Oh I'm famous on the internet.

I joined yet another social networking site the other day bringing my total up to about half a billion. I dunno why I do it, I just have to sign up for everything I ever find ever. I don't even participate in half of them beyond creating a profile, I've made no geeky online friends through any except Facebook and MySpace, and I'm sure I'm a member of a bunch that I've forgotten about entirely.

I've talked about this before, but I'm really shocked at the explosion of mediums in which one can set up an online identity. I don't know how people can be active in all their communities when I can barely respond to an e-mail within a week.

Then there's the mother of online communities that I had never tried before, so the other day I downloaded Second Life, but that didn't last very long. That thing's learning curve is way to steep for me and Kenneth Cole shoes aren't known for their tractiony grip. I made a guy, named him Tonks, and then spent half an hour trying to get him to NOT look like a gay monkey. I wanted him to look like me because I like myself and have no desire to "redefine myself" like so many people do online. I don't want to be an anime furry animal with blue hair. I wanna be me. Anyway, I failed at that and ended up with a 6 foot 8 inch skinny gay monkey-man with pretty green eyes.

Then I walked around a while and there was nobody to be found until some Asian girl appeared out of thin cyber air, walked up to me, and started asking me all these questions in broken Engrish. When I tried to type back to her, Tonks the Monkey lept into the air, started flying, and then fell 50 feet back onto the Asian girl, knocking her over a cliff. When he stood up and brushed himself off, his hair had disappeared. It was all very confusing, not to mention ugly and clunky, so I gave up and deleted the thing. I'm having plenty of fun with my first life anyway. And I officially don't understand what all the hype is about.

Anyway, the most recent community I joined and stuck with is Good Reads because I got an e-mail invite from the man who restored my faith in the bow tie. It's cute, it's all about the books you're reading and what you like. You hook up with friends (though I have but one) and see what they're reading and what they recommend and what you have in common. I dunno, it's still new to me.

Anyway I've gone on and on when all I really want to do is make a list of the communities I'm a part of. I'm not even active in most of them, but if you're in one or what to join one, make me your friend. I command it. And remember, my profiles and activity in these places makes me who I am more than anything else in the world including my personality. If I don't have any online friends, I'm a loser and you're responsible.

MySpace
Facebook
Livejournal (defunct, don't read it)
LibraryThing
GoodReads
The ORG
Gay.com
Connexion
Flickr
Buzznet
del.icio.us

That's all I can think of, I guess the list isn't as long as I expected. Whatever, those links provide all the information you need to know about me but this blog is important too so come back because there's always something new to learn. Let's be best friendsters.

Ugh, so I did that thing where I don't check my voicemail for days at a time. Anyway, yesterday when I finally did, I had two messages from that silver-tongued dickface from last Saturday, the one who hit on the chubby kid right in front of me and was all lame and retarded. I played the first one twice and counted... he used the phrase "You're a good kid" six times. I guess that's all he could think of. But he used the phrase "I'm sorry I was a bitchhead and macked around and left without saying goodbye" zero times, so ok. And the second was all "I dunno if you got my message, just thought I'd try again. Call me I am pathetic." Bitch please, I'm not going to be your New York connection. He said he wants me to be successful and buy a fabulous condo and live the life I really deserve, but I'm pretty sure he only said that because he wants to move in with me and live for free and seduce my sexy Latin maid while I'm off earning money to buy him pretty clothes, so no thank you. Earn your own fortune or just use that Boston sugar daddy you brought with you, he seems pretty weak-willed and acquiescent. Or send him to New York, I saw an expensive jacket at Bloomie's I really want.

13 Favorite Fictional Characters

I'm not a meme person, but I saw one I liked. I'm ganked this from Susan. Hers is part of a weekly thing, but I'm not very good at keeping up with stuff like that. Here are my 13 favorite fictional characters in no special order except that Hermione is first.

Most of these characters are women, I know. I put the men at the end, and they're technically not even men, but they're definitely male. Four of them come from the Whedonverse and two from Harry Potter. I'm sorry, that's just the way I am.

1. Hermione Granger - She's smart, she's pretty, she'll tell it like it is, and if you piss her off she'll summon a flock of canaries to peck your ass to death. Don't tell me she doesn't reign. Hermione has grown so much and gotten her priorities in shape through the Harry Potter series so now she's my favorite young woman of all time.

2. Kaylee Frye - I have this thing for impossible optimism, and Kaylee is just so full of it. She has no class, no grace, and sometimes no clue, but she's just so happy wherever she is. Plus she does "man's work" and women in man's positions are automatically sexy, not like she needs the help. If I were a man... if I were a straight man, I'd want her only. She's seriously on the verge of knocking Hermione out of number one. Her adorable accent and pink frilly dress never cease to make me smile.

3. Amelie Poulain - Ditto on the optimism thing. Plus, her bionic imagination and infections smile. She sees the world in a unique way that everyone can understand. Also, we both love creme brulee.

4. Ginny Weasley - We're starting down the section of the list devoted to women who don't take shit from anyone. Ginny Weasley's bat bogey hex could knock Hermione's canaries out of the sky. She's gone from timid annoying child to serious boy-using vixen with a load of power. Seventh daughter and all (it's a superstition thing.) Look into her eyes. Ginny will knock you down.

5. Anya - Anya is hilarious and says what she wants. She talks funny and her hair color changes with the tide, but she still has some serious vulnerability, not that it'll stop her from telling you all the awkward truths you need to hear. I idolize her for that and wish I had the balls to do it myself. It's a project. This blog is a step, but nobody reads it so I haven't changed the world yet.

6. Piper Halliwell - She deals with a lot... running a business, raising a boy she knows will grow up ugly and another she knows will grow up to be the most annoying character in the entire Charmed series, fighting demons, melodrama with her increasingly chubby husband. She doesn't take it in stride at all. Bitch will knock you down if she don't blow you up. She has no patience for bullshit and will let you know. Again, this is another admiration thing. I wish I had her temper. Being nice to people who don't deserve it is so not my style anymore.

7. Nanny McPhee - She kicks ass without raising her voice. And she knows that it's ok to do horrible things to horrible people. She's the person you need.

8. Constance Trentham - The only person on this list who's not a decent person. She's also the reason Minerva McGonagall isn't here. I thought two Maggie Smith characters would be pushing it. Lady Constance is a rich bitch with nothing to offer the world but spite, snark, and nastiness. We need more people like her. All old ladies should be this rude. I can take it. Can you?

9. The White Queen - Wow, this picture's a lot like the previous one. The White Queen's presence here makes more sense when you realize I was not introduced to this character through Lewis Carroll's novel, but rather through a production of the Alice stories where the White Queen was played by Carol Channing. It is impossible for me to read the book without imagining her in the role. She's crazy! Living backwards in her disheveled hat, the White Queen is a total mess. Nothing she says makes the slightest bit of sense, but you can't argue with any of it. No jam for you.

10. Drusilla - Speaking of crazy women who make no sense, Drusilla has got to be my favorite undead evil thing. I almost put Spike here, but Dru sees the world in such a unique way it makes me want to live in her head for a day. A lot of it is frightening and horrible, but Drusilla feels things so intensely, which is something I can never claim to do. She speaks to the stars when I can't even see them. Plus, she has fabulous nails.

11. Loo - None of you probably know who this is, but Loo is a character in Joss Whedon's Fray, a comic about a vampire slayer in the future. Loo is this oppressively cheerful little girl that's been hideously deformed. She's got like one arm and one eye like she's this total grotesque Chernobyl disaster, but every time she opens her gross little mouth it brings tears to my eyes because she has such a strong spirit in the face of it all. She's innocent and optimistic and one of the main reasons I keep reading Fray over and over.

12. Larry the Cucumber - Larry's pretty retarded, but I love him. He's the only person (thing) I know who can put on a ridiculous hat with suction cup ears and feel absolutely fab. Larry doesn't do much of anything right, but he's happy and sings stupid songs and kinda reminds me of myself when I'm in a good mood. That's why he gets to be one of two males on my list. He doesn't kick ass at all.

13. Hobbes - Oh yes. Hobbes is brilliant and fun and can always find the bright side when Calvin's being all crabby. He rolls his eyes like a pro and has total panache. (I learned that word from him.) He looks awesome in a spotted tie.

Right, that's it. Looking at the list, it seems like everyone on it is either a cheerful optimist or a crazy no-nonsense bitch. So that should teach you something about me.

Short Circuit

I don't know what a "circuit party" is, but I discovered this weekend that I'm afraid of them.

I went out on Saturday with Stuart, and we had a super-fun time and both looked really cute so we kept meeting people. Early in the night, there was this little tiny short kid with a pretty face and neat hair who was in from Boston and had this friend. We all went to Mr. Black where I made out with the boy in that ill-advised drunken way. It wasn't my fault, he kept saying all these insightful things that were really sweet and like he really cared about me. My brain was like "The only reason this kid gives a shit is because he's so full of shit" but my body, face, and penis were in charge, so that's why we made out anyway. It was weird, he weighed like 90 pounds. I could lift him, I felt like such the iron man.

Anyway later he was hitting on some chubby kid so I was like "Wow, over you" but then this old yucky smelly man started hitting on me, so I told him the short kid was my boyfriend but we were in a total fight because he kept hitting on other people. The yucky man asked if I ever did that as if to say "You can cheat with me", so I acted all appalled and moral highground like "I would never fool around on him, if we're not meant to be that's fine but I'm not going to flirt with other people until we work out our situation." In the Game of Life, you get bonus points if you can reject someone and make them feel morally inferior at the same time.

Anyway at this point it was a billion o'clock in the morning and I didn't even know the name of the bar we were at, but I met the two awesomest people. They were bestest friends and each in relationships, so it wasn't some flirty thing, which was the best part. They were super the funnest and we talked outside and one went home and the other, Sabio (coolest name ever), was all "Let's go to the Black party" which is apparently this huge thing, I dunno. I was full of energy and considered it, but it was $40 and then he said last year he saw a kid sit on a bowling ball until it went inside him. I tried to act all cool like that was just mildly interesting but nothing special, but on the inside I was dying. Maybe it's because I'm prudish or maybe it's because I'm a librarian, but I kind of assumed I'd feel really uncomfortable at this party. Also I hate seeing penises in public, and I figured there would be a few. So we took a cab to the place because it got me closer to home, but Stuart and I went away.

Anyway Sabio if you're out there I'm sorry we didn't go with you, but you were super fun and so was your friend with the less unique name. It's not you, it's me.

So I've still never experienced a circuit party and I probably never will and I'm wondering if that makes me some sort of loser and what does "circuit party" even mean? Does it refer to general debauchery, or is there some more specific meaning perhaps involving bowling balls?

The Hunger

I just watched The Hunger as part of my vampire moviefest that's still going on because I am slow and lazy. Anyway it sucked.

David Bowie and Catherine Deneuve are like these vampire things that never get old, but they have to eat someone once a week. Then David Bowie gets this aging disease and starts to decompose all over the place and Catherine's all "Ugh, not in MY Park Ave. townhouse!" so she puts him in a box like she did when this happened to all her other vampire lovers. They're all stacked on the 3rd floor.

You get to see David Bowie's butt, that part was pretty cool. He was sexy when I was 1, but it sucked in this movie when it took him 45 minutes to die.

The imdb plot keywords are goth, psychic, atmospheric, nipple, and nightclub. They use nipple because one of the major themes is lesbians.

After David Bowie decomposes, Catherine falls in love with Susan Sarandon and makes her come over and then they have a sexy scene with Lakme and a luscious lesbian liplock and Susan becomes a vampire in the normal way. In the end, she decides she doesn't like it and stabs herself in the neck and then Catherine's decomposed old lovers come out of their boxes and push her over the banister and she decomposes too the end.

Now I'm watching the commentary for some reason and Susan Sarandon is all "Yeah, the movie seemed pretty neat when I saw the script... but then they changed it all, so.... hmmm... at least it was unique, y'know, I'd rather be part of a unique movie that flops than something that's been done before... I guess... I dunno it was like 15 years ago why are you even watching this?"

Anyway the movie's totally obsessed with itself to the point where it doesn't even know when it's not making any sense. I hate movies that are like "ooooh, look at me, I'm total art" and meanwhile everyone watching is like "What the hell, you're not doing what you think you're doing, let's have more lesbian scenes."

In all it would be better with more lesbian scenes.

Why Being Sick Sucks

Because it always happens at the worst possible time like when you have three houseguests or when you were totally looking forward to partying with Stuart on St. Patrick's Day weekend or when that nice boy you've known for a while finally showed an interest and asked you 3 times to do something on Saturday. This time it was all of these.

Because you hadn't "accrued" enough sick time at work, like they have the fucking right to tell you when you're allowed to be sick and how many times a year, so you have to waste your vacation time and now can't take that trip to Dallas you've been planning until a month later than you wanted.

Because you spent a sizable amount of money on a new Hugo Boss jacket and a nice shirt and tie only to have to cancel your opera plans at the last minute and later have your friend tell you how awesome it was and how perfect the 10th row orchestra seats were.

Because nobody sent you flowers and balloons AS REQUESTED so now their silverware is all toxic.

Because the gnomes didn't come and finish all your work while you were away.

Because sitting on your couch and relaxing used to be nice but now after that's all you did for 5 days it's totally ruined and sitting there just reminds you of how sick you were.

Because the world doesn't get put on hold like your life does so when you finally come out of it, everything's all different and things have happened and people have changed and it's hard to get back N*SYNC with everything that's going on like new inside jokes and who likes who and what happened over the weekend and all that. That's the hardest part of it, really. When you're sick, everyone feels sorry and does things for you and tells you to take your time and get better. But then when you're better, nobody cares about you anymore and they all expect you to catch up immediately and WHY ARE YOU BEHIND and THAT'S SO OVER and YOU MISSED YOUR CHANCE that you start to think "Get well soon" really means "Get well before it's too late."

Because you know this happens every time so how can you possibly relax and get better when your relaxation is precluded by the stress and utter lack of sympathy waiting for you when you're done? You can understand why that happens, I mean 5 days ago they saw you and you were not sick and today they see you and you are not sick. Why feel sorry for you?

Being sick is as much a psychological toil as it is physical. Do the recently ill a favor. Allow a few missed phone calls. Let them be behind at work for a week or two. Give them another chance to say yes to a night out. They're jumping onto a moving train. It takes a moment to regain balance.

Sickysnak

I'm sick. Miserably. I'm home and I'm sick and Chris is staying with me and I can't even show him a good time, but he doesn't want to go out in this disgusting weather either.

It's been setting in all week, but suddenly yesterday I started running a really high fever and my head felt heavy and I couldn't sit up or stay awake or run through the meadows or anything. Y'know how you can get so sick that you don't even remember what it feels like to be healthy and you don't think you'll ever be well again? Yeah, like that.

I'm more coherent now. Not sure if it's the Tylenol Cold or the fact that I'm actually getting better. Either way, I'm hoping the fitful, feverish sleep will calm down.

I get really pathetic when I'm sick like I can't do anything for myself. Luckily, I have no problem exploiting people, and I have a houseguest in the absence of a boyfriend. Chris and I ordered omelettes this morning, and I used all the ketchup packets on purpose so that when he wanted ketchup, he'd have to go to the fridge and then I could make him bring me the raspberry jam.

The rest of the day has been filled with Nanny McPhee, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and falling in and out of consciousness. Now everyone had better send me flowers and teddy bears and balloons or I'll come over there and lick all your silverware.

Pontificating : Oh The Places You'll Go

You missed me.

I signed the lease on my apartment a year ago today. In a few weeks, I'll have been in New York for an entire year. It's like no time has passed, and yet i feel like I've never lived anywhere else. But you're not getting the sappy, introspective anniversary entry. I don't feel like hugging and crying and wistfully recollecting. Ah the times! I don't want to talk about transitions and growing and redefining oneself. I've learned three things this year: 1) I'm cute and people like me; 2) I can win in a fight as long as no violence is involved; and 3) the percentage of sexual partners who secretly want to pee on you is alarmingly high.

The city is a lot less magical than you think. People come to New York City with dreams. This is wonderful, and the idealism emanating from the 20-somethings in this town is refreshing. They have visions of themselves living the cosmopolitan or creative or high-powered life they see in the movies or in their imaginations. Most of them don't get it. I didn't (not yet, at least). But the truth is what most of us do get is so much better.

I didn't have delusions of fame or fortune. You don't work at a library as a gateway to a modelling career. I did, however, watch too much Sex in the City before I moved here. I mixed it up with snippets of Will and Grace and Friends, and I basically put together this little world of cute clothes, close friends, awesome night spots where I could meet a new charming J. Crew man every Saturday, and Sunday brunches where I'd complain about his bizarre sexual quirks. Oh, and perhaps the occasional tryst with a rich older man who liked to shop. It was perfect, and I was ready to be SO good at it.

Well as it happens, I have some friends here and there, but no semblance of a tight group. I'm still bad at dressing myself, I had no interest in the Abercrombie models I met that one time, I spend many a Friday night alone with a book, I still can't get my ass out of bed in time for brunch on a Sunday, and the closest thing I've found to my rich older man is the sweaty fat guy who offered me $600 to lick my feet. And yes, I seriously prefer the way things have turned out.

I've been thinking about the phrase "Shoot for the moon; even if you miss, you'll land amongst the stars." I used to hate it because it's retarded and repeated about 50 times in my high school yearbook. But I tried reversing it, and now I like it.

What if you did hit the moon? I thought about it.

Well, way to go! Now you're stuck on the fucking moon, dumbass! Go ahead and spend your time all alone in that cratery wasteland! We failures in the stars can go wherever we want.

I have met a ton of people here (although about half of that ton was a slimy man with a fetish) and without exception the most amazing ones are those who are still shooting around the heavens. The rabid freaks, the struggling losers, the raving crazies. And I'm not talking about the people who talk to rocks and scream in the street. I'm talking about everyone. The stories are unbelievable, and becoming part of those stories is what I've learned to appreciate. What this city denies you in dreams it pays you back in gritty, perverted, unpredictable, vibrant life.

Lots of people are disappointed in where they've ended up. But imagine getting everything you dreamed about. Bo-ring! Not to mention hard. Our imaginations aren't strong enough make our dreams as exciting as our lives can be. So next time you feel frustrated that you're not living the life you like, take some time to stop looking up, start looking around, and like the life you're living. You may find you were mistaking fulfillment for failure.

He Hates Me, He Hates Me Not : A Mini Character Sketch of Me

One of the traits I've inherited from my mother is this stupid tendency to assume that people hate me. At best, it just makes me a little paranoid about getting along with new people. At it's worst, it causes me to be too accomodating and to sabotage relationships by assuming that people would rather me be out of the way.

This isn't an issue of a poor self-image. I like myself very much and think that all you losers would do well to have me in your life. No, I'm aware of how irrational it is, but I can't seem to get past it nonetheless.

If someone's called me and I let too much time pass before calling them back, I assume they're mad and then I get too scared to pick up the phone and do it, even if we're close friends. If I go on a date, the time between the date and the first time we talk again is filled with "I don't wanna bother him" and "He probably thinks I'm too quiet" and "He probably only said those things to be nice."

The thing I hate most about it is that it causes me to question the motives behind compliments. This isn't all the time, and I take compliments well, but in my head they're often tagged with "Well, she's my mom, she has to say that" or "He probably just wants to sleep with me" or "Well, he loves me, when you love someone you even like the yucky parts." It doesn't make the compliment any less true, and the opinions of others have helped me feed a positive and healthy self-image (yes, validation from others is important for me, and it is for you too so don't even go there.) I didn't even know I had pretty eyes until people told me, and I believe it. But believing a compliment isn't the point, appreciating it is. And I'd appreciate them a lot more if I could get that stupid voice to shut up.

I also tend to agree with people a lot, and this little paranoia causes me sometimes to be unsure whether I'm being easy-going or acquiescent. Being easy-going is something I pride myself on. It's hard to upset me and most of the time I really don't care where we go for dinner or which channel we watch. But now and then I feel like I'm silencing myself for the "benefit" of other people, even when those people want to hear what I have to say. I'm a hell of a lot better at identifying this and stopping it than I was when I was younger, but every now and then it creeps in.

Luckily, this isn't a terribly serious issue. It mostly leads to personal anxiety, but when I think someone hates me, I never lash out and hate people back. It's a stupid defense mechanism some people have, and if you have it you'd better stop before people start hating you for real.

Further, it's so super-easy for me to get over it. If I can do anything right, it's admit to myself when I'm being a tard. Next time we talk, I'll totally forget about any paranoia that I may have felt. Next time I get an e-mail from you, I'll realize we only went out two days ago and that's not much time at all. But next time I see you, I'll probably let you pick the restaurant.

Don't Call Me Baby

I'm in a crabby mood because I'm tired and don't feel like working and also because everyone in the world is stupid and I hate them! Sometimes when I'm crabby, I take it out on strangers.

I sit by the office phone, so I'm always the one answering it and telling everyone they have a call. Sometimes it's annoying, but most of the time it's fun because I get to pretend I know everyone's business even though I honestly try extra-special hard not to listen to their conversations.

But lately, we've been getting all these calls with "Can I speak to the owner of the residence?" and I'm always all nice saying "Actually, this is a business" and then sometimes they apologize, and sometimes they just hang up and suck.

But it happened again today and I was in the middle of a conversation and feeling curmudgeony anyway, and so when he said "Can I speak to the owner of the residence?" I went into Bitch Mode 2.0:

Ok, this is a business. You guys have called a thousand times, and I always say the same thing. Cross this number off your little list and stop calling it.
Oh, this is a business? Well, does the building have a mortgage on it? [Fucking idiot.]
What? I have no idea, but I guarantee that you have no business with me or this organization. This is the wrong number. Don't call us again.

Then I hung up the phone and imagined ways to violently kill him. Does anyone else want to help me consolidate my mortgage today!?!!!

Who's it all about?

For the second time, Best Gay Blogs made my site traffic spike. This is both good and bad.

It was because of this little entry. Apparently I'm difficult to categorize. The traffic was good because nobody reads my shitty blog, so traffic spikes give my Feedburner bar graph these little erections.

The traffic was bad because everyone's first impression of me is as the Cat Terrorist. Incidentally, the cat is back. This means I'm not a bad person because actions are only wrong if there are consequences.

Anyway, back to the categorization of my blog. I want to talk about this because it is what I do for a living. I put things in order and assign them categories. I even went to a special school to learn how.

Anyway, I think I am most clearly "Personal blogs" only because "Self-gratifying blogs" isn't on the list. Nor is "Blogs nobody reads because they don't say anything and have no consistent theme or voice," though perhaps "Really mediocre blogs" covers that. I have nightmares of being in that category. Little demons chase me around a minefield yelling "We don't have a firm opinion because you are not worth our consideration!" and they throw little pieces of wet toilet paper at me.

Anyway, you should all go to the site and talk about me. None of you will, but neither will I. Whatever, my blog trancends labels. I am in my own category and none of you are allowed in.

Wow, that really degenerated.