My Weblog

Goodbye, Jeremy

My friend Jeremy is leaving Los Angeles for the cloudier skies over Seattle.

His departure leaves a major void in my life.

Jeremy and his partner Jason entered my life one Friday night in mid-2011.

We bonded over a playful argument about a terrible TV show & a Jager shot.

Yes Jeremy, it was then & still remains a shitty show. I'll always win this one.

The three of us quickly became bar buddies enjoying the companionship.

But it only took a short bit of time for a wonderful friendship to bloom.

The love and laughs we honed in the following year and a half were magical.

A few weeks ago Jeremy approached me with the sad news of his transfer.

Though it's a painful loss I've handled it well. So far...

Talk to me next week when he's not at my side sharing a pitcher of beer.

Jeremy sets off today with Jason to follow in a few weeks: major ugh factor.

Life will feel strange for a long while - I will miss you wildly my dear friend.

Santa Community

I live at the end of the 105 Metro line. Lately I've been riding.

A couple of weeks ago I boarded and encountered a white bearded driver.

I thought to myself: I wonder if he realizes he's driving a bus & not a sleigh?

I sure do enjoy my simple amusements.

The next day I rode with him again - this time a rider exited saying,

"See you tomorrow, Santa."

Huh? People actually call this guy Santa?

Maybe even more troubling was the jolly in his response, "Until then."

I found myself on his bus again a few days later and heard the following:

Rider: Hey, Santa. Are you working much this season?

Driver: Oh yes. This is my busy time of year.

Rider: Do you make a lot of money being Santa?

Driver: Yes. I can make about a third of my Metro salary in December alone.

Rider: Are you kidding me?

Driver: The pinnacle of the Santa career is the Macy's Parade, of course.

Rider: Really?

Driver: Yea, the Macy's Santa makes bank.

Rider: I had no idea.

Driver: Everybody in the Santa community dreams of getting that call!

Rider: Do you know this years Macy's Santa?

Driver: Nah, I'm pretty sure he's an east coast Santa.

It's at this point that I reached my destination.

***

A few nights later I ran into my tranny friend Ricky dressed as Santa.

Or rather, undressed as Santa.

And I wondered if Santa Ricky would be accepted in the Santa community.

You decide.

You can get a full-on view but I'm warning you - it's not for the faint hearted:

 

Coke Bottle Glasses, Part 11

Cosmic Hug or, Karmic Sentence

Last night I gazed upon the star-pocked sky in the hopes that he was too.

I asked the moon to deliver him some sort of cosmic hug.

Recently he and I shared a untimely moment of intimacy.

For most it might have been a life-altering and joyous occasion.

Not so for Chuck. Just another in a long line of evasive affairs.

What is this karmic sentence I serve? And must it really be for life?

Surely I can have it reduced owing for good behaviour?

Tonight I shall gaze upon the moon again and ask it to deliver this message:

"I want my treasured friend back. I miss you.

I did not ask for nor do I want this fuedless estrangement."

I realize I will place a lot of pressure upon the moon. But she is generous.

And I believe she is on my side. This time.

Hopefully.

Doo Doo

So there is this personal trainer at the gym we nicknamed: Pretty Pretty.

Cuz he sooooooo is.

There's always a head tilt in his direction with a whispered coo: Pretty Pretty.

After a while we decided that he's just too full of himself for our admiration.

So we change his nickname to the much more apt: Douche Douche.

After a couple of days we shortened it to just: Doo Doo.

The other day we were about to leave but I needed to use the restroom.

To get to the lobby bathroom one must pass the trainers office.

As I opened the door I nodded in the the trainers office direction and said,

"Sammy," loud enough to get his attention and everyone else's, "Doo Doo!"

As I locked the door behind me I realized that the 20 people within earshot...

Thought I'd announced - with enthusiastic flair - that I need to take a crap.

I Set it on Vibrate

A friend of mine gets up before the sun rises 5 days a week for work.

The other day I asked him how he does it.

He explained that he sleeps with his cell phone in his underwear at night...

"I set it on vibrate. It's really the best way to make sure I wake up."

Weird.

This morning I awoke to a missed call from this friend at 1:30AM.

I texted him when I noticed it but got no reply and began to worry.

A few hours later I called him at work, "Hey, are you ok?"

He replied, "I got your text and had no idea what you were talking about."

I explained, "I'm talking about your missed call in the middle of the night."

He continued, "I know. I was sound asleep. I guess my crotch dialed you."

Yea that's right, say it with me now: that's what she said.

The Autograph Book

For a couple of years as a child my family bounced around the South quite a bit - I suppose my parents were looking for a good fit. It turns out that that fit would end up being San Diego but for the bulk of my 4th grade year we lived in Raleigh, North Carolina.

I remember nothing about the city itself but I do remember for about a month I was obsessed with an autograph book. Every weekend we would head over to our local K-Mart and I was usually allowed a small purchase. I always opted for a carton of Whoppers but on one occasion I asked my mother if I could have an autograph book. You know, because celebrities were littering the streets of Raleigh.

Her reply was something like a confused, "Uh... Oooookaaaay."

I got the autograph book home and immediately began having every one I came into contact with sign it with a special pen I made... I had a peacock feather from the fair that I stuffed a Bic pen into to make the entire thing a big showy production. Flare has always become me.

Dad signed it. Mom signed it. My brothers and sisters signed it. School chums signed it. My teachers signed it. The mailman signed it. The grocer signed it. Everyone signed it.

Seriously, get the picture in your head - here is this spunky little 8 year-old running amuk with this little red autograph book and giant peacock feather pen. Just soak it in for a moment. This crazy obsession was right up there with my skipping phase when I insisted on skipping EVERYWHERE.

Across the street from us lived a funky 50-something woman with no husband or kids. Just cats. She adored me. I would visit with her nearly every day and she'd tell me fantastic stories about her life and give me snacks and soda. She was rad.

She found it a great honor to sign my autograph book. And she moved the pen around in such a fashion the the peacock feather danced around her face. She looked like a faded movie queen, Norma Desmond if you will. She handed the book back to me and I read what she wrote:

"Life is like an onion... As you peel away the layers you begin to cry."

Bewildered, I asked her, "What does that mean?"

She stared past me as if conjuring a scene from her vast storage of memories and simply replied, "You'll see. Soon enough."

It was all so dramatic. And wonderful. I didn't really understand it but I loved it. That short line scribbled in an old autograph book has stayed with me ever since and I recall it all the time. 40 years on and it gets more potent to me every day.

Lately I have found myself going through a bit of a weepy phase - most of it attributed to sentiment. I choke up over dear memories with my family. I choke up over the amount of love I am shown on a daily basis from friends, old and new. I choke up over the way my pets chase each other about the apartment. Hell, I choked up just writing this paragraph.

Yes, another layer of my onion just peeled.

Except at Church

Thru Facebook I have reconnected with a lot of people from high school.

One such person is a real sweetie named Carina.

We shared a Civics class together in 12th grade.

But every time I see her on my Facebook feed this sentence plays in my head:

"Except at church."

Let's backup a sec. At the time my best friend was a guy named Steve.

He was a funny quick-witted guy. Never one to waste a good pun.

One day the teacher asked Carina if she was going to Sadie Hopkins Dance.

Carina said no. The teacher pressed, "You're not going to take him."

Carina fired back, "There are no hims in my life."

Without missing a beat Steve blurted out, "Except at church."

It took a few minutes but slowly the class rocked with laughter.

***

One thing I've learned about Carina thru Facebook these days?

She has a terrific him in her life now.

Fake Cancer or, History of Invention

An acquaintance approached me at happy hour the other day.

We made a couple minutes of small talk before he moved on - the norm.

During our brief chat he said, "I think my cancer is back."

Mind you, nobody ever believed he had cancer the first time.

You see, he's been telling very tall tales for the 15 years I've known him.

And it wouldn't be the first time I've known someone to fake cancer...

In a desperate play for sympathy.

He continued. "The doctors think I have hip cancer now."

Seriously doubting it was true I played along none-the-less, "I'm so sorry."

After he left I turned to my friend who knows well his history of invention,

"Well, now it seems he has the hip cancer."

Without missing a beat he replied, "Cuz that's the cool cancer."

***

See what he did there? Hip is cool. Ha!

Peg Leg at Renaissaince Pleasure Faire

Sunday I went to the Renaissance Pleasure Faire with friends.

In the food court I saw this peg-legged guy eating a turkey leg.

I quickly snapped a pic.

(I did not have that courage when I saw a pinhead a little later.)

Paula saw this and wanted a pic too and asked him to stop.

He obliged & struck a pose hiding the turkey leg behind his back.

Paula put on her photo-shoot hat and offered instruction,

"No. You've gotta chew on your leg."

Under my breath I couldn't help but laugh, "Whoooooops."