Bum buh bum bah bum

Guess what, dudes and lady dudes! I saw Regina Spektor last night!

She's one of my favorite people to see perform live because of how absolutely comfortable she is with her music. She effortlessly alters and embellishes her songs on the spot, and it sounds so natural making her one of the few popular musicians out there who I watch and think "I sure wish I could do that."

Anyway enough praise, here's why the concert SUCKED because of the kid sitting next to me who showed up smelling like cigarettes and salami. When he wasn't e-mailing on his Blackberry because he's so important his friends can't be without him for 2 hours, he was flicking on and off the blinding glowstick thing that came in his drink, bouncing in his seat and shaking all the chairs, putting on some RANK-smelling hand lotion (3 times in an hour) that anyone who's ever HEARD the word allergy would react to, or SINGING ALONG but only at the high parts to prove "hey guys I love her best because I can do this" but all he proved was that he can sing higher than Regina because he was always sharp. I also caught him updating his twitter with misquoted lyrics from a song she had just finished.

I know that being 20 is like living in a different world and being high energy and caring about stuff that doesn't matter when you're older, and I know we were all horrible in our own ways at some point in our youths, but is there ever an excuse for being that much of an obnoxious asshole concert-goer? I mean except for that time when I laughed my way through that cello recital because the woman playing looked like a man and made so many stupid faces that I had to excuse myself, I've always known there are just some things that you don't ruin for other people no matter how immature you are.

So eff you, little queer salami cigarette and lavender boy! And eff that girl you were with who had a voice like Harvey Fierstein because that was creepy. At least they left before the encores so I could enjoy my favorite songs unmolested.

Anyway just kidding, the concert didn't really suck because of him because I am totally a bigger person pshhhh!

Oh and I forgot my camera.

Passive-Aggressive

Dear Diary,

Today I was an asshole.

We're getting a phone system installed at work for no reason, and the office phone is at my desk. So this guy came around looking for it so he could put the new phone model next to it to wait for the installation people to come on Friday. He was looking all over the place and walked by my desk like 3 times, but didn't see the phone. I'm in a shitty mood, so I decided I wasn't going to help him unless he asked because the phone is totally visible.

Anyway, then someone suggested that I help him out, and I said "What do I care? He'll find it on his own." Only I said it really loud and he heard me and looked at me. Then he came over here and put the new phone on top of my flip-top cabinet, which is pretty much the stupidest thing ever done because if I open the hatch like I do 20 times a day, the phone would crash onto this other girl's desk and probably kill her and break the phone. So I got up and moved while saying "What kind of idiot would put this thing here?" I'm not sure if he heard that one.

It was the best day ever.

10-4 30w

So last week I was walking into work and they were having one of their security meetings where all the guards stand around in the hallway and get their assignments for the upcoming week or something. Anyway, they're all anal about us wearing these stupid ID cards for some reason because I guess that makes the library a safer place even though we all know each other's faces anyway.

Anyway, I always have my ID in my hand (there's usually nowhere to clip it because I don't wear fancy shirts with pockets and ties) but fine. I was wearing a zip-up hoodie sweatshirt that day because I am a shlub and I was walking with my ID in my hand and the head of security eyes it as I'm casually placing my hands in my shirt pockets in order to look more emo.

I saw him see it, but he stopped me and said "Where's your ID?" in this rude, condescending tone. "Oy, here we go," I think, so I removed my hands from my pocket and said "It's right here" all innocent-like. He goes: "You're supposed to wear it on the outside" with that same asshole tone like I'm 10 years old and he's fucking Sir High Officer Muckety-Muck in charge of saving the world from a nuclear holocaust. But I keep my cool and say "I know, I will as soon as I get upstairs and take my sweatshirt off." It was a lie, but it was totally logical because why would I wear that ugly hoodie all day?

Yeah, but he's all "You should be wearing it when you walk in the building" (the rude tone continued) so I had had enough and figured if he's gonna treat me like a miscreant teenager, I'll act like one so I said "Ooookaaaay," like a crabby 15-year-old and then I put the ID back in my pocket and walked away.

It was such crap, nobody ever wears their ID and he never gives them shit but suddenly because he's standing in front of his loyal toadies he has to embarass me for the sake fo some pissing power trip? As if.

Anyway I felt like I won even though I didn't because it required me acting like an immature brat, but part of me felt liberated.

Then a few days later I saw him in the cafe downstairs and I know the girl behind the counter, and he's the type of guy who thinks he's friends with everyone so we were both talking to her and he introduced himself to me as if I didn't hate him. Fine.

But today he made it all better because we were in the cafe again and he was talking to the girl. I wasn't listening because I was putting milk in my tea, but suddenly he turned around, pointed to me, and said "If only we could all be skinny and good-looking like this guy here." Then he asked me "What are you, 19?" So then he was my best friend and I smiled and said "I'm 24."

So I forgive him now because a) he complimented me, but also b)cause I realized the reason he was treating me like a kid that day was because he thought I WAS a kid, so it made sense even though being a dick to a teenager is just as rude as being a dick to me.

But mostly I forgave him because I'm shallow and he drew everyone's attention to my waist, which is one of my favorite parts.

Get up, Stand up

Yeah, I was stood up last night.

Dinner was supposed to be at 8, right, and we confirmed this when we spoke on the phone at 7. I got there early and waited and waited and waited and called and waited and at 8:30, I left a message "It's Scott. It's 8:30. I'm going home."

Oh, and I don't know if you noticed, but it was freezing outside last night. People were passing me by, and some of them passed me a second time thinking "I bet that loser got stood up."

I don't feel bad about myself, it's not like this was some hot date with a gorgeous muffin I've been in love with since the third grade (Billy, if you're out there, I still love you!). Plus, he asked me out, so it's not like he thinks I'm boring or stupid or unattractive. (He'd be wrong if he did.)

But you just don't stand people up, am I right? I don't care if your puppy died. I don't care if a hideous alien fetus just busted through your father's ribcage and you need to hurry over and apologize for never being the type of son he wanted. Send me a freaking text message, it takes two seconds: "Cn't makf it, sry." Don't leave me standing there until my toes fall off.

There's a chance he may have fallen asleep because he had been travelling earlier in the day, but bitch, that doesn't cut it either! First of all, rude. Second of all, it's been 20 hours! You're awake by now so apologize.

Once again, it's a fucking lawyer that ends up being a total dickhead to me. You'd think I'd have caught on by now. I've gone out with 6 lawyers this past year. Four of them have managed to seriously piss me off. The other two were European (a Brit and a Greek), and I'm guessing this is no coincidence. My lawyer friend in CT has warned me for the past 3 years "Don't date lawyers we all suck" and I'm gonna start listening.

...but they make so much money...

UGH, whatever, screw you all. I'll find a Jewish doctor. Are you happy now, mom?

The End

I've had a vision. A vision of destruction and mayhem. Of mass insanity and hysteria dissolving the fabric of our society. Language becomes meaningless, hoardes of people throw themselves at each other in unrestrained fits of carnal rage and desire. The id rules and drives the world to an imploding apocalypse out of which no man can claw. I have seen it. I have lived it. Happy Hour will be the end of us all.

It's not so much Happy Hour that's the problem, it's that it usually seems to become Happy Nine Hours. Two for one margaritas and a slice of pizza suddenly gets appended with a trip to three other bars, 10 beers, some free sample of a most repugnant unpalatableness, and something red a nice boy from L.A. buys for you. Suddenly it's 2:30 a.m. and you're walking down Christopher St. with a charming Jewish lawyer wondering "What the hell am I going to wear to work in the morning?"

Always the knowledge-seeker, I learned some important things last night:

1. Just because it's free doesn't mean you should take it, be it an alcoholic beverage or the AM New York.
2. Vodka is not kosher for Passover, but apparently the wandering Jews had gin and beer because those are okay.
3. Laundry will not do itself while you are at the bar. It's rather sad really.
4. Everyone in New York City is a Jewish lawyer. Everyone.

Oh, and I'd like to tell you about a most charming man I met early in the evening. Stuart went to the restroom and immediately I was accosted by this stranger. He was clearly attractive in his youth, but smoking and the tragic neglect to moisturize has stripped him of his frail beauty. Nice bone structure, unhealthy complexion. Cute shirt. Anyway, he came up to me and said, in the way of a greeting, "Wow, you look like a 10-year-old!"
"I.... what?"
"You're adorable, you look like you're 10."
I raised my eyebrows. "You like 10-year-olds?"
"No, well. I'm just saying you're cute."
"Ah. Indeed."

This was perhaps not the most gracious way to accept his compliment(?) but it's what came out. It was followed by a silence so awkward it made my neck stiff. Luckily, he was bold enough to continue the conversation. It was brief small talk, unimportant, and it fizzled quickly, at which point he said "God, I could just rape you right now."
"Excuse me!?!"
"Oh, I just said--"
"I heard what you said. And I look like I'm 10. Wow. That's really not the way -- don't touch me -- to win me over. Please leave."

He didn't get it, but Stuart came back. What the hell? Is everybody on this earth very very stupid? I'm pretty sure this man is not a pedophile sex offender, so why would he want to be perceived as such? Fine, so maybe he didn't make the connection. But "I could just rape you right now"? That's not a come-on, that's a threat! Whatever happened to a good "Are your legs tired?" or "Nice pants, but they'd look better on my bedroom floor"? Romance is truly dead.

Rimshot

This is old news by now, I know, but I just found out today, so you have to deal with it. The article is kinda long, so to sum it up, ex-NBA star John Amaechi came out as gay. It's pretty cool, y'know. If you read the whole article, people have had different things to say about it--some good, some idiotic. It's all to be expected. My favorite is always "As long as he doesn't come onto me, I'm ok with it." Right, thanks for the warning. I'm sure he was planning to get you drunk and seduce you because you're so irresistable you manly hunk of man hunk.

Lots of heterosexual men use that as a really lame attempt at sounding PC, but what it really means is "I'm ok with it as long as he doesn't come onto me, talk about other men, look at other men when I'm around, or act in any way that would suggest he is actively gay rather than just taking the label." It's crap, it's avoidance, and honestly, when you say that, people still think you're an asshole. And that's why I like people like Tim Hardaway.

Hardaway made this big ol' honkin' statement on the radio about how he hates gay people and would never want one on his team and thinks the world would be better off without them. Thank you, Tim, you sack of shit! You're an idiot! And I'm not the only one who thinks so. But y'know what? I'm glad you spoke up. Really really.

See, I like my biggoted assholes like I like my child molesters: exposed. Like when Michael Richards made that comment a while back, I was glad to hear it. He, like Tim Hardaway, spewed out some ridiculous apology afterwards. Know why? Because he had to cover his own ass. You can't go around saying stuff like that, and they know it. It doesn't to them any good to mouth off, they take a hit for it, their apologies mean nothing, and we know to stay away from them in the future. I bet you won't see Tim Hardaway on any Wheaties boxes anytime soon.

I'm not saying everyone should just speak up and start lynching the minorities (they'd have to do me twice), but when people hide racism and homophobia away in their rhetoric, avoidance, and "as long as he doesn't come onto me" bullshit, they're able to dispense their agendas in other ways. It's scary to think about how many times we've accidentally voted these dipshits into office. Let it all out so we can cast you aside and ignore you. It's happening more and more--outspoken jerks getting discredited. I'm sick of people being polite to save their reputation or career. Although, that makes me think that "biggoted asshole" might be becoming a bigger stain than "gay" used to be. Think we'd ever start preventing them from getting married?

Valentine's Day Massa-car

I got somethin' to say, and you all had better listen because I'm mad, and I've been keeping it in almost a whole day! You can tell I'm pissed because my title-punning is terrible.

Yesterday I was pleased because my Valentine's Day plans changed from me getting rush tickets and going to the opera alone to me reserving tickets and going to the opera with someone and not having to pay at all. We were meeting for dinner at this place called Mr. Chow (hereafter referred to as Dr. Tang) on 57th St. There's your background information.

So this restaurant (which I also have some things to say about, but now is not the time) is not far from my apartment, but when it's all cold and icy, it's not something you'd walk. I was going to get a cab. Obviously, right? Well apparently there was some sort of subway problem, not to mention the fact that it was Valentine's Day dinnertime and disgusting outside, so everyone was getting cabs. This made my task decidedly more difficult, so I decided to walk down 2nd Ave. and just wave around for a cab when the cars were going in my direction.

Eventually, I tracked down a cab. At this point, I was at 72nd St. or so, and having just walked 7 blocks, I was wet in the feet and cold in the ears and getting annoyed. But whatever, I had a cab. The driver did that rude thing where they open the window and ask where you're going before you get in so that if they don't like the answer they can just drive away. I decided to thwart his dastardly plan by opening the door and starting to get in before I said anything.

So when I told him my destination, he said it wasn't far enough or something, I dunno, I couldn't hear him nor did I care about his stupid assface opinion. (I love ignoring cab drivers, it's like a sport... there are so many ways... you can pretend you thought he was speaking into his hands-free cell phone... you can pretend you can't understand his accent... OR you can pretend you have your own incomprehensible accent so that he'll ignore you... but I parenthetically digress.)

Right, so here's the corker: instead of getting mad at me for ignoring him (I wouldn't care anyway) or saying it again when I sat down (I wouldn't listen anyway), the dickhead decides to just drive off.... while I'm halfway in his car! He BEE-LINED out of there like he saw a shiny nickel on the street 10 blocks down. So with a "Jesus Christ, [racial slur of which I am ashamed]" I managed to get out of the way, get his door closed, and not die, though I did slip and twist my ankle pretty badly, which made the remaining 15 blocks right difficult. Ever tried to walk down a snowy sidewalk with a twisted ankle and shoes with no traction? It was like A Christmas Carol on Ice except being almost 6 and a half feet tall, I fall a lot harder than Tiny Tim.

So I was a half-hour late to dinner, but we both were. He also had a nightmare cab story, though mine was better. Ooooh, I was so aggravated. I was totally rude to this waiter, but that's more a part of the Dr. Tang (Mr. Chow) story, which perhaps I will regale you with later.

Anyway, the point of the story is that I need your help. My ankle is fine, but my anger burns with the fire of a thousand McDonald's coffees. Sadly, I have no idea who this cab driver is or for which company he worked. So next time you are taking a cab in New York, do me a favor and punch the driver in the head. When he says "WTF???" just say "That's the tough arm of justice at work!" You may be concerned about beating up innocent people, but that's the cost, sorry. We'll get him eventually.