The New England Society for Tea Fetishism

And I'm all out of money. Actually I left enough money for lunch today. Another wild night at the Tide. Tim did not go out last night--hmm, strangely disappointed by that. Felt the need for some male atttention of a certain kind. Then Peter walked in and was "of a certain kind" to me in excess. He thinks he's going to sleep with me some day. At least that's what I think he means when, as the night wears on, he hugs me and says, "Some day, my love, some day." Some day when monkeys fly out of my butt. We had a little reading and left the microphone up afterward, and Seth and I engaged in terrible karaoke of songs like "Mrs. Robinson," and some Credence I don't know because I only have one volume of the greatest hits. And "Gloooooooria! G-L-O-R-I-A." Seth and Amber rocked the foosball. I think they were undefeated the entire night. Jeff has cheeks (on his face, people) that you just want to gobble up so I gave him a kiss and told him he was the best bartender ever, which he liked because I said it right in front of his boss and I hadn't even gotten a free drink yet.

And here I am at work. Again. With nothing to do except fill out another meme that was sent to me on e-mail. I think I'll go downstairs and get more water from the cooler.

having little seizures while waiting for the computer in the other room to boot up so I can watch the trailer for the Firefly movie, Serenity?

Later on today when I feel like poking myself in the eye to alleviate the boredom, just remind me that I don't feel like dying because of the mind crushing boredom but because I went to bed at two this morning. Tim picked me up around 11. We went to the Tide to meet up with Jeff and Seth and Amber, didn't see Seth's car, drove to another bar about five minutes away, didn't see them there either, called Jeff, and found that they were at the Tide after all. Seth's car must have a cloaking device. I had no money and Tim had money that he was saving for the house party he's throwing on Saturday, so it was a strangely sober night at the bar. Although, I did kick ass several times at foosball, proving to me that it is the skill and not the alcohol that make me good. We were the only five people in the bar, not counting the bartender and Todd, the owner. It's almost guaranteed that if you stay long enough, Todd will give a round of shots or two on the house. We were not disappointed. Oh, peppermint schnapps.

the way boys nonchalantly reach down and adjust themselves in the middle of polite conversation? I just really noticed about a month ago and now it's like when you or someone you know buys a new car, like a Ford Escape shall we say, and now every time you're on the road you see Escapes everywhere.

I spent most of Saturday morning, starting at 9, folded up in the back of George's supposedly four-seater pickup, scouring the landscape for yard sales. After a mostly fruitless search, we found a kitchen table at a sale near our apartment but decided not to grab the first thing we saw. Some of the yardsales advertised in the paper weren't there, (I'm guessing the dismally cloudy skies made some people reschedule) after we bumped and bucked down a dirt road full of craters, which led to me yelling several times, "Pussies! It's not even raining!" We broke for brunch at 11:30 then drove to Riverhead to find the Salvation Army store where we found a lovely oak (I think) table with white legs and trim and four matching chairs for $75. They took the legs off for us right there and we moved it into the apartment where I proceeded to lie down on it and briefly thought about humping it. We have a table! I was so excited. It's almost like a home now. And I do have a bed--it's just that the mattress is made of foam and will probably kill my back. Mattress Search '05 is now on.

Guess what I can do? I can play the base line to "Smoke on the Water" (Fire in the sky!!). The tip of my middle finger on my left hand is kind of numb. I rocked out with Tim for about forty-five minutes. He and Chris have a music room (actually a breakfast nook/dining room) complete with a drum set and a speaker with more square footage than most rent-controlled apartments in Manhattan. Fucker is huge. Whenever I plucked a string the snare drum rattled. Trinity (the most adorablest dog in the whole world) stayed in the living room. I also learned a little blues riff. Bass is much easier than the guitar since I don't have to turn my hand into a friggin' claw to play it. After the jam session we watched Tigerland, with Colin Farrell and several other guys I've never seen before. It's about a pacifist trying to get kicked out of boot camp during the Vietnam war. At around 1am I had Tim snoring on my left side and Trinity snoring on my right. I'm quite surprised that my ears aren't ringing this morning, what with the snoring in stereo and the inappropriately loud cymbal crashes.

No bloggies yesterday. As Amy will tell you, I had a very weird assignment to do for modern poetry involving making up organs and their functions. Turns out that this will morph into our final project for the semester, which is actually kind of cool because I thought we were going to have to write a paper on a poet. So that's what I did at work all day yesterday.

I bought a Rufus Wainright CD on Sunday and I wasn't disappointed. He has this lovely, sleepy voice and sings songs about falling in love with art teachers. Well, just the one song about the art teacher, but I think that gives you a good idea of his writing style. The CD came with a DVD of a concert, too. I'll watch that this weekend. I also bought Moulin Rouge because I'm a hopeless romantic and I love Ewan McGregor. He's so sparkly!

I have to send a resume to Hamptons Realty. They're looking for a secretary and I that's basically all I'm qualified to do, other than security dispatch. I wonder if the job provides medical and dental. I wonder how the hell I'm going to get there every day. I wonder if I'm ever going to be a grown up and get my license.

Damn, I'm hungry. I have to go down to financial aid and steal some of their food.

I was thinking of the part in "A Hard Day' s Night" when Paul's grandfather (such a clean old man) says something along the lines of "You promised me a change of scenery and so far I've been in a train and a room, and a car and room, and a room and a room." On Friday I was in a car and a bar, and a car and a house, and car and a bar. Long story short, I went with Marshall and Tim to a bar in East Bumfuck (actually Eastport, but I think that might be one of its official names) to have a few drinks and pick up Marshall's girlfriend from work at a place called the Triangle Pub. Then on to Tim's house to pick up Chris and then over to Jeff's for a very low key party for about forty-five minutes. After that, a bar in Hampton Bays called Duran's. I didn't have to pay for a drink all night, except for the one time I bought Tim a beer and myself a shot. Neither of the bars chilled their shots and I almost said, "What kind of half-assed establishment are you running here?" at Duran's. I really like the flavored Stoli, which is probably not a very good thing.

What's going on with Tim you ask? I don't know. I like him a lot, he seems to like me quite a bit, but I'm still not sure if I can trust him because of some things I've heard from friends of mine that I know only want to look out for me. Also, he's quite charming, which means he's a charmer and I find it very hard to put a lot of faith in a charmer. Still, I suppose all that could be taken care of with a heart-to-heart conversation that I don't have the guts to initiate.

On our way back from Manhattan last Wednesday night we noticed a helicopter with a giant search light hovering over Southampton Village. I thought nothing of it until Debbie (Alice's replacement, if you remember) told me the following story:

Debbie was on vacation all last week and Monday of this week. She got a message from her sister saying not worry, but that she needed to call her back right away. While Debbie was down in the Grenadines (Oh, tropical paradise! I want a pina colada) a woman and her mother were walking home from a restaurant that's right around the corner from her house here in Southampton. They had both been drinking. The mother fell down on the sidewalk right in front of Debbie's house and couldn't get up. The daughter, who is either stupid or just very intoxicated at the time, walked home and called a taxi to go pick up her mother. The taxi arrived and guess what? No mother.

The cabbie called the police and the police broke all their shit out--helicopters and dogs and about a million flashlights. Over the winter a man, also drunk, slipped in a deserted parking lot during a bad snow storm, slammed his head on the ground, and rolled under his car. The poor guy froze to death. The Southampton cops didn't want anything like that happening again. The search went on for quite some time with no luck. Back outside of Debbie's house, one of the cops noticed that the front door was open.

It turns out that the old woman had gotten up, walked into Debbie's house (Debbie has no idea why the front door was unlocked) went up the stairs, was violently ill out of multiple orifices in the computer room and the guest room, and then went to sleep in the guest bed. She thought she was home and wanted to know why the police were taking her out of her house. Luckily, the woman has another daughter who is much more responisible. She hired a cleaning crew, bought new bedding, cleaned the carpets, and is having a couple things reupholstered. When Debbie came home there was a huge bouquet of flowers in her front hall. She says the house is cleaner than it's ever been, although the thought of all those people roaming around her house creeps her out.

I hung out with Tim again last night. He always calls me about ten minutes before I intend to call him. Like last night, I was watching a movie on Sci-Fi and I said to myself, "Okay, at the commercial you're going to give Tim a call," and lo and behold, two seconds later Tim calls. So now since he always calls and I'm like "I was just going to call you," he doesn't believe I was going to call. That's okay though--we watched The Incredibles last night and he said "I hate the name Bob," and I said, "Bob is my dad's name," and he hid under a pillow. He went home on Saturday and got his dog, Trinity. She's an adorable little American cocker spaniel, with long, girly ears and eyelashes. She likes me. "This is a good sign," Tim said. He showed me some more stuff on the guitar and now the tips of my fingers are sore. I informed him of my delicate flower status and he apologized for hurting my back. We're going to get together again on Friday.

I'll tell you about hanging out with Tim in a moment, but first I would like to tell you about going to college with boys. At Hood the worst we ever encountered was some used accoutrement left in the dryer, or evidence that someone wasn't properly situated over the bowl when relieving themselves in the second floor bathroom. On Saturday afternoon Tracy discovered that someone thought it would be hilarious to drop a deuce in the middle washing machine in our laundry room. I'd put my money on a freshman boy. As absolutely disgusting as it is, I couldn't think about it without laughing. Actually, I just couldn't think of the phrase, "Somebody pooped in the washing machine," without laughing. I mean, how often in your life do you get to say something like that?

A deposit was placed on the house on Friday. Now I just have to get a job.

Friday was very nice. I freaked out a bit at the beginning because, umm . . . I was on a date (I think) with a boy! But it was cool. We stayed at his house, played darts, watched a movie, and hung out with his roommate, whom you may remember as Inappropriately Touchy Chris. I have to take back everything that was said earlier. Chris has turned out to be a good guy. He even made me tea. Well, he started boiling the water for tea but was distracted by a videogame. But the intentions were there. Anywho, Tim is very cute and easy to be around, maybe a little too much with the compliments, but that could just be my inability to take compliments with grace. While we watched "Snatch" he wanted to do a massage exchange. He was not aware of what a delicate flower I am and I woke up Saturday morning feeling like I'd been flogged with a two-by-four. He appreciated my knot detangling skills. Later on some people came over to play music and he showed me three chords on the guitar, two of which I've already forgotten. But I can play a mean D chord when my fingernails don't get in the way.

Amy The T! You call me tonight at nine, right? I'm looking forward to it.

My legs are sore from traipsing all over New York, making me realize that I walk kind of funny. One would expect both legs to be sore in the same places--not so. The top of my left foot and the back of my left knee are pulled, while the quad in my right leg is what yells when I walk down the stairs.

I'm hanging out with Tim tonight (tee-hee).

New York is a fucking zoo. I'm sure that's a completely original idea. Contributing to the zoo-ishness, the circus is in town. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

We were about thirty minutes late meeting Shawn at the corner of 72nd and 3rd because the jitney was caught in some beastly traffic. He had to be in the city early so he could go to a class at his professor's apartment. I think he got shin splints from all the walking. We had Carrie with us, which is good because she works for Hampton Jitney and she knows Manhattan really well. On the way to the auditorium for the reading we stopped in a pizza place for a "blink and it's gone" dinner and I burned the roof of my mouth on a New York slice.

We were running late and walking really fast because we had to get to 59th street and walk east until we found the auditorium. The directions were changed at the last minute because of construction and according to Carrie, 55 east 59th street makes no sense. I had a bag with my dress shoes in them and was wearing a pair of sneaker-sandals that wouldn't look too strange with my sweater/skirt ensemble. Later on I would find that my dress shoes are actually more comfortable for walking. We thought we were lost but just as Carrie was calling her friend for directions we stumbled across the entrance to the Florence Gould Hall.

The reading was good, interesting, funny, etc., but less glamorous than I thought it would be considering people like Paul Simon have attended in the past. The room was on the small side and quite hot. Afterwards we pretty much skipped the shmoozing, ate a bunch of cheese and bread, tried to get a cab to Penn Station, and ended up taking the subway, but went the wrong way for one stop. New York subways are much more complicated than the T. Up on the street we went the wrong way for about a block, which was actually cool because I looked up and realized we were at the bottom of the Empire State Building (on the way in I got a good look at the Chrysler Building, too). Not cool for Tracy and Michele, though, since they were both bleeding from the Achille's tendon.

Penn Station is right below Madison Square Garden, which was mobbed outside because the circus just let out. It was all people and their kids and tons of vendors with food that was burning and stinking up the air. Someone left a pair of boots with stiletto heels at the bottom of a walk signal. I guess she got fed up. Down the stairs and onto to track 18 where the 10:15 to Ronkonkoma was already boarding. And in the seat in front of me was a woman who looked and sounded just like my old suitemate, Sonia. Weird. Although it couldn't have been her because I don't think Sonia spoke Spanish fluently.

We were home by 1am, I was in bed by 1:30, and her I am, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at work. And we didn't even get mugged.

Tim and I haven't hung out yet. He actually called me on Monday night, but I was in the shower after getting back from the gym and I didn't check my messages until yesterday at about six-thirty. So I called him only to catch him on his way out the door to go see this 60 foot fin whale that washed up on the beach two days ago. I had just come from there, but we didn't see anything because it was actually about a mile from where we parked and George had to get to work in about 30 minutes for a very important meeting, so no go on the dead cetacean. It's gorgeous out on Dune Road. Tommy Hilfiger lives out there in a mansion called "The Castle." People were driving up onto the beach like it ain't no thang, which is kind of a strange sight since most of the beaches I've been on either don't allow cars or are so rocky you don't even want to try.

Tim called again around 9pm and said that he was really tired and he felt like such an old man because he wanted to go to bed soon and I was like, "Gandpa, meet Grandma." We talked for about a half hour, made plans to make plans for Friday, and said goodnight. So, god willing and the creek don't rise, I'll be going out on Friday.

I have a feeling I should just put most of the answers next to my list because I realize that it isn't very fair. Or at least put the album titles for a couple.

I'm off to NYC for the annual MFA fundraiser/reading extravaganza. This year the theme is literature and laughter, although that could be the theme every year for all I know. I'm wearing nylons that are too dark for my skin tone but it's better than exposing my pale, splotchy, ever so slightly in need of a shave legs to the public.

1. Radiohead--A Wolf at the Door (Hail to the Thief)
2. Sarah McLachlan--Do what you have to do (Surfacing)
3. Tori Amos--Kind of a tie between Not the Red Baron (Boys for Pele) and Spark(From the Choirgirl Hotel)
4. Led Zeppelin--When the Levee Breaks
5. Liz Phair--Shatter (Exile in Guyville)
6. Ani Difranco--Joyful Girl (Dilate)
7. Allman Brothers Band--Whipping Post (on several albums)
8. Smashing Pumpkins--Bullet with Butterfly Wings (Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness)
9. Van Morrison--Everyone (Moondance)
10. The Doors--Touch Me (The Soft Parade)
11. Jeff Buckley--Lover, You Should Have Come Over (Grace)
12. Nirvana--Where Did You Sleep Last Night (Unplugged)
13. David Bowie--Space Oddity (Love You Till Tuesday)
14. Dar Williams--Iowa (Mortal City)

Once again, unoriginal like fire. Good luck and godspeed.

I can't find the damn cartoon anymore, but it made a good point about a lot of stuff that is going on in the government that connects to this "culture of life" bullshit that Bush and his cronies are suddenly pushing. This also relates back to Terry Schiavo, so if you're sick of that whole situation, avert your eyes.

DeLay and Frist and Bush are so concerned with supporting a "culture of life" and saving Ms. Shiavo's life through extraordiary acts of government that you would think they'd do everything in their power to help save everyone in a situation like hers. But they want to pass bills that restrict medical malpractice lawsuits, and it was the settlement from a malpractice lawsuit that allowed Michael Schiavo to pay for his wife's care for fifteen years. Congress has also put restrictions on claiming bankruptcy (mostly on the middle class) which is the only way that many families have to pay for hospital bills after a catastophic illness or accident that requires 24-hour care. And recently a six-month-old boy in Texas was taken off of life support at the objection of his parents because they couldn't pay the hospital---the result of a bill that Bush signed into law when he was governor.

I really wish I could find the cartoon because it's much more accurate and witty than I have represented it here.

ETA: Found it! scroll down to the last cartoon.

Technically I suppose you'd call it an apartment, but it's ours. George called the landlord, Rick, last night and he told us we could take it if we want it. And he's going to let us do the first month-last month-deposit thing in installments, which is pretty cool. I'm going to start making meal plans and a budget soon. Oh, and I guess I'll have to find a job, too. Anybody want to visit? You can sleep in my room.

When you find out that one of your favorite comedians has passed away because people are hitting your blog with the keywords "Mitch Hedberg found dead."