30 November 2006
Alternative Thanksgiving Is Underway! (R)
As I write, we are celebrating our yearly A.T. More to come...
Travels and Travails! (R)
Chapter I: Thanksgiving Bastard!
I got up rather early again. With my litany of woes, I figured I'd need all the time I could get to make myself presentable enough for human contact. My eye was cooperating, it wasn't as red and irritated as the evening before. My medication was working, I wasn't blowing out my body weight in mucus at the moment nor did I need to. I was dry and breathing. I figured out what to wear and got it cleaned and ironed. I had a little coffee, a little something to eat. I did a quick home workout. I had time to pick up my paycheck and make it to the train to Philadelphia. All was good, even with the relentless rain and wind of our season's first nor'easter tearing up the coast and destroying my umbrella, which, as a long term resident of this fair island, I should have known better than to bring.
I got to the terminal in just enough time to sit and relax, read a chapter of my book and have a Gatorade and Philly soft pretzel. Did you know that the people in this area eat more pretzels in one month than the rest of the country eats in a year? I reflected on that nugget of information as I enjoyed my yellow mustard covered treat. The conductor called for boarding and my journey began. A. C. Express leaving for Philadelphia, track four!
All went well, we passed through each town along our way, Absecon, Egg Harbour City, Hammonton, collecting more and more passengers. Everyone in a holiday mood, talking about their dinners, seeing their families, shopping. It added to my already abundant holiday spirits. As I have stated before, I love Thanksgiving and I couldn't wait to see my small but tight-knit and loving family.
Atco. Atco. The name of that town will reverberate in my mind for a long time to come. That's where my day turned as dark and moody as the weather outside my train car. That's where my hated enemy, my painful reminder, my object of total disgust came on board. Yes, my sister's...ahem...boyfriend. Let me set the scene:
Mortimer is sitting towards the back of the train car, in a two seater. The conductor calls out the name of the next town, Atco, and the train effortlessly glides into the station, coming to a compleat and gentle stop. The train door slides open and in walks Danielle, Mortimer's beloved sister, and Bastard, Danielle's unfortunate companion. While exchanging the usual pleasantries one does with those we haven't seen in a long time, the overpowering smell of cheap alcohol and cheaper cigarette smoke comes from the immediate direction of Bastard. It takes every ounce of acting skill to not wretch and heave, as they sit in the three seater directly ahead of me. Bastard comments that we should find seats that are facing together. I demure, since this is the arrangement I had planned on the entire time, even mentioning that they don't want the seats moved. Then, the conductor approaches Bastard, tsk-tsking him. Bastard is informed that he violated New Jersey State Law by smoking on the train platform, in clear view of the signs that say "No Smoking/Violation Of New Jersey State Law". The thousand dollar fine was not levied, thankfully, since this was a holiday and Bastard claimed ignorance. A claim he can use with total justification, I think to myself. I resist the urge to put back on my headphones and listen to music, or just stick knives in my ears and eyes so I don't have to deal with him. We chat. We joke. We pass the time until finally reaching our destination of 30th Street Station. The beauty of that immense and imposing structure overwhelms him and, blissfully, as I run to the restrooms, he is distracted, awestruck, and I have a moment's respite.
I return, to find them outside, catching a smoke and I wander around the concourse, contemplating a coffee, a blunt instrument, a murderous intent. They find me and we settle on Dunkin' Donuts. When I asked the far-eastern counterclerk if they had arsenic flavouring, he said no. Damn.
My mobile rings and it's my sainted Mother and step-Father, their golden chariot has arrived to whisk me away from this. Oh, wait. They are coming with us. Damn, again. At least my sainted Mother throws herself on the sword and moves from the front seat to the back, with them, so I may escape, momentarily, having to be nice and I immerse myself in conversation with my step-Father, with whom it takes no effort to be nice to.
The long ride to Maryland has begun.
Coming up in Chapter II: Dinner With Regret.
I got up rather early again. With my litany of woes, I figured I'd need all the time I could get to make myself presentable enough for human contact. My eye was cooperating, it wasn't as red and irritated as the evening before. My medication was working, I wasn't blowing out my body weight in mucus at the moment nor did I need to. I was dry and breathing. I figured out what to wear and got it cleaned and ironed. I had a little coffee, a little something to eat. I did a quick home workout. I had time to pick up my paycheck and make it to the train to Philadelphia. All was good, even with the relentless rain and wind of our season's first nor'easter tearing up the coast and destroying my umbrella, which, as a long term resident of this fair island, I should have known better than to bring.
I got to the terminal in just enough time to sit and relax, read a chapter of my book and have a Gatorade and Philly soft pretzel. Did you know that the people in this area eat more pretzels in one month than the rest of the country eats in a year? I reflected on that nugget of information as I enjoyed my yellow mustard covered treat. The conductor called for boarding and my journey began. A. C. Express leaving for Philadelphia, track four!
All went well, we passed through each town along our way, Absecon, Egg Harbour City, Hammonton, collecting more and more passengers. Everyone in a holiday mood, talking about their dinners, seeing their families, shopping. It added to my already abundant holiday spirits. As I have stated before, I love Thanksgiving and I couldn't wait to see my small but tight-knit and loving family.
Atco. Atco. The name of that town will reverberate in my mind for a long time to come. That's where my day turned as dark and moody as the weather outside my train car. That's where my hated enemy, my painful reminder, my object of total disgust came on board. Yes, my sister's...ahem...boyfriend. Let me set the scene:
Mortimer is sitting towards the back of the train car, in a two seater. The conductor calls out the name of the next town, Atco, and the train effortlessly glides into the station, coming to a compleat and gentle stop. The train door slides open and in walks Danielle, Mortimer's beloved sister, and Bastard, Danielle's unfortunate companion. While exchanging the usual pleasantries one does with those we haven't seen in a long time, the overpowering smell of cheap alcohol and cheaper cigarette smoke comes from the immediate direction of Bastard. It takes every ounce of acting skill to not wretch and heave, as they sit in the three seater directly ahead of me. Bastard comments that we should find seats that are facing together. I demure, since this is the arrangement I had planned on the entire time, even mentioning that they don't want the seats moved. Then, the conductor approaches Bastard, tsk-tsking him. Bastard is informed that he violated New Jersey State Law by smoking on the train platform, in clear view of the signs that say "No Smoking/Violation Of New Jersey State Law". The thousand dollar fine was not levied, thankfully, since this was a holiday and Bastard claimed ignorance. A claim he can use with total justification, I think to myself. I resist the urge to put back on my headphones and listen to music, or just stick knives in my ears and eyes so I don't have to deal with him. We chat. We joke. We pass the time until finally reaching our destination of 30th Street Station. The beauty of that immense and imposing structure overwhelms him and, blissfully, as I run to the restrooms, he is distracted, awestruck, and I have a moment's respite.
I return, to find them outside, catching a smoke and I wander around the concourse, contemplating a coffee, a blunt instrument, a murderous intent. They find me and we settle on Dunkin' Donuts. When I asked the far-eastern counterclerk if they had arsenic flavouring, he said no. Damn.
My mobile rings and it's my sainted Mother and step-Father, their golden chariot has arrived to whisk me away from this. Oh, wait. They are coming with us. Damn, again. At least my sainted Mother throws herself on the sword and moves from the front seat to the back, with them, so I may escape, momentarily, having to be nice and I immerse myself in conversation with my step-Father, with whom it takes no effort to be nice to.
The long ride to Maryland has begun.
Coming up in Chapter II: Dinner With Regret.
23 November 2006
My "Vacation" (R)
I counted my chickens before they were hatched.
I had every intention of not being here, in the penthouse, right now. I shouldn't be. This was to be a mini-vacation for me. I was going to see my Mother and step-Father up in Huntington Valley, Pennsylvania on Tuesday and Wednesday and then we were going to see my Aunt and the rest of my family in Maryland for Thanksgiving and then I planned to take a trip to Philadelphia on Black Friday, just to see the sights in that fair city since I haven't been in quite a while. I haven't been anywhere, actually, in quite a while.
And I still haven't.
The first monkey-wrench thrown into my vacation plans was my own fault. I came up with a spectacular opening number for my Cafe on Friday night which required back-up dancers. Back-up dancers require choreography. Choreography requires rehearsals and that took up my Monday before opening the club and Tuesday evening from eleven at night until three-thirty in the morning. Fine. My show is very important and I was okay with this. I was only losing one night of vacation.
Then my Mother rings me. There's a problem with my sister and her...ahem...boyfriend (due to the sanctity that I impart on this wonderful holiday, I will not besmirch it with the usual profanity that I use when referring to him). This means I can't go up on Wednesday because I have to travel with my lovely sister and her...ahem...boyfriend on Thursday (because of issues I can't and won't list here). Now, I am really not happy because, 1) I can't get a hold of my sister and her...ahem...boyfriend to make arrangements and 2) I woke up with the horrendous head-cold that made the rounds through the club.
I tore through the penthouse with a storm cloud above my head matching the nor'easter that is ravaging up the coast (another kink in my vacation chain). Poor Chunkie had to deal with a very unhappy Mortimer. Chunk, you are my rock. I am sorry, I know I was a royal bitch!
I finally get my beautiful sister and her...ahem...boyfriend on thephone and firm up our Thanksgiving plans, letting my Mother know where to collect us and I decide to get some grub since I was NOT going out in this weather last night (and is still going on this morning). That was another fiasco. Let's just say that we ordered out, got our delivery and it was compleatly wrong and I had to wait over an hour to have them make a replacement for my food (Chunkie's meal was perfect, by the way).
I went to bed, finally. But before I did, as I was brushing my teeth, I noticed I have an eye-infection.
Nice.
Real nice.
So, I am off to Maryland once we all meet in Philadelphia. I can't wait to see my family for Thanksgiving, my most favourite of holidays. Then it's back to Atlantic City, more rehearsals for my show (which effectively killed my Friday traveling around Philadelphia) and the Cafe on Friday night, I hope to see all of you there.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING everyone.
I had every intention of not being here, in the penthouse, right now. I shouldn't be. This was to be a mini-vacation for me. I was going to see my Mother and step-Father up in Huntington Valley, Pennsylvania on Tuesday and Wednesday and then we were going to see my Aunt and the rest of my family in Maryland for Thanksgiving and then I planned to take a trip to Philadelphia on Black Friday, just to see the sights in that fair city since I haven't been in quite a while. I haven't been anywhere, actually, in quite a while.
And I still haven't.
The first monkey-wrench thrown into my vacation plans was my own fault. I came up with a spectacular opening number for my Cafe on Friday night which required back-up dancers. Back-up dancers require choreography. Choreography requires rehearsals and that took up my Monday before opening the club and Tuesday evening from eleven at night until three-thirty in the morning. Fine. My show is very important and I was okay with this. I was only losing one night of vacation.
Then my Mother rings me. There's a problem with my sister and her...ahem...boyfriend (due to the sanctity that I impart on this wonderful holiday, I will not besmirch it with the usual profanity that I use when referring to him). This means I can't go up on Wednesday because I have to travel with my lovely sister and her...ahem...boyfriend on Thursday (because of issues I can't and won't list here). Now, I am really not happy because, 1) I can't get a hold of my sister and her...ahem...boyfriend to make arrangements and 2) I woke up with the horrendous head-cold that made the rounds through the club.
I tore through the penthouse with a storm cloud above my head matching the nor'easter that is ravaging up the coast (another kink in my vacation chain). Poor Chunkie had to deal with a very unhappy Mortimer. Chunk, you are my rock. I am sorry, I know I was a royal bitch!
I finally get my beautiful sister and her...ahem...boyfriend on thephone and firm up our Thanksgiving plans, letting my Mother know where to collect us and I decide to get some grub since I was NOT going out in this weather last night (and is still going on this morning). That was another fiasco. Let's just say that we ordered out, got our delivery and it was compleatly wrong and I had to wait over an hour to have them make a replacement for my food (Chunkie's meal was perfect, by the way).
I went to bed, finally. But before I did, as I was brushing my teeth, I noticed I have an eye-infection.
Nice.
Real nice.
So, I am off to Maryland once we all meet in Philadelphia. I can't wait to see my family for Thanksgiving, my most favourite of holidays. Then it's back to Atlantic City, more rehearsals for my show (which effectively killed my Friday traveling around Philadelphia) and the Cafe on Friday night, I hope to see all of you there.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING everyone.
16 November 2006
10 November 2006
Yesterday, Through Fog And Rain (R)
I was up early. Anything before noon is early for me. My flatmate had been up, although for him, it was late. It's all about perspective, I guess. He's transitioning jobs and for the past week or so, he's had the chance to sleep in past five in the morning. He was cooking when I stumbled into the kitchen and before I knew it, I had a compleat breakfast in my lap whilst watching Alec Baldwin on The View. Cheese omelette, hash browns, crispy bacon and toast with butter. Coffee and orange juice as well. I think I may decide to live here, I thought, although I have lived here for nearly eight years. We both discussed election results and watched the news and decided on our day. The weather was not cooperating. Rainy, foggy, dreary but warm. Warmth is unusual for November in this part of the country but, I'll take it.
I decided to get ready to go to the office and pick up my salary and dose of gossip while he had interviews to do to for his new job. I did the usual things one does to get ready, taking my time hoping for the weather to break up a little before I head out. I took more time. Waiting and bouncing around the penthouse, walking back and forth from my walk-in-closet-with-a-bed to the kitchen, opening and closing the refrigerator, contemplating eating yet again, mostly to waste time, not out of hunger. Finally, I realize the folly of eating on top of the hearty repast La Chunk made me just an hour before and I threw on a light jacket, grabbed an umbrella and off I went, raindrops be damned.
Once outside, I am shocked by just how warm it is. Living on the third story, it's hard to gauge the temperature on ground level when I stick my head out on the porch. In this town, there is a temperature difference just from street level to the boardwalk. Where it would be very windy and downright chilly on the street, it would be warm and breezy on the boards. It must have something to do with the ocean. The actual temperature was in the mid 60's (around 18 for my birds in the U. K.) and much warmer than I realized. I was making my way to the jitney when I decided that I could walk. The rain had let up and the clouds seemed to be breaking up as well. A good sign. I crossed over through a parking lot and saw, in the next block, a group of young men playing football in an abandoned lot. They were all muddy and wet, heaving and cursing with the bravado of young men. For a second, I envied them. The reckless abandon, the sheer enjoyment of getting wet and dirty and making the most of this surprisingly warm day. Their youth. I watched them as I walked up to the boardwalk, listening to "hut, hut, hike!" and them breaking formation, tossing the ball, someone getting tackled and then rolling all over the soggy ground. I heard them laughing and cursing again. Yes, it's their youth I think I envy most of all.
The fog gripped the city, but not the thick and heavy fog of springtime. This was like the mists that enshroud the fabled land of Avalon, hanging low over the island. You can still discern shapes and patterns, see the buildings and people and cars that dart throughout the city but, in the far distance, you can't make out much more. There was a momentary break, the sun burst through and behold, the boardwalk, wet and slick with the recent downpour, was as crystal clear as a polished mirror, the skyline of the casinos perfectly reflected along that famous walkway. For a second, I wondered if I would fall through, as Alice in Wonderland, to another Atlantic City. Then it hit me, there are too many characters in my actual city. Too many Mad Hatters and anyone I meet through this "looking glass" would be a disappointment. And most boring.
The clouds swallowed up the sun and I continued my trek through my Avalon-by-the-Sea. I marveled at the changes the boardwalk has gone through, changes that happen on a weekly basis. Yes, to the casual observer, it still looks like a boardwalk, much like any you see in any coastal community in this country but, I can see the changes. I can tell where the rainforest wood and old wood planks are. I can tell when a store puts up a new sign. I can tell when they change the flags. I can tell when a store changes hands. Simple, subtle things. It's an intimacy you have with a city, the rhythms and beats that you instinctively pick up on, that make a city a home for you. Sometimes, when you travel, the beat is off. You feel out of touch. Then, it's just a city. A place to visit. Here, Atlantic City is in my blood and I feel the pulse quicken and slow with my very own heartbeat. I feel it with Philadelphia and Chicago as well. They are in my blood.
I wandered to my office, passing through the soon-to-be-torn-down Sands Casino, lamenting the eventual loss of one of the original casinos that built my city. The Brighton, named after the park that it sits next to. Sad.
Once in my office, I find out there are more changes. Our liquor store was being shuttered. Wednesday was the last day.
So many changes. Ahh...youth. To just be concerned with a pick-up game of football. To travel the mists, oblivious to to everything. Only to be faced with the reality of life once the mists clear.
My walk home was through a torrential downpour. The fog was beaten out of the air by the big, warm and heavy raindrops. Avalon was no more, the looking glass was shattered by those drops. All that was left was my Atlantic City, wet and dreary. And warm.
A fitting ending to my journey.
I decided to get ready to go to the office and pick up my salary and dose of gossip while he had interviews to do to for his new job. I did the usual things one does to get ready, taking my time hoping for the weather to break up a little before I head out. I took more time. Waiting and bouncing around the penthouse, walking back and forth from my walk-in-closet-with-a-bed to the kitchen, opening and closing the refrigerator, contemplating eating yet again, mostly to waste time, not out of hunger. Finally, I realize the folly of eating on top of the hearty repast La Chunk made me just an hour before and I threw on a light jacket, grabbed an umbrella and off I went, raindrops be damned.
Once outside, I am shocked by just how warm it is. Living on the third story, it's hard to gauge the temperature on ground level when I stick my head out on the porch. In this town, there is a temperature difference just from street level to the boardwalk. Where it would be very windy and downright chilly on the street, it would be warm and breezy on the boards. It must have something to do with the ocean. The actual temperature was in the mid 60's (around 18 for my birds in the U. K.) and much warmer than I realized. I was making my way to the jitney when I decided that I could walk. The rain had let up and the clouds seemed to be breaking up as well. A good sign. I crossed over through a parking lot and saw, in the next block, a group of young men playing football in an abandoned lot. They were all muddy and wet, heaving and cursing with the bravado of young men. For a second, I envied them. The reckless abandon, the sheer enjoyment of getting wet and dirty and making the most of this surprisingly warm day. Their youth. I watched them as I walked up to the boardwalk, listening to "hut, hut, hike!" and them breaking formation, tossing the ball, someone getting tackled and then rolling all over the soggy ground. I heard them laughing and cursing again. Yes, it's their youth I think I envy most of all.
The fog gripped the city, but not the thick and heavy fog of springtime. This was like the mists that enshroud the fabled land of Avalon, hanging low over the island. You can still discern shapes and patterns, see the buildings and people and cars that dart throughout the city but, in the far distance, you can't make out much more. There was a momentary break, the sun burst through and behold, the boardwalk, wet and slick with the recent downpour, was as crystal clear as a polished mirror, the skyline of the casinos perfectly reflected along that famous walkway. For a second, I wondered if I would fall through, as Alice in Wonderland, to another Atlantic City. Then it hit me, there are too many characters in my actual city. Too many Mad Hatters and anyone I meet through this "looking glass" would be a disappointment. And most boring.
The clouds swallowed up the sun and I continued my trek through my Avalon-by-the-Sea. I marveled at the changes the boardwalk has gone through, changes that happen on a weekly basis. Yes, to the casual observer, it still looks like a boardwalk, much like any you see in any coastal community in this country but, I can see the changes. I can tell where the rainforest wood and old wood planks are. I can tell when a store puts up a new sign. I can tell when they change the flags. I can tell when a store changes hands. Simple, subtle things. It's an intimacy you have with a city, the rhythms and beats that you instinctively pick up on, that make a city a home for you. Sometimes, when you travel, the beat is off. You feel out of touch. Then, it's just a city. A place to visit. Here, Atlantic City is in my blood and I feel the pulse quicken and slow with my very own heartbeat. I feel it with Philadelphia and Chicago as well. They are in my blood.
I wandered to my office, passing through the soon-to-be-torn-down Sands Casino, lamenting the eventual loss of one of the original casinos that built my city. The Brighton, named after the park that it sits next to. Sad.
Once in my office, I find out there are more changes. Our liquor store was being shuttered. Wednesday was the last day.
So many changes. Ahh...youth. To just be concerned with a pick-up game of football. To travel the mists, oblivious to to everything. Only to be faced with the reality of life once the mists clear.
My walk home was through a torrential downpour. The fog was beaten out of the air by the big, warm and heavy raindrops. Avalon was no more, the looking glass was shattered by those drops. All that was left was my Atlantic City, wet and dreary. And warm.
A fitting ending to my journey.
03 November 2006
Say It Isn't So! (R)
La Chunk and I are mourning the Last One-Legged Stand for Lawn Flamingos. Not to worry, we have begun a campaign to raise funds to care for our last remaining captive pair of lawn flamingos. Currently, they are doing fine, basking in the early morning sun on our porch, keeping a watchful eye, never wavering, always vigilant. We have also begun a contest to name them. Please leave your suggestions in the comment section of this entry. The winner will receive a special gift!
From Friday Until Today, Whew! (R, edited)
Friday was the Studio's Halloween party, I was set to host and our theme was "Gothica". Unfortunately, with the rains and winds that came through the area like a runaway railroad, it was very much like a tomb for the entire night. Great for atmosphere, bad for business. It's a shame, Big Jose looked amazing, he had used fake extensions to fashion a seven inch mohawk and he had all this bondage gear on, quite fun. Little Jose didn't dress up but, when he saw that we were all in the spirit, he begged us to whip something up for him. By the time Big Jose was done with him, he looked compleatly different. It's amazing what a little black lipstick, extra extensions and some punk bracelets can do! Actually, they both looked like me circa 1985. What a waste, though, we only had about twenty customers the entire evening and there was no contest.
Saturday was a different story! Luckily I chose not to wear a costume, I had planned on something. I decided to wear the candy corn tie you see in the pictures and it was a good thing I did. My GM threw his back out, really bad, and I told him to lie down, I figured I could handle the place. Famous last words! I did but, it was hellacious. Everything was going fine until, suddenly, all hell broke loose, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, needed me right then and there! I was pulled and stretched in every direction, running up and down and all over the bloody place. I never stopped. Then, out of the blue, I was told that I was hosting the contest. Boom, I am on stage, dealing with these crackheads. We gave away two Bahamas cruises. Nice prize! The costumes sucked, if you ask me and no one should have won. Johanna was my "ta-da" girl but, she was laughing so much at what I was saying, Joey G. was up in the D.J. booth hollering down, "Stop laughing! You are supposed to be helping! You're fired!", which made her laugh even more. I didn't hear any of this, I was too busy rambling on about the idiots on stage with me and dealing with the rest of them in the audience. Once that was done, my GM had returned and my workload decreased considerably. Which means, I got everything done and I could finally relax. I eventually got home late and slept.
Sunday was the beginning of our new "Casino Night" in Club Tru which was a bust! Thankfully. Only because, it's my night to bartend and make a few pennies. I won't be able to manage both sides and bartend at the same time. It's just too much. I am doing everything I can to get this event canceled. But, because it was our first, I ran around again all night working my ass off.
Monday, I get to my office and there's a note questioning who authorized paying me separately for hosting the contest on Saturday. I DID, BITCH! Actually, I informed my GM that I was getting paid to do the extra work. He said fine, I guess it was lost in the translation. We had popular Mexican bands in Tru and a Latino Halloween contest in Studio so, we were busy again and Big Jose called out because his blood pressure was way up again and he had bronchitis. I got a hold of Rita and she filled in for me in Tru and worked with Johanna. They got along FAMOUSLY! I knew they would. Rita had the quote of the night: I love this new Smirnoff Strawberry and I LOVE the border tax!
It stayed very busy all night and by the time I was done and got home (thank you Little Jose for being my driver this weekend, you are the best), I crashed as soon as my head hit the pillow.
I woke up on Tuesday barely able to swallow. My glands were swollen and I felt like total crap. I literally slept for almost two days. I finally feel great now.
Today, I did my usual wander through this fair city of mine, I saw Becky at Art of Flowers, Margarita at the House of Hair, Chase at Brandeis Jewelers, Stephanie at the Brass Rail and so many more of the wonderful people that know. It was a glorious day. A little chill in the air, the beautiful sunset in the clear skies. Nice.
Tonight, I am going to use Little Jose's gym. I need to work out, it's been a while. I plucked my unfortunate eyebrows and now, I look faboo. Finally. I am loving the pitch black vampiric hair.
Saturday was a different story! Luckily I chose not to wear a costume, I had planned on something. I decided to wear the candy corn tie you see in the pictures and it was a good thing I did. My GM threw his back out, really bad, and I told him to lie down, I figured I could handle the place. Famous last words! I did but, it was hellacious. Everything was going fine until, suddenly, all hell broke loose, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, needed me right then and there! I was pulled and stretched in every direction, running up and down and all over the bloody place. I never stopped. Then, out of the blue, I was told that I was hosting the contest. Boom, I am on stage, dealing with these crackheads. We gave away two Bahamas cruises. Nice prize! The costumes sucked, if you ask me and no one should have won. Johanna was my "ta-da" girl but, she was laughing so much at what I was saying, Joey G. was up in the D.J. booth hollering down, "Stop laughing! You are supposed to be helping! You're fired!", which made her laugh even more. I didn't hear any of this, I was too busy rambling on about the idiots on stage with me and dealing with the rest of them in the audience. Once that was done, my GM had returned and my workload decreased considerably. Which means, I got everything done and I could finally relax. I eventually got home late and slept.
Sunday was the beginning of our new "Casino Night" in Club Tru which was a bust! Thankfully. Only because, it's my night to bartend and make a few pennies. I won't be able to manage both sides and bartend at the same time. It's just too much. I am doing everything I can to get this event canceled. But, because it was our first, I ran around again all night working my ass off.
Monday, I get to my office and there's a note questioning who authorized paying me separately for hosting the contest on Saturday. I DID, BITCH! Actually, I informed my GM that I was getting paid to do the extra work. He said fine, I guess it was lost in the translation. We had popular Mexican bands in Tru and a Latino Halloween contest in Studio so, we were busy again and Big Jose called out because his blood pressure was way up again and he had bronchitis. I got a hold of Rita and she filled in for me in Tru and worked with Johanna. They got along FAMOUSLY! I knew they would. Rita had the quote of the night: I love this new Smirnoff Strawberry and I LOVE the border tax!
It stayed very busy all night and by the time I was done and got home (thank you Little Jose for being my driver this weekend, you are the best), I crashed as soon as my head hit the pillow.
I woke up on Tuesday barely able to swallow. My glands were swollen and I felt like total crap. I literally slept for almost two days. I finally feel great now.
Today, I did my usual wander through this fair city of mine, I saw Becky at Art of Flowers, Margarita at the House of Hair, Chase at Brandeis Jewelers, Stephanie at the Brass Rail and so many more of the wonderful people that know. It was a glorious day. A little chill in the air, the beautiful sunset in the clear skies. Nice.
Tonight, I am going to use Little Jose's gym. I need to work out, it's been a while. I plucked my unfortunate eyebrows and now, I look faboo. Finally. I am loving the pitch black vampiric hair.
01 November 2006
Mid Autumn And The Hatefulness Is In The Air (R)
It's always easy to tell that October is over. Yes, that perennial holiday celebrating spooks and witches is on the very last day of the month but, that's not the marker of which I am talking about. It's the mean-spirited, attack-dog political ads that are all over the airwaves, both radio and television. They have also infiltrated my Internet and phone lines as well. I am sure that no matter what market you watch (Philadelphia, my market, is the fourth largest in the country), you are being inundated with these horrific ads showing the worst side of our political parties and our political candidates. Now, one can make the observation that you NEVER hear from these mooks for eleven months and that can be a good thing. Because when you finally do hear from them, it's near constant and full of bile, it's better to get it all in a one month increment. But, that's not what I mean. If they really wanted my vote, if they really want to be my friend, if they really want me to know what the hell they stand for, why don't I hear from them time to time during the year? Why now do I have to hear how fabulous they will be for me as my sheriff/councilperson/mayor/legislator/freeholder/congressperson/chiefcookandbottlewasher and how bad the other guy is going to be. Where the hell have they been all this time and why now do I have to hear this crap ALL AT ONCE!? Why is my phone ringing off the hook like a...well...hooker's? Why is my inbox full of political action flyers rivaling my actual mailbox, which is stuffed with more wood pulp then the New Jersey pine barrens. I actually saw a commercial for a car the other day. I forgot we lived in a consumer society, when the commercials were for something tangible, something we don't need.
I'll tell you one thing, I don't need this hatefulness. But, it seems we got an awful lot of it to go around.
I'll tell you one thing, I don't need this hatefulness. But, it seems we got an awful lot of it to go around.
25 October 2006
YES! YES! YES!
NEW JERSEY SUPREME COURT SAYS YES TO GAY MARRIAGE!
OH, HAPPY DAY!
GOIN' TO THE CHAPEL AND WE'RE GONNA GET MARRIED!
OH, HAPPY DAY!
GOIN' TO THE CHAPEL AND WE'RE GONNA GET MARRIED!
11 October 2006
I'm Coming Out! (R)
Today is National Coming Out Day. This day has be set aside for those of us of the homosexual persuasion to announce to all and sundry that we are in fact gay (or lesbian, or bisexual, or transgendered).
My name is Mortimer and I am gay.
My coming out story is rather funny. I was outed by the Philadelphia Inquirer. Yes, the venerable big city newspaper is in the business of outing young homosexuals. Each year in September, we had what had been known as the gay high holidays. Miss America week was always fun and exciting for us down here. I had been out to the world for most of my life but, my family didn't have a clue. Except for my sister, Danielle. She and I went to the clubs all the time together when we were both underage, and when I told her I was gay, she replied, "I know" in the most what-do-you-think-that-I'm-that-bloody-stupid inflection you could possibly muster. My cousin Dawn knew as well. She came out with me to the clubs in Philadelphia when I lived there. It's nice to know they can keep a secret. Well, one year the Miss America organization changed all the rules. This is when they decided to downgrade the pageant and make the contestants more "natural" and "regular" to the viewing public. Big ass mistake but, I digress. I had been doing five shows a week at the clubs in Atlantic City and in various places in the tri-state area. By now, I was very well established in the community throughout the area and very well known as a performer. I had been with my then boyfriend for a number of years, living with his family (in the sin of non-marriage) and things were great. I was working at the The Rendezvous Lounge (which is now Babes, the strip club I work at) and the Inquirer Press was there wanting to interview me about the changes in the pageant. I agreed, I mean, it's the press dahling, we must always agree to meet with the press. Publicity is a wonderful thing, even if it's by association. Since the article wasn't about me, necessarily, I would still get the recognition. They came up to the dressing room, interviewed myself and my guest performers, took some pictures of us in various states of make-up and gowns and were off. Honestly, I didn't give it a thought after that. We were so caught up in the upcoming Miss'd America Pageant that I totally forgot about it.
I was sitting at my home in Margate sewing one of my costumes. I was living with my ex mother-in-sin (since I can't get married, it's not -law), Helene, lovely woman. The phone rang and she came to get me and told me it was my Aunt Janet (she has always been my Auntie Mame) I just knew she would be the first to call.
I get on the phone and she says, "I love you".
I knew just what she was talking about. I replied, "So...you saw the paper."
"Yes," she told me, "and your Mother will be calling you any minute, I just wanted you to know that I love you no matter what."
I had to laugh to myself, I was gay, Aunt Jan, not on death row. We chatted for a few minutes, I told her thank you and she told me how my Uncle found the article at work, brought the paper home and made her read it, without telling her why. She said she was halfway through the Lifestyle section's front page when it hit her. There, on the page in full colour is me, in high drag with accompanying article. The inter-family phone calls started and here we were.
As soon as I hung up, the phone rang and it was my Mother. Yes, there were tears, and "why didn't you tell me" and "what will the neighbor's say" kind of things but, I will hand it to her, she took it better than I expected. I must say, my Grandmother, god rest her, was the most accepting of the whole affair. She told my Mom, "You always wanted him to be happy in his life? Do you think he's happy now? Then get over it. You got what you want." I am paraphrasing but, that was the gist.
Now, when I go to my Mother's home, there are pictures of me and my ex in her livingroom. I told her, I don't want to see them. She replied, "We all have our ex's in this family. You'll just have to deal with it. Join the club!"
Join the club.
Now, I know she was referring the the familial ex-wives club but, I take it as joining the club of humanity. Yes, my life is just as valid and just as accepted. My feelings about my BOYfriend are just as normal about her feelings about her ex-husband, my Father. We are a family and my being gay is accepted and (in the twisted putting-my-ex-and-I-pictures-on-display) celebrated as just as normal and just as valid. We had a Mother's day celebration one year at the club where I had been interviewed for the now infamous article. All of the performers brought their moms and families to the show. It was so wonderful to look out in the audience and see my Mom, my Aunt Janet, and my Nan sitting there, smiling and enjoying themselves.
I love you, Mom. Thanks for not only wanting me to be happy but, making me the happiest person on earth!
My name is Mortimer and I am gay.
My coming out story is rather funny. I was outed by the Philadelphia Inquirer. Yes, the venerable big city newspaper is in the business of outing young homosexuals. Each year in September, we had what had been known as the gay high holidays. Miss America week was always fun and exciting for us down here. I had been out to the world for most of my life but, my family didn't have a clue. Except for my sister, Danielle. She and I went to the clubs all the time together when we were both underage, and when I told her I was gay, she replied, "I know" in the most what-do-you-think-that-I'm-that-bloody-stupid inflection you could possibly muster. My cousin Dawn knew as well. She came out with me to the clubs in Philadelphia when I lived there. It's nice to know they can keep a secret. Well, one year the Miss America organization changed all the rules. This is when they decided to downgrade the pageant and make the contestants more "natural" and "regular" to the viewing public. Big ass mistake but, I digress. I had been doing five shows a week at the clubs in Atlantic City and in various places in the tri-state area. By now, I was very well established in the community throughout the area and very well known as a performer. I had been with my then boyfriend for a number of years, living with his family (in the sin of non-marriage) and things were great. I was working at the The Rendezvous Lounge (which is now Babes, the strip club I work at) and the Inquirer Press was there wanting to interview me about the changes in the pageant. I agreed, I mean, it's the press dahling, we must always agree to meet with the press. Publicity is a wonderful thing, even if it's by association. Since the article wasn't about me, necessarily, I would still get the recognition. They came up to the dressing room, interviewed myself and my guest performers, took some pictures of us in various states of make-up and gowns and were off. Honestly, I didn't give it a thought after that. We were so caught up in the upcoming Miss'd America Pageant that I totally forgot about it.
I was sitting at my home in Margate sewing one of my costumes. I was living with my ex mother-in-sin (since I can't get married, it's not -law), Helene, lovely woman. The phone rang and she came to get me and told me it was my Aunt Janet (she has always been my Auntie Mame) I just knew she would be the first to call.
I get on the phone and she says, "I love you".
I knew just what she was talking about. I replied, "So...you saw the paper."
"Yes," she told me, "and your Mother will be calling you any minute, I just wanted you to know that I love you no matter what."
I had to laugh to myself, I was gay, Aunt Jan, not on death row. We chatted for a few minutes, I told her thank you and she told me how my Uncle found the article at work, brought the paper home and made her read it, without telling her why. She said she was halfway through the Lifestyle section's front page when it hit her. There, on the page in full colour is me, in high drag with accompanying article. The inter-family phone calls started and here we were.
As soon as I hung up, the phone rang and it was my Mother. Yes, there were tears, and "why didn't you tell me" and "what will the neighbor's say" kind of things but, I will hand it to her, she took it better than I expected. I must say, my Grandmother, god rest her, was the most accepting of the whole affair. She told my Mom, "You always wanted him to be happy in his life? Do you think he's happy now? Then get over it. You got what you want." I am paraphrasing but, that was the gist.
Now, when I go to my Mother's home, there are pictures of me and my ex in her livingroom. I told her, I don't want to see them. She replied, "We all have our ex's in this family. You'll just have to deal with it. Join the club!"
Join the club.
Now, I know she was referring the the familial ex-wives club but, I take it as joining the club of humanity. Yes, my life is just as valid and just as accepted. My feelings about my BOYfriend are just as normal about her feelings about her ex-husband, my Father. We are a family and my being gay is accepted and (in the twisted putting-my-ex-and-I-pictures-on-display) celebrated as just as normal and just as valid. We had a Mother's day celebration one year at the club where I had been interviewed for the now infamous article. All of the performers brought their moms and families to the show. It was so wonderful to look out in the audience and see my Mom, my Aunt Janet, and my Nan sitting there, smiling and enjoying themselves.
I love you, Mom. Thanks for not only wanting me to be happy but, making me the happiest person on earth!
10 October 2006
13 September 2006
Thoughts On 11 September 2001
It's morning and I have a slight head cold. It's just bad enough to make me not want to do anything but, not so bad that I want to die. I have to go uptown today to pick up my paycheck, an act of futility because it's all been previously spent. All two weeks of it. This sucks. Rent. Bills. Paying back everyone I owe. The reason why I am so behind is because I lost my shift because of the holiday weekend, the bartending shift that I do on Sundays. This little shift usually gives me the extra cash I need to do the little things so I don't have to borrow money from friends and flatmates. You know, like jitney fare and food and stuff like that. I guess I shouldn't really complain. I put myself in this predicament and I will just have to live with it.
Why did I take this promotion?!?!
The 2,996 Project really affected me. I have avoided the whole anniversary thing for the last few years. It was such a horrendous memory, I didn't want to deal with it. I guess with it being five years, it made a difference. Five years since that day. That memorable day that changed everything about our country. Our lives. I remember sleeping. It had been what I call coma Monday and I was just catching up on my sleep, waking up on Tuesday morning and wondering what I was going to do with my days off. I remember thinking that the weather was spectacular and I was going to enjoy this day off. Then I began to become aware of what was on the television that I had left on from the night before. A plane hit the World Trade Center in Manhattan. Oh. That sucks. I watched for a bit, to see what was going on. Something like that doesn't happen all the time. Good Morning America was covering the incident. Then, the reports started coming in. You could tell there was confusion. A large plane hit the tower, not a small one. That's unusual. Then, I remember thinking, what's going on? I got up and went to the living room, my flatmate, Chunkie is up and watching. I began to discuss the situation with him and then it happened. Whilst watching, a jetliner slammed into the second tower. At that moment, I feared for our country. I knew in an instant that this was no longer an accident. No longer something extraordinary. This was deliberate. This was planned. This was war. War on our soil. War against us. Us! Americans! This was planned to hurt as many people as possible and to make a statement. A statement for all the world to see.
But, that's all I knew. Not the who's, the why's. The rest of the day was one horror after another. The seeming helplessness our country had in dealing with this attack. Our own planes being used as missiles. Genius, actually. Scary, definitely. Then my panic about all those friends who live and work in lower Manhattan. The phone lines jammed. The information coming so haphazardly. The towers falling. One. Then the other. Then another. WTC 1. WTC 2. WTC 7. It was mind boggling. Peter Jennings coming on and, goddammit, making me feel calmer, safer. I will miss that man for his outstanding grace under such unfathomable pressure. But, that day, and the days after, became blurry, disjointed, scary. I finally reached my friends. Jonathan, Andy, the others. They were safe. Scared. Safe. Thank God.
I didn't want to remember feeling the way I did five years ago. I still don't . I wrote that participating in the 2996 Project would be hard for me. It has been. I have cried over my memories of that day. I have felt the fear, hurt, anger that I felt on that day. It is not something I want to feel. It is not the way I should feel. It should not have happened. But, it did. And people died. So many died that day. So many have died since fighting "the war on terror". So, I avoided reading the articles over the years, or watching the retrospectives on the telly. It just didn't seem neccessary for me. Until now. I wrote my tribute. I met someone who died that day and I began to bring up all those memories. The fear. The pain. And now I am adding to that pain something more personal, the loss of someone I never knew. Whom I know. Even as little as I do. My memorial is nothing when compared to the man who died, and I know that. My words do not do him justice. They don't do that day justice.
I guess because there was no justice on that day. And there won't be justice. There never will. Death, needless, useless, wanton and deliberate, is never fair. Is never delt with justice or thought. It's madness and lunacy. It's ugly and pathetic.
It's life. And it sucks.
It shouldn't suck. It really shouldn't.
This is why I have avoided thinking about 11 Sept.
Why did I take this promotion?!?!
The 2,996 Project really affected me. I have avoided the whole anniversary thing for the last few years. It was such a horrendous memory, I didn't want to deal with it. I guess with it being five years, it made a difference. Five years since that day. That memorable day that changed everything about our country. Our lives. I remember sleeping. It had been what I call coma Monday and I was just catching up on my sleep, waking up on Tuesday morning and wondering what I was going to do with my days off. I remember thinking that the weather was spectacular and I was going to enjoy this day off. Then I began to become aware of what was on the television that I had left on from the night before. A plane hit the World Trade Center in Manhattan. Oh. That sucks. I watched for a bit, to see what was going on. Something like that doesn't happen all the time. Good Morning America was covering the incident. Then, the reports started coming in. You could tell there was confusion. A large plane hit the tower, not a small one. That's unusual. Then, I remember thinking, what's going on? I got up and went to the living room, my flatmate, Chunkie is up and watching. I began to discuss the situation with him and then it happened. Whilst watching, a jetliner slammed into the second tower. At that moment, I feared for our country. I knew in an instant that this was no longer an accident. No longer something extraordinary. This was deliberate. This was planned. This was war. War on our soil. War against us. Us! Americans! This was planned to hurt as many people as possible and to make a statement. A statement for all the world to see.
But, that's all I knew. Not the who's, the why's. The rest of the day was one horror after another. The seeming helplessness our country had in dealing with this attack. Our own planes being used as missiles. Genius, actually. Scary, definitely. Then my panic about all those friends who live and work in lower Manhattan. The phone lines jammed. The information coming so haphazardly. The towers falling. One. Then the other. Then another. WTC 1. WTC 2. WTC 7. It was mind boggling. Peter Jennings coming on and, goddammit, making me feel calmer, safer. I will miss that man for his outstanding grace under such unfathomable pressure. But, that day, and the days after, became blurry, disjointed, scary. I finally reached my friends. Jonathan, Andy, the others. They were safe. Scared. Safe. Thank God.
I didn't want to remember feeling the way I did five years ago. I still don't . I wrote that participating in the 2996 Project would be hard for me. It has been. I have cried over my memories of that day. I have felt the fear, hurt, anger that I felt on that day. It is not something I want to feel. It is not the way I should feel. It should not have happened. But, it did. And people died. So many died that day. So many have died since fighting "the war on terror". So, I avoided reading the articles over the years, or watching the retrospectives on the telly. It just didn't seem neccessary for me. Until now. I wrote my tribute. I met someone who died that day and I began to bring up all those memories. The fear. The pain. And now I am adding to that pain something more personal, the loss of someone I never knew. Whom I know. Even as little as I do. My memorial is nothing when compared to the man who died, and I know that. My words do not do him justice. They don't do that day justice.
I guess because there was no justice on that day. And there won't be justice. There never will. Death, needless, useless, wanton and deliberate, is never fair. Is never delt with justice or thought. It's madness and lunacy. It's ugly and pathetic.
It's life. And it sucks.
It shouldn't suck. It really shouldn't.
This is why I have avoided thinking about 11 Sept.
10 September 2006
2996 In Memory Of Siu Cheung Wong (R)
I sit, contemplating my entry to honour the memory of Siu Cheung Wong, who died tragically and needlessly on 11 September 2001. I read through the biography that I found when I searched through the internet for information about him. I am struck at how, through such senseless tragedy and horror, I now know someone personally who lost their life on that unforgettable day. The testimonies that I read from old schoolmates and friends. I read about his daughter and wife. I read about their first home, right here in the great state of New Jersey. I read about what a special and wonderful person he was. He worked for the American Dream and he died for the American Dream. Our culture, our society, our manifest destiny.
He was thirty-four...my God...he was only thirty-four years old, when his life was lost in the World Trade Center. He was one man. One death among thousands. But, to his wife, his daughter, his family, his friends and, now, to me, he will always be missed just a little more poignantly, a little more sadly, and yes, a little more angrily, whenever this anniversary comes. Because of this senseless act, I will never get the chance to really know you. That breaks my heart.
Siu Cheung Wong, although you have slipped off this mortal coil and have taken the final journey that faces us all, I do hereby leave this entry in your honour, in your name, in your memory.
Maybe, just maybe, my remembrance of you will keep you alive for just a little bit more, so that your beautiful wife and daughter can see your smile and know, that you have touched my life today. And will continue to live in my heart until I join you on that last journey.
I am so looking forward to finally get to meet you, someday in the great beyond, and see that wonderful smile of your's, face to face.
May you rest in peace. May we all find peace.
07 September 2006
Did God Free The Jews From Egypt?
I watched a most interesting program on The History Channel about the Biblical Exodus, Moses leading the Hebrew slaves out of Egypt and into the promised land. The program was investigating the problems with the timeline, such as who was pharaoh at the time, and when it actually happened according to the historical records found in Egypt and other places, the plagues and how they happened and if they could happen and the miracle of the parting of the sea and the location of Mt. Sinai where God gave Moses the ten commandments. It even covered the pillar of fire and smoke said to be the personification of God when He wrote the holy tablets. It was quite interesting because it came up with very plausible and probable reasons for pretty much each and every supposed "miracle" that is recorded in the Bible, which is the book of historical record for so many.
First, they covered the timeline, which changed the accepted pharaoh, Ramses, to another later ruler, who's name I'd never heard of. This also coincided with the writings that were found throughout Egypt of the expelling of a sect of Jewish rulers at the same time. In nearby Saudi Arabia, there were carvings that also date to the same time which depict the parting of the sea.
Then they covered the plagues. These were almost compleatly explained by the eruption of a volcano near Egypt, which most vulcanologists agree did erupt at that time and caused earthquakes throughout the Egyptian kingdom, disrupting fault lines and releasing gases which first changed the waters to red. Sediment on the bottom of lakes and rivers contains iron and when it's stirred up by the gas eruptions, it contacted the air at the upper levels and oxidized, much like rust on a car, turning the waters blood red. When this happened, the fish died and the frogs hopped out, causing the second plague. Then, lice, flies and disease happened because of the die off of the fish and creatures that lived in the waters. The final plague, the death of the first born, was attributed to the poisonous gases that came up from below ground, which is common when there are volcanic eruptions. Most of the victims of Pompeii and Herculaneum were killed by the gases, not the lava. The trip through the parted Red Sea was also explained by the volcano and subsequent earthquakes, which lifted the African continental plate thus draining the seas and giving the Moses and the Hebrew slaves passage across the sea bed. Once the tectonic plates settled, the water rushed back to it's previous levels. Using satellite images, they were able to view old lake beds and chart the fault lines which convincingly explained the entire scenario. They even used the first Gulf War to show how the burning oil fields in that area at that time could have been mistaken for the pillar of smoke and fire that was said to represent God in this story set so long ago. Once again, the earthquakes most likely caused an eruption of oil through the crust and it was set on fire, producing what looked very much like what was described in the Biblical text.
Finally, they think they found God's mountain, Mt. Sinai. It's located in an Egyptian military compound but, it has enough grazing area for the animals brought by the fleeing Jews, enough area to house them and the proper religious artifacts found in and around the area and on the mountain itself. They also found a gold pendant (in a museum) which seems to represent the temple where the Ark of the Covenant was kept and the altar where only Moses (among a few others) could go and worship. It sure looked like a representation of the Ark, as it's described in the Bible and the pendant was fashioned by the same tribe said to have made the Ark itself.
I found the entire program fascinating. I have long held that the Bible is a great teaching tool, full of stories steeped in tradition, allegory, common myth, and fact. The last being the loosest ingredient. Now, based on the information gathered by these esteemed scientists, archeologist, scholars and historians, we can dispel the hocus pocus aspect to the Bible and use it as the book of learning about the human condition. Mutual respect for each other and take from it the tools to live a better life, without the magical and mystical voodoo of God that was used by those who wrote it to explain the incidents happening in the world around them that they didn't yet have the scientific knowledge to understand.
First, they covered the timeline, which changed the accepted pharaoh, Ramses, to another later ruler, who's name I'd never heard of. This also coincided with the writings that were found throughout Egypt of the expelling of a sect of Jewish rulers at the same time. In nearby Saudi Arabia, there were carvings that also date to the same time which depict the parting of the sea.
Then they covered the plagues. These were almost compleatly explained by the eruption of a volcano near Egypt, which most vulcanologists agree did erupt at that time and caused earthquakes throughout the Egyptian kingdom, disrupting fault lines and releasing gases which first changed the waters to red. Sediment on the bottom of lakes and rivers contains iron and when it's stirred up by the gas eruptions, it contacted the air at the upper levels and oxidized, much like rust on a car, turning the waters blood red. When this happened, the fish died and the frogs hopped out, causing the second plague. Then, lice, flies and disease happened because of the die off of the fish and creatures that lived in the waters. The final plague, the death of the first born, was attributed to the poisonous gases that came up from below ground, which is common when there are volcanic eruptions. Most of the victims of Pompeii and Herculaneum were killed by the gases, not the lava. The trip through the parted Red Sea was also explained by the volcano and subsequent earthquakes, which lifted the African continental plate thus draining the seas and giving the Moses and the Hebrew slaves passage across the sea bed. Once the tectonic plates settled, the water rushed back to it's previous levels. Using satellite images, they were able to view old lake beds and chart the fault lines which convincingly explained the entire scenario. They even used the first Gulf War to show how the burning oil fields in that area at that time could have been mistaken for the pillar of smoke and fire that was said to represent God in this story set so long ago. Once again, the earthquakes most likely caused an eruption of oil through the crust and it was set on fire, producing what looked very much like what was described in the Biblical text.
Finally, they think they found God's mountain, Mt. Sinai. It's located in an Egyptian military compound but, it has enough grazing area for the animals brought by the fleeing Jews, enough area to house them and the proper religious artifacts found in and around the area and on the mountain itself. They also found a gold pendant (in a museum) which seems to represent the temple where the Ark of the Covenant was kept and the altar where only Moses (among a few others) could go and worship. It sure looked like a representation of the Ark, as it's described in the Bible and the pendant was fashioned by the same tribe said to have made the Ark itself.
I found the entire program fascinating. I have long held that the Bible is a great teaching tool, full of stories steeped in tradition, allegory, common myth, and fact. The last being the loosest ingredient. Now, based on the information gathered by these esteemed scientists, archeologist, scholars and historians, we can dispel the hocus pocus aspect to the Bible and use it as the book of learning about the human condition. Mutual respect for each other and take from it the tools to live a better life, without the magical and mystical voodoo of God that was used by those who wrote it to explain the incidents happening in the world around them that they didn't yet have the scientific knowledge to understand.
15 August 2006
I Took The Challenge. Will You? (R)
Dear Connie has thrown down the genteel southern embroidered gauntlet in her entry: #369 I Challenge You.
I took the challenge.
I will post my essay in both Cafe locations when the time comes. Will you take up the cause?
I have just begun my research. I think this will be one of the hardest and most fulfilling things I will ever do. I can't wait.
I took the challenge.
I will post my essay in both Cafe locations when the time comes. Will you take up the cause?
I have just begun my research. I think this will be one of the hardest and most fulfilling things I will ever do. I can't wait.
It's Several Surveys Time!
I apologize for the lack of format halfway through but, whenever I transfer from other journals or MySpace to here, it loses all formatting and I get real over having to do it manually. And yes, I know that you have to use the little eraser icon up at the top of the "Create entry" page but, for some reason I have to do it just to put a space each and every bloody time I wish to start a new line! That sucks! Enjoy the survey anyway:
Whip out your cell...last missed call: Joey G., the lightman.
last received call: Maria, the door whore.
last call made: Lexi, the fired bartender.
last text received: Phil, the former best friend who tries to get me fired.
Current...what channel is the tv on? In eight minutes, it will be on 6.
how many IMs are up? None, I am unloved.
what song is playing? Nothing. Silence is golden right now.
what's on the computer desk? My mobile, glass of iced coffee, papers, a data converter, mouse pad, mouse, keyboard, a file holder, scrap paper for notes, plastic figurines of characters from a web cartoon called Homestar Runner.net, it's Dot Com!
favoritetype of pizza: depends on the shop.
sweatshirt that you own: Dark blue with "NAVY" on front in yellow.
extra class: I forgot, there are a lot of highschool bitches who write these damn things. Sorry, out of school.
football team: I live in the Delaware valley so it has to be the Eagles.
this or that sunrise or sunset: sunset, being a vampire, it makes sense.
pants or shorts: trousers.
spring or fall: fall.
baseball or basketball: baseball.
skiing or snowboarding: Skiing, it looks more glamorous.
real world or laguna beach: The Real World
forks or spoons: Spoons, for...well...nevermind.
beach or mountain: beach, considering I live on one!
other random what's the time? 12:01pm
what's the date? 15 August
what's the day? Tuesday
light or dark out? Light
do you own a washing machine? No, it belongs to my landlord.
do you own over 50 dvds? Hell yes.
do you own more than 5 tv sets? Hell yes.
do you own a toaster? Oven, yes.
what are you wearing? Black T-shirt, plaid boxers, glasses.
what's your favorite color? Green.
who is your idol/hero? People living with A.I.D.S.
how old are you? 29.
40 Things You Might Not Know.
1. What color is your underwear right now? Black and grey plaid.
2. What are you listening to right now?Action news on channel six.
3. what are the last 2 digits in your phone number?12
4. What was the last thing you ate?Devil's food cake with white icing.
5. If you were a crayon what color would you be?Lavender.
6. How is the weather right now?Cloudy and muggy. Not terrible.
7. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?Maria, she wanted to know when I was closing the club.
8. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex?Tits
9. Favorite type of Food?Mexican.
10. Do you drink?Dahling, it's the only thing getting me through this survey.
11. Do you smoke?No.
12. Ever get so drunk you dont remember?It's the only thing getting me throught this survey.
13.What color are your eyes?Hazel.
15. Do you wear contacts?Yes.
17. Favorite Month?October.
18. Ever cried for no reason?No, there's usually a reason.
19. Last movie you watched? "Imitation of Life"
20. Favorite day of the week?Thursday
21. Are you too shy to ask someone out?No.
22. Hugs or Kisses?It's in his kiss.
23. Chocolate or Vanilla?Vanilla, like my sex.
24. Do you want your friends to respond?They wouldn't care. Neither do I.
25. Who is most likely to respond?The one who I copied this from.
26. Who is least likely to respond?Everyone else on my "friends" list.
27. What books are you reading?"Blackwood Manor"- Anne Rice.
28. PIERCINGS?Yes. Ears, nips.
29. Fav. Movie? "Dangerous Liasions"
30. Fav. baseball team?I live in the Delaware valley, the Phillies.
31. Any pets?No.
32. AIM?Yes, I have AOL.
33. Butter, Plain or salted popcorn?Salted, definitely.
34. Dogs or cats?Cats.
35. Fav. flower?Daisies.
36. Have you ever fired a gun?Yes.
37. Do you like to travel by plane as opposed to car?No.
38. Right handed or left handed?South-paw.
39. How many pillows do you sleep with?6, that's so gay.
40. Are you missing someone?Hell yes.
YES OR NO
Q1) Given a homeless person anything? Once, my change was jingling in me pocket and bugging the hell out of me so I just gave it to the next lazy smelly alcoholic I saw. Shannon was very happy to have it. She used it for ciggys!
Q2) Spent more than $500 on a bf/gf's gift or a night out? No. Hell no.
Q3) Had sex with more than one person in a day? No. Damn. People do that? Damn!
Q4) Cheated? Yes.
Q5) Dated two people at once? No.
Q6) Actually met someone from myspace that you didn't know before? No, not MySpace but, J-land, sure.
Q7) Failed more than one class? No.
Q8) Took someone's virginity when you weren't a virgin? No. What's a virgin?
Q9) Hooked up with someone from a different race? Yes.
Q10) Ran around naked outside? Yes.
Q11) Scubadived? No.
Q12) Snorkled? No.
Q13) Dated someone you didn't want your friends to meet? Yes.
Q14) Got your stomach pumped, from alcohol poisoning? Dahling, there is no such thing!
Q15) Threw up from alcohol? What a waste!
Q16) Been suspended from school? Yes.
Q17) Kissed someone of the same sex? Being a sodomite, that comes with the orientation.
Q18) Gone Commando? Yes.
Q19) If you're a guy,let a girl paint your toenails? Whatever for?
Q20) Met someone famous? Being famous, we attract each other.
Q21) Saved someone's life? Yes.
Q22) Seen someone die? Too many.
Q23) Killed someone? Slowly. So I could savor the moment.
Q24) Been in a physical fight? Yes.
Q25) Hooked up with someone 10 yrs older or younger than you? And younger.
Q26) Been arrested? No.
Q27) Spent the night in jail? A few hours.
Q28) Been in more than three car accidents in a year? No.
Q29) Had sex outside? Yes.
Q31) Had sex in your house when your parents were home? No.
Q32) Had phone sex? Yes, and computer sex.
Q33) Been turned off by someone's personal hygiene "down there?"Yes.
Q34) Told someone you loved them when you didn't? All the time, it's how I get tipped!
Q35) Had sex somewhere in your high school? No.
Q36) Been in a porn shop? Yes. It's how I make extra money.
Q37) Had a threesome? Yes.
Q38) Spent more than one night in a hospital? Yes. With friends who were dying.
Q39) OD'd on a drug? Dahling, don't do what you can't handle.
Q40) What's your weakness? Ketel One.
Q41) Would you date a Ex gf/bf again (round 2)? In a heartbeat. The bastard!
I'm Gonna Get You! Well, maybe.
You have a 44% chance of going postal!
The chances of a killing spree in your future are pretty low. But discuss any problems you have with a therapist. Or your local barman. Talking about your feelings is very important... well, and emmasculating, but let's not talk about that.
How Likely Are You to Go Postal?
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