Sometimes you just need to get a breath of fresh air during the work day. The weather was beautiful at 72 degrees with lots of sun, the network reception was great and I had the opportunity to get a breath of fresh air.
Those Pills Make Me Mean.
Last night I had a heck of a time falling asleep. This is rather odd for me in that I can usually say “I’m going to sleep” and fall asleep instantly. I just roll over and “voila” I’m in the dreamscape accomplishing everything I want to but can’t in the real world.
Anyways, last night I just couldn’t get comfortable enough to settle in for the night, so I was sort of drifting in and out of sleep. This usually results in my babbling in my sleep and apparently Earl finds this amusing. I woke myself up yelling something about peanut butter on my toes and Earl doesn’t like peanut butter so why is he walking through it… DIETY$ knows what I was dreaming about but there you are.
Around 2 a.m. I woke up with a bad case of the sniffles that just wouldn’t stop. Mother Nature decided to give us a cool night with temperatures around 50, and we had all the windows and fans going like it was 80 outside. So it got a little chilly. I usually don’t take cold medicine or anything, but I was in no mood to deal with the sniffles so I popped two Tylenol Nighttime Cold pills, chased them down with a big glass of orange juice and then headed for the couch so Earl wouldn’t have to deal with my constant sniffling until the medicine took hold. I slept like a baby for a couple of hours, then Earl woke mme up and I reinstalled myself in bed until it was time to get up for work.
One thing that I consistently forget about cold or allergy medicine is that it makes me rather cranky. I guess I’m a little bit conscious of it because I’m trying really hard not to just SNAP on people today. Truth be known, I would like to tell everyone to just shut the fsck up and leave me alone. Or I don’t really care if you want my opinion or not because I’m going to tell you it. At 85 decibels. At least that’s how I felt this morning. The medicine must be wearing off because I’m feeling more my jovial self now as I get lunch in my stomach.
I’m glad I’ve had this little bout of the sniffles in August so that I don’t start stocking up on cold medicine to get me through the winter. I’ve learned my lesson early this year. Life’s too short to be chemically cranky.
Point And Shoot.
I was wondering how big of a faux pas it would be for start carrying around our Sony digital camera all the time. Would the Queer Eye boys flock in and have an absolute hissy fit for accessorizing with the wrong accessories?
Last night’s flight with my father was totally unplanned. Earl and I arrived at my dad’s house, where Karen (his girlfriend) said, “Your father wants you to go to the airport, right away!”. I had a big grin, because I knew that we were going flying. But I wanted to take proper pictures of the event, since it had been four years since the last time I flew with him.
Unfortunately, the camera was sitting next to this PowerBook at our house, 60 miles away.
The camera in my Motorola V400 cell phone just doesn’t cut it. Yeah, you can get an idea of what I’m trying capture in a Kodak moment, for example, in yesterday’s pictures from the plane you saw some sky and some land, which is good. But the pictures look like such crap. When Earl and I were in Disneyworld on vacation last February, there were people taking their vacation photos with their cell phones. What wainkers.
But I was a wainker last night!
I think I’m going to either get a better cell phone with a higher quality camera or just start packing the Sony camera in the car and start photographing everything.
Flying with my Dad.
Tonight I had the opportunity to do something I haven’t done in a long time. Dad and I went flying together.
My father has been a private pilot for a long time. I’ve complained about flying in the past, but those complaints are limited to flying the commercial airlines, mainly because they herd you like cattle through a shoot. I also have another beef, no pun intended, about flying commercially. I don’t know the pilot. And I can’t trust a pilot I don’t know.
I’ve been flying with my father since I was six months old. My grandfather was a private pilot, so we’d fly with him, and then my dad became a pilot in his late 20s. Where most people have blood flowing through their veins, my father has aviation fuel.
When I was growing up, we started off flying in the pilot’s association’s Cessna 150 (which is still going this day, I might add) and then a Piper Tomahawk. Later in the early 1980s, my grandfather and father bought a 1940 Piper J5-A that my dad stripped down to the metal and rebuilt. He had that for several years, before building the plane you see in the picture, his Acrosport.
The Acrosport is a lot of fun to fly in, but it’s not for the faint of heart. It’s open cockpit, so you get to wear all the Snoopy gear. I had the honor of wearing my grandfather’s pilot gear tonight. The passenger’s seat has the ominous warning: “PASSENGER WARNING: THIS HOME-BUILT AIRPLANE IS EXPERIMENTAL AND THEREFORE DOES NOT MEET FAA SAFETY REGULATIONS”. Who cares. It’s rare that I feel that free as when I’m sitting in the passenger’s seat of my father’s airplane. Just be sure to sit low in the seat so the wind doesn’t blow your sunglasses off!
Right after take off, the engine backfired a little bit and did a little sputter thing, just as we were banking to the right. My father straightened the plane to the horizon and it stopped. Another quick bank to the right to make sure it didn’t do it again, then a zip around 180 degrees to buzz (that means fly really low and fast) my sister and Earl, who were standing along the airfield watching us, both waving. Did the sputter worry me? Absolutely not. I was in the capable hands of my father, so that meant there was nothing to worry about. He’s been in worse situations and has never had even a close call. Nothing to fear.
The rest of the flight was awesome. We flew eight or nine miles to the west of my hometown to fly along the eastern shore of Lake Ontario a little bit before heading back home. I wasn’t ready to take the controls to fly yet, though Dad would have let me. I used to fly occasionally with the club instructor or my dad when I was younger, given the controls of the Cessna or the Apache. And I’m eager to try my hands at a Cessna 150 or 172, but not his Acrosport. Not yet.
Afterwards, we had a wonderful meal with my Dad, his girlfriend Karen and my sister Jennifer. Great conversation, delicious food and a flight down memory lane.
A wonderful evening.
You can click on the picture above for more pictures from the flight.
In Deep.
For the past couple of days, I’ve been messing around in the music studio here at home, doing some club style mixing and basically just getting to know my equipment better. (I know the last part of that sentence sounds rather racy, but I’m too lazy to fix it.) I’ve been ripping CDs left and right into my PowerBook, doing some music purchasing on iTunes and updating my vinyl collection through ebay purchases. Plus, there’s this thing called LimeWire…
Anyways, I’m in the mood to do some spinning in a club again. I’m not really looking for a full-time, every weekend type of gig, but something that lets my creative juices flow and allows me to pump up a crowd for a Saturday night once in a while.
There’s a chance that I’ll be spinning in Buffalo next month at a Buffalo Bears Night. The regular DJ is unable to work that night, so I’ve been approached about stepping in. The trouble? “Buddies” is moving to “Buddies II” and it might not be ready for the bar night. If there’s no bar, then I would guess they probably won’t need a DJ that night. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the bar will be done so I can spin. I’m really, really excited about the prospect of spinning, especially for a bunch of bears in a city that hasn’t heard me DJ before. I spin best for those outside of the club bunny/twinkie circuit. Plus, it’s Rodeo Night so there’s room for a country tune or four.
Last month Earl and I ventured to Jones Pond to go camping, and of course there’s a “party barn” at the campgrounds, complete with a state of the art sound and lighting system. I heard a couple of songs there that I really liked, including “Don’t Cha” by The Pussycat Dolls and this techno version of “Waiting For A Star To Fall” by Boy Meets Girl. This weekend we’re going to another campground, this time Hillside Campground, where I’m sure we’ll hear another mix of music.
I have to admit I’m not a big fan of the videos. First of all, it’s nearly impossible to beat mix a video into a set and secondly, I’d rather watch the bare chested dancers sweating and strutting on the dance floor than watch a video of some fabricated pop star. Call me crazy, but I like my entertainment to be three dimensional.
Time Warp.
So I come home for lunch and all the clocks are behind exactly one hour. That may sound very odd in most households, but I have an old “school clock system” that I’ve collected over the years and all the wall clocks are controlled by a master clock in the basement. I figured the master clock became helpful and tried to throw me into my cherished Central time, so I went and corrected it.
I then went to heat my lunch and noticed that the microwave was exactly an hour behind.
Ditto for the time display on the caller ID box.
I’m afraid to go upset and see what time my alarm clock says.
[insert Twilight Zone music]Family Day.
Today Earl and I had my Mom, sister and her friend Debbie over for a little party. My sister is traveling to Moscow on the 30th to join her boyfriend, the professional hockey player, while he plays for a Russian hockey team through next spring.
In a way I’m very excited for my sister. She’s getting to see a part of the world that few Americans do. From the pictures I’ve seen on the internet, Moscow is gorgeous. Beautiful. I haven’t done a whole lot of research on the city, but Earl and I have tossed around the idea of visiting next winter. I have to admit I’m a little nervous about the prospect, but at the same time I’m very excited as well. I can be self-conscious in unfamiliar surroundings. I can be a little shy. Sometimes it takes a little coaxing to get me started, but then I enjoy myself once I’m out of my shell. It’s a left over worry I guess, from obsessing of what people thought about me when I was a teenager. You’d think I’d have grown out of it by now.
As we were sitting around chatting and munching on some great food, I came to realize how much things have changed since Earl and I first started seeing each other 9 1/2 years ago. I’ve never hidden my feelings for Earl, but at one time I separated the various aspects of my life. My family never heard me DJ in a bar because I DJ’d in a gay bar. My gay friends didn’t meet my family. I never talked about going to gay campgrounds or playing volleyball with my gay friends or going to Boston for Pride. Earl and I now talk openly about many aspects of our lives. We talk about going to the gay campgrounds, we talk about swimming naked at bear pool parties, we talk about the “Earl Overlap” (I dated two Earl’s at the same time before settling down with this one – and yes, I was honest with both.)
Life is so much easier when its honest and real. That’s one of the things I admire about the writings of my blog friend Terry. He doesn’t change pronouns, he doesn’t tame language; he says it like it is whether mundane or outrageous. I find that an admirable trait.
I believe in speaking the truth. It’s not a bad thing.
Rosie, You Still Rock.
Earl and I watched an interview with Rosie O’Donnell tonight. She was featured on “Birch and Co.” on the new “Here” network, one of the two all-gay channels we get on DirecTV.
I still love Rosie. I’ve complained about some of the choices she’s made. I thought she sucked up to some celebrities a little too much when she had her talk show. I didn’t totally buy the whole “Queen of Nice” thing she had going on. But overall, she has a heart that’s bigger than most people on this earth and she goes out of her way to help those in need.
Her interview with Ms. Birch was candid and it was refreshing. Rosie is like me in that “she just is” when it comes to being gay. It’s not a big deal to her. Well, maybe she’s a little more refined in that department than I am, so I’m out loud and proud, and she’s just out and proud. Maybe a little loud. She “tried on” being gay at 16 by saying out loud, “I’m gay” while driving in her Volare. I did the same thing in my ’76 Pontiac Astre when I was a senior in high school. It’s just the way she is and its just the way I am.
I grew tired of Rosie’s talk show a little after the Barbra Streisand appearance, but rejoined the fun late in the 5th season. I think Rosie may have tired of it as well. Who knows.
In a way I wish that I could be like Rosie in that I have millions of dollars that I can share with those in need. But alas, we haven’t won the lottery yet so right now “The JPnEarl Foundation” has $55 in it or so. Maybe we’ll donate that $55 to one of Rosie’s charities.
It was a pleasure to see you on television tonight Rosie. I wish that someday I could have the opportunity for us to sit down and have supper with you and your family, but I’m content with the little wave you acknowledged when we were in the audience in 1997 and the brief chat room conversation in AOL back in ’96.
Rosie, You Still Rock!
Still Fired Up About Judging Amy.
Every time I start going through my entertainment bookmarks and come across the “Judging Amy” message board, I get fired up about CBS’ cancellation of the series. So I fired off another letter to the company again today.
I’ve written several times regarding the cancellation of “Judging Amy” and I haven’t heard any sort of response. Not even an automated response to let me know that someone, somewhere in your organization has at least acknowledged the fact that A LOT of viewers are writing regarding the cancellation of “Judging Amy”.
I actively maintain a blog. I’ve posted a copy of my letter than I mailed to your company on my blog. I have received more comments on that letter than any other blog entry I’ve made since 2000. There is a huge population out there that is very disappointed in the cancellation of “Judging Amy”. And yet, you do not respond to any e-mails, written mail or other correspondence. Is this how you truly feel about your audience, that you don’t really care about their opinions?
Are there any plans to do a two-hour “wrap-up” movie? Even NBC is giving American Dreams the same dignity and that show was only on for three years. Are there plans to bring back “Judging Amy” in the fall?
I would appreciate some sort of response! I feel that you have made a terrible mistake with this decision. Unfortunately I no longer have anything to watch on Tuesday nights at 10 p.m.
Follow this link and click ‘Feedback’ at the bottom if you’re interested in dropping your own comment.
I know it’s just a television show. But, damn it, it was an intelligent television show with very good writing, very good acting and solid ratings. It was the one show on CBS that I still enjoyed. It comes to close to being the one show left on network television I still enjoyed. The cancellation of this show defies logic. Unbelievable.
What amazes me most is that I didn’t get this fired up about the cancellation of Wonder Woman back in ’79!
Where Art Thou, Sandy Duncan.
Working the later shift at work (9 a.m. to 6 p.m.), I am blessed with being the last member of the group to take a lunch hour. Usually, it’s not too rough, I end up going to lunch at or about 1:00, but because one of our team members is on vacation, this gets pushed off until everyone is back in the office. Wednesday I left for lunch at 2:30, which almost begged the question of “Why bother?”, but I’m not one to give up an opportunity to eat.
To keep my energy intact and my blood sugar levels reasonable during these late lunch days, I usually eat my lunch at my desk while I’m working. This works pretty well. But last night I was up around 4:00 a.m. for work, so I dashed out this morning after sleeping to until the last possible moment, still dog tired. This has thrown my whole schedule off and quite frankly I’m a little bit of a mess today.
While driving home from lunch at 2:00, after eating around 12:30, I felt the unmistakable grumble of my stomach. “Feed me now!”, it churned. This wasn’t a “I’m bored, let’s eat something to break up the monotony” kind of grumble, but an actual hunger pain. When I arrived home, I remembered that there’s not much in the way of groceries in the house. Hopefully Earl will rectify that this weekend (while I do laundry, dusting and vacuuming). But I did find a box of Triskets tucked away in the cupboard.
Is it me or do Triskets taste like rumpled cardboard?
Not that I’ve ever tasted rumpled cardboard, mind you. If I’m not mistaken, Triskets are suppose to have something on top of them, like a smidge of cream cheese and an olive or something. With nothing on them, they’re just plain dry. And they stick in my throat.
But when you’re hungry, what can you do?
There are two crackers that I really enjoy. The first is not really that good for you. I think they’re called “Chikin in a Biskit” or some other perverted spelling of “Chicken In A Biscuit”. Totally fake in the way the taste is derived, I can easily become hooked on these and jump into a chemically induced nirvana while eating them.
My second favorite cracker is “Wheat Thins”.
Now you remember Wheat Thins. Light, airy, wheat crackers with just a small hint of sweetness. Sandy Duncan earned some dough in the 80s telling the world about the virtues of Wheat Thins, before she replaced Valerie Harper in “The Hogan Family”. She’d smile, crunch and just look as cute as a button on television as she convinced us to become hooked on these crackers.
I really could use some Wheat Thins right now. Maybe they’d take the taste of this shredded cardboard out of my mouth.
