Biscuit: Tasty Doesn't Get You A Date To The Prom

Look. This is the deal.

I am so wholly consumed with waiting for my vacation, hardly anything actually seems worthwhile enough to chronicle in my little diary. I have spent the last few days planning things like the small cottage in the West Country of England that I fully intend to move into as soon as possible. I need to be not here. Soon.

A few tidbits to tide you over until such time as I feel competent enough to be witty and entertaining:

Pride was one of the best days of my whole life.

I am going to see a show on Sunday. Check it. The "Soccer Practice" video is quite clearly the hottest thing since the invention of heat.

Seems I am going to be in a play -- "Much Ado About Nothing," as a matter of fact. I apparently will either be playing Benedick, opposite one of my best and oldest friends in the world (eleven years this fall), or I will be playing the dark brooding villain, Don John. More details as events warrant.

At the moment, I have a gorgeous boy waiting for me in my bed, so I must away. Cross your fingers that I will manage to maintain my increasingly tenuous hold on sanity until 7:45 Friday morning, when I will be sitting on a plane en route to a god damned pineapple with a fucking pina co-fucking-lada inside.

Ful: Hi!

The Kate: Well, hello!

Ful: can I PLEASE tell you how much I need a shower this morning.

Ful: It's so not even funny.

Ful: I'm thinking about going to the gym across the street that I haven't been to in, say, SIX MONTHS

Ful: just to take a shower.

The Kate: Oooh!

The Kate: take pictures!

Ful: HAHAHA NO!

The Kate: I mean, I'll bet that would help with the sticky!

The Kate: Although

The Kate: you'd probably be sticky again by the time you crossed the street

Ful: Would it be creepy, you think,

Ful: to just go into the gym and put my stuff in a locker and shower and then put my stuff back on again and leave?

Ful: I mean, that seems kind of...sketchy.

The Kate: Well, the option is working out

The Kate: Doing a workout

The Kate: For the sole purpose of showering

Ful: I'd probably be sticky again, true, but at least then I'd only be sticky from heat-sweatiness.

Ful: See, Flex came over last night...and then we, yeah. And then we fell asleep. And then I overslept and so I didn't have a chance to take a shower before I got to work.

Ful: And so I'm kind of...you know. Covered in, like, sex. And I really don't like being covered in sex with I'm at WORK.

The Kate: OH

Ful: Right.

The Kate: So it's more than heat sticky

The Kate: GOT IT

Ful: Maybe I should go at like 3,

Ful: when the gym is very empty

Ful: so nobody will notice.

The Kate: Right!

The Kate: Not a soul!

Ful: Sadly I can't even work out because I don't have any workout clothes!

Ful: OH NO and I'm wearing my underwear with the big PAINT STAIN on the ASS!!

Ful: Oh this gets worse and worse!

Ful: AND I TORE A HOLE IN THEM WHEN I WAS PUTTING THEM ON!

The Kate: HAHHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ful: AAIEE! I have paint-stained torn underwear!!!!!

Ful: I'm going to DIE!!

The Kate: Dare I ask?

The Kate: I'm DYING

The Kate: but I don't want to pry

Ful: I just stepped on the leg-hole while I was pulling them up.

Ful: Nothing too tawdry. (laugh)

Ful: And I'm wearing a tanktop that the boy bought for me yesterday that says "COCKDIESEL" on it.

Ful: What is a cockdiesel?? I have NO IDEA.

The Kate: (okay, BWHAHA!)

The Kate: But what about the PAINT?

The Kate: you were painting in your underpants?

The Kate: And then they made the laundry circulation again?

Ful: No, I have a pair of Umbros that I paint in

Ful: and they're thin enough, apparently, to get paint on my undies when I back my ass up into the wet wall.

The Kate: oh, naturally

The Kate: backing your ass up into wet paint will do that

Ful: Right.

Ful: How am I possibly supposed to take a shower at the gym NOW??

The Kate: you'd really need to towel-coreograph something FIERCE

Ful: OH MY GOODNESS

Ful: I just discovered what "cockdiesel" means.

The Kate: HAHHAHAHHA!

Ful: Apparently it is hip-hop slang for "Very Muscular."

The Kate: Oh, naturally!

Ful: So it would be FITTING for a gym.

Ful: Except I'm NOT very muscular!

Ful: My shirt lies!

The Kate: It can be your distraction!

The Kate: The glint of the shirt will distract from your holey, paint-stained underpants

Ful: Everyone will be so busy thinking, "Hey....waitaminute! HE'S not cockdiesel!" that they won't notice my underwear

The Kate: RIGHT

Ful: or the fact that I came in, slipped into the shower room, and left immediately afterwards.

The Kate: RIGHT

The Kate: It's all good

The Kate: the shirt saves the day

Ful: Like I was just going to the gym for some mid-afternoon showertime assignation.

The Kate: no biggie

The Kate: it's all cool

Ful: Hooray for my Cockdiesel shirt!

My last words before I go to be Disneyfied:

FUCKING FUCK YEAH.

I am sitting at my desk listening to the Vengaboys at full blast, drinking my Vitamin Water, and checking out the Disney World web site that was just updated TODAY with little videos of all of the rides, and which is serving to increase my levels of excitement and adrenalin to previously unheard-of levels.

My brain checked out some time yesterday, leaving the rest of me behind. Good thing it did, because it really was my grumpy brain that was making me so taciturn. I plan to meet up with it somewhere on a waterslide tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully it will have a liquor-filled pineapple waiting for me back at the pool chairs.

(p.s. Followup on the gym-shower-debacle: Yes, I went to the gym to take a shower. I snuck out immediately afterwards by pretending I was on a very important phone call, and darn it was just too bad that I was not able to work out. I do fear, however, the residual impact of my visit: My combination lock was in the pocket of my satchel that contains all the spilled glitter, and as such I accidentally got glitter all over the floor and bench surrounding my locker. I worry about all of the men who went home to their significant others, with an unobserved coat of glitter on their muscular behinds. Did I inadvertently just create a lot of single people? "Honestly, baby!! I don't know where all that glitter came from! No, baby, don't throw my stuff out the window, baby!" I feel like that chaos theory butterfly flapping its wings in the rainforest and creating a hurricane.)

Brief update from the "Business Center" of the Grand Floridian Resort and Spa:

Hi, everyone! Yes, I am fine, and having a tremendously wonderfully fabulous time.

Last night Flex and I went out dancing with Taydo and the Canadian. As might be expected, there was a lot of drinking, several hours too many driving around trying to find our hotel, way too many public displays of affection, public urination, strange women, blow-up dolls, jello shots, fireworks, and for some reason an episode wherein Taydo stuffed my boyfriend into an ice box at a gas station.

And now we are off to see the wonders of the Disney / MGM Studio Theme Park. Wish us luck!

p.s. Last night? We took FIFTY-ONE PICTURES. And they're all scandalous.

Since my return to New York was greeted with an unscheduled power outage, work, and an immediate dive into rehearsals, I have yet to create the fabulous multimedia presentation I have planned for "Our Adventures in Walt Disney World." The photographs were, at least, transferred from the camera to my computer last night, which is clearly a step in the right direction. This weekend should see the grand unveiling. Stay tuned.

It sure is a good thing I think ahead sometimes. Before I went to bed last night, I set my phone to ring, instead of the "Feeble Vibrate" option to which it is so often set. In anticipation, you see.

Of birthday phone calls.

Let me take a brief moment here to say "HOORAAAAAAY!!! It's my BIRTHDAAAAAAY!" I have actually already been acting like it is my birthday for several days now -- as far as I am concerned, the entire week surrounding my birthday is subject to all the rights and privileges of of the actual day itself. That way, it is all about me for a much longer, and wholly more satisfying, period of time.

So anyway, about the phone thing -- I was woken up this morning by the Popeye ringtone to which I have resigned myself, and when I answered, expecting to hear my sister, I heard my little adorable wonderful almost-five-year-old niece singing me Happy Birthday instead! I think I would like to be woken up by tiny children praising me in song every single day.

My plans for the day include coffee and some pastry, a pleasant little lunch, a little bit of work, co-workers singing me Happy Birthday and giving me a cheesecake, a very fun rehearsal in which I get to be eeeevil, and then drinks back in Park Slope with the immediate gang. And maybe I shall cap everything off with a nice long slow backrub from a dashingly handsome boy. I already have a fellow in mind. (Was "nice long slow backrub" euphemistic for something? You be the judge.)

Speaking of the boy, I sent a few vacation pictures to my mom and sister. I was talking to mom when she opened them, and she just kept making little appreciative "Hummm" noises, and then told me that he's really very cute. My sister sent me an email that said, "two words...he's hot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tee hee!" I am not sure why they are as surprised as they seem to be -- I mean, I do have standards, people.

Oh! And now I must away -- I hear Popeye again. I bet it is my mom. I feel another serenade coming on. Sweeeeeeeeeet.

In celebration of my most magical birthday, I am giving you all a present. Thirty four presents, as a matter of fact, which represent a full 22% of all digital photographs taken while my beloved Flex and I were in Walt Disney World. I know, I know. It is almost too much generosity for you to handle. Well, strap yourselves in, kiddies. Here we go!

To start with, take a moment, look back at the top of the screen, and say "ooooh" and "aaaaah" at the pretty castle! It is to get you into the mood, into the proper Disney Mindset.

So. Just in case you are new to this little fold, let us introduce ourselves, shall we? This is me, Fulminous. And this is my terminally sexy boy, Flexible. We went to Disney World together. How very terribly gay of us, I know.

I would like to take this moment to dispel a rumour or two about Florida, wherein Disney World resides. It is not always hot there. Sometimes, in fact, it is very very cold, and people build igloo castles. Or maybe that was a fake igloo castle intended for use in miniature golf. I forget.

One of the most exciting (and drunken) things we did was to meet up with Taydo and his friend the Canadian, for a night of debauchery at Pleasure Island. We started off acting pretty normally. Then, after a few drinks, we started to dance. The straight boy, the Canadian, looks like he is having fun there, right? Well, by the time we started to freaky-sandwich-dance him, he looks distinctly less comfortable. A few more drinks and he lightened up again, gettin' down with the best of 'em. He looks downright ecstatic here. Or insane. I do not know which.

The woman in that dipping-picture was one of a whole gaggle of thirty-to-forty-something bewigged women we met outside the clubs after last call. We danced together a lot. There was a dirty bachelorette who tried to take advantage of Flex. (A poke with a sharp stick, however, returned that interloping Lothario to flaccidity, and I reclaimed my guy by the power of overwhelming cuteness.) There was another woman who tried to take advantage of Taydo, (the previous picture has been edited, at Taydo's request), but I don't think he minded so much. I bet he was holding the camera for this one, too.

Finally we took our leave of Pleasure Island, and Taydo decided to give me and Flex a ride back to our hotel, rather than subjecting us to the late-night shuttlebus. Naturally, we got hopelessly lost, and had to ask for directions several times. Flex and I found some way to pass the time. I mean, looking as hot as THIS, how could I possibly restrain myself?

Flex decided to repay Taydo for the ride, and it seems that followed suit, thanking the Canadian for joining us, as seen here and here. Taydo must have gotten jealous of that, so he decided to get rid of my boyfriend by shoving him into an icebox. (Fret not, he was rescued shortly thereafter.)

Eventually we returned safely to the hotel, and sent Taydo and the Canadian tootling safely home themselves. Yes, that was a good night.

What else did we do in Disney World? I discovered how insanely adorable and yet wildly revolutionary Flex looks in tartan caps. (Please ignore the large plastic nipple that protrudes from said hat.) Seeing him in caps like that lead to what we got up to while floating slowly along "It's a Small World After All." (Thank goodness I did not think to break out the camera during our late-night tram-ride around Tomorrowland.)

I discovered Flex's penchant for taking pictures of me looking tough (please note my tattoo, of which I am still inordinately proud), surly, and moderately psychotic in turns.

I was molested by Winnie the Pooh. You cannot tell, but he is mercilessly tickling me there, and his other hand? Yeah. It was so on my ass. In the same toyshop, we found several books that have been written about people that I know. Here are the two books written about us.

Amidst all this activity, Flex and I definitely took plenty of time to relax, and have a lot more fun. A nice leisurely afternoon tea was a very pleasant break from things like safaris in Asia, which can be a little tiring.

What else? We met Mary Poppins, who is indeed practically perfect in every way. It was very difficult to not bust into an English accent the moment I saw her, though.

At the MGM Studios theme park, I managed to beat the 600-some other competitors to get into the Hot Seat for a crazy-exciting game of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire!" Sadly, I only got up to 32,000 points (note, points and not dollars, although the grand prize would have been a three-day cruise). I will now always know that the Minto Cup is the championship trophy for lacrosse, and not curling, as Ralph, the man on the other end of the "Phone-A-Complete-Stranger" lifeline swore it was. When asked with whom I was visiting Disney World, I proudly pointed up to our seats and said, "My boyfriend," which the host very quickly glossed over ("All right, hi, and on to the questions!"), much to my amusement. Even more entertaining was the next morning, when we were recognized in out hotel gift shop by a woman from Manhattan and her two teenage kids, who were very excited to meet Flex, as they hadn't had a chance to see his picture on the screen the day before. It was very possibly the cutest thing I have seen, maybe ever.

So. That was a whirlwind summary of our vacation. Let me close by reminding you once again of the magical wonder that is Disney:

Thank you. That is all.

Ooooooh, am I ever crispy.

Yesterday was the annual company picnic. You may recall last year's outing, towards the bottom of that page there. I had just started working here, and as such, did not really know anybody. This year? Lot more fun. I actually was able to chat and make jokes with people, I consumed no food that came with a face on it, there was the ocean and huge freaking waves, I actually was athletic and played a game of Ultimate Frisbee in the sand, and most especially, there was Flex (who drank a glass of wine and watched as I ran up and down the beach chasing the aforementioned Frisbee).

Everyone at my work loved him. Everyone made a point of chatting with the two of us, in that "I don't have a problem with it!" kind of way, and ended up actually acting normal about the whole thing. Some of them want to get together with the two of us, to go out for drinks, maybe go see a play! I suppose I work with some pretty keen people after all.

Today, however, I have a rather unpleasant tanline, in the shape of a tank top. I wonder if I can wear just sleeves, so as to even out my coloring? Also, just because I am a whiny little crybaby sometimes, I am going to mention the fact that my calves are freaking KILLING me due to all that running around in sand. There. Enough with the whining now.

Also, tonight! Tonight will be my official birthday party! The adorable Little Owl is making me cupcakes! The incomparable Shiv is bringing me a drink! I will be moving very gingerly, so as not to allow my shoulders to come into contact with anything! Hooray!!
And now I am on my way home, taking full advantage of the Half-Day-Friday policy my company has instituted for the summer, to go home and make some chilled cucumber-dill soup, and a grilled cheese sandwich. Not only do I have a very strange craving for chilled cucumber-dill soup at the moment, but it will give me a chance to try out some of my newly-received birthday gadgets! Garlic peelers, garlic pressers, a beautiful marble rolling pin (which, in all honesty, probably will not be used to prepare soup), and a freaking gorgeous mezzaluna two-handled curve-bladed chopping knife. Serious: best friends ever.

I guess there has to be some backlash. Some sort of cosmic "you have been having too much fun lately, you sap!" backlash. You know. For balance.

Last week was all fun and puppies, all birthday and drinking and presents and parties. It was beaches and ocean and sunshine and sandcastles.

Yesterday? Today? Not so much with the fluffy. Currently, I am wavering just on the edge of "please don't throw up at work."

Look. I know everything will be fine. I know that all of the million things lending themselves to my panic attack will smooth themselves out. I just have never been good at patience. I have also never been good at understanding why the people around me cannot just stick to the script.

I really cannot stand when I agree with conservatives, and never thought that I would do so, particularly on the topic of gay rights.

Well, damn it. At least I agree with them based on different grounds. That is something, at least.

The Hetrick-Martin Institute is a group that has been providing an environment within New York City schools for GLBT kids for over two decades: counseling, outreach, workshops, social events. A safe place for queer kids to go and hang out with other queer kids. Now this I think is a good idea.

The Institute, however, also has this to say: "We believe that success requires the ability to respect and value the diverse human community." What I wonder, at this point, is how will taking the gay kids out of their regular schools teach anybody to respect and value them? If they are not in class with everybody else, the straight students will never see them, never learn to understand them, never learn to behave like decent human beings to them. It will only perpetuate their "differentness" and exacerbate an already unpleasant situation. For that matter, the kids in the gay school themselves will be missing out on a valuable, although admittedly sometimes painful, learning experience of their own.

Honestly, a huge part of high school, aside from the basic educational value, is a chance to learn how to deal with interactions with other students. Is another institute going to come along and open up a special school for the kids with headgear and unflattering sweatpants? What about the goths that all the popular kids make fun of? Are they going to get their own school, with their own cobwebby goths-only smoking area? I know that being made fun of hurts. It sucks to have people call you names and threaten you and try to push you around. The problem is that name-calling does not stop when you leave high school. For me, it actually got worse when I went to college, if only for the fact that thick-headed frat boys were threatened by the fact that I was sleeping just down the hall, and presumably, had nefarious plans to sprinkle them all with fairy dust. Had I not learned how to build up my personal mental defenses in the high school arena, I think I might have crumbled.

God damn, being proactive in terms of my career makes me fucking panicky-nervous. Sometimes, it seems to be worth it.

Case in point, an email sent by me to my big boss late this afternoon:

"Big Boss --

I was hoping you had a few minutes to discuss a few questions I have regarding my position at Company.

I have been working here for over a year, and in that time, I received an excellent Performance Review, and took on a number of additional tasks. Most notably, I think that the product documentation alone is a significant leap beyond my original responsibilities, particularly when you consider that corporations often hire an external FrameMaker specialist just to create the sort of document templates we're using. I am also engaged in a lot of technical writing for this documentation, and starting at version 2.1, I developed UI specs for several new features of the product. These new duties are in addition to my initial ones: anything from coding rough HTML for all of the developers, to creating a clean looking, cleanly coded, and visually consistent top layer for every page of the entire product.

To be honest, I am not certain how or when our compensation increases are determined, but given how long I have been with the company, what I hope you see as the quality of my work, and the sudden influx of clients, it seems a propitious time to ask. Let me know what you think, or when you'd like to discuss this in person.

Thanks a lot!

--Fulminous"

Within minutes, he had replied:

"Fulminous,

This is an absolutely appropriate topic for us and I was about to suggest this discussion myself, you beat me to it.

Let's make some time tomorrow and chat..."

Holy hot god diggety damn! The bluster, the bravado, the cool, calculated smoothness, the 50-cent words, the big sneaky gamble that other people notice that sometimes I do some really cool things around here?? It fucking worked!!!!