How we gonna pay?

After 8 months in the city, I finally went to see my first Broadway play; the long-running and much-acclaimed "Rent". Since I'm probably the last person in the civilized world to see it, I won't bore you with plot points, but I must say that it was an outstanding performance. Because Colin has most of the songs from the show on his computer, I had some idea of what to expect going in. And while the recorded version (which is, I believe, the original cast) is good, I was absolutely blown away by the performance of last night's cast. Hats off especially to Matt Caplan (Mark), Justin Johnson (Angel), Destan Owens (Collins), and Merle Dandridge (Joanne). Now, if I could just get those songs out of my head . . .

Backstreet's Back, Alright! 

The longer we're together, the gayer we get. After going to the courthouse yesterday morning to respond to the frivolous lawsuit, Colin and I stopped at McDonald's for breakfast. And while there, we started reminiscing about the Backstreet Boys. The talk invariably turned to which ones we thought were cutest back in their heyday. My pick: Kevin. His pick: Howie.

Now, I knew this already about Colin, having talked about it once a long time ago. And while Howie is not the least attractive one, I think he probably ranks third on my list. However, being the vain and self-centered guy that I am, I couldn't help but think what his choice said about me. Since Colin thought Howie was cute and he thinks I'm cute, would I fall into the #3 category in the whole population of guys out there? I'd like to think I'm better looking than that. However, my fears were assuaged when talk turned to NSync. On that one, I'm the one who liked #3 -

I know, I know, Justin and J.C. were all the rage, but there was just something about the eyes . . . But of course, I think Colin looks much better, so maybe he thinks something similar about me. So maybe I'm not a category 3 afterall! Now I can sleep!

In unrelated (or perhaps it is related) news, since I share pretty much every other aspect of my life with my blog readers, I've decided to begin chronicling my Journey to a Better Body_TM . Check it out over at Shockster Fitness, and leave me some words of encouragement.

Hot Raunchy Sex

Once you get past the somewhat misleading headline, this CNN article actually makes a pretty good point: raw, no-holds-bar, in-your-face adult sex simply doesn't do well at the movies. Mind you, sex does still sell, as evidenced by the throbbing thriving porn industry. However, explicit emotional sex seems not to fare so well on the big screen. The author of the article seems to think that this is because of the shame brought on by this country's Puritan roots. On the one hand I agree that there's a certain shame factor that keeps us from going to see excessive softcore porn in a family theater. I myself have been guilty of this, not wanting to go see certain "independent films" in the theater (especially not by myself) for fear of looking like one of those creepy old guys that you see sitting for hours in a strip club (I'm aware that few people would probably mistake me for being any older than about 18, but you get the idea).

However, I think there's another factor aside from shame that may play an equal if not even greater part: who in the heck wants to go watch sex when they can't do anything about it? All political correctness aside, people typically watch sex for one reason only. Just one. I doubt there are many people who simply take pleasure in popping a bowl of popcorn and cuddling up on the couch for a night of porn to be followed by brushing their teeth and going to sleep. As proof, sex-filled movies that don't do phenomenally well on the big screen tend not to do so well on video either. Why? Because if you're going to watch something in the privacy of your own home, why would you pay good money for an R-rated or NC-17 flick when there are much more effective and expedient options available? 

To make a long story short, shame is a powerful motivator (or demotivator, as the case may be), but can shame alone explain why these movies tank? Methinks not.

Junior Political Theorist

Okay, away from urinal etiquette, and back to a decidedly less interesting but far more devisive topic - politics. The April issue of GQ , while including is usual abercrombie-ish softcore male porn also surprisingly included two rather interesting articles on government. The first was an interview of sorts with Mike Rodgers, the McCarthy-like man outing gay Republicans left and right. The other was a very in-depth article about the career and the legacy of Alan Greenspan (if you don't know who that is, it probably will do you little good to read the rest of this entry). Both articles, for some reason, made me wonder about the real source (after you cut through all of the bullshit) of the difference between Democrats and Republicans. In the Mike Rodgers article, I think it was the steadfast loyalty shown by gay Republicans to their party, even in the face of things like the anti-gay marriage amendment and several state party platforms that say, in no uncertain terms, that they are against homosexuality in all of its manifestations.  In the Greenspan article, it was (1) the author's reference to Greenspan's traditional conservative values - "low taxes, less government, stronger military" and (2) Greenspan's devotion to the Objectivist philosophy of Ayn Rand. Particularly as I read the Greenspan article, I thought , "Well don't we all want lower taxes and fiscal discipline? Are those really conservative values?"

Urinal Stories

I seem to have far more of what I deem as 'strange' urinal experiences than most of the other people I talk to. Either that, or I'm just too prudish, prissy or urinal-inexperienced to think that these things are normal. I mean as far as I've been taught, the urinal is for one thing and one thing only - despite what gay porn or nightclubs might lead us to believe. There is to be no noise at the urinal, beyond the sound of that filtered soda / tea / snapple/ etc hitting the urinal cake. No noise! No talking, no noise! The occasional wandering eye is okay, and even a bit flattering, but no noise! However, I seem to be one of the only men out there observing that rule.

Exhibit 1: The Flatulating Partner

Given that I work in an accounting firm, the whole pecking order is clearly established. Associates (that's me) are at the bottom, except for when the occasional intern comes along, and Partners are at the top. The lead partner (let's call him FP) on one of my engagements is a nice enough guy; pretty laid back, very intelligent, and honest without being tactless. However, behind that facade lies what must be the worse case of gas I've ever heard/smelled in my life. In my floor's bathroom, there are two urinals side by side, along with a bunch of stalls. On at least three occasions, I have been using the urinal when in walks FP. We nod to eachother, observing at least the first part of the urinal silence rule. He begins a textbook version of the perfect urinal performance (staring straight down or ahead, no hands or arms on the wall), but then I hear *pppppfffffffffftttttttt*. Oh, and not a soft, "oops, my bad" type fart. No, no, he seems to save these killers up! And if one were not bad enough, the first one is followed by a brief chorus of brothers and sisters. *pppfftttt*  *ppffffffft* *pppppppppppffft* Now, given my lowly place on the totem pole and his rather high one, I am loathe to say anything. Afterall, it's not like he farted ON me or wafted it over in my direction with the back of his hand. However, it's just nasty. If you've got gas like that, go into the freakin' stall and knock out the source. No use soiling your draws at the urinal. Besides, I don't want to hear it! I might still hear it if you're in the stall, but at least then I'll be expecting it. But c'mon, man. Really.

Exhibit 2: Tim "the Toolman" Taylor

This character is by far one of the most disturbing. Given that I've only seen him once, I suspect that he's either out of the office a lot, or he works on another floor and was forced out by his male co-workers because of his odd urinal behavior. Whatever the case, I'm glad this one is not a regular occurence. So anyway, I come into the bathroom and Tim "the Toolman" is already at the urinal, behaving like any normal guy. However, as soon as I get up to the urinal he starts to groan. Not loudly, mind you, but softly like he's either trying to take a di*k up his *ss for the first time or trying desparately not to let a turd slip out of his behind. Either way, I'm not sure why this would be appropriate urinal behavior. *grunt* *grunt* *grunt*. As I stood there in vain, trying to squeeze a drop out in the face of this distraction, thoughts raced through my mind about what the f*ck was going on at the urinal next to me. Eventually, I gave up, ran to the sink, and left him there grunting his little heart out.

Exhibit 3: The Puddler

This one, while not the worst, is the most intriguing because I have absolutley no idea who the perp is. There seems to be a serial puddler in the bathroom at one of my clients. Since I tend to get to work pretty early, I see the bathroom floor underneath the urinals in their "just-been-cleaned" state. In other words, dry. However, as the day progresses, one of the two urinals will end up with a slowly growing puddle. Now, it's hard to figure out at first, because of the delightfully yellow floor, whether the urinal is just leaking or if someone is swinging his dick around in the air while he pees. However, since the puddle tends to move randomly (some days at one urinal, some days at the other), I'm convinced that it's the latter. What kind of blind untalented prick (no pun intended) misses the urinal so badly that he creates a puddle on the floor almost everyday (clue 2 that it's urine and not water - the puddle often doesn't make an appearance of Friday when a number of people are not at the client site)? And as if the mere presence of the puddle where not enough, the growing nature of it, as the day goes on, means that you end up doing all kinds of weird acrobatics late in the day to avoid stepping in it. I can arc it now from about 4 feet . . .

So, tell me, am I being unreasonable? Is it really too much to ask to have a nice quiet urinal experience with no rapid-fire flatulence, eerie groaning, or pee-soaked floors? I've run the flatulence thing by a few straight boys an have been pretty much unanimously told that there's nothing wrong with it. *sigh* What do you think?

Growing Up

A topic has been on my mind a lot lately since Colin and I discussed it last week. We talked about our paths in life, our expectations, etc. Being the obsessive planner that I am (sometimes interrupted by rare bouts of spontaneity), I have of course given lots of thought to my future. However, what I really hadn't questioned was whether the future I had planned was the future that I really wanted. That's the question that I've actually been wrestling with. Having a good job and an apartment and everything else is great. It certainly meets the need for stability and security that I've had for most of my life. But are security and stability truly enough? Am I following the plan I've laid because it's what I want or because it's safe?

As those of you who've read my "100+ Things" section know, the thing I fear most (second to being mauled by a subway rat) is living an unfulfilled life. More specifically, what I fear is getting to the end of the road and having lots of regrets. So I guess what I need to figure out is what I want out of life and whether I'm happy with both my present and the future path that I've chosen. Stay tuned. It might be a bumpy ride.  

Losing

I got a call on Monday from my dad saying that my grandmother was "not doing so well". She had stopped eating (much) and didn't want to get up out of the bed anymore (at 94 years old, she usually spent her days in the living room watching TV and looking out of the window). I didn't think much of it at first - after all, she's been in and out of the hospital and in varying states of health for several years now. In my opinion, she hadn't been "doing so well" for quite some time. However, at the suggestion of one of my co-workers, I decided to call another family member  and get a second opinion. I was told that it really didn't look good and that they weren't sure grandma would make it through the end of the week, although it could conceivably be longer or shorter. I decided at that point to return to North Carolina to see for myself and to say my goodbyes. I debated for a long time, however, when to go. My first impulse was to book a Monday night train, but as the hours ticked on and my indecisiveness didn't dissipate, I missed my chance. I thought about it that night and decided to wait until Thursday. That way, I could wrap up everything at work (for a 3/16 SEC deadline), and leave with a clear mind. However, at the urging of my boss (aren't my co-workers great?) I booked a flight for Wednesday morning at 8:40 instead. . .

. . . Grandma died Wednesday morning just after 2:00am . . .

Don't make my mistake, folks. Don't wait. . .

I'm Watching You . . .

In addition to the regular visitors (thanks guys), and the people who find this blog through other blogs, I've noticed that the more I blog, the more hits I understandably get from search engines. Of course, I don't mind it because for every few dozen people who end up here looking for some obscure topic, one or two might decide to come back and leave comments and let me know that I've managed to convince another victim soul to listen to my rants. But, come on people. Some of you come here looking for some pretty strange shit. And in some cases, though what you're searching for is not strange, it's ironic that you end up here because I'm usually deriding or mocking what you're looking for. Perhaps I should look into myself and find out why that is. . . he he he, I had you going for a second there, didn't I? It's much more fun to post a few of the more interesting hits I've gotten over the past five days . . .

And the earth keeps spinning

Now that "busy season" is winding down a bit at work, I'm getting back into the groove of normal life and I must say that suddenly having so much free time (comparatively), I've started to realize that I really don't have anything to do with that time. Take, for example, this weekend. This weekend was the first weekend in 2005 that I didn't have to work (okay, I went in on Saturday morning, but I left after 45 minutes), and I really can't say that I "did" very much. Saturday was a fairly productive day. Tired of looking like a kid in over-sized hand-me-downs, I finally bought some jeans that fit (you wouldn't believe how hard it is to find 30x30 jeans),  had an excellent workout at the gym (from which I'm still sore), spent an hour or so at Barnes and Noble, and celebrated my return to civilization by spending the whole night dancing away at the Roxy (i'm still trying to figure out when I became so gay). Sunday, however, was much slower, and I realized that I have absolutely nothing to do with my free time. So, I'm endeavoring to find a hobby. The question, however, is what the hell kind of hobby to look for. I certainly don't want to do anything inane or super-nerdy like collecting stamps/coins/lint/etc, so I need some ideas. So c'mon, put on those thinking caps, and tell me what you think.

Movies

You can thank Marc for this one. I'm not terribly superstitious, but no need to risk all kinds of harmful curses and plagues and stuff. So, here's how it works: You're supposed to take the top 100 movies as rated by visitors to IMDB.com and BOLD the names of those you've already seen. Ostensibly, you should then go out and see those movies which you haven't yet seen. However, with a few notable exceptions, I'm quite content with my limited movie experience. Unfortunately, because I live in constant fear of being called a party pooper, I did the meme anyway. Enjoy!

Oh, and I almost forgot - if you don't do it on your own blog, your "naughty bits" will inflate with hot air and burst from the stress. . .