Shopping for Pine Cones and coming to terms
Day three found my host, Anonymous Padre driving me and two other guests north into the Canadian wilderness. Our plan was to drive north to Whistler and take in the sights of the countryside. I must admit the winding highway hugging the cliffs over the bay afforded one spectacular view after another, and in many ways, this area of the country reminds me of Northern California. The forests, the cliffs and the active outdoor lifestyle many residents here enjoy are a bittersweet reminder of what I left behind when I decided to move to Chicago.
We got halfway to Whistler and stopped for lunch at a roadside café (actually it was a Canadian chain similar to Denny’s) where I had a hamburger (cooked well-done, by law) and fries with gravy. Yes that’s right, gravy. Rich beef gravy slathered over the fries. I must admit, I may have fallen in love with this concept, and will do all I can to import it back to the US and urge it to grow and prosper.
After lunch, we headed back to Vancouver instead of continuing on to Whistler. We stopped in a park on the north side of the city called Cypress Bowl affording amazing views of the entire Vancouver area. (again, pictures to follow).
Arriving back in the city, we took “quiet time” for about an hour before heading out for martinis. Now, I’ve always been partial to Chopin Vodka, the last truly great potato(e) vodka, but I tried a brand I’d never heard of and it gave Chopin a run for its money and may have unseated the reigning leader. After 3 of these little beauties we headed off to dinner at a stylish joint called “Lift” where I was somewhat ignored by Anonymous Padre and his love interest the Pagan Diamond Dealer. A C$85.00 crab cake later, I excused myself to hit the loo and returned to an impassioned declaration about a dramatic situation involving Anonymous Padre and the Pagan Diamond Dealer. I listened to his speech with a blank face and replied, “I leave on Tuesday, I really don’t care” and shortly later informed Anonymous Padre that I felt like a third wheel and I was ready to leave.
This was a huge step for me since I’ve never in my life told someone that I was feeling left out or that I was uncomfortable. It was a quiet and awkward walk back to the apartment where we had a “come-to-Jesus” talk and resolved some major issues faced this weekend. We talked until 2:30 when The Guest Boys returned from their night on the town and calling it a night.
This morning I’m off to do a little shopping.
July 29, 2005
musings on acceptance
The walk along the coast from Yaletown to Stanley Park was lovely. Around every corner was another man more beautiful than the last. The closer I got to the park, the beauty factor jumped exponentially and I was happy to see it.
I wandered around the island most of the afternoon, ducking in and out of the sun, and in and out of the trees as I covered most of the island in about 3 hours.
I swear Vancouver is the gayest city I’ve ever been to, and I’ve spent time in Amsterdam. I saw more male-male couples walking hand-in-hand throughout this city in displays of love and togetherness that give me hope. As an example of how gay friendly this place is, their immigration forms specifically state a family is anybody that lives in the same household. When I walked thru immigrations the agent took my paperwork and passport and asked me one single question. “What brings you to Canada?” For some reason, my response was “For gay pride.” She handed my forms and passport back and smiled brightly and said, have a great time and sent me on my way.
For the first time in my life I felt like I needn’t be afraid of a government. It was very nice
July 28, 2005
O Canada
I arrived safe and sound in Vancouver about an hour ago (midnight) and the air is crisp and clear, the streets are clean (from 90kmh) and the cold beer is extremely refreshing.
The moment I stepped in line to go thru what the US Government laughingly calls security, I remembered again why I have cut back on my travel. Its ridiculous. For some reason, the TSA (Transportation Security Administration) agents in Chicago require you to remove your footwear before walking thru the metal detectors. This evening, I was wearing flip-flops. I figured I’d be safe with flip-flops. I checked the TSA website and was provided with an answer to my question of “Am I required to remove my footwear?” It states
You are not required to remove your shoes before you enter the walk-through metal detector. However, TSA screeners may encourage you to remove them before entering the metal detector, as certain types of footwear, e.g., thick soles, require additional screening, even if the metal detector does not alarm. Selecting footwear accordingly may expedite the screening process for you.
I would have no problem with removing my shoes, if indeed, that was the official regulation put out, but for the agents in Chicago to completely disregard the very words the head office in Washington DC put out, is pure bullshit and it automatically puts me into a nasty mood. I walked up to the metal detector with my shoes on and this bitch of a TSA agent actually yelled at me to remove my shoes. I mean yelled at me like I was a 5 year old. God forbid I confront her with their own regulations; I’d be thrown in jail as a terrorist. THIS is what this country has become and it’s disgusting. FUCKING BITCH.
And I move on…
My flight was delayed leaving Chicago for some unknown reason, making my connection in Seattle questionable for the 4-hour duration of the flight. Trapped in the middle seat, at 35,000 feet wondering if I would be spending the night in a hotel in Seattle or at Anonymous Padre’s apartment in Vancouver is not an enviable position to be in. I arrived with 45 minutes to spare and trudged to my Alaska Airlines Commuter connection. They served me beer. I forgot Vancouver was an international flight and alcoholic beverages are complimentary. I managed to suck down 2 in the 40-minute flight.
I’m watching Anonymous Padre make my bed, so I shall log off and return tomorrow with tales from Canada.
July 25, 2005
Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday to me!
No it’s not my Birthday; I just celebrated that 2 weeks ago. It is however, the 1st Birthday of Beyond Buffalo. One whole year. I had expected so much more to be quite honest with you. When I decided to commit and have a blog, I looked forward to the many intimate times we would spend together, bonding, talking about our shared histories, dreams and experiences. I envisioned you growing into a strong and able bodied being, capable of standing on your own, and who knows, maybe even helping to support your old man when ya got a little older.
This year has been a mixture of joy, sadness and unexplained emotional dependence. I figured we’d bond, get attached and want to spend time together. I visualized teaching you and watching you take your first steps in this world. I never imagined how quickly you would spread your love worldwide. Really, I didn’t even know Bahrain allowed internet access let alone access to a gay blog, and yet, you managed to find someone in Bahrain for me. I love you Beyond Buffalo.
I look forward to your terrible twos. You’ve gotten new clothes that look like they fit you much better than the diapers you wore as an infant. You’re growing up so fast bloggy that I fear you’ll head off to college and then the corporate world before I realize how fast you’re growing up. Then I’ll be left alone again watching from the sidelines while your life takes on new meaning and your success blossoms.
All this because I got drunk one night and well, one thing led to another, and in the morning I knew my life would be different. You were not exactly an accident, like we’ve been telling you. You were wanted Sweetie. Daddy wanted you.
I raise a glass of Lactaid to your future, Beyond Buffalo. May it be filled with laughter, love and interesting experiences. It’s all in the way you look at it anyway.
July 21, 2005
the wonders of the slow cooker
I’m a bad cook. I’m a very bad cook. I tried again today. When will I ever learn?
Who in god’s name invented the crock-pot? What evil, demented person thought up the concept of throwing ingredients into an electrified stone pot and walking away for hours upon hours at a time?
I succumbed to the pressure this afternoon and pulled the crock down from the highest shelf in the pantry (placed high for safety reasons). I gathered the ingredients from the refrigerator, the cutting board and a sharp knife and set to work. I chopped, diced I cut a lot of things into smaller things. Then, I made the worst mistake of the entire process. I opted for rice instead of small red skinned potatoes.
What did I make? Rice Paste with Chicken. I could have repaired the Great Wall of China with the rice paste I made today.
To correct the picture above…
102 things to do with a slow cooker.
#102 – make rice paste
July 20, 2005
focus-on-dog-food
Can I start a new career as a Marketing Focus Group participant? I’d really like to and here’s why. They feed you. They pay you. You meet new people and you talk about interesting products, concepts and ideas. Oh, and all the Diet Coke(t) I could pour down my greedy little throat.
Let me back up. A few months ago, a dear friend poured coffee on my beloved, but now dead apple. Feeling bad about what he’d done, he forwarded me a posting from Craig’s list about a focus group for owners of luxury vehicles. (I knew the mommy wagon would help get me ahead in life) This focus group offered $350.00 for 3 hours of my time. I figured I could use $350.00 and that my time was worth at least that so I followed up and sent them an e-mail offering to take their money my services.
You can imagine my surprise, when they returned my call and offered me a slot in the group. On top of this, they had raised the offering to $500.00, which was much more in line with what I truly believe my time is worth. Much like the crushing defeat the rebels of Grenada felt when our beloved President Ronald Reagan squashed their uprising with the full might of the United States Armed Services, I was crushed when they told me the date I was to report. It was the day that I was to be on an airplane to spend a glorious weekend in NYC with MW and his lovely Husband, who I think I’ll start calling LH for lovely Husband.
Alas, my dreams of living off other people’s money were put on the back burner and I reluctantly returned to my workplace with renewed vigor (ok, I actually typed that with a straight face).
Then, on Monday afternoon, it happened. I received a telephone call from, I’ll call her Vicky cause, well, that was her name, inviting me to partake in a special focus group.
The topic was dog food. How exciting, knowing that my time and energy would go towards making the world a better place for pets like Stella and KoKo. My input would guide a company forward in its quest to make profits provide healthy nutritious foods.
I was honored to share my unique knowledge with them at a gross profit of a whopping $75.00. Apparently pet food doesn’t pay as well as luxury vehicles.
Arriving for the group 15 minutes early, anxious to make a good first impression, I realized that I had forgotten to shower that day. “I’ll keep to the edges of the room, keep a little distance and nobody will be the wiser” I thought and luckily it worked. I didn’t want to risk this new profitable venture I was beginning.
They offered us a selection of sandwiches (with chips) and beverages and then they took us into the room with a wall of mirrors and began their study, poking and prodding us for input, grinding us for clarification on our thoughts and feelings, pounding the information they needed from us like residents of the Guantanimo Bay resort in sunny Cuba.
Spent, from the emotional adversity forced upon us, we slowly filtered out of the room. The sharpness of the light burned our eyes as we made our way towards the exits, only to be stopped at the door where they slipped a white envelope with our names carelessly scrawled across the front. Oh, we took their cash. We took it for the pain, the blood, the sweat, and the emotions they’d take from us. I took their cash (and another can of Diet Coke) and headed out into the night, exhilarated with this new experience, hungry for more focus groups.
I took their money to dollar drink night at the Chicago Eagle. I figured, hell, I have $75.00 how many $1 drinks can I get for that? I never figured the answer out. I went to public school and math is hard.
July 18, 2005
musings about pot
I’m confused by many many things in this crazy, madcap and zany world. I’m confused about trends; I’m confused about this society’s priorities and its laws.
Take for instance, this news article that Married Well linked to. Now, if you read this article carefully, you will see that this man murdered his daughter and her best friend about a month after his release from prison. I agree that this is a heinous crime, but take a moment to read further, and you will find that he was arrested for possession of Marijuana in his younger days.
Follow my thought process with me here. Perhaps, just perhaps, Marijuana was legal, since in reality it is much less damaging to society than alcohol, and this man was never arrested for possession, in fact, he regularly smoked marijuana even to this day. Do you think he would have stabbed his 8-year-old daughter and her 9-year-old best friend to death if he were stoned? I would gage that, no, he would not. Why? Stoners are not violent people.
I would suggest keeping violent people stoned. Hell, I would suggest keeping our leaders in Washington stoned. I’d like to see some of the legislation they pass while stoned, you can be sure it isn’t anywhere near as fucked up as the shit they’re working on now. Imagine if you will a world where people giggled uncontrollably, thought up silly notions and crazy plans of actions. A world where people rolled off chairs in crowded bars because they couldn’t stop laughing. A world where “Stinky” does back flips into an algae filled pond while partaking in San Francisco’s Bay to Breakers Marathon.
Someday, I’ll tell you that story.
July 17, 2005
questions to the universe
I haven’t been in the mood to write anything for the past several days. I’m not sure what has caused it, but it’s become worrisome. I usually enjoy writing, whether its to clear my head of something, to pass on something funny that happened to me or someone I know, or hell, even if its just to bitch. But this past week, nothing, nada, zilch.
I’ve been a bit out of sorts since I turned 29 for the 7th time and I’m getting worried. Normally, I would drink myself to oblivion before, during and after a birthday and then shake it off and go about my days. This time, I can’t seem to do that. I can’t seem to get out of my head long enough to catch a breath let alone shake things off.
The questions have piled up, the answers are lost, and my path to finding them is muddied. (And those that know me know how much I hate to get dirty).
So maybe if I pose the questions, it will get them out there for the universe to send me answers.
Here ya go Universe, answer these.
And last…