Is Mise..

London

I'm excited because in 3 days time I will fly to London where I will spend 3 days and 3 nights. I am really hoping that the current fine weather continues and that we will be able to spend the weekend wearing shorts and tshirts and not have to deal with coats or rain or anything else that annoys me.

The last few weeks have been busy. I have been working long, long hours and really not getting nearly enough done to be happy. This past weekend I was good though and did get some important things done. Then on sunday night I went out with some friends and we just went a little crazy. Everywhere was packed, given that it was a bank holiday yesterday. We had lots of fun and woke up yesterday to find another glorious sunny day. Of course, this is still Dublin, so it wasn't hot like it would be if I lived somewhere like St Tropez or Athens. Still, it got to about 21ºC and I was happy with that.

Instead of coming straight into work, I went for lunch with Rob and Lola and K came too. Rob and I spend lunch telling them what they had missed out on by having a romantic night in alone together. At least thats what they said they did. I don't really believe them though.

We took a wander through St Stephens green then and sat down in the sun for a while to check out the talent and see if there was anyone nice sunbathing topless. There was.

I'm looking forward to a lot of people watching at the weekend, since it's one of my absolute favourite sports.

Just 2 and a half more days and then I fly.

What happens next?

I'm getting to that point where I'm now applying for jobs (seeing as I haven't won an obscene amount of money yet with the lottery so that I can retire) and the weird thing is that this time next year I could be anywhere.

Where?
Well the options are looking like Australia, London, San Francisco and maybe NYC, but I'm not sure yet if NYC would be a good choice right now.

Decisions decisions.

Rip off?

I totally forgot to mention this over the weekend, but it's possibly the funniest thing (maybe funny isn't the word) that I've come across in quite a while.

So, we all know about Abercrombie and Fitch. The claim on their website: "For over 100 years we’ve dedicated ourselves to designing and producing the highest quality All-American clothing". Well, of course, we all know how that came about. The clothing company, which specialised in outdoor clothing benefitted from a miraculous rebranding exercise at the hands of Mike Jeffries, a somewhat perculiar looking man often dubbed the Willie Wonka of the fashion industry. Googling for pictures of Jeffries and you get the impression that the whole brand is something of a fantasy, the popular 'in crowd' that Jeffries himself was never a part of growing up. Sadly for him, the fantasy he created is still ever bit as unnattainable to himself as belonging to that crowd when he was young (read this great article about A&F from Salon).

I first came across A&F online, when guys in the US referred to themselves as AnF guys, whatever that was supposed to me. My first real understanding of that came when I lived in California a few months later and I entered the Abercrombie and Fitch store in the Fashion Valley mall. It was very clear to me then, just how successful the branding of this company was. Everything about A&F then protrayed an image of an idealised 'all American' lifestyle, with pretty, athletic, WASP-ish guys and girls with perfect white teeth and sun-kissed skin (this was California afterall), surrounded by giant images of similarly attractive models in various states of undress, all their to sell the same thing, their perfectly presented lifestyle.

This was a time when the A&F Quarterly was still on sale, something which didn't continue for too much longer as the controversy mounted over the sexual imagery glossing it's pages, which were apparently targeted to young teens. I always like flicking through it. There was plenty of homoerotic imagery in it, with muscular and athletic all-American boys flirting with the whole idea of gay sex etc. It all fed into the lifestyle portrayed as the A&F lifestyle.

In the last few years, A&F stores have changed. They're now dark and moody, with loud thumping music and a definite change in atmosphere. They still have the pretty, mostly caucasian, staff and now, they even have topless male in-store models that you can have your picture taken with for a mere US$10 or something ridiculous. The A&F lifestyle, as portrayed in the old A&F quarterly is now literally within grasp of your fingertips, or the soft caress of your hand on the small of his back.

In the US, there are a couple of other brands that have similar looking clothing, but none seem to be as successful as the A&F story. Certainly none have taken on the designer status that A&F has awarded itself it seems, with prices for its garments increasing almost year on year. Back in 2001, I think I paid about US$20 for a t-shirt there. In the States last year, a comparable t-shirt now retails for about US$50. And really, there is nothing all that great about the clothes. If anything, it's become so common and uniform that I don't know of anyone who would wear it now. Ok, so I'm older now, maybe thats the difference and I do still see all the young college students here (many of whom still spend a summer working in the US) dressed from head to toe in A&F branded gear.

So, what was so funny that I've been meaning to write about since the weekend?
Well, much as Jeffries took an ailing existing brand and worked his magic, someone at Blarney Woolen Mills, Dublin, has taken a seemingly existing brand here and basically copied the format, down to the shop layout, the photographic style of the imagery in the shop, even the clothing, complete with extraneous contrast fabric logos and whatnot. A&F has a moose, F&B (Fallon and Brown) has a dog. It's all a little bit hilarious.

There are no topless models, not yet anyway, but I'll keep going in to check up on that one.

The shop is located in a landmark building just outside the Nassau street gate to Trinity College (the Arts block for those who know it) and there is no better place, considering the most obvious proponents of the A&F lifestyle in Ireland might be the kinds of students that one finds in abundance coming and going from said region of the college.

Will F&B become the brand du jour for the discerning Irish collegiate? Only time (and possible law suits?) will tell.

The only other question of course, is why has nobody else done this already?

Bank Holiday take 2

I hate short working weeks, not because I'm a workaholic, but because it interrupts my productivity.
I was supposed to get up early and write at home all day, but instead I woke at 10am, with Rob calling me to say he couldn't get into the office so was taking the day off and obviously he wanted a partner in crime. I duly obliged and we went for breakfast and stuffed our faces. I even ate carbs, although I did fell guilty about that and vowed to buy some clothes to deal with the guilt.

We drove out to a shopping centre in the suburbs, full of typical suburbanites eager to spend their money on things they don't need. I, on the other hand, needed new jeans and other clothes because I hate almost everything currently in my wardrobe or laying about in piles on my bedroom floor. Almost everything, but not everything. I still have a bag full of clothes I planned to dump two weeks ago and still haven't gotten around to dealing with. I think I should add to it and just clear some space.

I almost bought a jacket in Genius, one of my favourite shops, but then I realised I have enough jackets of one kind or another and I don't have anywhere to put them and well, I shouldn't be spending money anyway. But then I went a little crazy and bought some polo shirts and a shirt and another top and after in Urban Outfitters (the Dundrum one is much better than the one in the city!!) I tried on lots of jeans and ended up buying yet another pair of nudie jeans. I like the way they fit, but I'm not at all happy with the size of them. Perhaps there has been too much time spent in the gym, but I'm now wearing a size __ waist!! Scary. Anyway, what can I do about that. At least for the time being I can still fit into normal jeans, even if the legs are a little tighter than I would like.

We had lunch in Harvey Nicks then. I had a baked fish crumble, not because it was good friday and I observe any of that 'no meat' stuff, but just because it sounded nice. It didn't disappoint, but there could have been more fish (protein) and less crumble (carbs = bad).

I got home at around 4pm and started to do a little work, but that didn't go on for very long.

I slept late on saturday and then ate and went to the gym at around midday. I had to go shopping after to get a little something for my mum for easter. I didn't want to get her another chocolate egg, which she's mildly intolerant too anyway, so I got her an Orchid to replace the one that died recently, but which flowered continuously for over 2 years. Not bad for 20 quid!

The lads and I went for tapas in the Port House later in the evening, around 10pm and that didn't disappoint. After we went for drinks in the usual spot, boring as that can be. I didn't drink too much or stay out too late because I had to drive home early on sunday, which I did.

Now, sunday evening was supposed to be spent taking it easy and having a good sleep so that I could concentrate on work on monday, even though monday was a bank holiday. Instead, I went out drinking sunday night again, with the lads and a few others, and we ended up out until almost 4am. I got some food afterwards and then slept until after 2pm yesterday and didn't really do any work at all. I have to make up for that seriously this week and have pretty much decided that there's no more alcohol now until june (except for maybe a few drinks for my birthday in may).

Was a good weekend though.

C2H5OH

So two good friends got married last friday in a most unconventional way as is completely fitting for them. After a short 15 year engagement, they were married in a way that I had always imagined they would, him in black drain pipe trousers, a red and white striped polyester shirt, black and white crepes and his hair quiffed to match, while she wore a black with red polka dot, fitted 50s style evening dress, with fine red fishnet stockings and red polka dot shoes. There were no mourning suits, no top hats, no white silk dresses. It suited them perfectly.

I took things very easy on saturday, just going to the Good World restaurant on Georges Street for dim sum with my flatmate and a few others. Food was great and the price was just as good. Chinese people don't like to be tipped, so we didn't want to offend them. A simple, understated thankyou was enough I think.

Sunday brought AMI (alternative miss Ireland), known affectionately as gay christmas. We had fantastic seats thanks to a friend who is on the production team and is also one of the mainstays of the pageant. There were ten contestants, 3 rounds (day wear, swim wear and evening wear...you get the idea) and each contestant did two muscial numbers (most mime, some sing). The production is really great and it's in one of my favourite theatres in Dublin, the Olympia, which has all of the old world charms you'd expect, camp and tacky and everything that befits the kind of piss take pageant that is the AMI. Of course, there is a serious side to it all too. All of the ticket sales (33.50 for standing tickets, 41.50 for seated) goes to HIV and AIDs charities in Ireland, so you really can't say fairer than that.

Everyone was hyper and lots of the gays come crawling out from the woodwork (and the closet) and from under whatever rock they all seem to be hiding under for the rest of the year. Literally the city is on gay overdrive. Every gay bar and club was completely packed afterwards, though thankfully we didn't have to que anywhere (sometimes there are advantages to being or hanging around with, sluts. (I'm joking of course!)).

I should have taken it easy, given that monday was Paddys day and all and I have the usual traditions to follow, but no, I didn't. We got a lock in and I got home at 6.30am. I was supposed to get up and make pancakes (again, tradition) at 10am, but alas, I finally dragged my ass out of bed at 12.30, still drunk, to attempt to shower and then cook breakfast, which I did rather successfully I might add too. We had to navigate our way through the throngs of people in the city to watch the parade (they estimated the crowd at 650,000) and then wait for ages to be allowed to cross the parade route when there was a break in the floats. It happens every year. The traditional Paddys day pub is on the other side of the parade route for me....pain in the ass!

Anyway, we got to the Hairy Lemon and began drinking again. The first couple of pints were difficult, I won't lie about that, but then I kinda found myself again and before long we were all busy talking shite and having laughs with old friends and new randoms alike. I left there at around midnight and somehow found myself in a gay bar, where I met some friends and well, it would have been rude not to have a drink with them, being Paddys day and all (even though it technically wasn't anymore!!). I got home at about 4am, having drank myself sober, the benefits of a good drinking binge eh.

My body decided to punish me yesterday by springing a nice cold, with all the requisite sinus pain and sore throatiness, on me at 10am. I had no choice but to abuse the nyquil, which meant I spend the day in a dopey haze, with Oprah and Ricky Lake and then Countdown to keep me amused. In reality I slept through most of the afternoon, well, not nice sleep, horrible drowsy sleep. But on the brighter side I didn't feel sick or hungover at all.

Feeling much better today, though my throat is a little niggley still, but nothing some merocaine can't sort out I'm sure. Or maybe I should have some more nyquil tonight, just to be safe.

Continued

contined from here

We'd made a plan to all go to Top of the Rock, at the Rockefeller centre, becuase I've been before and it has the best views over the city, except of course if you take a helicopter ride or if you can fly by yourself, if you're a witch or vampire for example. Seeing as none of our group are able to fly, we opted for the mortal route, the viewing deck atop 30 Rockefeller Plaza.

Here's a pic from 70 stories up on the viewing deck that I took 2 years ago.

Why, you might ask, am I not showing some of the wonderful images that I surely took this past weekend? Well, to put it simply, we were too tired and too cold to even think about going up after we spent two hours wandering the city, buying all manner of OTC drugs in Duane Read and then looking for a bar to have a drink, seeing as our attempt to be civilised and have a coffee/cocktail in the Plaza was twarted by the fact that it wasn't opening until the next day.

By the time we found Channel 4, a crappy Irish bar (but with a hot bartender) just close to Rockefeller plaza, our faces were frozen and speech was difficult. An Irish coffee helped a little, but they just don't know how to make them properly over there. We decided a cab ride back to the apartment for a disco nap was more appropriate.

Being the total sleep junkie that I am (and seeing as we were seriously sleep deprived already) I happily slept for 2 hours exactly (I always set an alarm when I sleep. I'm equally obsessed with not missing out on things as I am with sleeping). The girls didn't sleep and the lads only got back tot he apartment at 18.30. Some of us went and got take out and then when two of the lads woke, we all got ready to go out again for night number two.

This picture is actually from the night before. I just use it here to illustrate the ridiculousness to which we allowed ourselves to indulge in. Yes, thats Sinead and I dancing (don't be fooled by the way it looks like she's a shy wallflower with her hands in her pocket, nothing could be further from the truth). You'll have to ignore the fact that I look like a total poser here, I was in the middle of a very complex dance motion thats too complicated to explain here. Suffice it to say that we were the entertainment for the rest of the patrons. Thanks to Kate's control of the juke box, we danced our socks off to the point that the bartender shone a flash light (large motorists one) on us ala spotlight fashion. Did we care? Hmmm, I think not. Normal, sane people would hide from such centre of attention antics, but we were in a city where (almost) nobody knows us, so whats to get embarrassed about!

Anyway, back to the second night. We went to American Trash, on 1st between 76th and 77th (I think) on the advice of A, a friend of ours who has lived in Manhattan for the last 5 years since we finished our degrees. We walked in and everyone stopped talking and turned to look at us. No, turned to scowl at us. Thats exactly the kind of place we like. It feels just like a good bar here.

Anyway, they had a pool table and there was hard rock on the juke box, but we soon had Kate do her thing and put our kind of music on. No, not Kylie or Madge (Kate would vomit at the thought) or anything gay. Remember, I was the only one in the village (or the bar in this case). Our number grew rapidly as more friends arrived, D, who has been living and working in NYC for the last two years, along with his girlfriend B and some others from his workplace. And R, who arrived in NYC friday morning from LA. He's originally from Ireland too. We drank and had a laugh.

Here's a pic of B with Deco and I. She was a total flirt and I reckon she is a total man eater too. She was relentless with everyone and then when I finally told her I was playing for the other team, she proceeded to list off all her gay friends that she wanted to set me up with. Please, where is the emergeny exit. Is there anything worse than the conversation where someone you've just met decides that they know just what kind of person is right for you?

We only left American Trash at 4am when they closed and we headed straight across the street to the diner on the corner for some breakfast. All manner of eggs, served to us by the lovely Hungarian waitress who was great craic. She was shocked to see people use knives and forks correctly, she said. She's been in the US too long perhaps.

On saturday, the girls and I went to meet my friend Mateo, from CA, who was also in NYC for the weekend. He had come to Gordons for lunch too but he headed to the Eagle on friday night. We went to Jing Fong (I think) on Elizabeth and Canal, for Dim Sum. The place was great. Sean joined us too. He's a friend of mine from Astoria who was in Ireland just recently to see some family. I got to meet his bf then, but he's gone to his parents for the weekend, so he didn't join us for brunch. The food was great. It was Kates first time to have dim sum and naturally she loved it, like any sane person. There was white meats, grey meats, fishy stuff, fried stuff, jelly like goo, balls, rolls and steamed things. Oh and mango pudding. That wasn't as good as the mango pudding we had in San Franciso though.

We shopped all afternoon, because as I've mentioned before the dollar is totally worthless so it kind of feels like you're spending monopoly money. I spent a lot. Electronics are dirt cheap and the exchange rate makes it criminal not to buy there. I needed new clothes too, so I went a little mad.

Saturday evening I went down to Battery Park City to the apartment of a friend of Mateo, for pizza and drinks with a group of gays, some of whom I've met before over the years. It was great to see those guys again and nice to meet some new guys. We went to the Phoenix then where I found the crowd very much to my liking, mainly because the patrons were better looking than the staff, which is a good thing because
a) kissing the best looking guy doesn't mean kissing the bartender
b) kissing good looking bartenders is a bad idea because they've probably kissed everyone else already
c) I'm not suggesting that I would have kissed the best looking guy there.

(a pic of the Phoenix. I didn't take this. I took it from here)

The rest of the guys wanted to go somewhere with lions and tigers and bears. Well, just bears would have been fine for them. Mateo is a total bear cub these days, but it suits him. The rest of the guys are either bears or into that kind of man. I'm not really so limiting in my choices, prefer to decide on a one by one basis.

We then went to Eastern Bloc. I didn't like that so much. The guys there were a little strange and what was with people being so in the way all the time. It was busy, but it wasn't so packed that you couldn't move. Or at least it shouldn't have been. But the people were just unwilling to let people pass them by, so there was a lot of squeezing and pushing to get to the toilets and back. I don't like that. Also, people touching. I don't like that unless it's invited and in Eastern Bloc, it wasn't invited. The go go dancer had something cute about him though and a really nice, defined, though not overly muscled, hairy (but clipped) body. Again though, see the points above about bartenders. Same applies for go go boys.

We finally left Eastern bloc and head towards this place. It's got a reputation as a sleazy, seedy, hookup joint and really, I have to admit, thats exactly what it is. We had to pay a $10 cover charge (I hate paying cover charges, especially when it's not a big club) but we did and went inside to the smell of sweat and a wall of bodyheat hit us in the face. Real nice.

It was even more touchy-feely than Eastern Bloc and I don't know, I just wasn't into random people trying to get a grope every time I moved. We found a relatively spacious spot to stand without having to fend off straying hands and before I knew it I was being chatted to by a short guy whose face I couldn't see because it was so dark. What I could tell though, was that he was very much in shape (5 bonus points) and that he was friendly (5 bonus points, since I'm not friendly and don't readily talk to people unless they talk to me first, at which point I start talking and don't stop).

We went outside for some air and I could finally see that he was hot. Israeli. Great face. Sexy greying hair, very dark, but with silvery grey flecks. Great body. He filled his tshirt well, shall we say. He lived in Williamsburg (- 10 points) which meant getting a taxi and leaving Manhattan. But he's an artist aswell as his dayjob and we'd been chatting about my painting and his and I wanted to see if he'd any talent. His pictures were fantastic. He had lots of talents.

I woke up at 7.15, having not really slept too much. I had things that I wanted to get done before Sinead and I were due to leave for the airport, so I walked out into the blinding sunshine and bitter cold and tried to hail a cab. Finally, making my way back to our apartment. Here's a pretty shot across towards Manhattan from my taxi of shame.

I crawled into bed beside Sinead, who finally, was fast asleep (her first real sleep of the entire weekend...a mix of exhaustion and nyquil to help her with time zone adjustment, just in time to leave NYC). I woke again at 10 and got myself ready for a quick dash down to J&R for one last shopping spree on cheap electronics. Here's the Woolworth building from beside city hall park. I really love this building.

After a quick brunch in midtown, we said goodbye to the rest of the gang (two were headed to Jersey to see the Black Crows, the other two were going to see a game in Madison Square Garden) and hopped into a cab to JFK. We got checked in by hottie-Mc-Scotty. He was from Northern Ireland, a student on a years work placement with the airline and well, he was possibly the hottest guy that either of us had seen all weekend. Drop. Dead. Gorgeous.

Of course we chatted to him for a while. He looked like he'd been out late the night before too. There was a bond. Yes, definitely a bond.

Despite having only eaten brunch an hour or so before, we were tempted to eat again (stuff our faces more like) after a very brief, but very successful foray into duty free shopping. Can I just explain that duty free shopping is located pre security in JFK (like many US airports) which is totally retarded. So, once you pay for your purchases (cologne and alcohol....$22 for 1.75 litres of rum..which is like €3 or something) they take them are send them on their merry way to be collected after you go through the gate to board the plane. It's the most ridiculous, round about way of doing things. It creates a massive line of people who then must que up a second time after the gate to collect their purchases, before they get onto the plane. So much for the plane departing on time. If the person who came up with this, the most backwards and retarded way of shopping, reads this, can you not just go with the old fashioned way and have the main duty free shopping area after going through security?

And so concludes the long and impossibly boring account of what was a really great weekend trip to one of my absolute favourite cities in the world.

Regrets?

I should have called my friend Eric when I was in Rudys on thursday night. He lives really close by.

Maybe I should have stayed in bed in Williamsburg until a more reasonable hour and then gotten a taxi home.

Maybe I should have stayed in the city until monday evening, instead of taking the sunday flight, then I could have gone to the beer blast in the Eagle and met up with Eric.

Maybe I should have bought more electronics.

I guess that means I just have to go back again sooner rather than later.

Lunch in NYC

Last thursday I flew to JFK with 5 friends to have lunch on friday with some other friends in Maze. The flight was a little delayed getting off the ground but we knew one of the crew so had plenty of free wine to help us endure the almost 7 hour flight to New York.

Of the 6 of us flying from Dublin, only 2 of us had really spent any time in the big apple before. I like introducing people to cities that I like. it's just great watching and listening to their reactions to it all.

Leaving Ireland finally at 11am, we were in the city by 3pm local time, not bad considering the traffic was so shit. The apartment we'd arranged on 49th between 3rd and lexington was absolutely the single best decision I think, apart from the decision to go to NYC in the first place. Our location was perfect for everything we'd wanted to do and only a couple of blocks from the subway on 51st and Lexington.

We headed out to Queens to taste the 'Best Burger in New York' according to the New Yorker magazine. Also, Sinead knew the staff there (he folks lived in Sunnyside for 10 years) and she had to bring things out to one friend of her mum. The burgers went down well.

Did I mention already that it was absolutely baltic, or perhaps artic. I mean, we were so cold we all had to duck into a shop to buy hats, scarves and gloves before we could venture any further.

We took the gang on their first trip on the subway, which was actually an elevated train at the station where we got on. This is the gang being led by Sinead up the escalator. Obviously, in a super dangerous place like Queens, you need someone to lead you lest you fall into the hands of some dodgy drug dealer or hustler or worse.

We were quickly on our way back into Manhattan and the guys got to see first hand, what it's like to be a passenger on a NYC subway car. I think they liked it. Though obviously they were terrified the whole time, what with the ethnically diverse passengers surrounding us. Never fear, Sinead and I kept their minds at ease by telling jokes and pointing out the names of subway stops. Lucky we were there.

Next we took them along into Times Square, possibly the most hideously touristy place in all of New York. The guys loved it. Here they are, wowed by the scale of the bright lights and all that consumerist shit that is plastered all over the buildings.

There was a very good reason why we were in that part of town though, we were looking for a bar called Rudy's, the so called 'last dive bar' in Hells Kitchen. We (or should I say, one of us) asked some cops, then later some guy in a hotel and finally, after we decided to get a drink in a bar, just to get out of the cold (we couldn't talk because our faces were frozen) we asked the staff in the bar too, where Rudy's was. Nobody seemed to know it. I checked online and found a review from a couple of days previous, so we knew it had to be still around and I looked on google maps and found it and we went there.

Thats Sinead, standing beside the giant pig outside Rudy's.

And then there's me. This picture took 5 mins to take because Sinead has difficulty keeping her hands steady and my stupid phone doesn't have a flash for the camera. Damn apple. Also, I hate this hat, but seeing as I was in a city of millions and only know a small number of people there, I figured I'd wear the hat just to stay warm.

We went a little crazy and stayed out all night. I availed of the free hotdogs in Rudy's and drank plenty of vodka, the drink of kings. I wasn't drunk. We went to McD's on the way home for an egg McMuffin. Why? I don't know. Maybe I was drunk. It was tasty, although I only remembered this when I was reminded that we'd gone for them the next day.

On friday we went to Maze for lunch. This was one of the reasons for the trip. Ok, well it wasn't really, but it was a little added bonus. I only took one picture at lunch, because it's rude to take pictures when people are trying to eat.

The food was really nice, though a little over convoluted to be honest. Gordon Ramsey certainly doesn't practice what he preaches on Kitchen Nightmares. I enjoyed it though. They kept pouring us water and seeing as we'd been drinking the night before, we kept drinking it. We should have known better and asked for jugs of tap water. I think the water alone came to $40, but seeing as we all earn in €, we didn't give a shit, coz the dollar is totally worthless these days. Still, one dollar bills are great for lighting cigarettes.

to be continued...

Stalker

I cannot believe it. I have a stalker.

Not a bad stalker or even an irritating stalker, but a stalker none the less. It all started back in the summer of 2007. I say summer, but really it didn't feel much like a summer with all the rain and the cold and the lack of sunshine. Anyway, it was during the 'summer' months that I first got a message on a social networking site. I don't know if 'social networking' is the right description of the site, but sufice it to say that it is a social site, involving some kind of networking, mostly by gay and bisexual men.

Anyway, so I got a message from someone and I replied and I guess over a week or so we chatted on MSN or something once too and I saw his pictures and he saw some of me. I thought that was the end of it. I was busy in work and had little interest in pursuing any kind of online friendship or in meeting face to face.

I guess it was september before I got the first weird message from him online. Something to the effect of 'I saw you in ______ on saturday night and I smiled and you smiled back, thanks'. I tried to explain that I didn't remember seeing him at all and that I'm glad I smiled, but that I didn't mean anything by it, I was just being polite. He didn't seem to get what I was saying.

It seemed like every week, on sunday or monday I'd have a few messages from him saying he'd seen me, wearing this colour tshirt, with this or that written on it (he had indeed seen me each of the times and could describe my exact outfit, who I was with etc) and that I had apparently smiled at him and he thinks it's obvious that I like him and he'd keep asking if I was too shy to approach him. Obviously, this infatuation I seemingly had with him, which manifested itself in me smiling constantly at him from across the crowded bar was all utterly and completely in his own head for what ever reason. I can honestly say that I don't think I could pick him out of a line up of 3 people. I don't think I have ever consciously seen him in person and I don't even know if I could pick his picture out of a bunch of others.

Anyway, so back to today. I got a message from him today for the first time in maybe two months, saying that he saw me walking along ____ street at 10.30am, in the direction of _______ _______ and that he looked at me and smiled and I was smiling back at him. So now he knows I really like him for sure. Erm, ok.

He went on to say that he saw me going into cornerhouse grill to eat last friday and that he saw me last weekend at _____ on saturday night. It's all getting a little too weird. I mean, maybe I did smile at some random person, not even at him, but was just smiling when he glanced my way and I happened to be looking in that direction. What on earth would make him so utterly convinced that I'm in love with him or something. I should reiterate that I've never spoken to the guy and I have never initiated any contact with him. I did try ignoring the messages for a while but he just keeps sending them.

So now I have to ask myself. Do I just enjoy the novelty of having a stalker? Waiting on the next message to see where he has seen me? or what I did that he claims is a sign of my undying devotion to him. This could be fun. Or he could murder me, chop my lifeless body into tiny pieces and drop the bits of me into the river, bit by bit, over the course of a week or so. It's all so exciting eh!

Drop In

I dropped into the health clinic yesterday evening to have a routine health check (I try to do this every 6 months because I'm a good citizen or something). By health clinic I mean gay health clinic. And by that I mean the most vile place on earth. Not vile because the building is disgusting and filthy. It's not. The clinic is run two nights a week in a hospital, which is a grand old victorian building. Its not fancy and modern, but it's clean and well, it's free. Also, the staff, which I guess are all volunteers, are really nice and non judgemental, even though every single one of the gays that go there are all judging each other the whole time they're stuck looking at one another, awkwardly, across the slightly delapidated waiting room.

Its so nice to see tha baby gays attending the clinic as a couple and holding hands while they waited to be seen by the community care worker. Apart from playing super mario bros on my iPhone and texting everyone I could think of to stave off the boredom and to give myself something constructive to do so as to avoid making any eye contact with the filthy STI riddled gays across the room from me, I also discovered the seedier side to the gay STI clinic. Some of the guys attending were actually trying to pick each other up, while waiting for their tests and then their results. Can you imagine!!

I felt a little sick at the thoughts of it. Although, thinking about it, I guess if they are actually going to get tested, they must be somewhat aware of hygiene and safe sex. Either that or they carry every STI going and the syphillis has gone to their brain, altering their behaviour so that they seek out lurid sex acts (to find a new host for the syphillis) before their test results come back and the doctor treats them.

I tried to avoid touching anything. The doctor was really nice to me and I think could sympathise with my feelings towards the other 'clients'. The nurse who took my blood was disasterous though. My veins are not hard to find. They stick out well before I've even seen a tourniquet. Normally after giving blood I have a tiny mark no bigger than a full stop and it's gone in an hour or so. Now, more than 24 hours after the nurse attacked me with her needle, I have a very visible mark on my vein. People will be talking.
Here's a picture of the hideous mark that I may be left with for life.

The only light at the end of the bleak tunnel is that when some coworkers asked me today if I'd given blood, I said no, then covered the mark and said I didn't want to talk about it. I'll wait until monday before I'm 'ready' to talk about it with them. It's good to keep them guessing.

Murder

I've decided that when I finish this PhD, I will retire from gainful employment. Well, thats my hope. I'm not quite sure how I'm going to pay for my extravagant lifestyle, but I'm sure I'll think of something.

I've been too busy to post the last while. That and I just lost motivation to write since I was being forced to write for work related things and obviously there are only so many words in my mind each day and I was using them all up by typing and deleting large amounts of text for work. Something like that.

I'm so fed up with the work stuff anyway. Almost enough to drive me to murder*. Although maybe I shouldn't say that, just in case. I don't want it to look premeditated now do I?

I'm kinda ansty too because I'm not eating many carbs right now. Last thursday, sitting at my desk eating my way through a lunch box of chicken with wholegrain mustard (struggling to eat it to be honest) all I could think about was a ryvita cracker. Now while I do like ryvita, they really are the closest thing to a thin slice of timber.

I had to take drastic measures though. I was 'bulking' until christmas and I was very good at it, or so it would seem. A little too good perhaps. The one good thing to come from it, I finally got past my plateau around the 100kg mark and made it above 105kg. That pleased me greatly. The last couple of weeks of eating like a rabbit have been great though. I can see and feel the difference. Watching The Simpsons earlier, I really wanted some fries or a slice of pizza. Even The Simpsons are out to get me. I wouldn't murder them though, thats for sure.

Maybe it's the lack of starchy carbs or something, but a couple of weeks ago I decided to get tickets for an event at a new Science Gallery in my university. The event was kind of like a fashion show, but to showcase lights and lighting technology in fashion and clothing. Sadly there were no hot male models. My favourite model was this super cool Japanese girl (on the left).

And here she is again.

There were free champagne cocktails (in reality they were bitter Prosecco with tart rasberry, but whatever) so we loaded up on those (yes I know, full of sugar!!) and then began playing with some of the lighting installations.

I'm going to NYC in 9 days. It'll just be 4 days of shopping, eating and drinking (carbs are allowed when you're on holiday) with some friends. I can't wait. We've already booked our table for lunch at The Maze and have some of the other meals planned too. Dim sum. Yum.