Maybe If Someone Blew Coke Up My Ass With A Straw…

Because the stress of looking for a new apartment isn’t time consuming enough… I’ve also decided that this is the month I’m finally going to finish my one man show.

This week’s goal is to wake up at 7am every morning and try and squeeze in at least one solid hour of writing. The only problem is… I don’t know what I’m writing. I have a handful of characters ready to go, but I need 2-3 new ones on top of that.

This morning I got up at 7am as promised. But instead of writing anything, I spent the entire morning dancing in front of my fan with a scarf, listening to Stevie Nicks. I was trying to inspire a new character. It didn’t work…

Oh, and in case you didn’t know… rumor has it that Stevie got such bad coke nose, she had to hire someone to blow it up her ass with at straw. I love this woman!

My Best Celebrity Sighting To Date!

While standing in line at the Duane Reade in Time Square:

I was buying peanut butter M&M’s before seeing Sunday in the Park with George. She was directly in front of me, buying a pint of strawberry ice cream with her daughter.

It was even better than the time I saw Tammy Littlenut.

The Whiney, Neurotic, Self-Loathing Bitch Is Back!

Dear Readers,

Did you miss me?  I’m sorry, I honestly didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long.  Lord knows you’ve all been craving the juicy details of my fabulous, everyday life.  I mean, where else do you go for your daily fix of Dolly Parton, Battlestar Galactica and my not-all-that-crazy homosexual foibles? 

My intentions were to just take a day or two off.  But for the past 5 days I’ve been apartment sitting for the Good Doctor, and I was faced with the age old dilemma: Do I use his computer to access my blog and run the risk of him finding it?  Or do I access my blog, clear the history, and run the risk of him thinking that I’ve been looking at animal porn the entire time he was gone?  

My solution was to just not access my blog at all while I was here.  But upon returning home to his apartment this afternoon, I noticed that Jeannie (who spent the night, I’ll get to that… later) had already blown my cover.  Good one, Nancy Drew!  

It’s not that I’m necessarily against the Good Doctor reading my blog.   I’m a pretty quiet guy in person, so I think the (cyber?) pages of this blog are helpful in the fact that they showcase a different side of my personality that is generally invisible when you meet me in the flesh.  

However… I do think that it’s a litte too early for the G.D. to know everything about me.  I mean, come on, a woman has to maintain some mystery about herself!

Anycrap, I have another very busy week ahead of me, but I promise before the week’s over to blog about the following:

1. Memorial Day Weekend. 

2. My New iPod.

3. My Fabulous Straight Date with Jeannie.

and most excitingly…

4. My Now Defunct Running Schedule.

And yes, I’m NOT going back to once-a-day blogging.  It’s summer bitches, and I finally gots me a life!!!

DAY 250 And Beyond???

Dear Readers,

I just experienced the best four days of my life. No joke.

Of course I want to share all the ridiculously insane, girl-talk-juicy, alcohol-soaked details with you, but… I hesitate.

I have my reasons:

The whole purpose of my blog this year was to 1.) Get over my irrational fear of men, and 2.) Open myself up to guys instead of shutting down and acting uninterested as my defense mechanism.

It took awhile, but all of my hard work is finally starting to pay off. I’m meeting guys that are worth pursuing. However, now that other parties are involved, I feel like I have to edit myself. And I really hate that. It was one thing to blog about a bad date that I knew I would never see again. But to blog about people that I do want to see again… I don’t want to live in constant fear that this blog would spoil my chances of that happening.

My keyboard is my therapist. But perhaps publishing my therapy sessions on the world wide web is not the wisest decision. It might be time to bring back my Dear Top Secret Diary days from middle school.

Couldn’t I just blog about other non-guy related things, you ask? Of course I could. But after stepping away from my computer for four days and having the best weekend of my life, I came to the realization that maybe I should be spending a little less time with my laptop, and more time with living, breathing human beings. I’ve blogged the past 615 days of my life. I don’t think that’s cool anymore. I think it’s crazy.

I don’t know readers… I’m in a place right now. It’s a good place. But it’s a new place. And I think there are some changes to be made.

Give me a day or two to think about what I’m going to do.

XOXO,
BK

DAY 245: Busy Sunday.

I had a very busy Sunday today: Writing, laundry, baking cookies, running, rehearsal, date #3 with Dr. D.

Of course, the Sweet Valley High-loving 13 year-old girl in me wants to share all the details of my date… but the older, wiser part of me (who once got dumped over something he wrote in this blog) doesn’t kiss and tell.

I will however, say this: Should this relationship work out, get ready to see a side of me that you never thought existed. Turns out, I don’t have to be bitter and cynical all of the time. Who knew?

Now if you’ll please excuse me, I have to go write all of my secret thoughts in my Lisa Frank diary.

OH YEAH… and in other news:

HAPPY B’DAY JONESELA!!! May all your dreams of wiener dogs and Bruce Springsteen’s cock, some day come true…

DAY 243: Cooking (Well) For One.

Excuse me for tooting my own culinary horn for a moment, but I am very proud of my accomplishments as a wannabe chef.

Cooking more was one of my many Unrealistic Resolutions for ‘08 that I thought I would never follow through with. Well, I thought wrong.

Besides cooking for my Brooklyn Buddies when they come over for our Wednesday Night Supper Club, I am now starting to cook well for myself. When it’s just me. All by my lonesome. Isolated and forlorn.

Now, I’m not saying that I’m a great cook. But I’ve come a long way baby.

For my first year in New York, I’d say I went grocery shopping all of… once. I used to think that a bag of chips or some Oriental snack mix from the Deli constituted a meal. Of course, during that time I lived in a dark, dank basement where the only cooking appliance was a hot plate that was probably older than I was.

Not that I can really use that as an excuse though… because once I moved to Hipster-burg and had a real kitchen, I wasn’t doing much better for myself. I did have half a cupboard’s worth of space for food, but the only thing I kept in there was uncooked pasta noodles. I can’t tell you how many nights I cooked up some pasta, threw some salt on top of it, maybe stole a little olive oil from my roommmate, and called it a (dry, bland) meal.

Thankfully, things are a little different now…

Last night I made pasta for myself, and while I still didn’t have any sauce to add to it, at least it didn’t feel like I was dry swallowing long strands of hair. I sauteed some mushrooms, added two kinds of cheese, and sprinkled on a blend of spices taken from the many seasonings found in the depths of my cupboard.

Tonight I worked on my rice cooking skills. Sadly, it’s still sticking. But at least there was plenty of salvageable rice, which was served with tofu, shrimp, mushrooms, broccoli and green thai sauce.

Now that I have this whole cooking thing down, maybe I can finally focus on some of my other Unrealistic Resolutions for ‘08. Drinking less? Boring. Writing more? Not enough self discipline. Quitting my job and going to Dollywood? Bring it!

DAY 241: A Miracle (For My Teeth.)

One cavity. That’s it. Just one!

I’ve never been so excited to have a cavity before. After not having been to the dentist in 3-4 years, and with my track record the way it is (seriously, one time I went in and had more cavities than you can count on one hand…) I thought that I was going to be in for a bigger shock than just one little cavity.

Before my appointment, not only did I think that I was going to have a mouthful of these guys, but I had also convinced myself that the dentist was going to tell me I had gingivitis, plaque, and any other gum disease that I was unaware of.

The only news the dentist had to give me (besides the cavity) was that I had tetracycline stains on my teeth, which is probably from my mother being on tetracycline (an antibiotic) when I was in her womb. Thanks mom! And now that I think about it, that is actually deeply ironic… I can remember my mother never believing me when I told her I had brushed my teeth. She said they looked yellow. Little did she know, she was to blame for my discolored teeth.

And boy, did my dentist sure like to talk about how horribly discolored my teeth were. He said bleaching wasn’t really an option, since it would make the white brighter, therefore making the yellow stick out more. His solution was veneers. I entertained the idea for a moment… until I found out the price. $12,000. And that was for only 8 teeth. Honey, I barely have $12 to my name.

And now that I’ve grossed you all out enough with my teeth… just promise me one thing. Don’t look too closely at them the next time you see me.

DAY 225: Remembering Phil.

Tonight was my grandfather’s wake. During the service some people shared their favorite memories of my grandfather. I opted not to share mine, as the one that I was thinking of was rather bland:

I remember this one time, when I was probably nine or ten, and we were eating out at some restaurant with my dad’s side of the family. I had taken a piece of bread from the basket, but it was rye bread. I don’t like rye bread. So instead of leaving it on my plate, I decided to break the bread into smaller pieces and throw it under the table. My grandpa was sitting across from me, and he totally busted me.

I don’t know why, but in recent years when thinking about my grandfather, that’s the memory that most often comes to mind. It’s not special, or heart warming, or even funny. But it’s real.

And to this day, I still don’t care for rye bread.

DAY 218: Still Recovering.

Unfortunately, I’m still feeling pretty busted up and beat down after my weekend of fun. I considered calling in sick to work to day, but I figured if I didn’t try to rejoin the world of the living, I would only spend all day in bed feeling depressed and sorry for myself. I think that might actually have been better…

Work was slow and I was caught up on everything, so all I had to do all day long was stare at the clock and think about how shitty my body felt and how depressing it was to be back at work and not out on a farm, worry-free in Pennsylvania. I was a half hour late and left an hour early.

If you don’t want to read about poop, you should probably skip to the next paragraph. Another unfortunate side effect from my comedown, is that my b-hole seems to think it’s back on the Master Cleanse. Seriously, I can’t stop and it’s not pretty.

I am feeling a little better now that I’ve been at home lounging in bed all night. And by the time I wake up tomorrow morning, I will not have put anything bad in my body for at least 48 hours. Well, that is if you don’t count the Girl Scout Cookies I had at work today.

After this horrible 2 day detox from too much party, I promise to be a good boy for quite some time. Or at least until I feel 100% better and my brain tricks my body into forgetting what I feel like right now.

DAY 212: God Bless America.

Tonight Jeanne and A. Rod had to cancel on our regular Wednesday Night TV Dinner Club… which is fine, because my next culinary creation involves rice. And guess what? Apparently I don’t know how to cook rice.

For dinner the past two nights I have practiced my rice making skillz, and as it turns out, I can’t make one of the simplest dishes known to man. It’s just rice and water. Yet somehow, I manage to screw that up. It’s undercooked and wet, which makes me think that I should leave it in longer… but it’s also sticking to the pan like crazy, which makes me think I should take it off the stove. I’m afraid to stir it, because you’re supposed to avoid doing that if at all possible. And I can’t help but laugh when the directions tell me to “fluff” the rice.

People always ask me if I’m part Asian. So much so, that’s I’ve often wondered if my mom had yellow fever and cheated on my dad with the Asian mailman. But, I guess this is finally proof that I’m 100% full-blooded American.

And speaking off…

THANK YOU AMERICA!!!!!!!!!! For finally voting off that no-talent-ass-clown Kristy Lee Cook!