Good shit!

What with all the whining I've done recently, figgered I'd spew a little sunshine on this fine Friday afternoon. Try not to...well, spew.

[NOTE: Items that may be even vaguely interesting to anyone but me marked with a **]

Speaking of spewing, last weekend, a boy made me laugh so hard over something so unfathomably gross that I very nearly threw up on Coco. It was awesome.

**Tonight, NYC Smoke opens for the goddamn New York Dolls at Irving Plaza. These guys are as talented as they are spankable. (not the Dolls...they're, um...just talented.) So yeah, you should go.

Going to the Bronx Zoo on Sunday for the first time in 29 years. Very excited, as you can imagine. I expect to spend hours in the mountain gorilla habitat, catching up with my relatives.

**Giraffes AND the Vitamen, Mercury Lounge, Saturday May 7th! Go, damn you! I would, but Lola and I will be in Vegas. (As will my parents...hoo boy...)

In regards to said parental units, Mom just had her regular checkup with the lung transplant team in Denver and got a clean bill of health. She's coming up on her five year anniversary. Mom fucking rules. If you're an organ donor, so do you.

**Richie White's gonna be on teevee. I'll keep you posted so you can watch it and go MAD with jealousy of Coco, coz her man is so fiiiiiiine.

I got presale tickets to see Elvis and Emmylou at Summerstage. You so wish you were me.

**There's still time to sponsor me for AIDS Walk New York! Email me for details!

And finally...In the midst of my tard-riffic existential crisis last week, I failed to mention that we ran into both Alan Rickman and Fab Moretti at the Maritime the night of Beck's show at Hiro. I hate the Strokes almost as much as I hate Ray Liotta, but damn that boy is good lookin'. (Fab, not Ray.) The troops walked me out the front entrance, awaaaaaay from the famous people, as I had ingested more-than-sufficient amounts of Jack Daniels by then. Smart kids, my friends. (Of course, they wanted to shove me up a trash shoot behind the building to get us into the show...but that's a whole 'nother story.)

Uuuuummmm...yeah, that about covers it. Good weekends to all. (Unless you suck, of course, in which case I hope your weekend does too.)

Meltdown (mostly) over

Aaaaand we're back...

I don't feel the need to provide some big ol' explanation for my sudden (and retardedly dramatic) departure from the blogosphere...those who need to know wha' happened already know, and are certainly completely sick of hearing about it. (Shouts out to Coco, Charles, Lola, Big D, Mathis, Hubbard, Susan and percocet for keeping me off the bridge and reminding me of some basic facts I overlooked for a minute there.)

I will only confirm that yes, I did in fact snap like a dry twig, for reasons that were by and large my own damned fault. My temporary withdrawal from the Ninth Circle was necessitated by my decision not to spew the intimate details of my private life all over the internet, unlike a certain pair of pitifully low-rent individuals I encountered last week. (I'll allow the not-so-dymanic duo to remain nameless, if only in the interest of not inspiring any readers to stab out their own eyes upon examination of their online exploits. Trust me...yick.)

The great thing about all this is that it forced me to do some serious thinking about my...er...issue, as well as about relationships in general. Though I still can't really claim to know shit about shit, I did reach a couple of potential conclusions. So, whether you're interested or not, here you go:

I've come to believe that in order for one to completely, once and for all get over someone she/he truly loved, at least one of the following three things must happen:

1. You've gotta fall full-on, ass-over-teakettle in love with someone else.
2. Your former love must do something shitty enough to you to change the love to real hate.
3. Your former love must sully himself with such pathetic behavior, whether it involves you or not, that you subsequently become nauseous at the very thought of him and wonder what the ever-livin' fuck you were thinking in the first place.

I wish I could say that I lucked into #1 in this particular case. (Clearly if I had, this discourse would be much different.) That's okay...I have no desire to take that road again any time soon. (That was the other conclusion I drew, in case you were wondering. Which I doubt you were.) And once I got over the initial shock of the...yick...that I witnessed, I realized that the witnessing of the yick was actually a huge gift. Now, finally, I see someone for what he really is. The last shreds of the ad he sold me on have been ripped out and flushed down the grubby toilet that he's let his life become. Sad, for him, for so many reasons. But me...I feel better than I have in months.

So that's that. Let us not speak of it again. I'll try to refrain from trauma-induced emotional spasms going forward. (We'll see how long that lasts. I'm still a girl.)

It's official

I give up.

Not that it really matters.

Helen's going back underground. Have fun, kids.

Gimme yer money, bitchez!

No, really.

I'm taking part in AIDS Walk New York this year, on May 15. Expect this to be the first of many solicitations for cash between now and then. It's a good cause...I guarantee that you know at least one person living with AIDS, whether you know it or not. I personally know way too many, and I owe it to them to get my sorry outta shape ass out from in front of the satellite TV and do this.

Email me and I'll send you the link to my donation page. Thanks bitchez!

Where HAVE I been?

Good question. Just...nowhere. Don't feel like writing. Not really answering emails, or Friendster messages, or HomoFriendster messages, etc. and so forth. Nothing personal to anyone. Just not in the mood, or something.

As for what's been happening, all I have to say is this:
I took my cat to the vet today. She purred happily on the exam table while the doctor checked her out. She purred even louder when he jammed a cold thermometer up her keester. The doctor glanced up at me, one eyebrow cocked with slight incredulity. "This is a weird cat." I smirked and nodded my agreement...what occurred to me, though, is that while cats typically don't, people do that all the time, metaphorically speaking. Smile and act happy while they're getting it up the ass in one way or the other, that is.

I'm not one of those people. My ass hurts, someone's gonna hear about it.

Once upon a time I was falling in love...

...now I've full-on fallen apart, snapped like a twig, and am still in danger of pissing myself...oh god...I was okay until I saw the crack...thanks to Mathis for this one.

No way to follow that, so I'm not even gonna try.

The best Friday ever

6:00 AM: First shower with new hand-held shower massage. Dating no longer necessary.

12:15 PM: New roommate, presumably far less annoying and ridiculous than old roommate, arrives from California. Brings wine.

1:30 PM: New DVD player arrives from Amazon. Please welcome Helen to 1999.

3:00 PM: Helen and Van Halen (not the one you're thinking of, probably) book trip to Vegas for opening of new Hogs & Heifers.

3:30 PM: Profoundly hysterical nugget of joy brought to my attention.

Hey Pat...um, you've got a little somethin' on yer tie there, buddy.

At this point, Dave Grohl would have to show up at my office naked & carrying a meat-free pizza for this day to get any better.

Have a good weekend, my monkey loves.