us.

Time will tell.

It's getting to be time for me to take my two mile hike down to the gym in Margate City so I'll end this entry here. And actually post it (what a novel concept). I've had the bug to write again so it may not be so long before you see another entry...

The First Steps

I got up later than I usually do on Monday, mostly because I went to sleep a little later than normal on Sunday night. The season finale of True Blood wrapped up in exciting fashion and left us with a cliffhanger for next season (natch), whenever that might be. The pay cable stations don't adhere to the usual television seasons and it may be six months or a year until the next episode.
I can wait.
I decided that today was the day to get back on track. I'm starting with small steps but they are steps nonetheless. I just hope they lead in the right direction. I worked out again, not my full workout but most of it. I have been neglecting my routine and it's showing. There are a few pics of myself that I have seen recently that I have seriously cropped because I'm too vain to show how out of shape I've gotten. That also goes for my food intake. As much as I love dear Helene, she has been fattening me up like I'm Hansel in the candy covered cottage. And truth be told, I love to eat! When I was going to the gym on a regular basis, it was so hard to gain any significant weight. Yes, my muscle mass was getting bigger but I had the hardest time getting the weight on. Eating is not the problem, it's my metabolism and energetic lifestyle that burns the calories so fast and adding a gym routine five times a week didn't help (and walking the two miles to and from the gym). Now that I am out of work, I've become very sedentary but I haven't stopped eating. Actually, I've increased my food intake and it's not been all the good stuff. Ice cream, Devil Dogs, chocolate chip cookies, deep fried items, pizza three times a week, chips, M&M's, you get the idea, junk on top of junk. And I started drinking soda again and not the diet version. It's disgusting and I'm getting a little belly. Time to change that situation. So, I had my morning oatmeal, one bag of peanuts (high in protein), a salad and then tuna fish with fresh lemon juice, no mayonnaise. Plus, I worked out and then took a nearly seven mile walk (3.24 miles each way) through my island of love.

And what a walk it was. I don't dawdle on my walks, I plow through the city like a man on a mission. It was great to not have so many shoobies to dodge and I extended my route all the way down to the Tramp Touch My Hole...err...Trump Taj Mahal. I also added my usual routine of entering Caesars and running up the three flights of steps and then back down through another exit out of Ballys. By the time I got to Taj, I decided that I had had enough sun and trekked through the city itself. When I passed the Albany Avenue bridge, I decided to wander along the back bay, an area of the city I'm not familiar with. It's quite nice back there, full of little, well-kept homes and it's very quiet. Strangely so. There's no traffic to speak of and hardly any pedestrians. Aside from me.

Of Homecoming Queens, Backpacks And Boogie Nights

We walked into the Foundation Room (which is next to the Diamond Club, where Joe used to take me before he dumped my ass...again). This area of the Showboat is considered the House of Blues and reflects the image of that chain of party places. The entryway was empty and we wandered right into the main room where I immediately ran into Michelle and Mike Ray, who I worked with at the Studio Six. Michelle went to school with Lance and her hubby Mike was DJing the event. We hugged and quickly caught up and then Lance and I made our way to the bar to start tanking up on the free booze! As we waited, I scanned the room looking to see if I knew anybody else and Lance was trying to recognize his former classmates. Of course, I was filing away catty remarks to say about the people there but withholding them until later, I didn't know which ones were Lance's friends and didn't want to make a faux pas.

We got our drinks and then the evening began. Lance started reuniting with friends and others and I was the dutiful arm candy. Michelle came over and took some pictures of us and we kept drinking to fortify ourselves for the night of revelry. I was introduced to everyone and quickly forgot them, by now I was in a fog of too much of...well...too much. I took in my surroundings, looking at the decor (very nice and eclectic) and the spread. They had a nice buffet but I wasn't all that hungry. Besides, it's hard to look good chomping on food when my job was to "S & M" (stand and model). Sitting on the couches in front of the bar were the "jocks", a group of guys who still kept their looks and shape, looking tanned and wearing the standard white button-down shirts to show off said tan. The women were circulating like sharks through the crowd, homing in on old friends and every once in a while you'd hear screams of "Oh my God!" and other surprised greetings as people recognized each other around us. There was one pretentious gentleman with a yellow bow tie (which he made sure to untie later just to point out it was an actual bow tie and not a clip on). He took my attention for a while, and I his. Even with the wedding ring on his finger, I could tell there was something a little light in his loafers. Things were going well, I was enjoying myself and so was Lance and then I met...her. Yes, the bane of my existence for the rest of the night. The one who, on first sight, I knew would be trouble. Yes, hot cats and cool chicks, I met...

THE HOMECOMING QUEEN!

This nicely turned out chick comes over, squealing in recognition of Lance (he squealed in return) and they hugged, kissed and did the usual "you look GREAT" party patter and then I was introduced. She was the former homecoming queen and I thought she looked nice, she's obviously kept her figure and had on a nice dress and good hair (compliments to the stylist) but I could tell she had been hitting the wine for a while before we got there. As a bartender, you learn to quickly size up the crowd and I knew I should stay away from this one but I was having a good time and thought, since she doesn't know me, I had nothing to worry about. I should have trusted my instincts.

After a quick bathroom break and then back to the bar, Lance was whisked away to yet another group of friends and I stood there, watching the people and doing my usual game of making up lives for those around me. I was deep in thought when, suddenly, I felt cold liquid all over my left side, the side that was leaning on the bar. I was shocked and looked over, thinking maybe the bartender accidentally spilled something. There was no one behind the bar where I was standing. I then feel an arm on my shoulders and look to my right and there she is...

THE HOMECOMING QUEEN!

Only this time, she's completely drunk and has an empty wine glass in her left hand. The empty glass in the hand attached to the arm that was around my shoulder. The empty glass that drained all over my neck, jacket, shirt, arm...everywhere. She had come up behind me during my pensive moment and tried to be chummy but instead, she showered me with a glass of white wine. Luckily, it was white wine so the stain factor was not an issue but...and this was the worst part...the wine was bad.

Class is now in session: Open bars present a unique opportunity for bar owners. Although it depends on the bar, as a rule most bars don't sell that much wine. And once you open a bottle to give that rare wine-drinking customer a glass or two, you usually don't serve another glass for quite a while. This is a problem because, unlike other liquors, wine spoils over time. It spoils to the point where it can actually undergo a chemical transition and turn into a very nice vinegar. It happens.
This is where opportunity knocks. When there's an open bar, all the open bottles of wine are used in order to get rid of the old stock. Drunken high school reunion people are not usually connoisseurs of wine and wouldn't really know the difference.

But I do.

And not because I am a some sort of a Paul Masson or Inglenook or Sutter Home, I am a bartender and salad eater. I know vinegar when I smell it and I had white wine vinegar all over my left side. It stunk to high heaven! Lance had come over by now and then the brouhaha ensued, the apologies (on her part), the gracious acceptance (on my part) and then the heartfelt apologies (on her part) and the continued magnanimous acceptance (on my part) and then the annoying and continuing drunken apologies (on her part) and the continuing gracious and magnanimous acceptance (on my part). It just got to be too much. I finally told her that, as a bartender, I have been thrown-up on (Club Tru story!) so a little spilled wine is no problem. Her friends finally herded her away and I ran to the bathroom to pat down and try to salvage my dignity and sense of smell.

Once that was over, Lance and I made our way through the crowd, saying hi here and there and watching the people make damned fools of themselves, laughing when yet ANOTHER chick fell on the dance floor. It seems these housewives can't hold their liquor, wear heels and dance at the same time or maybe there was a pothole on the dance floor that tripped them up but all during the event you'd see another girl fall on her ass. At one point, Lance took over the dance floor, dancing in the middle of a group of girls as the screamed in delight! I stood by, dutifully beaming at my date like Nancy Reagan zombie-staring at her beloved Ronnie.

During a break, Lance and I were sitting on a banquette chatting with his friends and making fun of the people around us. By now, I was feeling no pain and let loose with the tongue. We were laughing and having a great time when we noticed this chick walking around without shoes.

People, this is DISGUSTING. You DO NOT walk around a nightclub without shoes on, EVER! It's dirty. It's gauche. It's dangerous. It's Just. Not. Done.

And here she was, doing it. Right in front of us.

So we went off. Lance called her over and chatted her up and we tore into her, being way cruel and not caring. But then she hit us with the line of the night. When Lance asked where her shoes were, she replied, "With my backpack!"

What?!?

Why the hell did you bring a BACKPACK to a nightclub?! We busted out laughing, dismissed her and went on the dance floor where we danced the last of the event away, it was over shortly afterward.
We still wanted to party so we decided to go to Boogie Nights at Resorts. It's a weekend party in one of their ballrooms that has a seventies theme and plays music from the sixties, seventies and eighties. I had heard it was a blast and I have friends that work there. I contacted them and got us on the list and we wandered over to Resorts from the Showboat, stopping quickly at Le Grand Fromage to see Lucy, who I haven't seen in a while.

Once in Boogie Nights, we got our drinks from my friend Ike, who was wearing this big Afro wig (silly), and my friend Yomira (Ike's girlfriend) seated us in the VIP section in one of the booths. I looked around at the cheap decor and the interesting mix of people and marveled at the concept, envying the fact that such a simple idea was so successful! Lance remarked about the mixed crowd, both young and old dancing together and having a ball. The vibe of the place is amazing, everyone is there to have fun and it was palpable in the room. We sipped our drinks and then decided that the music was too good and went up to the dance floor and danced the rest of the night away!

One quick mention: Not one person cared that two guys were dancing together. I love my city!!!

Inevitably, the night had to end and ours was no different. Lance had to open the Continental in the morning so we hailed a taxi and made out in the back on the ride to his home. I finally got home and literally passed out on the couch until Helene woke me up and put me in the bedroom to sleep off the very long, very fun, day.

The Past Is Now!

I was a little bored on the Thursday before the reunion party so I decided to stop by Tara's place to hang out, just to say hullo and then go home. Helene had scheduled the carpet cleaners for the morning so I had to be home to help move the furniture and stuff. While I'm at Tara's, laughing and gossiping about everyone, her phone rings and it's some friends on the way over. Well, the next thing I know, it's daylight of the next day and here I am, still laughing and gossiping with Tara! People stopped by now and again during the night, our friends are nocturnal, and I was sipping on tequila and time just flew by. But by now, I was in NO condition to move furniture and I was dog tired from not sleeping. There would be no way to sleep at home with the carpet cleaners there so I crashed at Tara's until later. When I got ready to leave, I had to borrow a tie from Tara since I had planned to get one out of storage to wear.

That didn't happen!

I quickly got up and dashed home to get ready, feeling woozy and still a little (okay...a whole lot) drunk. My mobile had died so I turned it off and plugged it in so it would charge fast while I took a shower and tried to look human. Luckily the outfit looked good so that helped (photos of my ensemble can be seen on my Facebook). When I turned my mobile on, it was ringing off the hook! Lance had gone into a mild panic, wondering where I was. I assured him that I was on my way and got to his house, where I hadn't been to in forever. After a quick hullo to his parents (and his mom's insistence on taking our picture, like we were going to prom or something) she gave us a ride to the Showboat. Lance kept apologizing for her...umm...we'll say "erratic"...driving technique but I loved it!

We got there in one piece and I guided him to the room where the event was being held. I travel through the casinos on my regular walks so I know them pretty well. I'll finish this tomorrow.

Prom Night (Plus Twenty)

I think I have more than proved that I am a VERY social person. Not only am I an attention whore, my years on stage and in the workplace testify to that, but I thoroughly enjoy social settings like parties, gatherings, reunions, barbecues, weddings, you name them, I'll be there. I love meeting/observing people. One source of disappointment I've had to endure was the loss of the social atmosphere that used to reign at the Studio Six. Back in the day (I find that I say that phrase way too often now-a-days), you went out to the club to meet people. Yes, there were the sexual hook-ups and the meat-market aspect that all clubs have but one of the things that people have often remarked upon, especially those people that went there years ago, is that they met the best people at the Studio. It was like a common living room, an ongoing cocktail party that friends and neighbors went to on nearly a daily basis. And everyone was invited to join in on the fun. The primary object was to meet people and have a good time. And along the way, we met some of the best friends of our lives, friendships that last to this day. It was unlike most other clubs that were primarily places for people to meet for a one night stand. Cheap and abundant and anonymous sex.
And then the culture changed. So many alphabet drugs came around and before you know it, the music got too loud and intense, the people were too fucked up to engage in anything but getting more fucked up and the rapid degeneration of that wonderful era ensued and the primary function seemed to be about isolating oneself through excess.
It's hard to be social when you no longer speak the language. In this case, Crackinese.

Lance had asked me to attend his high school reunion a while ago and I had forgotten about it. I also was working at Le Grand Fromage at the time and on the day of the reunion (a Friday) so the possibility that I could go was slim to none. Then, as it often does in life, things changed and I was free on the day of the event and I agreed to go with him. He was surprised and kept asking if I was sure I wanted to go. I told him I was looking forward to it and I couldn't wait for the day of the party.

Now, some people would not want to go to someone else's high school reunion. I mean, it's a bit awkward being the perpetual outsider at the event. You have no touchstone with these people except for the music of the time period. Other than that, they have their stories and inside jokes that you can never be a part of. And, as an added wrinkle, it was Holy Spirit High School, I went to rival Atlantic City High.

But I'm not those people. I really couldn't wait to go! The week before, I went to the M.C.B.A. mixer at the Chelsea Hotel, it's our local businessperson organization and political meet-and-greet. I know most of those people but, honestly, I have no real business being there. I'm not much more than a professional party guest. Wait. I guess that gives me (tenuous) credentials. I had a ball hobnobbing with the Atlantic City elite and keeping my skills finely honed. It's a bit like Dorothy Parker and the vicious circle when you attend these little shindigs and you have to be on your best game. Politicians aren't the nicest bunch of humans although with all the fake smiles, you'd think they were actually enjoying themselves.

I found a dark blue, two-button Ben Sherman fitted jacket at a second-hand shop the weekend before and I decided that was what I'd wear to the reunion. It fit me to a T and with a crisp white shirt and nice tie, I thought it would be sharp. The day approached and the Thursday before, a slight wrinkle was thrown into my plans.

That wrinkle's name is Tara!

Next: Hurricane Tara and the Homecoming Queen

Wedding Bells

We had a wedding to do recently that was booked rather quickly, giving us very little time before the actual day. We found out why during the weeks that passed as we prepared for the event.

We met with the groom at The Chelsea Hotel (see: Cafe Companion). At first, I thought he was the wedding planner, since he had a clipboard with reams of paperwork and was being followed around by the hotel staff (and my gaydar went off a little bit). Lo and behold, he's the groom and he was planning the wedding, an oddity in this business. We usually have to deal with brides who want flowers way out of season or ones that don't actually exist in nature. But that wasn't the case and here he was and off we went with him on a tour of the property and he began describing what he wanted us to accomplish. It seemed to be pretty straightforward, decorate the stairwell with tulle and bows, set up simple arrangements in the ballroom where the ceremony would take place and then the usual standing bouquets in the cocktail area. Nothing too extraordinary.

Then we got to the deck where the pool is. Here he began to explain what he wanted and things got a bit out of control. Floating arrangements, reorganizing the cabanas for the dinner, covering lighting, adding lighting, hanging a hundred paper lanterns, balloon bouquets with lights inside, bringing the items from the ballroom and distributing them around the pool, adding more flowers. It began to dawn on me that this was going to be a HUGE job. We discussed some of the details and talked with the Chelsea staff and we went back to the shop to confer amongst ourselves.

So far so good. We waited to hear from the groom and we'd write up the proposal and everything would be copacetic!

NOT. GONNA. HAPPEN.

From that moment until the wedding day, we suffered through countless emails, changes, radical rethinks, colour schemes, different flowers, you name it, we heard it. Then there was the problem of glass. It seems it's a law (city, state, hotel, whoever) that you can't have glass around the pool. Our groom was insistent that we have glass containers for the arrangements. It was a battle between him, the hotel and us because we had to buy the items and it would have been cost prohibitive to keep them in our inventory and not use them. Then there were the arrangements themselves. The floral staff wasn't thrilled about the design. It's a common problem, the brides want something that's not exactly...how do I explain it...it's not what you would do as a floral designer. Mixing the wrong shapes like square bottoms with a round ball of flowers on top. You do things that repeat a theme in floral design, not mix and match.

It's just not done.

But, since they were paying, we did what they wanted. Then there was the issue of the chuppah. A chuppah is a traditional arch used in Jewish ceremonies. We have one that's quite big but comes apart rather easily. The bride and groom weren't Jewish but they saw a picture in a Martha Stewart magazine that had an arch with flowing fabrics and candles floating in glass tubes lining the aisle. That's what they wanted.

People, florists HATE Martha Stewart. HATE HER! She is the anathema of floral designers everywhere. She needs to be stopped.

So, here we were with this picture from Martha's rag and we had to come up with some sort of way of copying it.

The weekend of the wedding came (we also had two other smaller weddings that week, of course) and we went into battle mode.

First wrinkle: The weather.

Everyday that week the weather was nice but the day of their wedding, the forecast called for late afternoon showers. Not to mention the fact that it was raining cats and dogs all morning long (when I say morning, I mean between seven to nine, we do things very early in the shop). We were told they would make the decision at noon, the one deciding if we were setting up the pool deck or totally re-doing the ballroom for the reception dinner. We got the vans/trucks/cars packed and began bringing everything over to the hotel. We get the chuppah into the ballroom and notice a stage. There was to be no stage because our chuppah is so big that it wouldn't fit. Luckily, Jack had preplanned for this occasion and had a way to shorten the arch to fit. But, that required power tools. We hurriedly got the room ready, setting up the glass jars, adding water to them (a long and tedious process, each one required nearly four gallons of water) and getting the stairwell draped and the hundreds of other things we needed to do. We set up the cocktail area and began preparing the pool deck since we didn't get the word yet if they were canceling the outdoor area because of the weather.
I had run back to the shop for round two (three...four...I don't remember) of hauling centerpieces and bouquets and everything else. While I was there, the word came down from on high: The deck reception was canceled. This meant that the dinner would be held in the ballroom.

Where the wedding was taking place.

This also meant that we now had NO time to spare. Before, we would have been setting up the pool all during the day with plenty of time to get it finished before the reception. Now, we would have an hour to totally transform one room from the sparse yet beautiful wedding chamber with a chuppah (that we jury-rigged) into a paper lantern dripping dining room with a totally different look and scheme.

Battle mode turned into total panic!

But we adapted and got to business, barely getting on each other's frayed nerves and focusing on the task at hand. We had to be out of the way right before the ceremony started so we finished up and took a much needed break. A break that included martinis! We ate at Teplitzky's (Jack and I think the name sounds like a concentration camp in Poland) and watched up through the windows at the wedding party. They looked GORGEOUS! Usually you see some pretty fugly bridesmaids but everyone was stunning! We watched them enter the ballroom and finished up our dinner and cock...tails, knowing that we had to get our asses up there to scramble that room into shape.

The wedding party exited and went to the cocktail reception and we got to work. Insanity reigned during that hour, with the hotel staff and us madly whipping that room into shape. We even had valet boys hanging the paper lanterns over the dancefloor, which was being installed right underneath our ladders. It was controlled chaos and by the time we finished, the room looked AMAZING! You'd never know that they even got married in the same space. It was totally different. We got out of there just in time, taking some pictures before leaving. Downstairs, we waited for the van to come collect us and off we went back to the shop and then home.

Luckily, the venue change meant that we got everything out of there earlier and didn't have to go back at midnight to pack up. It could wait until morning.

The next morning I got to the shop early and Jack and I went to the hotel to gather our stuff. It was pretty painless and the hotel staff made it easier by putting everything together.

We did get the greatest compliments from the bride and groom, they were eminently pleased with everything. That was nice.

Considering he's the son of a senator, it's VERY NICE!

Next up: High School Reunion

Major League Mortimer!

My long-time friend and I have recently been communicating on a fairly regular basis. Which is a good thing. It often happens that when someone becomes romantically involved with someone else, you tend to focus on the object of your desire and the rest of us fall to the wayside. It happens. That's not said as an insinuation of any wrong-doing, it's merely said as a statement of fact.

It happens.

But through mediums such as MySpace or Facebook, you can reunite with long lost friends and loved ones and my friend Stephen and I did just that!

We have been talking about this and that over the past few months and catching up here and there, looking at pictures and reliving the past (it seems the past is all I have anymore). And over that time, he began formulating a plan, unbeknownst to me. One day he asked if I was busy on a certain date, I happened to be free (cue Mr. Humphries: "I'm FREE!") and he never mentioned a thing for quite a while after that. Then, as the date got closer, he began to mention it again, making sure I was off and hinting that he wanted to get together for...something.

The date got closer and closer and he began dropping hints although I didn't know it. They were careful hints asking his Facebook friends who their favourite Phillies player was (so he could find out who mine was) and stuff along those lines. Finally, the day before, I was at the Art of Flowers (where you should get all your floral needs) and I happened to notice that the next day's Phillies game was in the afternoon. Hmm...the puzzle pieces began to fit and I suspected that this is what the surprise was.

I got up early, as usual, and the day was very overcast. I got dressed and ready, forgoing the sunblock three thousand since there was a threat of rain for the entire day. Stephen pulled up and lo and behold, he was wearing red. That confirmed my suspicions! I knew then and there that we were going to the game! I was SO DAMNED EXCITED!

Off we went up the Atlantic City Expressway, me chatting excitedly the entire way. I was a bit concerned about the weather but the forecast said that the area along the Delaware River (where the stadium is) would be rain free but overcast. Most of the rain would hug the coastline of New Jersey, where we just left. Before I knew it, we were going over the Walt Whitman Bridge and were traveling through South Philadelphia and the next thing I knew, we were pulling into the parking lot directly in front of the stadium! I love star parking! We got out and got changed. Stephen had thought ahead and bought me a Jayson Werth Phillies shirt and I put that on over my shirt and off we went into Citizens Bank Park.

Amazement! That's what I felt! Wow, I was amazed at the spectacle. First, we stopped by the front entrance and met up with Stephen's family. I had to make a pit-stop, as usual, and mark my territory. I was impressed with the bathroom facilities. Very big, fairly clean and easy to find. They were everywhere. We walked over to the edge of the outfield and I saw the entire field. I voiced my wonder out loud and one of the workers overheard me and divined that this was my first game. She informed me to go to the Customer Service desk to get a special certificate that says it's my first Major League Game. Off we went!

Stephen first took me for a tour of the stadium. And what a tour it was. The smells of the food were driving me mad with hunger, the vendors were all working their booths with trained efficiency, the calls of "cold beer" and "programs" and "souvenirs" with other hawkers adding to the controlled chaos. My eyes darted everywhere at once, trying to take in the entire scene before me, my nose caught every odor, my skin tingled with the excitement of the upcoming game. We made our way over to where we were to sit, right by third base and then wandered through the crowds of people to the main food area known as "Ashburn Alley". Suddenly, Stephen stopped short right by Bull's BBQ and reaches into his bag and pulls out two MLB baseballs. He then directs me to a little corner area past the kids playing games to a little booth where a gentleman was sitting, signing balls and other memorabilia. It was none other than baseball great Greg "The Bull" Luzinski! We got in line and quickly made our way to the front where Mr. Luzinski was gracious enough to take a picture with me. His World Series ring was incredible, by the way. We looked over the memorial wall and the bullpen where the pitchers warm up. Off we went back around and then stood in line for a sausage sandwich (he a soda, me a beer) and then got to our seats, which were ABSO-FUCKING-LUTLEY AMAZING! We were seven rows from the field, right next to the visitor's dugout and looking directly at third base. I was in awe and the pictures show it! I ran and got peanuts, because you GOTTA have peanuts at a baseball game, and we stood for the National Anthem. The singer was good, if a bit young, and she hit the notes at the end. A rousing applause and then it was PLAY BALL!

Our vantage point was great and very different from the view from the cameras on television. From where we sat, I could see the pitcher's throw which looks WAY faster than what you see on TV as well as the batter's stance, which is far different than the front view. The Phillie Phanatic did his shenanigans everywhere you looked and I was just astounded at how much fun everyone was having.

I was also a little jealous.

Yes, jealous. Everywhere I looked, there were kids and they had all obviously been there before and it took me twenty-nine years to see my first Major League game. Okay, in my parent's defense: I was the LAST kid you would ever think to take to a baseball game. The art museum, the theatre, a fashion show, something like that maybe but a sporting event...NEVER! I had no sports skills and was certainly not interested in watching them. Back then, I found them boring but now, I get to enjoy them on so many levels. One being the art of the game itself, the other being the HOT BASEBALL PLAYERS! And hell, with being gay, the names of the positions in sports have double entendre written all over them!

I found myself totally wrapped up into the game, though, and barely noticed the hot guys sitting all around me (especially the one in the red shirt right in front of us, right Stephen?). I definitely needed the seventh inning stretch. They had everyone up and standing, twisting this way and that, getting the blood circulating out of our butts. I also didn't notice that the sun, although hidden through many layers of clouds, was slowly burning my vampire skin. At one point, it drizzled so I thought I'd be safe. Later, I'd find that I got a hellacious sunburn. I bought a few (way)overpriced beers from the vendors that walked up and down the stands and cheered when "Light's Out" Lidge came out in the ninth and won the game for the Phils! I loved the camaraderie of the fans, all patting each other on the backs and smiling as they funneled out of the stadium. We had a munchkin with us, although he sat in another section, and they were doing a special promotion for the day. The kids got to "run the bases" and whilst our little guy got in line, I ran up to the concession stand to get a souvenir hat. I wanted a T-shirt but they didn't have them in anything other than super huge and I like to wear them out and about, not sleep in them. Back down near our seats, we moved up to the visitor's dugout and sat on that, waiting for the little kiddle's base run and took pictures.

Once all that was done, we packed up and off we went, back out to the car and the drive home, which I barely remember since I was on cloud nine...ten...eleven the entire time!

In the parking lot, Stephen gave me the Werth jersey and a T-shirt to boot! I also got a free pic of Raul Ibanez when I first walked in, the First Game certificate, the signed baseball and so many happy memories.

Stephen, thank you SO MUCH for giving me this amazing day! I owe you big time.

Next: Groomzilla!

Vistation!

Many recent events have come and gone and I have been remiss in not cataloguing them here. It's a shame. Over and over again, I hear the same lament concerning J-Land. The loss of our not-so-little community was (and still is) deeply felt throughout the larger blogger world. Time and again, I get comments and emails full of sadness and pain, wishing for those halycon days of not-so-long-ago when we regularly shared our lives with each other and felt genuine friendship with, essentially, total strangers. The J-Land Summit will forever be seared into my memory, that fleetingly special chance to meet so many of our little group and to act and interact like old friends. I still can't believe it's all gone. Well, not compleately gone, there are still a few of us holding on but that special moment in time is forever lost and I will forever wince whenever I hear the letters A, O and L spoken in my presence.
I know that I am still leery of posting these missives, fearing to lose them all once again, as the AOL Overlords so blithely did when they shut down the Journals. I have tried to save my newest entries on various sites (since my computer is currently in storage) in the vain hope that if (gods forbid) Blogger should shut down, I'll have them on MySpace or another site where I keep information. Our beloved J-Land may have been destroyed but the memories of everyone I met, got to know...and love...will never be forgotten.

On to better things...

My mother came to visit me recently! We had a wonderful day together. First, there was the coordination issues, which should have been fairly easy but with the two of us involved, problems always arise. The first wrinkle happened with the actual day of her arrival. She was supposed to come on a Wednesday and I made all the plans, getting everyone on board when I got the notice that she forgot an appointment and needed to push our day back one.

Okay.

Fine.

I text messaged Miss Patti about the changes and made some adjustments to my plans and everything was set. Thursday came and I hardly slept, I was excited to see my mom (and I won't apologize for it!), and I got up and got ready, running first to the Art of Flowers to kibitz and have some coffee. Of course, I get the phone calls from mom about the changes and I'm getting the impression she's never been to Atlantic City in her life, by the way she's going on and on about it! She has been here before, many times, and she has a GPS system as well but come on...it's not like every highway and road in the tri-state area doesn't have signs pointing you to Atlantic City!
I had intended for her to meet Miss Patti and I at the Irish Pub because she reads about it in the Cafe and I wanted her to experience one of my favourite haunts. I kept texting and ringing Miss Patti over and over trying to get a hold of her to no avail. Finally, her boyfriend answered and told me that she had worked late the night before and was sleeping in. I was livid! My mom hadn't seen her since before the surgery and really wanted to see her in the flesh, before she finally shrinks away to nothing! I grumbled and tantrum-ed for a bit, pulled my self together and got a ride from Lee uptown. I wandered down to the Pub and sat out on the boardwalk awaiting my mom's arrival. I didn't wait long, surprisingly, because she drove up five minutes later and parked and we went in to eat.

After some Bloody Marys and cheeseburger platters, we were stuffed and feeling good. I had had her drive to the Pub with the intention of giving Miss Patti a lift to the Borgata because she was on the earlier shift on Thursdays but, since Patti blew us off, we drove to Caesars where I had her park. I have Joe's Diamond Club Card so we wouldn't have to pay the five dollar fee. I took her through The Pier and then all around The Walk, window shopping and talking about everything. I took her to The Chelsea and showed her the area where we were doing the Gormley wedding (and the hotel itself, it's very nice). We then took a Jitney bus back to Caesars and went to The Continental to see Lance (whom she had never met but heard a lot about). A few martinis and some delicious food later, we decided that she just HAD to see Miss Patti and we got our acts together and took the Jitney over to the Borgata.
Once there, and after a brief tour of the casino, I found out where Patti was working and they finally got to see each other! I was happy. Patti had to go back to work and I took mom over to The Water Club to see the new hotel and we took pictures (which can be seen on my Facebook under Photos/Visitation). After that, we were back at Caesars and night was falling and it was time for her to get on the road. Sadly, we bid our farewells and off she went, following the sun, due west.

I went home and slept. Soundly. It was a very good day.

Next up: My first Phillies game!
After that: The Gormley wedding.

Where The Hell Have I Been?

It's funny, I started posting like a madman on the Cafe and then...nothing, for quite some time. There's a reason.

There's always a reason!

My reunion with my Ex has cooled to the point of ice-age. There are a lot of reasons for that but I am not comfortable listing them here, even with my now limited audience. Fancy that! I used to bare my soul, evil and all for the entire world to see back in the J-Land days but now, after a few lessons learned over the years, I have been schooled in the art of discretion. Oh, I'm sure a few items will slip out here and there but for the moment, where Joe is concerned, the less said, the better.

On the work front, I have been at odds with my manager concerning my Friday nights. He's been unhappy with the turn-out (as have I) and he wants to sit down with me to see if there's anything we can do to salvage the event. Now, while all this has been going on and I haven't been behind the bar, Friday's have gotten better and better, as I had thought they would. It has taken time to build a crowd but they are coming. Of course, now I am on the outs with my boss so who knows what's going to happen.

I do! (But it's another thing I am not at liberty to say. Don't worry, you'll all be the first to know!)

My mother came for a day trip to the island of love and it was WONDERFUL! I'm going to write about the trip later today, I just wanted to post something to remind myself that I'm alive.

Off to the flower shop.

Published!

The Press of Atlantic City published my letter (edited to death): http://www.pressofatlanticcity.com/opinion/letters/article_9bac705d-5b2f-5a0c-b6a3-d4488d14c2e6.html

True That!

You know where the real South Jersey is.. Its the island, and you know you are from there if:
1. You live on Absecon Island.
2. You know that summer is not a season, it is a process.
3. You know what a shoobie is, you can point them out, and you hate them and wish they would go home.
4. You’ve been shit on by a seagull.
5. You've called some dumbass shoobie an asshole to their face for feeding the seagulls.
6. You don't, for any reason whatsoever, feed the seagulls.
7. You know which beach is ‘your beach’ and you know which spot is ‘your spot’ and you get angry when someone takes your spot.
8. When you were in high school, you didn’t see anything wrong with going through metal detectors and bag checks every morning.
9. In high school, you skipped class and wandered the halls, talking to the security guards without them questioning why you weren’t in class.
10. You know that Atlantic City High School marching band can lay down some phat beats.
11. You know what a Wawa is and know the location of at least 15 of them.
12. You go to Wawa almost every day.
13. You’ve been out of the area and missed Wawa.
14. You know that there is only one road out of Brigantine and that if you ever happen to be there when there is a catastrophic storm, you are fucked.
15. You don’t think the casinos are anything to get excited about.
16. You rarely go to the casinos and if you do, it is usually when people that you know from out of town are visiting.
17. You know what became of the 13th Leeds child.
18. It is the BEACH and NOT the SHORE.
19. You hate the phrase ‘watch the tram car please’ and are upset that they don’t slow down when you stand in front of them.
20. You’ve had arguments over cheesesteak quality.
21. You’ve also had arguments over whether Tony’s Batiimore Grille or Mac and Manco’s makes better pizza and are a diehard fan of one of the two.
22. You know how to properly navigate a traffic circle
.23. You know that just because someone has Jersey tags doesn’t mean they are not a shoobie. 24. You think South Jersey should secede from North Jersey and create its own state.
25. You say water weird.
26. ‘Jeet yet?’ makes sense to you.
27. You know that any snowfall of more than three inches is considered a blizzard and all schools will shut down immediately.
28. You have ‘beach feet.’
29. You've never actually bought a beach badge and if you see a beach badge checker who looks like she is going to bother you, you just go into the water.
30. You have an EZ PASS but just hold it up.
31. You know that you need to get the hell out of Camden before dark.
32. Your car is covered in yellow-green dust in April and May.
33. You can smell and know when it is low tide.
34. You don’t go to the Ocean City boardwalk because there are too many shoobies.
35. You know that Salt Water Taffy is not made from salt water and can name most, if not all of the flavors.
36. The Eagles/Giants rivalry has started fights in your school and/or bar.
37. During the air show in August your house shakes and car alarms go off is your neighborhood.
38. There is a specific ice cream man that you always buy ice cream from on the beach, and do not like to buy it from anyone else, even if they have the same stuff.
39. You have eaten at restaurants with locations I II, III, IV, and V.
40. You get excited when you see Chopper 6 and hum the Action News song.
41. You’ve had sex on the beach, and I’m not talking about the beverage.
42. Honesty, sincerity, and courtesy are things you once saw happen in Ohio.
43. You know that you don’t put ketchup on boardwalk fries.
44. You think Olive Garden is a bunch of crap and should not open restaurants around here.
45. In the summer you do not go to the store for tomatoes, you go to your backyard.
46. You know that we have the best tomatoes in the world (seriously).
47. You’ve counted the number of strip clubs and Cash for Gold stores in Atlantic City.
48. You know which Cash for Gold stores you can get a ‘fake ID’ at.
49. You always went to the Franklin Institute when you were a kid.
50. You know where to get the best bagel, and know that a bagel is much more than just a roll with a hole in the middle.
51. Donald Trump is mentioned daily in the newspaper.
52. You’ve called someone an asshole to their face at the Philly airport.
53. You say ‘yo’ and ‘dude’ and say it often.
54. You’ve lived through hurricanes, nor’easters, and fires, but have never experienced a tornado, earthquake or volcano.
55. You get excited when the hurricane season names come out and your name is one of them.
56. You get sad if ‘your’ hurricane doesn’t do anything or, worse yet, they don’t get to your name that year.
57. You know that Acme is an actual store, and not just a Warner Bros. creation.
58. You know what a Whippoorwill is and know the sound of them.
59. You have mandatory recycling, enforced by law.
60. You are still pissed off that they had the audacity to move the Miss America Pageant to flippin’ Las Vegas.
61. You think Atlantic City’s slogan ‘always turned on’ is stupid, and possibly a reference to strip clubs and prostitution. And you miss the old slogan of ‘America’s favorite playground.’
62. You know all of the police in your town, and possibly surrounding towns as well.
63. You remember DARE with Lt. Biagi when he was a bike cop.
64. You don’t have to go to Red Lobster to get fresh seafood and feel the same way about that restaurant as you do Olive Garden.
65. You know how to pronounce Buena on route 40.
66. You know New Year’s is all about Mummers and the Polar Bear club.
67. You’ve waited for the goddamn drawbridge for more than ten minutes, and then had the operator come out and tell everyone that it is stuck, and then had to turn around and go ALL THE WAY back and through Atlantic City to get to where you are going.
68. You know that only people from North Jersey say it ‘Joisey.’
69. You don’t like the people from North Jersey.
70. You know it can be 70 degrees in January.
71. “Anyone who makes bad pizza can go to hell” is your attitude.
72. Somewhere along the line, someone really screwed you in a business transaction.
73. You know that you are the only group of people who really know how to drive properly.
74. You know that 65mph on the expressway is merely a suggestion.
75. You don’t take any shit from anyone.
76. You don’t think you have an accent.
77. You know that no one really lives in Longport.
78. One time, when you were drunk, you dropped your phone in the ocean.
79. You remember when Rowan was Glassboro State and TCNJ was Trenton State.
80. You can count the number of people in your graduating class who did not go to Rutgers, Stockton or ACCC on one hand.
81. You remember when there was a fire in ACHS and the principle turned off the fire alarm system.
82. In high school, while eating lunch, you were always completely aware of your surroundings, just in case..
83. You know who Mrs. Arsenis is, and your biggest fear sophomore year of high school was getting her for chemistry.
84. In high school, you wrapped things in aluminum foil and put it in your lunch bag so it wouldn’t get confiscated when you got your backpack checked in the morning.
85. Clear backpacks are a bunch of crap.
86. You’ve driven to school, walked in, said hi to your homeroom teacher and then left through the gym doors and still gotten credit for the day.
87. You saw at least one fight almost every day in high school.
88. You were a lifeguard.
89. You complain about South Jersey all the time, but when you leave you miss it.
90. Taylor Pork Roll.
91. You have a bucket of Johnson’s Carmel Popcorn in your house, somewhere.
92. You don’t think ‘what exit?’ is funny.
93. You’ve had to mail relocated friends Tastykakes.
94. You know what scrapple is, but eat it anyway.
95. You’ve gone surf fishing.
96. You know that the game Monopoly is based on Atlantic City (except for Marven Gardens).
97. You don’t pump your own gas.
98. Your junior and senior proms were at the casinos.
99. When you graduated high school you had to walk through a casino in your cap and gown to get to where you were graduating.
100. You know what ‘jimmies’ are and refuse to call them anything else.
101. You’ve been drunk on the jitney.
102. You know who Lucy the Elephant is and where she is located.
103. You’re female, not gay, and not a stripper, but you have been to strip clubs.
104. Many of the people from your high school are in prison now.
105. You go offshore to get gas because everyone knows its too expensive on the island.
106. You know that if you go 2+ mph above the speed limit in Longport, you will get pulled over, because the cops have nothing better to do.
107. You refer to the Black Horse Pike as ‘the pike’ and assume that whoever you are talking to will know you mean the Black Horse Pike and not the White Horse Pike.
108. You use the monument as a landmark/reference point for everything in Atlantic City, but you just refer to it as 'the monument' and not what it is actually a monument of.
109. When you were a kid you would play the dollar trick under the boardwalk and thought it was absolutely hilarious, but now when you see little kids doing it you want to strangle them because you think they are obnoxious.
110. Empty Wawa coffee cups litter your car floor.
111. When someone asks you where you are from you say South Jersey and not New Jersey.
112. You've gone kayaking down your flooded street during a hurricane or nor'easter or, if you haven't, you've always wanted to.
113. There is NEVER parking anywhere near your house in the summer.
114. You do not consider the 'shore mall' an actual mall.
115. You don't have a basement.
116. You went to Storybook Land as a kid and thought it was the coolest place ever.
117. You've been to Maynards more times before you turned 21 than after.
118. You have to cross over water to get to the rest of the state.
119. You think Wawa gift cards are fantastic and one of the best gifts you could receive from someone.
120. At least one person in your family works at a casino.
121. You went to Mino's bakery when you were a kid.
122. Formica bread.
123. You've sat down on an empty beach only to have some idiot sit smack dab next to you and wanted to kill them.
124. You remember, or at least are aware of the fact that the the casinos unsed to close at 4/6AM and reopen at 10AM.
125. You worked at, or knew someone who worked at the Ocean One mall.
126. When you drive down Pacific Ave at night you always point out the prostitutes that you see.
127. Bloodsucking is a way of life here, mosquitos, ticks, leeches, greenheads, lawyers....
128. You know what Top Gun sauce is.
129. You know that Charlie's makes the best hot wings.
130. Taco Tuesdays at Gregory's.
131. You know where chicken bone beach is, and why it is called that.
132. Holy Spirit and Atlantic City rival games are major holidays and not just high school sporting events.
133. You remember when Atlantis was Playboy and some of the hottest fashions were anything with a Playboy bunny on them.
134. You remember when Ventnor had an ice skating rink and a gas station.
135. You remember when the Margate Bridge Toll was only .50 cents.
136. You've been to Birch Grove Park.
137. You remember when we used to actually get significant snowfall.
138. You know the names of all the casinos, old and new, still there and no longer in existence.
139. You think New York is over-rated.
140. You remember Maloney's.
141. You know that the White House is not just where the US president lives but also a famous sub shop.
142. You think that whatever city you live in/grew up in, A.C., Ventnor, Margate, Brig, etc, is better than the other cities in the area.
143. You used to get hot dogs from Lenny's at 6AM after leaving the bars.
144. You've blocked off your parking spots with things like beach chairs or children.
145. You know that before it was The Pier it was Ocean One Mall and before that it was Million Dollar Pier.
146. You pronounce Arkansas Ave in AC 'R-KANSAS'
147. You know that "Night in Venice" is not any evening in a historic Italian city, but does involve Ocean City, lots of boats, decorations and costumes, and not a small amount of alcoholic beverages.
148. You know that you do not want to be anywhere near Ocean City on "Night in Venice" weekend.
149. You remember Brownie's.
150. You remember 7 beers for a buck and kamikaze night at Anchorage and/or 10 beers for a buck at Merels.
151. You know that there are no bars in Ventnor and think that there should be.
152. You prefer our cheesesteaks to philly cheesesteaks.
153. And for God’s sake, it is a SUB and NOT a HOAGIE.