JustUsBoys.com Forum - Hot topics and gay porn - Blogs - Look! Lex typed stuff! by G-Lexington

Hey, look who's back!

G-Lexington — Sun, 15 Apr 2012 16:00:00 GMT

Did you miss me? :)

Yeah, I've been gone for a while. For most of eighteen months, actually. No real reason why. I've been active over on Empty Closets, and elsewhere online. But I didn't delete my account. I know what a capricious bastard I can be, and I knew I might decide to return and start posting like crazy again. And whaddayaknow? Here I be.

So what motivated the return? The answer is kinda obvious: sex.

For all the other places I post online, I usually have to maintain something of an air of decorum. Oh, the other posters will know I'm gay, and I might crack wise about it, but that's as far as it goes. I'm not out to make people feel uncomfortable.

Here, though, I can indulge my inner freak a lot more. I not only can talk to people about fun topics, but I can talk frankly about the stuff that turns me on. I can flirt shamelessly, and metaphorically leer at those I find compelling. And I've found that as I've gotten older, my tastes have broadened dramatically. :)

So when JUB got its reboot, I decided to reboot with it. I swapped out my profile picture from the standard lacrosse picture to the drawing of Lexington with a very sizable boner. Consider that a bit of a sign. Yes, I'm still totally up for intelligent on versatile and casual advice. But I'm also up for other things. :)

So expect to see me flitting around the boards, attempting to be engaging, witty, helpful or erotic. And if you're not in the mood for any of the above, feel free to ignore or politely rebuff me - I won't be offended in the slightest. And if you want to be engaging, witty, helpful, or erotic with me, let's do it. Respond to my psts, Leave a private message, leave a wall message, send a friend request.

Glad to be back with you. :)

On the other side

G-Lexington — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 13:16:21 GMT

I went to the see the doctor last week, and he agreed to start weaning me off of my anti-depressants. I was expecting this to be a long, drawn-out process, but it only took a week. So is that it? Am I on the other side of it?

Sort of.

I went through one other depression, back in 1994-95. The actual depression part was pretty much over by January. But there was this...aftereffect. A hangover, sort of. It lasted a couple of months. I spent more time mulling over what I'd been thinking about when depressed, weighing "the big questions", things like that. I certainly wasn't depressed anymore - what I felt during was nothing compared to what I felt previously. But I still wasn't entirely my normal chipper self.

I think I'm at that point again. Much better than I was, but still not quite fully at peace with the world and my place in it. But that's OK. I feel like I can get there, and I feel like I'm on the right track. If it means a few more months of not-quite-there, as long as it means no more full-blown depression, I've got no problems with that.

Thanks to all who helped me through this. You guys kick ass. :) ..|

Lex

Step three (hopefully)

G-Lexington — Sun, 25 May 2008 21:08:53 GMT

I haven't updated people via my blog on my depression, because there hasn't been too much to say. It's still been good days and bad days, good moments and bad moments. When I'm down, it feels like I haven't made much progress at all, and I feel like I'm gonna feel like this for a lot longer. But even those down times feel better than my down times a few weeks ago.

When I'm up, I can see things more rationally. I'm actually making great progress. I've had one bad day in the last ten or so, and even that one wasn't that bad. I've felt great since Wednesday night - almost 96 hours straight. :)

Further proof of my progress, although I wish it could've come in a different form. My grandmother was put in the hospital with pneumonia about a week ago, and I've been told there's a good chance she isn't coming out. She's 98, so I've been resigned to the fact that she may not be with us much longer, but still, it's not fun confronting this. I've gone to visit her a few times, and seeing her looking even more frail than normal isn't good. But it hasn't made me depressed. Not in the clinical sense.

And that's a great thing. During the few weeks of major depression, one of the major negative thoughts I always came back to was the generic "life is worthless, we're all gonna die, so what's the point?" one. Once I started climbing out, I had to sort of push that thought away when it came up, and focus on other things. I had to deliberately NOT think about it. But now I can actually think about it. I don't have to mentally go "la la la I can't hear you". I can impassively think about the impermancence of things, my own mortality, and other depressing things without getting depressed. Admittedly, I still try not to think about these things TOO much - I'm still worried that I might start sliding back. But the fact that I can consider it at all is a very good sign.

One weird thing about depression is that it's tough to put a time frame on it. I don't have any idea when exactly it started, and I probably won't be able to pick a specific time when it's over. But I think I'm getting ever closer to that time. :)

Lex

Step two

G-Lexington — Fri, 18 Apr 2008 21:57:53 GMT

What a difference a week makes. I went on a mild anti-depressant nine days ago, started working out on a regular basis, and had some big projects to focus on. And finally, the clouds started lifting.

Saturday was pretty much the nadir. I spent all day in a depressive fog, and had to literally force my thoughts at all times away from negativity. And then, something bizarre happened. Pubert and I were talking to a guy at a store, and suddenly, briefly, I felt different. I reached over and did a little finger-dance on Pubert's knee.

Because I felt...normal. Like the darkness lifted, and I was viewing everything the way I normally do. The sinking feeling in my stomach was gone, and I no longer felt utterly cold and alone.

It didn't last - it was only for a few seconds. Then the darkness came back. But that was enough. Because it reminded me what it was like. That life wasn't always a constant struggle to find a reason to go on, to find ways to keep horrible thoughts away.

If I got there once, I could get there again.

The rest of Saturday was still pretty bad. My father turned 70, and my whole family went to my parents' house for dinner. Chatting with everybody helped a bit, but I was still in deep.

Sunday was quite a bit better. I ditched work and spent the day dragging stuff around the house, boxing things, getting ready to paint a room. Negativity kept intruding, but it was no longer a constant thing. I still had to work to keep it away, but it wasn't the full-on struggle it had been.

Monday was better. I had several "episodes" of falling in - feeling cold and miserable - but they weren't as long-lasting as before. I spent more time out than in.

Tuesday, I didn't have a single "episode". I still thought about depressing things, but I was finally to the point that I could lead my thoughts elsewhere quickly enough before I slipped in.

Wednesday and Thursday, a bit of backsliding. I had some quick "episodes", but they lasted all of 15-30 seconds. They still sucked big time, but I could still bat them away with a bit of effort.

Then came today. Friday. I got up early, and got to work pulling the tape and plastic off the room where we had painted. I wasn't necessarily in a great mood - I wished I could've slept in more - but I was moving along, thinking random things.

Then, about an hour in, it hit me. I was thinking random things. In short, my brain didn't default to the horrible negative thoughts that have plagued me for the last several weeks.

I was me again.

You have no idea what this means. Less than a week ago, I literally couldn't remember what this was like. I felt cold and alone and full of despair, and felt like I had always felt this way, and always would. I knew logically that this wasn't the case, but the brain told me otherwise - I'd always be depressed. But now, already, I'm feeling like me once more.

This isn't to say the depression is over. Far from it. I know I'll be prone to sliding back in over the next month or two, and I'll have to stay on the medication for several months. Jumping off it too early inevitably means a MAJOR crash back down, and I ain't going there. I'll have to deal with the side effects for awhile longer (jaw clenching, and occasionally vague feelings). And I still feel the negative thoughts not far off, even if they're no longer right on top of me.

But I'm heading in the right direction.

Lex is back, y'all. :)

Lex

Step one

G-Lexington — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 13:53:16 GMT

I finally got to the doctor yesterday, and had a good long talk with her about my depression. We discussed all my symptoms, how long I've had them, and how it compared to my last bout thirteen years back. (Pretty much the same, except back then I got hardly any sleep at all, and now I'm getting more sleep than normal.) We talked about therapy, but both of us agreed that it didn't sound like this was a situation where therapy would be that helpful. After all, I actually DO still like my life, my partner, my job, everything - yes, I have problems with them, but I think I'm handling them well. It's just my brain keeps going off track.

We discussed the various drug treatments available. She felt that since I was bouncing between shortish periods of depression with longer ones where I didn't feel depressed, that this probably wasn't a full-blown case of depression. She therefore suggested one of the more mild anti-depressants available. I was originally a bit reluctant to go on medication - not sure why - but this time it sounded like a good idea, so I decided to give it a go.

As usual, there are side effects. Fortunately, sexual dysfunction isn't one of them, so with any luck, the gargoyle will be just as horny as ever. (Line forms to the left, people.) After only two doses, I'm already feeling at least one of the side effects - a bit of an odd "disconnected" feeling soon after taking it. Supposedly, that will pass once my body gets used to it.

I'll be on these things for about four weeks, at which point we'll see how things are going. If things look good, I'm supposed to stay on them for AT LEAST nine months - ending sooner can cause a crash of epic proportions, and trust me, don't want that. :) But with any luck, the gargoyle's on the road to recovery. ..|

Lex

Depression redux

G-Lexington — Mon, 24 Mar 2008 12:04:54 GMT

Way back in 1994-5, I did battle with depression.

My circumstances certainly didn't help. I was back living with my parents, trying to start my life over. I had an OK job making crap money, but I'd often go the entire day without speaking to anybody. Worse, it didn't look like my prospects for breaking into my chosen field were coming to anything.

But, as I learned later, the depression didn't really have much to do with my situation. I wasn't depressed because of how things were. I was simply depressed, period. However, because I was in such a crappy place at the time, I didn't realize it at the time. I thought it was a cause-effect thing.

The depression kind of snuck up on me. It wasn't like it hit me fullforce one day. I just thought I was having a bad day. Then a couple bad days. Then I'd have a good one, then three lousy ones. Finally, I realized I was having FAR too many lousy days for this to just be a "bad patch". Something more severe was going on.

I went to see a doctor to rule out any physical problem, which was tough - I was underempolyed, and had no health insurance. Luckily, I found a doctor who was cool about it, and he cut his rate way down for me. He didn't find anything, so I went in search of a psychiatrist. Only saw the guy twice, again, partially because of my financial situation. I told him I didn't think I needed to be medicated - I just needed some "coping mechanisms" to get me through during my bad patches. He suggested some things, some of which worked, some which didn't.

It was a rough time. When I'd hit a bad time, I'd start obsessing about both my apparent lack of a future, and how ephemeral everything was. You know, the old "we're just gonna die anyway, so what's the point?" My brain would crunch the same questions over and over again, to the point of me not being able to be distracted by anything else. When people would talk to me, when I would watch TV or see a concert, in the back of my mind, I'd be saying "What are you going to do with your life? You'll never get out of this cycle." I found it hard to eat or sleep. (I lost 15 lbs - the only positive out of the whole thing.) I recall watching the sun go down one evening, and feeling this unbelievable sensation of despair. I've never felt anything like it, before or since, and the memory haunts me even almost fifteen years later.

Eventually, I did crawl out of it. I got a job in my chosen field, I moved to a new town, faced new challenges and problems. But for a couple years after, I couldn't even think about that period of my life. I had kept a little journal where I'd write down my thoughts or ruminations on what was wrong, what I was feeling, and what I should probably do. And I couldn't even read that thing for almost four years. It was too painful to even think about. Slowly, I grew to accept that part of me. Yeah, it was a lousy part of my life, but I got through it, and I felt somewhat stronger because of it.

For the next thirteen years, I rarely had any hint of any depression. I would occasionally get very vague twinges during the winter - winter seems to bring out the worst of it - but I never came anywhere near the depths that I plunged to that particular winter.

Until '08. Yep, it's back.

Again, I didn't see it coming. I didn't wake up and, suddenly, there it was. It slowly crept up, one bad day at a time. But then I felt the weight of the dread, the weird but familiar emptiness in the pit of my stomach. And I knew - it's back.

Damnit.

Somehow it doesn't feel quite as bad this time. I mean, the symptoms are the same, but I think I'm handling it better. Possibly because I've now been here before, and know I can get to the other side. Or perhaps because I'm now doing two jobs I love, I'm partnered to the man I love, and in general, am where I want to be in life. Or maybe I'm just older and wiser.

But still, it sucks. I don't have insomnia every night, but it's quite common. I start dreading the end of the day, knowing I'm going to feel scared to go to bed, when these feelings seem to hit full force. And of course, that just feeds the insomnia. (Just because I'm mired in it doesn't mean I can't appreciate the irony of the situation. :) ) Rationally, I know what's going on. My brain is off-kilter, and I need to wait until it gets back on track. My life doesn't REALLY suck, I actually DO enjoy who and where I am, but my brain is telling me otherwise. And it's really easy to believe the brain - I've been trusting it all my life. :)

But the brain messes with me a lot. I'll be feeling blue, then I'll hear a song on the radio (say), and I'll cheer up. So my brain will instantly say "you're cured!" and "anytime this happens again, just listen to this song (or a song like it), and it'll go away!" Which of course it won't. It was just random that that's what worked this time. But then I'll get happy after drinking some tea or watching a movie, and again, the brain announces to me that it's found the cure. Stupid brain. :)

So what's to be done? Nothing really. Ride it out. I've seen the doctor, got the blood work done, nothing. I don't think I need to see a therapist again, although if this continues for a lot longer, then I'll certainly go. But until then, the coping skills come into play. Trying new things. Keeping active. Being social. Enjoying simple pleasures like cooking a hot dog, or drawing a picture, or reading an old favorite book. But bascially, it's gonna come down to me accepting what's happening, and holding tight until it blows over.

Because it will. It did before, and it will again. The thirteen years post-depression were the best thirteen years of my life, absolutely bar none. And if I have to endure a few months of depression to ensure that the next thirteen years kick ass, I'm all for it.

Off to draw a picture. :)

Lex

Taking Pictures

G-Lexington — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 01:24:49 GMT

I finally did break down and bought a camera last weekend. Nothing fancy - a cheapy digital one that I can slip into my pocket wherever I'm going. I've started taking random photos of this and that, and futzing around with them on my computer. I've started posting the photos in my gallery. Sorry - no nudes of me. :)

Lex

Pictures please

G-Lexington — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 01:46:18 GMT

I want a camera.

Actually, let me back up.

I've been feeling a bit draggy, a bit down as of late. Nothing serious, but still, it's annoying. I'm not my normal chipper self. And, as always, I have about a thousand theories as to why. One of them is this: I have a creative streak in me. Not necessarily a very talented one, but one who has a need to create. I've scratched this itch in several ways over the years. I've done writing, done some drawing, designed some T-shirts. I can't say as I excelled at any of this, but I enjoyed the process, and I enjoyed the results. Others might not, but I didn't write that story or make that T-shirt for them - I made it for me. :)

But here's the thing. I don't have any stories inside me begging to be written. And I know better than to try to get water out of that well when it's dry - the end result is gonna suck something fierce, guaranteed. I don't feel much like drawing. I have a T-shirt in mind, but it's been percolating for almost a year without me really feeling the need to make it.

But the itch is there. So how to scratch it?

Several times over the past few weeks, I've found myself wishing I had a camera with me. Not for any monumentous occasion, but I keep thinking, "That'd make a neat picture." And for the last few weeks, I've been pushing it aside. But it keeps popping up. I passed a guy on the street today. He was a large guy, slovenly dressed, and holding a large remote control car in his hand. And I immediatley thought, oo, that'd make a neat picture. And that's not what I'd normally think upon seeing something like that.

So I'm caving in. I'm going to start taking pictures.

But I don't have a camera.

"Use the one on your cellphone," say some of you. Presumably those who missed my posts pointing out that I don't have a cell phone. Or want one.

"Go buy one," say the others. I'm working on it. But the last time I looked at digital cameras (as the distinction was made back then), they were over $500 and heavy. Now they're as low as fifty bucks. I need to school myself a bit before I make a purchase. And then there's software. I don't think I'll need much - I'm not looking to go nuts with these, or enter them in photo exhibitions. I'm just looking to scratch my itch here.

Hopefully, I'll have the camera soon. Perhaps I'll post some photos here. (No, not in Amateur Selfpics - I'm not planning that type of photo. :) ) It's a bit presumptuous, of course, but since people have seemed to like my writing and my shirts, maybe they'll like my photos too. And if not, no biggie. Again, they're not for them - they're for me.

Lex

Sleeping in the recliner

G-Lexington — Sat, 05 Jan 2008 07:18:21 GMT

I slept in the recliner last night.

No, not because I fell asleep watching the evening news. My dad used to do that. :)

As mentioned elsewhere in JUB, I suffer from "silent acid reflux". Basically like standard acid reflux, but with fewer outward symptoms. It's kept in check by a daily prescription pill. But I ran out about two weeks ago, and since I haven't had much in the way of symptoms, I didn't renew right away. (Yes, the wise gargoyle can be very stupid at times.) Well, the symptoms started coming back, and I quickly placed an order, but since I do it via mail order, I had to wait a bit.

Although I don't have many symptoms, one of them is a major bummer. Imagine going to bed, turning out the light, and going to sleep. Now imagine about an hour later, waking up with a jolt, feeling acid/vomit rushing up your pipe, about to your neck, and not slowing down. All I can do is sit up (extremely suddenly), jump out of bed, run to the bathroom (just in case) and have an extreme coughing fit as the acid slowly makes its way back down.

Yes, ew.

Once this happens, it's fairly easy to correct. Sipping some baking soda water usually quiets things down within fifteen minutes or so, and I can crawl back into bed, bitching about not having taken my pill yet.

But from time to time, this doesn't work. Either there's just too much acid, or my stomach just isn't cooperating. When this happens, I have to keep my mouth significantly higher than my stomach to prevent anything from happening. This obviously makes sleep a problem.

Thus the recliner.

I drag two pillows and two blankets (it was cold last night) to the living room. I lean the recliner back only about halfway, and extend the footrest. I drag the coffee table a bit closer so I can put my feet on it (I'm too tall to put them on the footrest). Both blankets on top, one pillow behind my head, one stretching from my neck to my lap. (Not sure why I do that - it just feels nice.) Schwa my cat immediately jumps onto the pillow and tries to get comfortable. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn't - in which case he just leaves. And I try to position myself to fall asleep in a semi-sitting position.

It's kind of tough, but I do find it fun in a perverse way. It reminds me of being a kid. When you made little forts out of couch pillows to sleep in, or slept on the floor or couch when you were having a sleepover. I tend to fall about half-asleep and then wake up several times, usually with some really strange thought in my head. (Last night's: "why don't people fly kites on cruise ships?" Um, because if you let go, you'd never get your kite back?) But I'm resigned to it. It's a mini-adventure. I finally fell asleep for about three hours - long enough to calm the stomach down all the way. Then I got up, dragged my sorry tail back to bed, swearing I'd never forget to refill this prescription again.

Until the next time, anyway.

Lex

The gargoyle in Disney World

G-Lexington — Wed, 19 Dec 2007 23:49:59 GMT

Random thoughts at the close of my eight-day vacation to Disney World (me, Pubert, our married friends and their fifteen-year-old daughter):

Disney apparently has tightened the reins on the Christmas music a bit. Last time I was in Disney World in December (six years back), there was much straight-up Christmas music in evidence. I recall hearing "Silent Night" sung quite a bit, most notably (and most surrealy) during the luau at the Polynesian resort. Almost none of that this time around. They stuck with the non-denominational "holiday/winter" songs like "Winter Wonderland" and "Deck the Halls". You could still hear Christmas tunes in the resorts, but the parks found a loophole - they played instrumental versions. After all, there's nothing inherently Christian about the melody to "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing".
While in Florida, the high temperature was never under 80. During that same timeframe in Denver, the high temperature only once managed to break 35. I think we chose a good week for it.
Our suite was pretty much a clone of the one we stayed in the last time we stayed in Disney World with different decor. Very nice, very swank. However, I apparently still need precisely one night to get used to the bed, no matter how nice it is.
I'm old. I no longer can "vacation" from 8am through 11pm seven days a week. Running to parks and rides and meals and activities starts taking its toll. On Tuesday, as everyone else headed to Universal Studios, I decided to bag it. I got a massage at the spa, did some sunbathing and reading at the pool, did a couple loads of laundry, and napped. That's it. Dull? You bet. A waste? I don't think so. I found myself recharged for the rest of the vacation, and had a great time without that "all tuckered out" feeling that sometimes accompanies it. I'll have to plan a "down day" in my week-long vacations from here on out.
One thing that used to confuse me about the Disney Experience was that whole "princess" thing. Last time we were here, they had a daily coronation where Cinderella was crowned "a real live princess!" And that didn't make any sense to me. Why would anyone care? But I saw a bit more of the princess thing this time, and I think I get it now. To me, "princess" implies some rather negative things - being a figurehead, arranged marriages, and a heaping helping of entitlement. But that's not what Disney (or the little girls) have in mind. To them, a princess gets to dress pretty and has wishes come true. That's all. (Just like the current male equivalent for boys - pirates. Being a pirate doesn't mean scurvy, plundering other boats, rum, sodomy and the lash. It means wearing an eyepatch, waving a cutlass around, and saying "Arrrrg!" That's all.) Adding to this, Disney has installed two "Bibbidy Bobbidy Boutiques" (d'oh) in Disney World, where little girls can get their hair and make-up done, put on a taffeta dress (in blue, yellow, or pink) and become a little princess themselves. So Disney World is jam packed with these princesses with no lands to call their own. Silly? Perhaps, but if it gets it out of their system so they don't feel they have to wait for a "fairytale wedding", I'm actually all for it.
No matter how many times you get to play with a dolphin, it never gets old.
Like most nicer hotels, the TVs in our suite had DVD players and plenty of channels. But it seems such a waste in Disney World. Unless you're laid up sick, there's not much reason to sit around and watch TV there.
I've always been of two minds about roller coasters. I don't dislike them really - I think they're fun. But my body doesn't seem to react well to them. It's like they upset my body's equilibrium, and I have a hard time getting it back. I don't just get nauseous - I do, but only a bit - but I'll start sweating, I can't stop yawning, what have you. I think I should just swear them off altogether. I'm pretty much at the age when I can do that without inviting comment.
Disney appears not to have anything on the front burner. When we were on our last Disney Cruise, the movie Chicken Little was just about to come out. And so CL merchandise was everywhere. (Wouldn't you like a Chicken Little baseball, bat and glove set?) But the last big Disney film - Ratatouille - was hardly represented anywhere in the parks. Lots of Stitch and Pirates (of the Caribbean) things, but those are hardly new. The two characters that seem to have made a resurgence? Grumpy and Tinkerbell. They seem to be on everything now.
One of the neat souvenirs you can get at the parks is a laminated E ticket replica from back in the day. For those younger than me - back in the day, you had to buy tickets to get on the rides inside the park. The tickets were graded from A-E. An A ticket would get you one of the lamest rides (like the old time auto on Main Street), and the E ticket would get you on the best ones. You know what used to be an E ticket? The Jungle Cruise. Seriously.
The last time I went to Discovery Cove, a duo played outside while we ate lunch. Two middle-aged white guys - one on Casio, one on guitar - doing songs like "Margaritaville". They were, to put it mildly, wretched. This time, we got a Caribbean trio - keyboard, bass, steel drums - doing songs like "Blue Moon" and "The Girl From Ipanema". Not my cup of tea, but hundreds of times better than last time. The food was better, too.
I absolutely loved having a huge jetted tub in our suite. I was in it about once a day.
I didn't think much of Disney/MGM. The idea was neat, and I did really like the decor. But not much there piqued my interest. (Then again, I'm not much of a movie fan.) But one attraction made it totally worthwhile - the Lights Motors Action stunt show. Watching those little cars tear around each other like that was amazing.

I was happy we had a small porch, and although the patio furniture was just that cheap molded plastic stuff, it was still welcome. A porch light would've been nice, though. I like sitting outside in the cool weather reading.
Like every Disney trip, I saw a LOT of families with only really young children in tow. Why? Why bring an 18-month-old to Disney World? What are they gonna get out of it? A trip to the grocery store gives them just as much sensory overload.
When I saw the big pool of sting rays at Discovery Cove, I recall thinking "What's the appeal?" They're actually pretty neat. They generally swim around you, but they'll get close enough that you can reach down and pet them as they go by.
I do things differently when I'm on vacation than I do otherwise. For instance, I always read Reader's Digest on the plane, but never read it elsewhere - even in waiting rooms. I had salmon for lunch yesterday, and I almost never order fish.
We rented a car (SUV, actually), which is a first for us. We've always relied on the busses, boats and monorails to get us where we needed to be. Having a vehicle IS certainly a boon - we got to leave the park to get groceries, there was no problem getting to Discovery Cove or Universal Stuidos, all that - but at the same time, I miss taking those barges from the hotels to the parks. (Then again, we weren't in one of the hotels what makes that easy.) These boats seems tailor-made for my kind of vacationing - taking it slow, looking at things. I'm sure the little kids who are forced on them by their parents are thinking, "Oh, come ON, already!"
There's something a bit wrong about the whole "holiday celebration" thing at Disney World. Images of Goofy wearing a scarf and earmuffs are about as realistic as Goofy in a space suit. It's 85 degrees. No matter how many times the choir belts out "Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!", it ain't gonna happen.
That said, early to mid-December may be THE time to visit Disney World. Apparently, very few people visit between Thanksgiving and the week before Christmas. Hotel rates plummet, and the crowds were neglible. A few things were still tough to get into, and there were a couple longish lines, but in general, things went really smooth.
One morning, I woke up with the Thembryian slush festival song running through my head over and over. This is pretty weird, because not only had I not heard it recently, but I'm almost completely convinced that it doesn't exist.
The monorail is pretty strange. I'm sure when they built it, it was cutting-edge, state-of-the-art, future-of-transportation. Well, the future is now. And now it seems less "state-of-the-art" so much as "what-we-thought-2007-would-look-like-in-1967". It's now more kitsch and/or a matter-of-fact form of transportation than anything with intrinsic appeal. The Contemporary Resort is also not quite as contemporary as when they built it. However, the monorail driving through the Contemporary Resort, for some reason, still seems future-y to me.
I scribbled down notes of things I wanted to discuss here last night before I went to sleep. One of the last things I wrote was, "A really thick brick". I have no idea what that means.
At the Discovery Cove park, they have one of those "Lazy River" attractions. You get in, it pushes you along at a slow rate of speed, and, after floating by a bunch of pretty flowers and what not, you end up back where you started. This particular one actually goes into an aviary (with waterfalls on either side to keep the birds from flying out) so you can look at some exotic birds as you float along. Being as we were there our last day in Florida, we all went on the thing four times. We probably could've gone a fifth. Both fun and relaxing.
As soon as you can confidently find your way back to your hotel room from the city, it's time to go home.

Lex

Lex's Quest

G-Lexington — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 02:33:59 GMT

I'm cursed - or blessed - with both a major affinity for music, and with a "photographic memory" when it comes to music. In short, if I like a song, I'll remember it for days, weeks, months, years after hearing it only once or twice.

Even decades.

Having grown up in the 1980s, and having been a huge fan of MTV since its inception, I grew very fond of many of the new wave/post-punk bands and songs that came out in the early 80s. As I grew up, and I had more disposable income, I began buying copies of these songs wherever I could find them. This was all pre-iTunes, pre-internet days, so it usually meant either haunting the record stores, or hounding friends and neighbors for cassette copies of what they had. I got all the obvious stuff early - A Flock of Seagulls and whatnot - but I remembered a lot of more obscure tunes that I wanted as well. Sometimes, I'd only remember a line from the song, or just the band name. But I'd usually manage to trip over them one way or the other. I recall finding a beat-up 7" single of a song called "My Boyfriend" by the Cucumbers, which I had first heard on an HBO "educational" program called BrainGames. I found an old cutout CD at a store that featured the song "Wunderbar" by Tenpole Tudor.

And I remember my delight in finding, on O Records, the 7" single by the Flirts called "Jukebox (Don't Put Another Dime)".

But as full as my collection got, there were two songs in the back of my brain that I still had yet to find.

One was a hideous song called "Jack & Jill" by a band called the Bones. The video looked like it was shot on a budget of $10. The band wore Hefty trashbags, and the set was just paint smeared all over the place. The female lead singer intoned (rather than sang) the lame lyrics about Jack and Jill. I don't even recall what the heck they did, but presumably it wasn't anything pleasant. Even at age 11, I thought the song was silly. But I havent' seen the song since, and it'd be nice to have a copy.

The other song was "Tailing You". I was pretty sure I knew what band it was - the Dirty Looks. I saw the video a couple times, and recalled a few things about it. The opening was the drummer in the (semi-)dark pounding out the beat. The chorus featured two guys singing "They're tailing you!" several times (I can still sing it). And the close of the song ended with them singing "They're tailing...", followed by just the beat for a bit, and then the yelled "YOU!" That's surprisingly a lot of info considering 1. I only saw the video maybe three times, and 2. that was 25 years ago.

But I couldn't find the song. I'd occasionally come across a Dirty Looks LP in shops. Most of them were by a metal band that obviously wasn't the band I had seen. I did see an album or two that SEEMED to be the right band - three guys in black suits - but none of them had the song "Tailing You" on it. I started to doubt my memory. Was it not the Dirty Looks? Was it not "Tailing You"?

Once the Internet Age dawned, I did more searching. I found one website that MENTIONED a video for a song called "Tailing You" by the Dirty Looks...but no more. A list of LPs by the band showed only two - and neither had the song on there. I had more or less lost hope.

Today, I was a bit bored, and typed "Dirty Looks" into allmusic. A new album appeared - a compilation. It seemed to just be the two LPs packaged together, but then I read "also includes B-sides, live tracks, and non-LP singles". I quickly scanned down the list of tracks.

Track 13 on CD One was listed as "Tailin' Love".

Could that be it?

On a whim, I decided to check my local record store. They had the CD in stock, and they allow customers to listen before they buy. I had them open the CD, I put it in the player, cued up track 13, and hit go.

From the first two seconds of the opening drum beat, I knew - I'd found it! I found the song!

I gladly shelled over the $12, and listened to the song on the way home, smiling.

As one author said, we are not dogs. When we find a mystery, we don't roll around in it - we try to solve it. And the mystery of "Tailing You" has now been solved, and a twenty-five year search has come to an end.

Up next - "Jack & Jill" by the Bones.

Lex

(Here's a sample of the song by the Dirty Looks.)

Vegas - November 4th, 2007

G-Lexington — Thu, 15 Nov 2007 06:50:52 GMT

November 4th, 2007
or, "I made you watch synchronized swimming and softcore gay porn."

When we originally planned this vacation, Pubert worried that he didn't have anything planned during this day. We planned a cocktail hour in the evening, and a trip en masse to go see a show, but nothing during the day. Finally, I said, "If they can't entertain themselves in Las Vegas for a day, they really can't be helped." Ends up this was the perfect plan, as most people did the same thing on Sunday - recover from Saturday. To quote one guest, "You know what I did today? Not a damn thing. You know how I feel about it? Pretty damn good." The band moved up to our suite, as they didn't have a place to stay that night. We put them in the "third bedroom" - the one that functioned as a smoking lounge last night. That sounds a bit unfair, but since two of the band members were smokers, I doubt they saw it as such.

I didn't do much, even if it ended up being more than most. I skipped the gym this morning (yeah, I know), but did get up early enough to have breakfast with my sister. She was heading out at noon this day, so it was my last chance to see her. Sometimes it really feels like we click, and this weekend was one of those times. Both of us were still rather blearyeyed (and blearyminded) to have a really meaningful chat, but I enjoyed talking one-on-one with her. It's something I don't get to do often enough.

I then came back upstairs and crawled back into bed. I fell into a sleep-wake pattern until around noon, when I decided to go downstairs to buy a soda. I was feeling kinda down on myself for a variety of reasons. When I got out of the elevator on the ground floor, three young women were trying to get on, and we nearly collided. "Whoops, sorry," I said. One of them eyed me and said, "Oh no. Huh-uh. NO.", shook her head in disgust, and got on the elevator. This did nothing to improve my mood.

At the food court, I ran into another party guest. We chatted a bit, and my mood lifted significantly. I borrowed the guest's cell phone and called Pubert to see if he'd left for the Hilton. He said no, so I said I'd like to join him if possible. He seemed cheered by this, and I spent the rest of the day in a much better mood than I began it.

I've been to the Star Trek Experience at the Hilton before. They've now added a second "ride" (I'm sure they hate it being called that), and more things to the exhibits. When we arrived, most people wanted to eat first, so I had my third meal before 3pm. True, I only ate a foccacia appetizer, but still. We ate at Quark's, the Star Trek themed restaurant with decent food and a groan-inducing menu (Ham-Borg-er, anyone?). Once finished, we bought our tickets and waited in line for the two..."experiences" (you're welcome, Hilton). They're both fun and exciting, but the rides seemed a bit harsher now. More "jolt-y". Maybe they upped the excitement level a notch, or maybe I'm just getting old, but both Pubert and I felt it. I bought a T-shirt, then we all tumbled back into cabs for the ride home. I got some laundry going (there's a washer/dryer in the suite), then took another nap in anticipation of the night's festivities.

Tonight was a lot more subdued than the previous one, but it was still much fun. In the suite, we had three appetizer trays set up - cheese, vegetables, antipasto - and the bar guy was set up again, but only for an hour. We nibbled, sipped, chatted, and discussed all the nothing that we had done that day. Then we all went downstairs, where a bus awaited to take us to the Wynn to see La Reve.

La Reve is a show done by a former Cirque guy, and it shows. Odd costumes, people doing amazing things, melodramatic music. But it was different in some ways. For one thing, there was less "show for show sake". They didn't get a troupe of acrobats who can dive through hoops, for instance, and shove that into the show. There was less "look what this guy can do". It was more all of a piece. But what a fucked-up piece it was. The stage (in various sections) came up from underwater, and the perfomers leapt, danced, swung, and swam all around. There was a thread of a plot - a woman is dreaming all this after a date with a man - but it basically was a visual mindblow. The quote above (Pubert said it to some friends) sort of summed it up.

The bus took us back to the Palms, and most people opted for bed. A few of us went to the allnight diner in the lobby for some late-night eats and chats. This drained most of our remaining energy, so we went back upstairs to bed. The band had nicely made themselves scarce, so I got to finally jump into a HOT hot tub in the altogether. Pubert later joined me, and put the finishing touches on an already wonderful day.

Lex

Vegas - November 3rd, 2007

G-Lexington — Tue, 13 Nov 2007 15:23:26 GMT

November 3rd, 2007
or, "I can make that in ten minutes on my knees."

The big day was finally here. An event that was first mentioned over ten years ago, and had been actively planned for months, was finally going to take place.

We had been told early the previous day that the Real World Suite had not been reserved for the previous night. As such, we could move in really early and set up right away. But a spanner got tossed into the works, as someone rented it late that day. So we had to wait for them to check out, then for housekeeping to clean it, before we could do anything. This took longer than expected. Apparently, there was quite a party in there on Friday night. The light over the pool table had been broken, along with a chair. We had to wait until they could take pictures and assess damage. As such, we didn't get to move in until 4pm. This didn't end up being too big a problem, though.

Most of the guests arrived today. A ten-pack from Denver showed up early in the morning, and I was happy to see some more of my friends arriving. Not that I have any problem with Pubert's old friends at all - they're all great people - but I do end up feeling a bit like "faculty wife" around them. There's a lot of talk about the old times and people I don't know, and although the talk is pleasant and fun, I don't have anything to add except laughter and "wow, that sounds like fun". It was nice to have people arrive who I actually had some history with, too.

I did manage to get to the gym this morning and have a fairly good workout. A very different gym from the one at the Wynn. There, it was about 2/3rds full each morning I got there. Here, it was deserted. Not sure if that's because Palms guests don't workout, or they just don't get up that early. Maybe a combination.

When I got back, I texted my sister, who had arrived really late the previous night. Pubert joined the two of us for breakfast. Just some idle chitchat over corned beef and eggs, but it was nice.

Once we finally got word that we could move in, we did so. The Real World Suite, as you can probably tell from the name, is where they filmed the Vegas version of the reality show. It's quite large, although it looks even larger on TV. It was certainly big enough for a 35-person party, but I'm not sure about living there with six other people. That's probably the point, though - close proximity means less alone time, more interaction, more drama.

The front of the suite has three basic "sections" - two living room areas surrounding a "game room" (where a pool table sits). Behind one living room is a mini-study (where I'm typing this now), behind the game room is the kitchen/breakfast bar, and behind the second living room is the bar. On the other end of the suite is a hot tub, and three bedrooms - one with a king bed, one with two queen beds, and one with three doubles. (This last bedroom we termed the "third bedroom", and we designated that the smoking area during the party.) Across the "hall" from these bedrooms is the bathroom - a large bank of three sinks, two shower stalls (one with two heads), and two small WC rooms.

I don't know if I described it really well, but fortunately, these guys give a tour of it here on youtube, so you can see it for yourself.

Once in the room, we immediately unpacked. We knew people would want a tour of the room, and we didn't want our suitcases lying around messing up the view. Soon afterward, the catering crew came in to start setting up. The head caterer looked and sounded precisely like my image of a mob boss's goon. He never actually said, "Ya want I should teach this guy a lesson, boss?", but I half-expected it. Still, he was quite nice, and everything was handled extremely smoothly.

One thing that hadn't been decided was whether there would be any "in-room entertainment". Strippers, or hot guys in the hot tub, or something. Pubert looked online for one, but didn't see anything promising. We asked the head butler about getting some eye candy, and he shook his head. Not that he disapproved of such things, but because "Ask any decent looking guy if he wants to be eye candy for a couple hours, and he'll tell you, 'I can make that in ten minutes on my knees.'." Point taken. We decided to go without eyecandy, which ended up being a good call.

It was a bit strange setting up. First off, we didn't have to do much - the catering and bar staff did all the work. Secondly, there's often that mild "will people show up" feeling when it's about time to start, and there was certainly none of that here - people had flown out thousands of miles to attend this party. Nobody was about to go, "Enh, you know what - never mind". Pubert had selected the music beforehand, and it ended up that yes, there was an mp3 player, but it only played mp3 CDs straight through - no shuffling. Fortunately, I was prepared, and had burned six standard CDs with the same music, but in a somewhat random order. So the music was shuffled, even if the shuffling was preordained, if you will.

As the guests arrived, either Pubert or I took them on a tour of the suite, and all of them appeared to be suitably impressed. We set up "bedroom three" as a smoking area, for the four or five guests who did smoke - that kept the smoke away from the dining area, but didn't force anyone to go down twenty-eight floors to get their nic fix. The sushi chef was set up in the "office" area just off the kitchen, the cold appetizers were laid out on the counter next to the kitchen, and waiters passed the hot appetizers. All the food was amazingly good - every last thing was fantastic. Twice I asked the sushi chef to "surprise me", and he did just that each time - not only with his selections, but with how wonderful they were.

As usualy, I didn't drink much. One Jack and Diet Pepsi. I knew if I had more, I'd end up falling asleep before the party ended, and I didn't want to do that. And no, nobody got drunk and danced around with a lampshade on his head, although one guest ended up spending a bit more time in the bathroom than he probably anticipated.

My prediction about the party proved accurate. We have good friends, they're good people, they have no trouble interacting with others, and they love to chat. So there wasn't ever these long pauses of people staring at each other, wondering what should happen next. Instead, people drifted around and chatted with whomever was handy. People kept telling me (that night and for sometime thereafter) things like, "Oh, you've got such great friends" and "Your sister is so cool" and other similar things. And it's true - we do have a fantastic circle of friends. That's why we invited them. :)

Pubert got a few gifts from friends, which he opened up about halfway through the party. We also cut into the cake, which although chocolate (I'm not a huge chocolate fan - yes, I know), was delicious. The bar was scheduled to close up shop at 11, but Pubert chose to keep it open an extra hour. The first guests began to drift away around then - mainly to go gamble downstairs - but I didn't get the last folks out until after 1am. By this point, Pubert had left with several guests to go gamble, and later he used his connections to get them into the Playboy Club. (His "connections" being "I spent a lot of money on your hotel", mainly.) That seemed odd to me at first. Pubert's definitely gay, so why would anyone try to coerce him into taking them there? But it finally dawned on me: Pubert's gift was "getting people into the club". He loves doing that sort of thing - getting people something unexpected that they might not otherwise get. And that's something I can't give him, really. If he told me, "I'll get you into the Playboy Club", or ANY velvet-roped club for that matter, I'd say, "What for?"

When I asked Pubert about the Playboy Club the next day, he told me, "It's like a high-stakes gambling room, but darker and with louder music. Oh, and the women wear bunny ears." So there you go.

My friend Ian stuck with me at the party until the bitter end - around 1:30 or so. We did a final walk-through, cleaning up things. Then he asked, "Would you like me to go?" I said, "I won't say you have to go. But know that in fifteen minutes, I"m going to be naked in the hot tub. So I'm guessing you don't want to stick around for that." Ian, being straight, didn't, and so said goodnight.

The hot tub was a disappointment, at least on this night. I could not for the life of me get the water warm enough. It was a tepid tub at best. I decided my brain was too addled to figure it out that night, took a hot shower instead, and climbed into bed. I sort of drifted in and out of sleep until Pubert came back (around 4 or 5) - I don't know if I was worried about him, or just wound up from the party, or just in an unfamiliar bed again, or what. No worries - I slept fine once he came back. :)

One more day to go.

Lex

Vegas - November 2nd, 2007

G-Lexington — Fri, 09 Nov 2007 15:04:20 GMT

November 2nd, 2007
or "Why aren't they enjoying this more?"

We enjoyed staying at the Wynn so much that we called to see if we could stay here tonight as well. No such luck - all the suites were booked. So, after another trip to the gym, I took one more leisurely session in the huge "rainstorm" shower and packed up my stuff. We took our stuff downstairs, and Judy and I waited at the front door while Pubert attempted to rent a car for the day. (He had a trip to Hoover Dam planned.) While waiting, Judy and I discussed what we had seen of the Wynn. We loved the building, obviously, and the staff had been wonderful and friendly. I loved the suite, and wished we could stay the extra night. It may still be the nicest experience I've ever had in a hotel.

But my biggest surprise was the people. As I said in a previous entry, most of them appeared to be schlubs like me, rather than the rich businessmen I was expecting. Even so, something appeared to be...off. Judy called the people "stand-offish" or "bitchy" (I don't quite recall the term), but I disagreed. They weren't quite like that, but it took me a while to formulate the real problem in my eyes. "Why aren't they enjoying this more?" They're in this wonderful hotel, with a fantastic staff, but smiles were in short supply. The guests generally looked sullen, or frenzied. Not many seemed to actually being enjoying the experience much. Why? Was it not good enough? Or were they just so wrapped up in whatever was going on with their lives that they couldn't bring themselves to enjoy much of anything?

By the way, Judy says we walked by P Diddy in the lobby on our way out. I not only didn't recognize him, I wasn't aware I was walking by anybody at all. I was sort of in my own little world most of the trip. I would've needed another clue to make me notice - a whiff of ProActiv, say.

There was a bit of a delay in procuring the car, and we had no idea what type of car he was renting, so we kept looking up expectantly at pretty much every car that drove up. We saw one luxury car after another come up, but none with Pubert in them. When a Cobra screeched up to the entrance, I literally said, "Oh, Pubert, please don't be you." It's not that I minded him renting a Cobra, but since the purpose of the rental was to drive a bunch of people to Hoover Dam, that would've been a singularly inappropriate car for the task. Finally, he drove up (in an Expedition) and it was goodbye Wynn, hello Palms.

The Palms has a completely different vibe from the Wynn. The Wynn is four-star service and luxury - the Palms is rock and roll. It's a bit like a Carnival Cruise ship permanently parked in Vegas. We were probably over the median age by at least ten years. If you like pretty young people everywhere, you'll probably love the Palms. Me, not so much. Not that I dislike the hotel - it's quite nice, lots to do, and I had a great time there. But it's such a different vibe. At night, the pretty people go down to the lobby and wait for hours behind velvet ropes to get into the clubs there. I honestly can't wrap my brain around this. I've been to a few of these exclusive clubs in Vegas, and I have yet to be in one that seemed worth waiting to get into. Why would you want to spend your weekend nights WAITING for the chance to maybe get the chance to go do something? It's Vegas - just go DO something! I'd rather go to a nightclub now than wait in line to get into a ostensibly better one in two hours.

We got ourselves a "junior suite" for the night, as we don't really feel like shelling out the extra cash for the Real World Suite for an extra night just so we'll have a place to sleep tonight. It's the one night on this trip where we're actually staying in a standard hotel room - the beds, the bathroom, and all the things you naturally think of when you thiink "hotel room". It's obviously a major step down from our other two bases of operation on this trip, but I find it oddly comforting for some reason. And it's no big deal, since it's mainly just a place to sleep and store our stuff for the night.

The guests start trickling in today. Two couples from Pubert's East Coast days spent most of the day with us, and drove down to Hoover Dam with us. All fun folks. The trip was a bit odd. We got there at 4:30 or so to find that the dam exhibits were all closed. They shut at 4:15. Not at four - 4:15. We took this longish staircase down to find out that the exhibit was closed, forcing us all to turn around and walk back up. Hey, here's an idea - how about a sign at the TOP of the stairs? The giftshop at least had a lot of chuckles, including a single pink vinyl velcro wallet with "Hoover Dam" stamped on it. I can almost guarantee that thing has been there since the mid 1980s. If you happen to stop by Hoover Dam and visit the gift shop, please say hello to the pink wallet for me.

Although the exhibits were closed, we still got to see some neat stuff. For one, there's that huge DAM there! It's kind of sad and unnerving seeing how low the water level is. Several of the people visiting made Transformers references, but as I hadn't seen the movie, most didn't mean anything to me. (No, please don't respond and explain in detail. If I really cared, I would've watched the film.) Also, they're rebuilding the road that goes through here. They've got this humungous bridge over the chasm planned, but they've only gotten several yards on each side built. So way up, you see this elevated platform extending out into the canyon...and then suddenly ending. It looks like a set-up for an Evil Knievel stunt.

We came back to Vegas, and had dinner at the Chinese restaurant inside the Palms - Little Buddha. (In retrospect, it's one of those inevitable names. "What's the Chinese restaurant inside the Palms called?" "Little Buddha." "Of COURSE it is. How could it not?") I wasn't too hungry, so I just had some sushi, which was quite good. Nothing fancy, but then again, I wasn't looking for fancy. After dinner, Pubert finally got around to hitting the craps tables. He wasn't as charmed as he normally is - he ended up down, but not significantly so. I've grown confident that if things aren't going well, he'll simply walk away after losing a set amount of money. As such, I've grown fond of watching him play, as I can do so without worrying that we won't have grocery money at the end of the night. I'm very much a people watcher, and craps tables are a great place to watch people. I like the studied non-chalance of players, some of whom toss chips towards the croupier in that lazy "I care so little, I won't even put these in easy reach" way. It's especially odd since the croupier probably has seen this happen ten thousand times, and knows that these people DO care. I like seeing the players do their little rituals with the dice - picking out their "lucky ones" (I guess) from the offered ones, the odd tapping, turning, spinning and throwing they do. We saw one old guy who was actually pretty good, but he complained constantly. When he crapped out, he bitched because one of the dice hit a chip on the way over. Come on, this happens with, oh, 75% of the rolls. He didn't bitch when he rolled, it hit a chip, and it landed 11.

We actually got back up to our room at a decent hour, but then my sister and I played phone/text tag for awhile - she announced via text that she had arrived and was heading down to the casino to look for us. But she never answered any calls or texts after that. After trying to track her down, I gave up and went to bed, nervous but excited for the next day.

Lex

Vegas - November 1st, 2007

G-Lexington — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 15:49:13 GMT

November 1st, 2007
or, "No, sir, none of our products are supposed to smell like waffles."

Even luxury hotels face a certain problem - their beds are not your bed. As such, no matter how comfy the beds are (and they've VERY comfy, thanks), the first night is usually a bit of a struggle. I ended up sleeping really well, but I woke up around 6:30 am, and was completely unable to go back to sleep. So I got up, read, had some soda, that sort of thing. I utterly forgot about the free continental breakfast every morning from 6:30 - 8:00, and now that I've remembered, I'll no doubt be sleeping in every morning.

I did motivate myself to get up and go to the exercise room. There's an extra charge for that, which seemed kinda cheap to me at the time. But the woman made a passing reference that the pass was "also good for the spa", and now that I know what's in the spa (see below), the money is well worth it. I don't do much in the exercise room. I put on a walkman, I get on a treadmill, I hit "start", I set a speed and "incline", and I walk/run until I'm worn out. And I'm sure these treadmills have state-of-the-art, help-you-lose-fifty-pounds-and-feel-terrific-while-doing-it buttons. But all I know is "on", "speed', "incline", and "off". I guess that's all I really need to know.

Oh, I also know "attach clip to clothes before starting". The guy next to me didn't. He was jogging along, quite a bit faster than me, and probably looking especially wonderful doing it. Suddenly, his foot landed weird. He sort of stumbled on the thing, it rolled him backwards, he wiped out. Then he got up, gave the room that "How did THAT happen?" look, and immediately continued on.

It's odd being in the exercise room. When I go in, I'm officially "that guy". The one guy who actually looks like he NEEDS to be there, instead of the trim fit wonderful folks who normally populate it. The funny thing is - I don't get looks. Nobody gives me that "what are YOU doing here" vibe. Sometimes, people seem a bit surprised to see me, but generally, it's no big deal. Besides, I obviously know enough to not fall off the treadmill.

I came back upstairs, showered, and got dressed...which was a bit strange, since I was heading straight back down for my spa appointment. Still, I'm sure the therapist would prefer me freshly showered and not sweaty and gross after my workout. We went down, and we were ushered into the men's counter/waiting area/lounge/locker area. We were given towels, robes and locker combinations. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to stop at the underwear or not, so I asked. "This is a clothing optional spa, so it's up to you." I decided, "You know what? Fuck it" and stripped naked before putting the robe on. The only problem, though, was sitting down with a robe on. I has a tendency to fly open. I kept tugging and adjusting before deciding, again, "Fuck it. If they can see something, so be it."

My procedure was called the "Good Luck Ritual", which supposedly combined feng shui principles with the four major forces - earth, air, water and fire. I don't believe any of this, but the actual techniques sounded good. A full body massage, followed by body scrubs and moisturizing. My therapist Aaron asked if I wanted deep-tissue massage, something I'd always shied away from before. That's the sort that can hurt like hell when it's taking place, and leave you somewhat sore afterwards, but you fell tons better the next day. This time, I decided, again, "Fuck it" (that seems to be a running theme) and told him to go for it.

Damn it hurt. I never screamed like a little girl, but I certainly felt like it a few times. He worked on two spots on my shoulders for somewhere around fifteen minutes. I don't think he even completely "healed" them, but he got them a lot better than they were. He found two other trouble spots, but didn't do much with them, as that would've consumed pretty much all my time. Kinda sad about that, since the trouble spots were right on my ass. Kinda happy about that, because I may have enjoyed the procedure more than I was supposed to. Or maybe not - those spots hurt like a motherfucker.

He then struck a small bell (I wonder if Aaron felt that to be as much BS as I did), and then came the scrubbing and lotioning and whatnot. Totally made up for the hell of the massage. I not only drifted away, I actually drifted off a few times. I may have even snored once - how embarrassing is that? I kept snapping back into it when he'd switch legs or treatments, usually with the last thought of my not-quite-asleep brain firmly in place And they never made any sense. Two I recall were "Yeah, but is a grocery store a suitable setting for a soap opera?" and "Jesus, what's so hard about chopping up a couple stalks of celery?" Weird things to be thinking while a guy is rubbing brown sugar scrub into your feet.

When he began working some sort of moisturizer into my face, I swore it smelled like waffles. Not like syrup, but like a waffle itself. I asked, "What scent is this?" He said, "The face lotion is lemongrass citrus, and the warm eye mask is wild lime." I then admitted I smelled waffles. He laughed and suggested I should have eaten breakfast before coming down. Perhaps so.

The procedure ended, he left the room while I got up and put the robe back on, and he led me "back to the land of the living". He suggested I sit in the steam room for a bit, so I gave that a try. Wow, that felt good. My sweat and the steam mingled with the lotions, and I could actually see my skin "glow" for the first time. Only problem was it sapped out most of my remaining energy reserves. It took all my might to stumble out of there into a cold shower, and then wander into the "recovery room" for a few minutes before getting dressed and heading off to my hair appointment. It was just across the hall, but I barely made it in time.

Once my hair was cut, I came upstairs and waited until Pubert finished his spa appointments, and then we headed out for food and shopping. Lunch was at the buffet here at the Wynn (cleverly titled "The Buffet"). Like most buffets, it's huge, but this one is more upscale. Yes, they have meatballs, but they're KOBE meatballs. Yes, they have shrimp cocktail, but it's JUMBO shrimp cocktail...and they have Alaskan crab legs to boot. Tasty, and hard not to overeat. For shopping, we knew where we wanted to go - that standard shopping mall that ISN'T the fashion mall - but we had no idea where it was or what it was called. The cab driver finally figured out what we meant (the Boulevard), and off we went. I got new shoes and slacks for the party, and Pubert found several things he liked as well. We came back and waited for our friend Judy to arrive. We met her at the door, took her in for a cocktail (another pear-creme-fraiche martini!), then got her situated in our room. We had dinner at the Buffet, which was dangerous - two buffets in a day? Luckily, neither of us went too crazy either meal. Then we went upstairs to watch a movie.

This was a problem. The flat screen TV was wonderful, and the couches were oh-so-comfy. But the DVD player was clear on the other side of the room, where the remote couldn't reach it. And it ended up stopping on the video several times. We finally said, "Screw it - let's call room service". They sent someone up to replace the player, and we watched the rest of our movie in peace.

We felt a bit weird asking for a rollaway bed in such a nice suite, but the Wynn folks were really cool about it. Judy swore that the bed was more comfortable than her one at home, and she's not one to exaggerate, so I'll have to take her word on that one. We put it in the massage room, which worked extremely well for her - she loved having no distractions at all as she slept through the night.

End of day two. Amount of money gambled thus far - $0.

Lex

Vegas - October 31st, 2007

G-Lexington — Tue, 06 Nov 2007 16:33:37 GMT

October 31st, 2007
or, "It's hard to compete with twelve-foot diameter flowers."

You know that old saying, "Never travel on Halloween"? Yeah, me neither - I'm pretty sure I just made it up. And in any event, it's completely bogus - there's nothing wrong with traveling on Halloween. In fact, both airports (Denver and Vegas) were surprisingly dead, even though our plane was close to full. Maybe one actually should travel on Halloween. If you don't mind missing "Halloween stuff", that is.

For the first time in my life, I got to see one of those guys in the dark suits holding up my name next to the baggage carousel. OK, it was really my boyfriend's name, but damnit, who's telling this story anyway? We went over, introduced ourselves...and then waited about half an hour for our luggage to arrive. Finally, during the sixth or seventh repetition of the loud televised "things to do in Vegas" commercial loop (The Price Is Right...LIVE!), the bags arrived, and we were on our way. The ride was very sumptuous - leather interior and smooth jazz, baby - even if the driver was of the rather sullen type. Sort of like standard taxi driver with nicer clothes.

We were dropped off at the Wynn "tower check-in" - that's right, none of this "regular check-in" for us. We walked through the beautiful atrium, with its lush greenery and pretty koi. We followed through a few more huge glass doors before finally coming to the large marble desk, with three impeccably dressed women stood poised to assist in any way possible. During check-in, one woman found she had left the previous person's credit card in the imprinting machine - damnit, they're apparently still human even up at this level. :) I kept stopping to take in the surrounding, as everything was very lush and beautiful and pretty. Well, except for one thing - the guests. I had on an old band T-shirt and jeans. One guy slouched in a chair in the corner had a Hershey's Chocolate shirt on, and another guest checking in looked straight out of the Stampede c&w dance club. It looked...wrong. Like everyone checking in had won a stay here as a prize, and had simply packed their bags with whatever was clean and showed up.

Coming into the suite was one of those jaw-dropping experiences you don't forget. The large flat-screen TV displaying pretty flowers and playing classical music, the huge windows (with pushbutton curtain control!) with the amazing view, the Picasso and Van Gogh prints, the beautiful couches and kitchenette, and who knew a breakfast nook could be classy? And that's just the main room! There's a small massage room with built-in table and CD player, the master bedroom (also with pushbutton curtains), and of course the bathroom. Huge soaking tub, humongous shower, stretch dual vanity, two closets. Great stuff.

The view is a bit strange, at least for now. We can see Treasure Island, and can even watch the pirate show from our bed if we so desire. But a good chunk is taken up by the Frontier hotel & casino, which shut down in July. So amidst all this glamour and beauty is this huge building with windows knocked out, lumber piled up, and wrecking crews moving in. Sic transit gloria stripa.

We didn't do much our first afternoon. It's rare for me to unpack fully in a hotel - don't know why, but I just don't. But with this much storage space, and because the place actually looks lame with my suitcase sitting out, I did the whole she-bang. We went back downstairs to arrange a ride for a friend, then strolled around the hotel for a bit. I bought a few snacks for the room (yes, there's a mini-bar, but I'm a cheap bastard even so), and then we stopped for a drink at one of the bars. I had a roasted pear with creme fraiche martini - an odd choice for me, since I'm not much of a martini fan. I would be, though, if they tasted like this one. Wow, was it good. Then we headed back upstairs to prepare for dinner. I took an extremely long soak in the tub while Pubert took a not-quite-as-long shower, we prettied ourselves up, then headed down for dinner.

We got a great seat at the SW steakhouse - outside, right along the water. The Wynn has this huge angled waterfall which doubles as a movie screen, and we had a great view of it. Ordinarily, lights shine down on the wall and surrounding trees, giving it a pretty look. But from time to time, a little "show" comes on. A huge animatronic frog comes up from behind the wall to sing "What a Wonderful World", or we get a light and video show to "Lady Marmalade" (the LaBelle version). The strangest bit were the two humongous flowers that came up behind the wall, and slowly danced and unfurled to a romantic Tchaikovsky number. Surreal, but actually very cool and beautiful.

You'd think amidst all these distractions, the food would only have to be passable. It was so much more than that. We started with kobe beef carpaccio. The beef and slaw were actually fantastic, but it was served with "toasted sourdough" which had been more burnt than toasted. And the taste of the bread far outpowered the delicious beef. I started eating it on the plain rolls they had brought instead, and that was far better. For main course, I went rather simple - a small filet mignon. It was served with three special sauces (like bernaise) on the side, but I didn't bother even trying them. The steak was THAT good. I ordered butter roasted fingerling potatoes and broccolini for the side, both of which were excellent. I asked the waiter to choose a wine for me, and decided to try a white - yes, I know "red with beef", but I was in the mood to try something different. He picked a very nice blush wine that actually went very well with the meal. There were a few tempting items on the dessert menu, but we were far too stuffed to even think about them.

Our last move of the night - taking a taxi to Walgreen's to load up on Diet Pepsi. It's a testimony to our relationship that, while staying at a five-star hotel, we now feel totally comfortable saying, "Let's take a taxi to Walgreen's to load up on Diet Pepsi" to each other, I think.

Happy birthday Pubert (pt 1)

G-Lexington — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 00:09:07 GMT

One party down, one to go. And the second one's gonna have to work REALLY hard to top the first.

Having been a fan of the burlesque shows here in town, we talked about perhaps "buying out" the venue for one of their shows. But that seemed rather unfair - why not leave their regular shows open, and perhaps build a show on a different night just for us? We talked to the manager of the joint, and he was very excited to help us out.

We made a list of our favorite performers that we'd seen during the show's run - some who are there (nearly) every week, and at least one we'd seen only once. We presented him with a list, and said "See who might be available." To our shock, everybody was not only available and willing, but excited to do it. One dancer admitted, "I missed work in order to dance for Pubert." :) The only blip here was the juggler we asked for was busy, but the manager found a replacement who I thought was just as good - he mixed comedy, juggling and magic into a fun (but short) set.

Then came all the other details - fixing a menu, deciding what to do for drinks (drink tickets, as it turned out), and, most importantly, the guest list. Trying to nail down a number was the toughest part - you plus one? You THINK your wife can make it? We finally got a count of 50, which ended up being about ten over final attendance - my friends can be flaky, apparently, as most of the no-shows hailed from my side of the aisle...

We opened the doors at 7, although three people showed up earlier than that - hey, don't miss a minute of a Pubert Party! I made a CD of lounge-y-type music that fit in well with the theme. The hors d'oeuvre-y food was excellent, and ideal for a "snack-y" sort of eating that people could do as much or little of as they saw fit. I spent most of the time in the "pre-show" period chatting with the guests and explaining how the show would work.

The stage in the venue is a bit odd, in that along one wall, it extends out into the room somewhat. The manager and I convinced Pubert to sit at a table that they had set up on that portion of the stage. Thus, we were technically part of the audience AND part of the show. They also furnished us with a microphone, which ended up being somewhat unnecessary - both Pubert and I can project quite well. :) From our vantage point, we could watch both the show AND the audience's reaction to it, which was actually really fun.

The acts were, as always, stellar. If anything, they were more "on" than normal. Fannie did her burlesque bit to "Shake Your Money Maker", Midnight did two routines from a hoop suspended from the ceiling, Vivian did a classic "feather fan dance" from the 20s, and Orchid did her "so beguiling I forget to hoot-'n'-holler" sleeve dance. There were a couple surprises, too - routines we'd never seen before. Vivian did a striptease with a vampire dummy (it was AMAZING!), and Charlie did a routine as current-day Michael Jackson (which, admittedly, was more funny than erotic). Co-host Nannette did our favorite audience singalong number, and we were fortunate to snag Sinjin (I think that was the name), a muscular guy who did two dance/strip routines that were both exciting and...well, exciting. :) Said Sinjin after the show, "I've never done this for a guy before." It may be a lie, but it was a really nice one.

Halfway through the second act, Pubert called a waiter over, and asked if they had enough glasses to give champagne to everyone - including the acts. They said yes, and so champagne was delivered to all. I gave a quickie toast once we all had glasses. (In essence, "Pubert, thank you for sharing your special day with all of us.") After the last act, Pubert stood up to thank everybody. He mentioned that most of the acts were there weekly, and that for the next 45 minutes or so, it was open bar. :)

My father, I think, summed up the show. (Yes, he was a guest. My mother was invited as well, but she was sick.) As the house lights came on, he stood up, faced both of us, and said, "Un-fucking-believable." And my father does NOT swear. :)

Looking forward to part two. The only photos I have are of us standing around smiling afterwards. I'll post them once I peel them off the camera.

Lex

A gargoyle in Las Vegas

G-Lexington — Mon, 20 Aug 2007 04:49:24 GMT

We sojourned to Las Vegas for three days this past weekend, mainly to scope out a location for a party before the end of the year. Nothing majorly important happened, but thought you might want to hear about the trip anyway.

We stayed at the Sahara. Not a bad place at all, but certainly one whose glory days are in the past. We had some modest issues with the place. The beds were either slightly uncomfortable (to me) or WAY uncomfortable (to Pubert). The pillows weren't big enough for my liking. The hot water occasionally got the shower head to vibrating loudly. The "TV Internet" service froze up on the very first website I visited (no, not this one). And the alarm clock was busted - it only displayed the "alarm time", not the actual time. Housekeeping eventually sent up another one...which didn't work either. (Roughly half of the LED "bars" were burned out.) We never did have a functioning clock in our room the entire trip. The elevators had some "issues" Sunday morning as we went to check out - they refused to stop on our floor. Finally, a security guy let us sneak a ride down in the service elevator.

All in all, enh. Should be easy to find a place better at roughly the same price.

On a positive note, the monorail stops right behind the hotel. So we mainly used that as our mode of transport. The drawback on THAT, though, was the weather. When we landed in Vegas, it was 102...and the sun had been down for over an hour. This was pretty much the way things were the entire time. Highs around 110, lows around 90. I even bought a pair of shorts...which if you know me is somewhat of a rarity. :) But it wasn't as horrid as I thought it'd be. I guess I actually DO like the warm weather. Plus, we were an air-conditioned places most of the time.

As usual, I didn't gamble. At all. Not my thing. Pubert did, and for the first time ever, he ended up down for a trip to Vegas. Not a lot - $150 or so, of the $300 he allocated himself to gamble with. So he came out OK. The craps tables just weren't falling like they normally did. Oh well.

We did go out to see some shows. I finally got to see the Excalibur show, with the jousting and the horses and the chicken dinner you eat with your hands. The food was precisely as mediocre as I expected, but the horse and pony show was fun. (For those who've seen it, we were in the Hungary rooting section.) One of those things where you surrender yourself to the cheesiness of it all, and have a good time. From there, we ventured upstairs to see the Thunder from Down Under. Basically just guys taking off their clothes. We were two of the three guys in there, and now I know what it's like when a woman goes to a gay bar. :) Pretty good eye candy. The next night, we saw Zumanity, the "sexy" Cirque du Soleil show. Very erotic and sensual, and I had a good time, but still, it was a bit odd. Some parts just didn't fit in well with the others. ("Now two people doing acrobatics from silks...because it's Cirque and that's what we do, right?")

Glad to be back, and ready to get back in the swing of things. Oh. and as for the original purpose of the trip...did we find a spot? Oh yes. Yes we did.

Lex

Dear Burger King Patron:

G-Lexington — Tue, 03 Jul 2007 00:39:56 GMT

Do you realize how much I appreciate what you do?

I'm assuming you don't know who I am. That's fine - I don't know who you are either. But I've seen your work. And I love it. It never fails to bring a smile to start off my day.

I don't go to Burger King all that often. Maybe once a week, once every two weeks, something like that. Just for breakfast, if I happen to be feeling hungry in the morning. It's on the way to work, so it's an obvious place to stop. And I almost always forget about your work, until I walk in, get my order, and go to sit down. And then I see it.

There! On the table! A newspaper. Today's, yesterday's, it doesn't matter. Sometimes it's one of the big dailies - the Denver Post or the Rocky Mountain News. Or it's one of the freebie papers you can get around town. But suddenly I get a bit excited. Is this one of "your" papers? I glance down. It is!

I don't know why you do what you do. Maybe current events have you angry, or bitter, or just full of opinions. I don't know what first compelled you to pull out a pen, and start writing things. In the margins, across the photos, next to the columns. I'm just happy you did.

This morning, in the neighborhood monthly paper, there was an article about a committee formed to look into neighborhood revitalization. You had scrawled across the top of the paper "This neighborhood has been dirty and dangerous since 1957!" I don't know what significance 1957 holds. The year you were born? The year you moved in? The first major crime wave struck? But I nodded. I sort of understood.

On the next page was a smaller article about the People's Fair. That yearly bands-and-booths thing down by the Capitol. Your comment? "Fix the neighborhood." I think I understand. You were still unhappy about the previous article, and the state of things here. How dare they have a party, when there's so much work to be done?

You do have a way of saying what a bunch of us are feeling, no matter how impractical your suggestions. I remember when Joe Nacchio was sentenced, and you echoed many former Qwest employees when you scribbled "He should be put away FOREVER" across his picture.

Your comments aren't always so negative. There was a picture of a yard, where some homeowners had planted some flowers and done some other landscaping work. "Pretty," was your evaluation. And next to a picture of two people planting trees along a dirty street, you had simply written "Thank you."

I don't know why you do this. Are you lonely? Do you want someone to talk to, so you "talk" to the newspapers in the fashion? Is this like a low-tech form of blogging, where you get to sound off on the events of the day? And why do you leave the paper out for someone to find? Was it really meant for a gay gargoyle with a somewhat odd sense of humor to find? And appreciate?

Because I do appreciate it. I don't always agree with your sentiments. But I love your forum. It's sort of the American way, where we can sound off on things. Even if it's just to say "pretty" to a revamped front yard.

Burger King Patron, thank you for making a gargoyle smile.

Lex

Where do you go?

G-Lexington — Fri, 22 Jun 2007 16:16:43 GMT

I'm back.

For the second time in several months, I took a modest break from JUBbing. Why? Where's the gargoyle going?

I wish the answers were horrendously exciting, or at least full of angst and anguish, so you could live vicariously through them. But, as it turns out, the explanation is almost painfully dull. Still, I'd rather anyone who was even vaguely interested got the full explanation.

The persona I put forth here on JUB is, for all intents and purposes, me. I'm not putting on an act. I basically am happy, chatty, smartassy, and fairly self-assured. Like everybody else on the planet, I do have problems to deal with. Most of the time, I handle them without much ado on my part.

But, on occasion, either I get too many problems to handle easily, or I just have issues handling the few ones I have. When this happens, I start disliking myself. I lose faith in my ability to handle other problems, and I become a less-than-ideal person to have around - I'm less "smart-assy" and more acerbic. Flat-out mean, at times. When that happens, I've begun taking breaks from this site, and other sites like it.

Why? I found it serves multiple purposes. For one thing, I don't have more dramas - real or imagined - to add fuel to my issues. Secondly, I spare everybody here from my touchy demeanor and possibly ill-thought-out comments. And perhaps most importantly, it removes a distraction from my life, so I can concentrate on handling the things that need to be handled. Mind you, I don't blame JUB at ALL for these moods. They predate the Internet, let alone this website and my participation on it. But I found being away helps me focus, and that's all for the good.

Does it work? It seems to. So far, each break has only last just shy of a week. In fact, just deciding I'm taking a break from JUB (and other things) seems to start me "on the road to recovery", and I'm usually 95% back to normal within 24 hours of that decision. The final days are spent "re-entrenching" myself back into my happy place. And I'm happy enough to want to do that. :)

So next time you hear that I'm gone again - and I don't see why it won't happen again - don't imagine me in a straitjacket, or the melodramatic organ music of soap operas gone by. Nothing as interesting as all that. Just a gargoyle working out some modest issues. I'll probably be back before you realize I'm gone. ..|

Lex

Movies of my mind

G-Lexington — Fri, 08 Jun 2007 13:00:08 GMT

Color me misunderstood
But I won't go Hollywood - Bleu

Something happened to me several years back.

I was never much of a TV or movie junkie. Yeah, I had my favorite shows. Most of them were cartoons. I loved Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Talespin, Gargoyles (duh), and so on. But even then, I wasn't watching as much TV as most people. When I finally broke in to my chosen field, I moved to a tiny town in the Southwest US, and my TV watching shrunk even more. I had this tiny B&W TV, and could only get two or three channels. By this point, the only show I was still watching was Gargoyles, which I'd watch when I first got up in the morning. I distinctly remember watching one episode, and getting more and more unhappy at it. I finally did something drastic.

I stood up and turned the television off. Before the episode finished.

I then drew a hot bath, got in, and while soaking, I started the episode again in my brain. But this time, I ran it as I thought it should've been. Changing the plot, getting rid of the superfluous character, and what not. And of course, to me, my "episode" was superior. It was the way it should've been.

I wasn't aware of it at the time, but this was a major turning point. My relationship with TV would never be the same.

Before this happened, TV would entertain me with stories. But now, TV shows merely provided me with a "jumping-off" point. I went from tweaking existing episodes to actually writing new ones in my head. Happy ones, tragic ones, comedic ones, sexual ones, whatever I felt like at the time. TV ceased being a form of entertainment, and instead, became a source of fuel for my entertainment. My "mind TV" could start and stop at will, could run the same episode many times with minor tweakings (or none at all), and could be entirely inconsistent with itself - if I wanted to kill off a main character just to see what happened, I could. And then bring him back immediately. :)

It's gotten to the point where I prefer the entertainment of my mind. So despite being a fan of the aforementioned Ninja Turtles, I don't watch the new cartoon. And I didn't go see the recent movie. Why should I? The cartoon and movie were written with a particular demographic in mind. The ones in my mind were written solely for ME. Which ones do you think I'll enjoy more? :)

This isn't to say I've given up on TV completely. I still watch non-fictional things like The Daily Show and The Soup. Maybe an occasional game show or documentary. But I'm finding it hard to watch fictional TV at all. Because once I get an idea of the characters, that's all I need to start writing my own stories. And yes, I do need a dose of "fuel" once in awhile. That's why movie trailers are so perfect. They condense the plot and all the "good parts" into a sixty-second chunk, and it sometimes gets the creative juices flowing. For me, anyway, it IS true - I don't need to see the movie once I've seen the trailer.

To forestall the inevitable question, yes, I've tried writing these stories out. Both my versions of other shows (fanfiction) and my own creations (original fiction). And yes, some are posted online. But honestly, I didn't really write them for anyone other than myself. If other people like them, fantastic. If nobody else does, I don't care - they weren't the target audience. I was.

Lex

Friends

G-Lexington — Sat, 05 May 2007 17:46:33 GMT

"Friends - how many of us have them?" - Whodini

A bunch of things have happened recently - both in real life and online - that have gotten me thinking. (Relax - it doesn't show.) Specifically, I keep thinking about the word "friend", and what it means.

When I was a kid, I think it was easier. A friend was someone you hung out with. A schoolmate that you talked to outside of the confines of the classroom. The kid you could borrow a quarter from, and went to the arcade with, and wouldn't make fun of you for tripping over your shoelaces while playing kickball.

Yet even then, it wasn't extremely obvious. I was always really reluctant to call someone my friend until I KNEW. You know, until he invited me to his house, and he came to mine. Why the reluctance? Because it's like saying "I love you" - you don't want to be first. Because if you call Fred your "friend", and he doesn't think of you that way, how pathetic does that make you look? You're MAKING UP friends. You're PRETENDING that people are your friends, because you don't actually have any.

Nine-year-olds can be just as insecure as adults, apparently.

As a teen, it got worse. Because to make a friend, you had to be a friend. And to be a friend, you had to open up. Reveal yourself. Tell people what you were like. And the teenage years - at least mine - were not the time to open up. They were the time to shut down. To build the walls around you so that none may enter, so when the insults were hurled, you wouldn't feel them quite so harshly. To look at the world around you aloofly and with disdain, because i you don't care, nothing will hurt you.

I had some issues in high school.

But I also had some friends. Somehow, people found chinks in the armor, but didn't shove spears into them. And somehow, the relationships grew.

Adulthood is easier, I guess. But we rarely make "friends". We don't often introduce people as our "friends". "This is Susan, my co-worker." "This is Michael, who lives in my apartment building." "This is Jose, who's in my Japanese class."

It's as if we're saying, "Yes, I know this person - but there's a REASON I know this person."

Friendship is different in the 21st century. I've met people online that I would probably consider friends, but I've never even met them. Hell, I haven't even spoken to most of them on the phone. I've wondered how that would play if they came out to visit, and I had to introduce them. "This is Bryce, from Sacramento, who, like me, also enjoys posting about obscure cartoons on the Internet."

Time to dust off the old one - "This is Bryce, my friend." :)

Places like MySpace have reduced "friendship" to a simple e-mail. Shanique wants to be my friend, and all I know about her is that she has a webcam. They even have the Top 8. Now you can RANK your friends! "These are my BESTEST friends!" I run across people whose Top 8 include 30 Seconds to Mars and Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie For Theaters. When your bestest friend is a movie...* Even this place has "buddy lists". If I post with you a while, and we get along great, should we add each other to our buddy lists? If we don't, will people think something's wrong? Are we required to keep our buddy lists in good order? Say, if you and I stop posting in the same threads for a week, month, six months, should I, in all good conscience, but with a heavy heart, remove you from my buddy list?

I suddenly realized I don't even know who's ON my buddy list, and here I am dissing it. Lemme go look....hm. Nobody. But I know I'm on a couple people's lists. Should I find out who, and reciprocate?

Way off track again. Sorry.

So what is a friend? It finally hit me (slowly - I ain't too swift) that "friend" is a label, and as such, can be applied as indiscriminately, or as discriminately (?), as anyone sees fit. If you've got 1000 "friends" on myspace, and you consider them as such, more power to you. Perhaps I'm more conservative than that.

But that just pushes the question from the universal to the personal. What is a friend to ME? If I can point to this person and say, "Yeah, I'd consider her a friend" but point to another and say, "No, not really"...where is the line? At what point does the relationship become a friendship to me? I guess I'm not entirely sure. I used to think i meant, "I'd feel comfortable calling this person up at 3am because I really need to talk." But I've since found that most of my possible-friends probably pass this litmus test. Is it because they ARE friends? Is it because I'm a good friend, and draw good friends to me? Or is it because people are too polite to hang up on someone they know at 3am? "Dude, seriously, call me back when the sun's warm..."

Perhaps the real question now should be "Why the hell do I care?" I mean, why should it matter if Person A is "friend" and person B isn't? Person B isn't a worse person - I just don't know him as well, and perhaps even choose not to. That doesn't mean I can't enjoy Person B on his own merits, and enjoy doing things with him.

Something else I'm noticing. All friendships take some work. But some take more than others. With a lot of them, it's worth it. I've got friends in other states, and I call them once in awhile instead of e-mailing. It gives the friendship a sense of permanence, and seems to reconnect me to the individual.

But with other friendships, it's not so cut and dried. You tend to deal with, or work past, your friend's problems/faults/idiosyncracies. But sometimes it's too much work, for not enough payoff. For instance, if you have a distant friend that only contacts you when you contact them, you might wonder if it's worth keeping up - if the interaction you get is worth the effort of always doing the upkeep.

So sometimes, I start thinking, "You know what? Fuck it - it ain't worth it" and stop trying. But then my conscience kicks in - is that what friends do? Stop trying if it becomes a hassle? Doesn't this person need someone like you in his life now?

It was a lot easier when we just went to the arcade.

Lex

* - Yes, all my Top 8 are bands. But I've at least met all of them. Sure, five of them I've only met once, but...look, PM and I'll explain it there if you really wanna know.

That Disneyland feeling...

G-Lexington — Sat, 21 Apr 2007 12:39:42 GMT

I first visited Disneyland when I was four years old. (There is photographic evidence of this trip, but I won't be posting it. I was wearing my green/rust/black checked pants.) Like most things that happened over three decades ago, my memory of this trip is a bit hazy. I remember thinking the cannon in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride were too loud. I remember thinking the oscillating smiley-face on the front of the It's A Small World ride was creepy as hell. (Still do.) And I remember this...feeling.

It's hard to describe a feeling, but I'll try. It was the feeling of excitement, maybe a bit of fear (these rides were scary when you're four), but overall, the feeling of limitless possibilities. Disneyland seemed impossibly huge, and the thought that there was something new and exciting around every corner made me feel like, even if I was there for months, I'd never see it all.

I ended up going to college out near the LA area, so trips to Disneyland weren't too big a deal. And as much as I enjoyed those trips, the feeling was mainly gone. And that's not surprising. Disneyland at age nineteen isn't Disneyland at age four.

But there was one attraction there that would - briefly, fleetingly - bring the feeling back. Mission to Mars.

It's not surprising if you've never heard of it. It was never one of their big attractions. It featured animatronic scientists in a NASA-like control center. The head scientist would drone on about space research, then herd everyone into a "rocket" to experience a "true-to-life" rocket ride to the red planet. The rocket ride consisted of several rows of chairs, arranged in a circle, which would vibrate when the rocket thrusters would kick in. A movie played in the center of the circle on the floor, as you saw yourself lifted away from the friendly confines of Anaheim CA, and land upon the mysterious red planet.

The attraction probably kicked some major ass in 1975 when it opened, but by the early 90s, it sucked rocks. The animatronics were awful, the movie was getting grainy, and I don't think anybody actually felt "transported".

Except me. But not to the mysterious red planet. To 1974.

I obviously didn't go on the ride when I was four - it opened a year after that trip. But something about the attraction tapped into that feeling. That feeling of wonderment and excitement and thrills of the future. That "someday we'll reach Mars", spoken with the solid determination that could only be spoken before two space shuttle explosions. The same way that, back then, presidents stood at their desks, one hand clutching their jacket lapel, and resolutely steered the country brilliantly and unerringly towards peace and prosperity. Because that's what it's like when you're four.

Everytime we went to Disneyland, I dragged my friends to the Mission of Mars attraction. I said they had to do it because it was so cheesy. And it was. But secretly, I wanted to feel like I was four again. And that was the only way.

The year I graduated college, they tore Mission to Mars to make the way for something cooler. Not sure what's there now, but it has to be better. But I was sad - that crappy exhibit tapped a part of me that nothing else seemed able to tap.

Until.

Lakeside has been a fixture on the Denver map for decades. All the big bands of the 30s and 40s would play concerts there, and they've had amusement rides there for even longer. But as an amusement park, it's always been second fiddle to the larger Elitch's (now Six Flags Elitch's, thus cementing its second-place status). As such, not much has changed at Lakeside for many years.

I don't think any of the rides there are younger than twenty years. Most of the signs have been up for three or more decades. Like most amusement parks, they used to sell "tickets" to ride the rides, but have since graduated to a "all-day pass". Unlike most, however, they never did get rid of the ticket booths in front of all the rides. Perhaps because they add so much color to the place. Or perhaps they may go back to the "ticket" thing again. Or, most likely, they just never got around to tearing the damn things down.

The rides are fairly tame by today's standards. No upside-down, inside-out, drop-you-ten-stories sort of things. One ride I like is the Whip. Small metal cars get pulled along an oval track, and get "whipped" around the small axis turns. In 1940, this was probably a thrill ride. In 2007, the thrill comes from the fact that this ride is seventy years old, and may simply break at any moment, sending you whipping out of the ride proper and into the trees surrounding you.

And because the rides have been there forever, there's very little in the way of "safety precautions". I don't recall a single ride with a chest harness. The big rollercoaster just has one of those metal bars that descends over you. And the most incredible one is the Wild Chipmunk, which is like a smallish, one-person rollercoaster. The cars look mainly like small bathtubs, with a small seat and a small wrestling mat inside to keep you from cracking your body against the sides. That's it. No seat belt, no bar, nothing.

My first trip to Lakeside, oddly enough, was two years ago. And it was surreal. It was like the Mission to Mars feeling, only much more so. The sayings "it takes you back" and "you'll feel like you were there" are such cliches, and they very rarely do either. But Lakeside really does feel like stepping into the past. I swear if I pulled out a cellphone there, it wouldn't work - it's hard to get a signal in a time warp.

I think I'll go back to Lakeside this year. But first I gotta find some green/rust/black check pants to wear.

Lex

I'll be damned

G-Lexington — Sun, 01 Apr 2007 01:01:50 GMT

A friend of mine e-mailed me on Thursday. He's an old college friend, and we usually keep in touch by e-mail. We spent a good chunk of the morning exchanging e-mails, catching up.

One of my comments made him laugh out loud. A woman who was walking by said, "What's so funny?" so he showed her the e-mail. Ends up this woman is the entertainment editor for a major US magazine. After reading my smart-ass comment, she said, "Jesus, why isn't this guy writing for us?" So my friend forwarded the e-mail to her, she wrote to me and offered me a job. It's freelance, piecework stuff. I accepted. I probably won't start for a bit, but I'm ready for when the call comes.

Sometimes, the weirdest shit can happen. :)

Lex

March giddiness

G-Lexington — Tue, 06 Mar 2007 11:24:15 GMT

March has arrived, although not in the traditional "like a lion" way. But however it got here, as always, I'm very happy to see it.

Why? Well, certainly for the same reasons poets since time immemorial have liked it - we're witnessing the first steps of winter's death, the weather's getting a bit warmer, a bit more green here and there, that whole "circle of life" thing. But there's more to it than that for me.

Jump back a dozen years or so, to October 1995. I've finally realized something is really really wrong. What I at first think is just a couple of "bad days" has turned into two weeks' worth. I can't find enthusiasm for anything I do. I'm sleeping maybe three hours a night, and eating maybe one meal a day. All my life, I've at least been able to daydream my way through dreary and/or uninteresting days, but I've suddenly found I can't even do that anymore. And suddenly, everything feels empty. I've got nothing anymore. I remember working in the office, looking out the window, watching the sun go down...and thinking how utterly meaningless life was. I was no longer just depressed - it was a feeling of complete and utter despair.

Two things saved my sanity. One was a trip to a psychiatrist. I could only scrounge up enough cash for two visits, but he was great. He basically helped me come up with some "coping skills" to get me through the tough times. The other thing - and probably much more important - was my friends. "A friend in need is a friend indeed", they say, and I'd never been as much "in need" as then. And let's just say it was at this point that I found out who my true friends were. I needed people to talk to, people who would lend a friendly ear as I babbled about my feelings. And I was stunned to find that, with only one exception, everyone stepped up. Late night phone calls, e-mails, visits - they took it all in stride. My family, my old college friends - they all proved themselves in this unexpected "trial by fire". Which is why I'm still so fiercely loyal to them to this day.

Later, it became clear that a good chunk of what happened during that time was at least partially due to Seasonal Affective Disorder. For those unfamiliar, basically stated, my mood gets worse the less sunlight I get. My problems in 1995/96 weren't due completely to this, but let's just say they made a bad situation a lot worse. And I still have days when SAD kicks in, although my worst days now may be better than my best days back then. But I've learned some simple things that help get me through them with little or no trouble.

People who have gotten to know me since that little episode find it very surprising. Because now, I'm an almost relentlessly happy guy. Not the kind that whistles everywhere he goes, and annoys his groggy co-workers with a cheery, "Good morning!" or anything like that. But I am almost always in a good mood. One person actually asked me, "Do you even HAVE bad days?" And actually, I don't really. Not much. Yes, bad things happen to me, the same way they happen to everyone, but they're nothing I can't handle.

If that weren't enough, it's March. And as the days get longer, and the weather gets warmer, in addition to my general good-naturedness, I get an addition sense of triumph. I've made it through another winter, and without slipping anywhere near depression. Fuck you, winter. Take that.

Of course, March does try to get the last laugh. Guess what the snowiest month in Colorado is? :)

My life in the Hate State

G-Lexington — Wed, 28 Feb 2007 15:04:19 GMT

I've lived in Colorado, for the most part, since 1981. If you follow the news even casually, you've seen the state. Where the state flower - the columbine - now means a couple kids in trenchcoats shooting their fellow students. Where a little girl beauty pageant queens gets murdered (and, later, "captures the nation's heart" or something). Where visiting musicians and professional athletes get shot in their cars. Where guys decide to fly their twin-engine planes into the White House in an effort to stop the liberal conspiracy. Where all gay rights proposals get defeated on the ballot with the rhetoric that it's "one step closer to legalizing pedophilia and bestiality". And where anti-gay preachers who have the president's ear have sex with call guys, then get cured within a month...and this not even the most powerful anti-gay church in the state (hey, there, Focus on the Family).

So I guess it isn't too surprising when somebody asks me, "Why would any homosexual choose to live in Colorado?" The only surprise was this was asked by a former resident, a college professor who presumably would know better.

So why would I choose to live here? Well, there's the obvious stuff. I grew up here. I have plenty of friends. I know the area very well. I enjoy the pace of the city, having lots of things to do, but not feeling swallowed up by it all. I even have gotten used to the freaky weather (although any time it wants to stop snowing this winter would be fine with me).

But beyond that.

I have two jobs. I came out at both places almost immediately. It's not an issue at all at either one. At my main job, my supervisor is also gay, and there are several other gay men and women working there. At job number two, there's also a couple other gay folks there. Everyone is so cool with i that we all joke about it from time to time - not in a mean-spirited way, but in that same way you rib Bob from accounting for coming in late every day, or Judy for her coffee addiction. I love to laugh, and nothing makes me feel like "one of the group" so much as a bit of well-intentioned laughter.

I've moved a couple times within the city. Once I rented a room from a youngish woman with a large house in the suburbs. She was a very Christian woman - she had a large picture of the Ten Commandments framed on the wall - and had two other rooms rented out to truckers. (Yes. A young Christian woman, two truckers and a homosexual. Either that's a set up to a joke, or a new series on Fox.) When she rented the room to me, she said, "If you have a girlfriend over for the night...or a boyfriend, if you're gay...that's fine. Just keep the door closed." I lived there for two years, then moved to an apartment in the city, owned by a retired WWII vet and his wife. They told me, "Feel free to have girlfriends over. Or boyfriends. Whichever you like."

Due to an insurance merry-go-round ride, I've had to get a new doctor twice. Each time, the doctor has been really cool with everything. Whenever I get sick, they don't immediately schedule an AIDS test. (I've heard stories...)

I've done some work at a community theater down the street a-ways. It's pretty easy to find - it's located between the large leather bar, and the cafe where they have drag queen bingo brunch.

The Gay Pride Parade goes by my place each year. It takes over an hour to go by. Drag queens, leather daddies, gay Hispanics, gay Native Americans, "dykes on bikes", roller derby queens, gay bowlers, lesbian firefighters, you name it. Advertisers fight for spots in the parade - Frontier Airlines had guys walking down the street dressed as airplane seats. The governor and several state representatives marched along, and the grand marshall was the mayor of Denver.

There's a lot of love in the Hate State. And I love it here.

Lex

What the hell are you looking at?

G-Lexington — Sat, 17 Feb 2007 20:42:20 GMT

My profile? Well, OK, if you'd like. Not a lot to see, but I'll see if I can make it worthwhile. Since this is my first blog entry, I'll answer some hypothetical questions as a sort of introduction to me.

What's "G-Lexington"?

Lexington is the name of the youngest member of the gargoyle clan from the 90s Disney cartoon series of the same name. The writers of the show have since stated that they envisioned Lexington to actually have been gay, although they obviously didn't allude to this in the show except in the most roundabout fashion.

"Lexington" was already taken, so I added the G. The G stands for either "gay" or "gargoyle", not (as some have implied) "gerbil".

What do you look like?

Normal. Average. Not beautiful, not ugly. I've posted a few photos of myself on various threads - go hunt for them if you're really interested. :)

Your profile says (something). Is this true?

Anything I state in the profile is accurate. I am in Colorado, I am 37, etc etc. Anything I don't state is simply something I'd rather not state explicitly to the world at large. This doesn't mean I won't tell you eventually - I just like to know folks a bit better before telling them everything. Feel free to ask if you'd like to know - I don't mind people asking.

What do you do for a living?

I have two jobs. I work in accounting and online sales for a large mom-n-pop company. My other job I'd rather not get into. It's somewhat in the public eye, and although I'm entirely out with my co-workers, I'm sure they'd prefer if I didn't link to their website from here. :)

What do you like?

Music, cartoons, reading, writing, the Colorado Mammoth indoor lacrosse team, and meeting new, interesting, fun folks. And yes, sex still kicks ass.

What don't you like?

The terminally slow, winter, and people who can only talk about one subject.

What about my question?

Didn't know you had one. Post it below, or PM me, and I'll answer it. :)

Lex