Results… - what 80’s band am i?
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You’re going to let it be known that you are a
sexual being. Some people may be offended by
what you do, some will be amused, and some will
be turned on. In the future, you will
mysteriously acquire a British accent.
This is SO not true. I’m not a slut, but I’d take the British accented husband.
an idea whose time has come?
i sell air freight for a living. Its not glamorous, but it pays the bills, or it could pay the bills if I was more motivated to get out on the streets and do the job I was hired with more enthusiasm.
So i was talking with “the little brown one” this morning and we came up with a great idea. It seems a certain person in Los Angeles has used her unique take on selling and has risen through the ranks of the Orlando-based Tupperware company to become the number one personal seller of the world famous bowls and plastic ware in the entire United States and parts of Canada and Guam.
So i was thinking…
How about Brat using this concept to sell air freight?
My new persona as a sales agent?
September 29, 2004
does this count as drunk dialing?
I was sitting in the sun on Sunday of all days. Avoiding solid foods (impending colonoscopy), enjoying an iced cold tea beverage from Cruizy-boo (Caribou) the local coffee chain when my phone rang. The number came across strangely and I couldn’t figure out who it was, but I answered it anyway.
On the other end of the connection was a German accented gentleman asking to speak with Mike. “Is Mike (blah blah blah) available? I’m looking for a Mike (blah blah blah).” said this accented gentleman. Now I knew this name Mike (blah blah blah) so I allowed this to happen, knowing that I would be soon let in on the joke.
Hearing the signature laughter of said Mike in the background and realizing that I was being drunk dialed from Europe, in broad daylight, in the middle of the gayest patio in crowded boystown, Chicago, I was at a loss how to get out of this situation with my ego and my gay identity intact.
Eventually the accented fellow relented and handed the phone to Mike and his laughter came thru in full force.
He wasn’t drunk. He was stoned. legally!
He was calling from Amsterdam and had been retelling (again and again) the story of our quick trip to the sin capitol of the world to anybody and everybody that would listen.
It went a little like this:
Shortly after I moved to Chicago, I met a man at the cell-block that informed me I was able to purchase real “poppers” from the internet and have them shipped direct from Amsterdam where they were still legal in their original formula (Amyl-Nitrate). This excited me to no ends since I’d never sampled the original formula due to the fact that Nancy Reagan’s war on harmless drugs required they be banned from the shores of this so-called “free” country.
I rushed home and put in an order for 4 bottle, thinking I’d give 2 out for Christmas gifts or housewarming gifts. I’d find a reason to give this particular gift of joy.
So you could imagine the anger when instead of a little brown box full of little brown bottles, I instead, received a certified letter from U.S. Customs advising me that my merchandise had been seized and that I would need to petition for its release.
I took the easier route.
I jumped on a plane that very weekend to Amsterdam. I called Mike in Frankfurt and told him to meet me there and “get a hotel, its boys gone wild Amsterdam”. (I should have trademarked that one) We did go wild, we tried legal mushrooms, smoked legal pot and drank a lot. I also had legal public sex with a hot Dutch leather Daddy and a beautiful bald headed British soccer thug. (yes, at the same time, international relations were at stake)
I purchased my 4 bottles of original formula “poppers”, packed my bags, jumped on the train back to the airport and was home for work on Monday morning, tired jet-lagged, and in pain (from the…well). I also had the biggest smile on my face from one of the best weekends on record.
The reason this story was told by Mike on Sunday, was because he was there, in Amsterdam, doing legal mushrooms, smoking legal pot and drinking lots of beer. …And telling the highlight of the weekend.
That hightlight went like this…
We had been sitting in a cafe, relaxing with a legal joint when, (and I swear this was true) about 20 big, muscled British rugby players walking along the opposite side of the canal, all stopped at the same time, turned to face the cafe across the canal, pulled out their dicks and started pissing in the canal.
When I came to, Mike was laughing hysterically. I’m not sure if it was the pot or the 20 naked British men that made me lose it, but… that memory is one of my most cherished highlights.
September 27, 2004
its over
the indignity of it all…
i had my colonoscopy procedure today. I spent all day yesterday “preparing”, but I will not go into specifics on that topic. This morning at 10:00am i checked into the hospital and was quickly processed into a waiting room where I was instructed to strip, put on the gown and crawl into the bed.
The nurse returned and checked my vitals and inserted an IV containing fluids to replenish my system. I laid there for a half hour watching the slow drip, drip, drip of the fluid into the IV, convinced that there had been an error and this was poison dripping directly into my blood stream.
After a half hour, the nurse advised that the Doctor would be in shortly, so I asked for the TV to be turned on, you know, jerry Springer, or Ricki Lake. I was happy with Judge Joe Brown. Halfway thru the case, they came for me and wheeled me down the hall to the procedure room.
They strapped on the sensors, the oxygen tubes, and the blood pressure cuff. Next the lovely nurse, that spoke a lot like Cher, (during her early years on TV) injected the sedative… “is that big bubble supposed to be in that tube”? I asked
Both the nurse and Doctor (Persian Ass Master) calmed my fears and told me the bubble would need to be much larger to kill someone. I started to explain that I knew what was going on, cause damn it I watched ‘ER’. I’m not sure how long it was before I woke up, but I did and the nurse was there handing me a cup of Cranberry juice and Graham Crackers. Telling me to get up and get dressed she went about removing the IV and all the tape and sensors attached to my body.
I dressed and wobbled my way to the hall where I was directed to sit and wait for the Doctor. This is the funny part.
He walked up to me with a smile on his face and handed me the photos of my procedures that I had apparently asked for, no demanded, during the process. He said “I didn’t have a CD to put this on, so you’ll have to scan it in order to post this to your blog.
embarrassed, I made my way down to meet my ride home.
September 26, 2004
oh New York, New York…
I’m home from New York, and settling back into my comfortable little world. Below are some snapshots of my trip… just makes ya feel like you were there doesn’t it?
Here I am on the subway at the 42nd street stop.
a little while later, we’re walking thru Manhattan, and look… there in the distance, on the other side of that cab I think its, a Famous Writer Rob Byrnes.
or maybe its not and I was just all caught up in the excitement of the city.
Continuing thru the night, we stopped for dinner at a fabulous place in Chelsea that reminded me of a Shoney’s Big Boy restaurant of the early 1960’s.
Finishing dinner, and with a few hours before my return train to Long Island, we popped into a little bar for a drink (or five). Since I was indeed a tourist, I asked this gentleman… 
to snap a picture of us. He promptly turned into a raging and bitchy queen but I thanked him anyway.
My time in the city was drawing to a close, so we pulled out our transit card…
and I jumped on the train to the hotel and the seminar that would consume the rest of my time in New York.
I sincerely apologize for not posting while on this trip, but as you can see, my actual time in Manhattan was rushed and glamourous. Once I headed back to the seminar in Woodbury, NY (Still rushed, not glamourous) I was in meetings, meetings, meetings, the entire time. On top of that, the hotel did NOT have a Wi-Fi network available to me and with no transportation, I was not about to hoof it the 1/8 mile to the borders and risk them not having one either. So I opted, to crawl into bed, dreaming of living in NY and being fabulously wealthy. Which it turns out, I could be… As proved by someone at the seminar. He made over $500,000.00 in commission alone last year. I think I have reason to be inspired… if not for myself, then for my economy!
More from the front to come.
September 21, 2004
changing lanes
beyondbuffalo is going on the road. Not only will i be traveling beyond that little town known as Buffalo, but I’ll be leaving my current digs in the “so so” city of Chicago and traveling to NY!
Ok, this sounds like I’m going to glamorous New York City, but truth be told, I’ll be in Woodbury, NY halfway down Long Isand way. OH, I’ll be in NYC, but only for a few hours. I’ll be arriving in beautiful Islip, NY, sharing a taxi to Woodbury with my manager and inside sales girl. After we check into the hotel, my ass will be back in a taxi headed to the Long Island railroad stop to jump onto a train to Penn Station.
I’ll be meeting my friend “married well” and his partner “Shoe VP” for dinner in Manhattan. We’ll grab a few drinks, where I’ll suck in the atmosphere of the big apple as quickly as possible and drag myself back to the train for the long commute home.
I’ll spend the entire evening pretending I’m a bridge and tunnel person that the residents of the island hold with such disdain. I’ll ride back to the Syosset stop pretending I’d just put in a long day at the office on West 43rd (made up address) and that I’m rushing home, beat, weary, and wanting nothing but sleep, to my family, wife, two kids, Bif and little Betty with the bluest eyes ya ever saw.
I’ll slink back to my hotel, pull back the covers and dream that indeed, I am a New Yorker.
It’ll all be a dream, but it’ll be mine and nobody can ever take that from me.
I’ll write the reality upon conclusion of the actual evening.
Ta ta
well this is a good start
i, um, overslept this morning. I had every intention of rising from my bed, throwing off the blankets and rolling out into the sunlight of the day fresh and well rested to begin my new journey towards self discovery.
What happened instead was a little like this:
6:12am awoken by repetitive pounding and hammering 2 buildings down.
6:13am covered head with pillow and cursed
6:20am got up to pee
6:22am ran back to bed and got into the warm spot. threw covers over head.
6:25am loud pounding again
6:26am vocalized my displeasure in direction of window
6:30am alarm goes off - sprint commercial on the radio
6:30:10am: slam fist down on snooze button
6:34am nudge Stella out of center of bed back to her side
6:39am alarm repeats itself
6:39:05: slam fist down on snooze button
6:40am further pounding from building 2 doors down
6:40:10am scream at top of lungs “Stop that damn pounding”
6:41am pillow firmly pulled over head
6:48am alarm tries again to rouse me from my warm wonderful bed
6:48:02am slam fist down on alarm OFF button
6:50am pounding, pounding, pounding
6:51am decide to ignore pounding and pretend its music
7:48am sit up straight in bed cursing “oh shit! Oh Shit” I’m gonna be late for work.
7:49am cover head with pillow and whisper “fuck it”
8:15am stumble to the kitchen for a Diet Coke to get my day started.
so much for riding forth on my new journey towards enlightenment.
September 20, 2004
further clarification
my last post needs some clarification.
The Padre called me frantic, Double D left some wise and wonderful words, and Jerbear uttered his concern.
in my less than eloquent verses, I was attempting to share with you, my faithful readers, that I am at a crossroad. I can either continue down the same path as I have been for my entire life, or I can veer to another path and try something new.
I’m choosing to try something new. I’m choosing to throw off the shroud of my fear and begin to see the sunlight in my life. I have many wonderful friends and have accomplished many things in my years here. Have I accomplished my goals yet? no. Have I even identified them yet? no.
So the choice I spoke of, the difficult choice I made, was to part with what is comfortable in my life. Double D and I have taken a step apart at my request. He’s an amazing man. I may have underestimated just how amazing he is, but that doesn’t change the problem for me. We had a conversation a few weeks ago, ok, more like an argument and I asked him in a heated moment “What do you want from me?” His response, set my mind spinning and has opened a pandora’s box of questions begging for answers. He proceeded to share with me, in great and loving detail, what his dreams for the future were. They are lovely dreams, noble and bewitching in both their simplicity and their scope. The problem arose when I could not share mine. I saw glimpses of myself in his vision of the future, but for the most part, I drew a blank. I had nothing to share. I have managed to stumble so far from my original self that I cannot even recall the simplest of dreams I once held.
I’ve come to realize that I cannot ask Double D to stand by while I take time out to explore myself and find out what exactly it was that I wanted from this life.
Like a good man, he set me free to find my dreams, my inspirations and my goals.
I cherish his input and his warmth and will miss him on my journey. I am richer for having shared this time with him, and I wish nothing but love and happiness for him.
So, off we go… lets see which direction this adventure takes me.