Friday, August 26, 2005

how to completely alter your weekend plans in ten hours

I got an eerie feeling when I got to work this morning and already had an e-mail from my mom asking me to call her as soon as I got in. First of all, that’s just strange, and second, I know that my mom always wants to tell me bad news directly – not over voicemail or e-mail.

It turns out my great aunt’s condition has taken a rather severe turn for the worse, and they actually didn’t expect her to make it through the night. But being the feisty little fighter that she is, she’s still hanging on a full 12 hours after they administered last rites.

So, all day I’ve been trying to find the cheapest flights for any number of possible departure possibilities. Maybe she’ll die tonight and I’ll have to leave tomorrow. Or maybe she’ll die tomorrow and I’ll have to leave on Sunday. Or maybe she’ll keep hanging on through the weekend. Do I fly straight home and pay the outrageous $800 ticket? Do I fly to Pierre, pay around $400, and have my dad come pick me up? Or do I fly to Minneapolis and drive home with a cousin I haven’t had an extended conversation with since we played with my He-Man figures together in grade school?
Ugh…five hours in a car with a virtual stranger.

In addition to that, I definitely have to prepare for the 99% chance that I won’t be in to work for at least the first half of next week. And, of course, I have three deadlines hitting next Wednesday. So it’s Friday night, and I’m going to be here indefinitely – until everything is done.

Still, as much as I love fleeing the office on Friday at 5 p.m., I’m really digging the deserted office feeling. Makes me feel like a real team player. Plus I’m logging major overtime, and should still get at least two days paid next week when I'm gone (that’s how much they gave me for my grandpa’s funeral).
I really wish I’d just gotten my ass in gear and bought a car this month. Then I could just jump in the car, hit the road, and be home in 11 hours. Blimey!

The light at the end of my tunnel consists of multiple shots of tequila at my favorite gay bar in about four hours and then dancing the rest of the night away with a bunch of my hot female friends.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

My office building was evacuated two hours ago due to a bomb threat. I’m sure that’s not rare in this day and age, but I believe it’s a first for me.
I had to marvel at the calmness of hundreds of people evacuating a major office building. People were joking, laughing, taking their time. And I couldn’t help but think that at any moment something horrible was going to happen.
One of the cleaning staff was still in the lobby shining the glass entry doors as everyone walked out. Is that really necessary when that glass may be blown out at any minute?
Plus, I work in Tower One of the Denver World Trade Center, which has always made me feel slightly uncomfortable. I remember one of my first interviews with my firm was on September 11, 2002. Very surreal.

Now everything is supposedly O.K. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t feel totally at ease. I’m really amazed with the citizens of New York, Washington, DC, and London for their resilient spirit in the face of what they’ve been through. Actual terror and tragedy and death.

Monday, August 22, 2005

my big fat party weekend

Have I ever mentioned that I love to party on the weekends?
Well, in case I haven’t…I do sometimes like to indulge in a drink or two when that ol’ workweek is over!

I felt pretty tired on Friday after staying out too late on Thursday night, but I made it through the workday with the help of a little green tea and a lot of Red Bull. After work I went home and caught a nice two-hour nap. Love the Friday afternoon nap!
Around 9 p.m. I emerged from my coma and stopped by Sambuca to meet a couple married friends to down a quick gin & tonic or two and listen to some jazz. I couldn’t stay long because my friend who moved away last January was in town, and we had plans to get crazy-drunk at as many gay bars as possible.
There is no way I would be able to give you an accurate count of how many drinks I had Friday night. I don’t think I even want to provide a ballpark figure because you may come away with the impression that I drink too much. And that’s just simply not true…ahem.
So we were partying and drinking and hitting on many, many boys, and by 1:30 a.m. our alcohol-soaked asses ended up at this skanky little bar on Broadway. And after a full night of many shots and beers, what goes down better than…long island iced teas! Oh, sweet jesus. Now that I’ve had time to reflect on it, perhaps we shouldn’t have had those. Perhaps.
At closing time we went over to an acquaintance’s house for a post-bar cocktail, and by about 3 a.m. I had almost passed out on the couch. I closed my eyes for a minute, and when I opened them, I noticed that the two boys had gone into the bedroom and shut the door – nudge, nudge, wink, wink. And then BOOM - all of a sudden I was wide awake. And quite concerned that I might eventually hear some “sounds” coming from the bedroom. So in my ridiculously inebriated state I got up, put on my shoes, and bolted from the apartment. I really didn’t take time to think through the actual logistics of getting home at 3:30 a.m. I mean, I was miles from home. I wandered all the way back to the club where we had been earlier, all the while praying that an empty cab would happen to drive by. The streets were dead. I stood there drunkenly swaying back and forth for about ten minutes, and then out of nowhere a yellow cab pulled up to the curb! I didn’t even have to hail it. The driver must have sensed a damsel in distress. Thank you Duane (yeah, somehow through the alcoholic haze I managed to remember the cab driver’s name) wherever you are!
So I was able to drunkenly collapse in my own cozy bed and didn’t have to sleep on a nasty-ass couch with the sounds of two friends humping away in the next room. Nice.

I had a bit of a headache the next day so I kept a pretty low profile until late afternoon when I went to the gym to burn off a few of those empty calories from the night before. Sweating my ass off made me feel much better, and eventually I had recovered enough to hit my friend’s 30th birthday party at the swanky JW Marriott in Cherry Creek. She really did it up right – a big tent, waiters, amazing food, a huge cake from the best bakery in town, a DJ, and plenty of joints upstairs in the hotel room. Since my liver hurt, I stuck to small glasses of white wine and smoking sessions up in the room.
Then around 11 p.m. I was off to the most hopping Saturday night spot for gay boys (at least this month) in Denver. Pretty stereotypical – lots of loud dance music, fog machines, sweaty boys without their shirts, inappropriate groping, etc. Unfortunately, the closest I got to any action was getting felt up by the friends of my ex. And that just felt dirty. Hot, but dirty.

Yesterday was the AIDS Walk here in Denver, and I really meant to go. I honestly did. I’m all for supporting a charity by trudging a couple of miles in a fog after a hard-drinking weekend. But when I passed out early on Sunday morning I didn’t set my alarm, and I didn't wake up until noon. However, not being one to miss out on free food and booze, I did make it to a barbeque held at the home of a gay couple I’ve known for years. There was quite a diverse group of gay men present. I did meet one cutie who may have some potential, but I most definitely wasn’t at my best and brightest so I avoided any significant social interaction. I just kind of sulked in the corner and drank Coors Lights. In a sexy way.

And that was my weekend.
Needless to say, I didn’t find a cure for cancer or write the great American novel or anything, but I did have fun.
And everyone said turning 30 would slow me down.

Friday, August 19, 2005


Oh dear. I’m afraid I overindulged a bit too much with the $1 mystery shots at my local cowboy gay bar last night. I don’t remember what they were called or what was in them (I think I recall peach schnapps as one ingredient) but they were super cheap and tasted like fruit juice. So I had about eight.

I was just going to meet my gang of lesbos for a Bud Light or two, and the next thing I knew it was 1:30 a.m. and I was stumbling into my apartment realizing that my alarm was going to be going off in about five hours. I hate that feeling. But not quite as much as the feeling when the alarm actually does go off, I guess.

To be honest, the reason I stayed out so late and did so many shots was because I had a crush on our waiter. All the waiters at this bar dress up cowboy-style, complete with cowboy hats, boots, flannel shirts, tight jeans, etc. It’s not the type of look you see everyday. Unless perhaps you live in some small town somewhere down south. Or close to a Wal-Mart. And I was intrigued by him.
His name was Matt too and he’s also a Cancer. I’m not sure if that signifies anything at all, except that we happened to have a couple incidental things in common. But it seemed like a big deal at the time.
So I grabbed his ass but didn’t get his number. It’s probably better that way. He can remain a cutie mystery cowboy guy in my mind. At least until next Thursday….

Thursday, August 18, 2005

musical delights

Stacy tagged me to list the ten songs I’m most into right now. But since I listen to so much music on a daily basis, that is an almost impossible task for me. So I’ve tweaked the request a bit, and am going to list ten of my all-time favorite CDs. Not necessarily my favorite ten CDs EVER, but ten that I wouldn’t want to live without (and that pop into my head without me having to go home to stare at my CD collection).

I am a total music junkie. I’m not saying my taste is impeccable by any means, but I am constantly listening to something. While I’m bumming around my house, when I’m walking anywhere, when I’m at work, etc. I even have crazy-deformed ears holes from constantly having headphones in.
Just kidding.
I’ve had crazy-deformed ear holes since birth. Little evil children point and laugh at me at the supermarket.

Mark Farina – San Francisco Sessions: I’ve picked this as my favorite Mark Farina CD, but I love, love, LOVE them all. I kind of randomly discovered him a couple years ago. He has a series of CDs out called “Mushroom Jazz,” and they are absolutely perfect for putting on as ambient music – say, at a party or while you’re reading a book. When I’m 90 years old (god willing) and I hear something by Mark Farina I’ll have warm remembrances of listening to him on the weekend while cozied up reading at the Tattered Cover (the best bookstore in Denver).
Hmmm – spell check isn’t recognizing “cozied” but I’m sticking with it!

Dimitri – A Night at the Playboy Mansion: Much like the description above of Mark Farina, but sexier. It has a really groovy 70s vibe. Please check it out and play it at your next sexy gathering! Maybe at your next orgy? You’ll thank me when you’re getting laid….

Queer as Folk – the British series: I like all the Queer as Folk soundtracks, but this one has a cool, slightly cheesy, ultra-sweet British feel to it. And a kick-ass remix of “Sexy Boy” by Air.

The White Stripes – White Blood Cells: A classic. Well, it will be a classic as soon as it gets a few years older. I always think about hanging out at my best friend’s pad off of 16th & Stout around 2002-2003 getting baked and listening to this repeatedly when I hear it. “We’re Going to be Friends?” Has there been a cuter song EVER? And I love the original “Fell in Love with a Girl.” Fuck off Joss Stone!
***side note – I actually love Joss Stone, but there was no need for her to cover this song and replace “Girl” with “Boy.”***

Coldplay – A Rush of Blood to the Head: Brilliant. Bloody brilliant. One of the first times I ever listened to it, I was flying home to South Dakota for my grandpa’s funeral. I was on the connecting flight from Minneapolis to Aberdeen in one of those little 15-20 seaters, which are scary as shit during a storm (think “La Bamba”), but absolutely amazing on a beautiful day flying through all the thick, poofy, white clouds. And when “A Rush of Blood to the Head” came on, I started crying. The guy beside me pretended not to notice - thankfully.

Janet Jackson – The Velvet Rope: I think this is Janet’s most underappreciated CD. It is amazing! While it has radio favorite “Together Again,” Janet really shines on “Velvet Rope,” “Got ‘Til It’s Gone,” “Free Zone,” and “What About.” “Velvet Rope” absolutely gives me the chills. A couple of years ago I was in Aberdeen driving around with my mom and I was playing this CD. “Got ‘Til It’s Gone” came on, which has a brief sample from Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi” – basically the same line over and over – and my mom thought the CD was skipping. My mom is so hip. Love her!

Pixies – Doolittle: I can’t say enough about the Pixies. I can listen to them when I’m sad, when I’m pissed off, when I’m happy…whenever! They have a couple greatest hits albums out which totally rock, but this is definitely my favorite non-greatest hits work. I used to have a serious obsession with “Monkey Gone to Heaven.” Actually, I still do, but I’ve learned to live with it and not let it consume my life completely. I’m just taking it one day at a time….
My favorite lesbo Heidi and I used to listen to this CD every night while we closed the Starbucks. We’d blast the fucker and get crazy. Besides illegal drugs and obscene amounts of alcohol, it was really the only way to unwind after a long day of crappucino-making.

Eminem – Marshall Mathers LP: I don’t know exactly when this CD became a permanent part of my psyche. I do remember lying out in a park a couple blocks from my parents’ house a few summers back listening to this over and over. I couldn’t get enough of it. I definitely think this is his best CD - when he was at the peak of his powers.
And for all of those who whine about the fag-bashing stuff - pffft. Suck it! Ever heard of free speech?

Britney Spears – Greatest Hits: Now, some of you may give me shit about this one, but I’m not ashamed. There is no better CD to work out to, and any day you’re feeling blue, just put on “Toxic” and strut down the street!
Don’t you know that you’re toxic??
I wish Britney wasn’t all knocked-up and married to a serial-impregnator, because I’m worried it’s all downhill for her career from here on out, but who knows? Maybe a “Crossroads II” isn’t entirely out of the question!
P.S. – I did catch “Crossroads” for the first time a month or two ago and it wasn’t all that bad. Britney’s biological mother treats her like dirt, her skinny white friend falls down some steps and loses her baby, her skinny black friend gets shit on by a cheating boyfriend when they get to L.A., etc. Good stuff. Stuff we can all relate to, right?

And number ten…hmmm. I think I might just leave that slot open so everyone can imagine that I would have picked their favorite CD to take that spot. Unless it’s some bullshit by Mariah Carey or Celene Dion. Those bitches can bite me!
(Although, I do like exactly ONE song by each of them and that’s it. I’m not made of stone, after all.)

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

ouch! my ego!

I've had very good luck in my life in getting what I want. When it comes to getting jobs, that is. I'm a fairly intelligent, hard-working, and likable person. But I also kick ass at interviews.
So imagine my surprise when my latest attempt at climbing that nasty corporate ladder was met with a resounding "WE DON'T WANT YOU!"
I found out last Thursday that my interview with a certain Denver-based architecture firm didn't go quite as well as I had thought. Three weeks ago I went in and interviewed for a Marketing Coordinator position. The position was remarkably similar to what I'm doing now, except that the firm is three times bigger and I would have been working with a team of three other marketers (and I would have been making quite a bit more money). The interview went really well. The only hitch was that I was running late getting to their office, and it was an intensely hot day, so by the time I got there I was sweating like a pig. I had a moment to try to compose myself, but then the two ladies interviewing me showed me to one of their conference rooms which was about 120 degrees. So for the first ten minutes of my interview I was sweating like a pig. Eventually I had to explain that I wasn't nervous, or hiding some deep dark secret, but just a bit overheated from my dash to the interview. They seemed fine with it. Then early the next week the HR woman called my references, one of which is my good friend. She immediately called me and told me that the HR woman said they were going to offer me the position by the end of the day. So I waited...and waited...and waited...and finally by the middle of the next week I called them to see what was going on. Turned out the decision had come down to me and another woman. And then last Thursday I got an e-mail from the HR woman.

Matt: We wanted to thank you for spending time with us interviewing for the marketing coordinator position. After careful consideration, we decided to extend an offer to another candidate, who has accepted. This decision was made with the goal of finding the best fit for the needs we have. We were extremely expressed with your experience and attitude, and know you will find an opportunity that will utilize the talents and energy you have to offer.Thank you again for your time and effort. We wish you success in your employment search, and appreciate your interest in XXX. XXX Director of Human Resources

I responded with the following:

Hello all - I wanted to sincerely thank you for your consideration of me for the Marketing Coordinator position at XXX. I'm sorry it didn't work out for me, but I'm confident you've selected the best person for your firm and your marketing team's needs. I enjoyed meeting all of you, and I'm sure I will see you all around in this small architecture world we all travel in!
One note on the reference-checking process. It would be more professional on your part, and less stressful on the interviewee's part, if you didn't tell the prospective employee's reference that you're going to offer them the job by the end of the day, and then not be in contact with the interviewee for almost two weeks. It sets up the interviewee for much more disappointment and confusion.
Thanks again and have a great week!

Is that passive-aggressive or what? Nice.

Oh well. I do believe they're a bunch of buggers anyway.
I just need a change so bad! And more money. Much more money.

But I have a second interview today at 1:00 at a certain Denver landscaping architecture firm. And I'm going to get the job by god! And try not to sweat too much.

Friday, August 12, 2005

from 120 to 0…with a confused libido

The past two weeks at work have been absolutely crazy. I was so busy yesterday I didn’t log onto the internet once!
Pathetic, I know, but I loves my MSNBC.
But by 6pm I got all my AIA awards submittals and a big nasty proposal out the door and breathed a huge sigh of relief.
And now today…nothing. I mean, there’s clean-up work to be done, but no pressing issues. And my supervisor is gone for a four-day weekend. So basically I’ve been sitting here staring at my computer all glassy-eyed for the past four hours. Heaven!

So I’ve been single again for about three weeks, and have managed to get myself a little squeak and tickle in that time, but I’m still feeling quite randy. However, while in the last relationship I realized that I’m starting to enjoy being coupled up much more than I used to.
I do have serious issues with being in a relationship, which I won’t go into now, but as I was saying to a friend at the bar last night, there’s something so sweet about looking across a crowded bar of fags and seeing your special guy looking back at you with that same “god, this blows” look on his face. And then grabbing his hand and walking out of the bar without all the pressure and worries about whether or not you’re going to get lucky that night.

Well, I’ll just let whatever happens happen on the relationship front, but now that I'm single I’ve got to put in some work to secure myself some recreational ass on the weekends. Last night at the bar I tried to get a few things going for tonight. And by the end of the night I had two distinct possibilities. The two options couldn’t be any more different – one is sweet, outgoing, charming, nice to me, and a genuine pleasure to be around. The other is evil, sulky, plays games, and has treated me like shit too many times to count. When he is mentioned in my social circle, we put the moniker “Evil” before his name.
I am hard-core attracted to them both.
However, as I was stumbling into my apartment after chugging five beers in about an hour, I realized that they do have one thing in common. They’re both hair stylists.
How gay is that?
Ironically, I’m planning on going to get my head shaved after work today!

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

me get fat now

Tomorrow it will be six weeks since I quit smoking.
It was my 30th birthday that spurred me to finally take the plunge. I'd been smoking for over ten years at that point. God, I can't believe it was that long.
And I loved it. I know it was absolutely horrible for me and it kills hundreds of thousands of people every year, but I still loved it.
I'm well past the physical addiction of course, but the psychological need still torments me almost every day.
So, being completely orally-fixated, I've started eating constantly at night to keep myself from running across the street and buying a pack of American Spirits. Peanut butter on Wheat Thins, popcorn, frozen pizza, Fritos, Blow-Pops, name it. I can't help it. Some nights it's either eat or break down and smoke.
I'm afraid I will soon resemble one of those obese twins from the Guiness Book of World Records. You know, those twins on motorcycles?
And I just can't get fat again. I've been there and done that. I mean, I wrote the book on being an inactive, overeating, fat, depressed and repressed teen. So I've increased my workouts from two per week to four per week to balance out all the extra calories. Except now I'm sore as shit all the time. Every day. This afternoon I thought my ankles were going to give out on me.

God I need a smoke....

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

sad tv

Whew - after the past few days my emotions need some R&R.
First, my good friend (who I used to date) told me last Thursday that he was moving back down south after failing to find a good job here in Denver. And that he was moving on Monday. Nothing like a little advance notice! So we hung out on Friday night, and around 3am (after many, many $1 well drinks at the gay strip club) ended up in bed together. And we had a drunken, sweaty BLAST! Better than anything we ever did when we were dating. Such a shame. Now he's suddenly gone.
Then final episode of "Queer as Folk" aired on Sunday. And while I slept through the first half hour, and only made it to my friend's house in time to catch the last 15 minutes, I still got all depresso. I have to admit, the show had gotten a bit cheesy and preachy the past couple of seasons (a BOMB in the club??? Brian proposing to Justin??? Lesbos moving to Canada???). But back in 2001 when I watched the first season on DVD I was totally blown away. I had never seen anything like it before. It really made me feel like there was a whole world of gay people out there who knew exactly what I was going through.
And then the trauma of "Six Feet Under." First, they kill off Nate. Aargh! Then, last night's whole episode dealt with the aftermath, including showing David cleaning Nate's body to be buried. I was literally in tears the whole episode. And after two more episodes the show will be ending too.
Christ - why do shows like these and "Sex and the City" have to end so quickly while shows like "Cops" and "7th Heaven" and "Fear Factor" can go on and on for years?
Honestly - I feel like my precious reality shows are all I have left. Speaking of, I caught the new Kathy Griffin reality show last week and it was brilliant! You must check it out. And watch her stand-up special too. That is one hilarious bitch.

Could I have used any more italics in this post?

Friday, August 05, 2005

killing germs

*Before writing this post, I just want to say that I really don't hate my job or the people I work with THAT much. It's just that you really start to get a sense of how strange people are when you're forced to work with them 40-50 hours a week. I mean, I see these freaks more than I see anyone else in my life....*

This past winter I became addicted to using Purell Hand Sanitizer (with Aloe & Vitamin E to leave hands feeling soft & refreshed!!) to keep all those cold germies off my hands. I used to get sick all the time - seriously, like 1-2 colds a month. I felt like I was in a constant state of coming down with a cold, dealing with a cold, or recovering from a cold.

*It probably didn't help that I spent every night at the bar getting totally bombed and smoking at least a pack of cigarettes, in addition to engaging in an inordinate amount of casual sex. Of course now I'm a perfect angel....*

So this winter I dedicated myself to keeping my hands sparkly fresh, as at least a small, tentative step towards maintaining my health. I asked our receptionist to order a large dispenser of Purell that we could keep in the breakroom so everyone in the office could be as responsible as me. Then one day when I was in the breakroom I noticed one of our Senior Associates pumping some Purell into her hands, and then using it with water to wash her hands. Like it was liquid soap or something. I found it so strange. Had she never seen Purell before? Had she never seen someone else use it?
The next time I saw her at the sink I walked up, pumped some Purell into my hands, and then vigorously rubbed them together right in front of her so she could see how everyone else in the world uses Purell.
She immediately proceeded to pump and then wash as usual.

The inventor of Purell must be spinning in his (or her) grave.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

I'm free...FREE!!

Thank god - I think I'm finally free!

I've had an iPod forever, but could never seem to get around to getting it hooked up. It just sat there in its sad little square box, gathering dust. Then a couple of months ago the guy I was dating took it and loaded about 1,000 songs on it for me. Of course, I was ecstatic, even though a lot of the selections consisted of Weird Al songs and country ditties (perhaps one of the reasons we didn't last?).

But it also held another song that I'd heard from time to time at the bar but never paid much attention to. That song was "Since You've Been Gone" by Kelly Clarkson. When I heard it for the first time blasting directly into my ears via headphones I thought I was in heaven. I couldn't get enough of it, and would listen to it over and over and over. I honestly couldn't stop, and it was really getting to be a problem because there are so many other lovely songs out there in the world that I wasn't getting to know (no offense Ms. Clarkson!).

So on my way to work today I of course clicked to the song and I couldn't make it all the way through.
I'm sick of it.
Thank you jebus!

Now...I wonder what my next cheesy song obsession will be? Is Britney coming out with anything new soon?


Everyone who works in an office has one. That woman who is so incessantly annoying that it's all you can do to not punch her in the neck on a daily basis.
The one who feels it necessary to share EVERY SINGLE DETAIL of her life with you. How many people helped her move in 1989. How far her parents lived from her grandparents when she was in grade school. Why she chose to bring her red umbrella to work instead of her black one. How much she's paid for every bed she's owned in her life.
The one who talks as loudly as possible while on the phone so everyone can hear how friendly and important she [thinks she] is. Even though her job description basically consists of ordering lunches, answering phones and typing up meeting notes.


And I have a very strong feeling that half the time, she's phone-faking. You know, just pretending she's talking to someone. Like I do on my cell phone when I see someone really good-looking walking towards me on the sidewalk (cuz I come off much more charming and irresistable when I'm throwing back my head in fake laughter or acting like I'm working out a complicated business deal). Or when I see a homeless person begging (I just feel like the biggest piece of shit EVER when I say no to a homeless person).
Or she'll do the same thing talking to her kids.


And so on. My feeble attempts to describe the conversations really don't convey the nails-on-a-chalkboard pain of listening to it ALL DAY LONG.
Needless to say, I hate her. One day she wore her hair in pigtails to work for christ's sake. She's in her 30's! Today she's wearing her Freddy Krueger sweater. You know, black and red stripes. Every time I see it I think of "Nightmare on Elm Street." Except instead of long razor fingers she has press-on-nails, half of which have fallen off.

So today a meeting was cancelled and the boxed lunches meant for the meeting were put in the breakroom for all of us to eat. As I walked into the breakroom I had to sigh when I saw her sitting there reading her pathetic Shirley McLaine book. I grabbed a turkey croissant lunch and the newspaper and sat down as far away from her as possible. Things weren't too bad, besides the fact that she would break out into gales of laughter every few minutes and then tentatively glance up at me to see if I was going to inquire about what was so funny. I kept my eyes planted firmly on a story about Mark Cohen's new album. You know, the "Walking in Memphis" guy? After all, anything is more interesting than having a conversation with her. ANYTHING.

Our interiors library intern walks into the breakroom and asks what the strange salad in my lunch tray is. I say that I think it's cous-cous, but I'm not sure. Immediately Freddy Krueger pipes up.


I look straight into her eyes and say in my deadliest tone, "Fascinating." Hold the look for two or three seconds, then slowly lower my gaze back to the newspaper. I sense her still looking at me. I look up into her sad face and she says in a hurt voice, "BOY, YOU'RE NICE TODAY."

So I apologized. And now I feel guilty every time I walk by her. Goddamnit. Why, why, WHY?! Will she ever feel guilty for making my work life a living hell for the past six months? No!
UGH - sometimes I wish I wasn't a stupid sensitive Cancer....


OK - looks good. I managed to successfully post and there's no mention of my true identity.
I've titled my blog Denver Shenanigans. No particular reason. I live in Denver and I guess I have my fair share of wacky adventures.


*crickets chirping*

Wow - now the pressure of posting entertaining tales starts.

first time

I've had nothing but trouble with blogging lately. Actually, just with attempting to post on my friends' blogs. I've had the handle "denverboy" for months and months, and then out of the blue one day it didn't work. And it started posting my real name, which makes me uncomfortable for some reason. I guess I don't want a bunch of potential stalkers knowing my name. Ha - as if I'm cool enough for a stalker.

So...while trying to fix that problem, I stumbled across the "create your own blog" option and thought maybe I should have a blog of my own.