Draw yourself day

Last Sunday I took a friend on a tour of Philadelphia. She's been before, but it was nice to take her on a tour of MY Philadelphia, albeit abbreviated by schedules. Next time, we'll make sure to really get down and dirty- Italian Market, Mütter Museum, Olde City, et all.

We stopped off for drinks at Tattooed Mom's on South Street for a drink or three. I always forget that Sunday at Mom's means ARTS & CRAFTS supplies. Sarah and I got to work on the crayons. She coloured a Bratz page. I went a little more personal and made a crayon drawing of myself as a Simpson.

Sure, it looks nothing like me and nothing like a Simpson, but... the Jack and Diet Cokes were good.

Buff and Stuff

Several weekends ago- I can't remember how long now since my daysweeksmonths tend to run together, I was lucky enough to meet L.A. Artist BUFFMONSTER, and to have him draw a custom Buff tattoo design for me.

When I told him, an artist obsessed with tits,  that the tattooist who's to do the piece lactates and goes by the nickname THE MILKMAID.... well.. it was nice to have made his day.

Weeks later and I've still yet to meet up with Joy to tattoo it. That's sort of the theme of my present condition- serendipitous fortune matched with a schedule that's too tight to exploit it. 

Oh well. The design isn't going anywhere.

It's not the size of your pencil, it's how you write your name

I've had an eventful weekend. My days as a hermit seem to be ended, as the cast of amazing friends I have continually lure me out of my funk and into actually having a social life. As my good friend Brian often says- "good or bad, my friend are all I've ever had". Too true, B.

Rain, my constant sunshine, convinced me to go out on Friday night. We had Pho (which was not, as promised by my brother, the best in the City) and went to a party sponsored by a site she works for. I ran into the one and only Jimmie Knuckles- owner of a beard that's better than yours- and his lovely lady. We laughed, talked beard and drank some disturbing "premium vodka with caffeine" called PINK because it was on the house.

Sometimes free booze simply isn't worth it.

Chickpea and I headed to the Bike Stop so she could finally meet the often imitated never duplicated Bob- had a few more drinks and headed back to Xanadont for some shuteye.

Brian, Bucket and Joli showed up nice and early on Saturday morning and together we headed to Edison, NJ for the 6th Annual East Coast BBQ.  Fun times, and an even more fun afterparty. I can't/won't share the pics on this blog, but I'll say for the record that sometimes when it rains, it pours, and luckily my digital camera is waterproof.

Go to sleep little ugly, Go to sleep little fool

Last night, thanks to a thunderstorm, the heat and humidity finally broke. After taking my beloved melatonin, I opened my blinds just enough to watch the lightning, and drifted off to sleep. 

I woke up several times over the course of the night- asking for more than 5 hours sleep is too much these days, even with the melatonin, but it's a LOT better than the 2 hours I used to manage.  As I floated in and out of sleep I was disappointed by the lack of ferocity that the storm carried with it. The winds were barely howling, the thunder few and far between and the lightning, while impressive, didn't last as long as I would have liked.

Growing up in Florida, you get used to a certain kind of storm- the kind that seems to have hell comin' behind it, ripping up pieces of your barn, uprooting trees and causing chaos for 15 hours at a spell.... We don't really get those kinds of storms up here.

*Portrait of me sleeping by Rain Polsky; Brokenumbrella.com

Cabinet of Pus(head)

I finally got the KAWS/PUSHEAD Companion I posted about a while back- he's sittin' pretty in my display case with some other Pushead goodness. As I sit here typing this, I realize what a monument to total "dorkery" my life has become, and I can't say I'm not pleased.

Crazy from the Heat

I think it's expected of everyone right now to be complaining about the heat and the price of gas. So... this will be my combo post of both woes.

As someone who commutes 72 miles a day, four days a week, I'm obviously feeling sodomized by the gas companies these days. I was 'lucky' enough to get gas today for $3.97 9/10 today in Delaware.  The line for that 'discount' price was about 40 minutes long and almost inspired at least one fist fight that I saw. The price per gallon at the station nearest my house is $4.17/cash $4.29/credit. 

Well THAT'S practical. Luckily I drive a shitty older car. It's part of my 'owning a car in Philly' plan, which consists of the following logic:

If you have a car in Philly, people are going to vandalize it and/or try to break into or steal it. So buy a shitty cheap car. When that car falls apart, buy another one. Cash. No payments.  Rinse, repeat.

So, using that failsafe plan, I drive a 1996 Nissan Sentra with 200,000 miles on it and  a slow unfixable oil leak. And you know what? This little som'bitch gets me dang near 35mpg. That's one fill up per week if I time it right. $45/week. Not bad really, but I see it getting MUCH worse as the summer approaches. 

I don't use my car socially or for errands- it's strictly for work. On the weekends, foot or bike. But, not to sound like my Dad or anything, I remember when I first started at the megacorp I work for- gas was around $.89/gallon. Fast forward 7 years (and a terrible Presidency) and you have predictions of $4.50/g by the end of the week.

That's pretty much my gas rant. Now on to the weather.

I was sent home from work today because of the temperature. It hit 99*f (37*c) at around noon. External temp. Internally it was hotter. Safety first, we couldn't work- so I came home to sit in my bedroom, complete with conditioned air.  The AC is currently set on 60*f...

Last temperature reading said it's 89* in here. Fun.

You'd think being born and raised in Florida I'd be used to this. Think again, bucko. There's something special about pouring 7.5 gallons of water out of the dehumidifier in the basement every day. Jesus.

I'm going to go take a cold bath. Phooey to this.

Weekend Fever

The Heat is starting to arrive in Philadelphia, joining it's more obnoxious friend Humidity. Both can, in the immortal words of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi; "suck my hairy curry rubbed codsack".

I'm a man who's just not suited for warmer climes. I've currently got my winder open with the ceiling fan on high, but soon I'll be setting the AC to a nice comfortable 62*, stripping down to my skivvies and enjoying a nice iced beverage in the cozy cocoon that is the Bunny Sweet.

I've nothing planned this weekend save a little time around the house with Robin, a visit from Rain and possibly some bike riding around the city if I can get over my fear of death and the SUPER uncomfortable seat that will soon be swapped out for a nice gel padded ass-grabber. Should be fun. I'll try to pack my camera with me to document the foolishness that is my typical weekend.

Not much else to report- my folks are still visiting so I'm spending a decent amount of time over at Bob and Carm's with the family. I'm mentally planning my BMEFEST/Modprom weekend (god do I need a proper vacation) as well as the other upcoming trips that are on my roster and just trying to take life as it comes; which is all any of us can ask for, I think.

I want to ride my bicycle

I was recently gifted with a bicycle, on semi-permanent loan. 

The idea of two wheeled transportation in a city notorious for it's asshole drivers is a bit daunting- but as my age and my waist-line both continue to advance, I figure now is the time to take the bull by the horns, the bike by the handlebars and just throw caution to the wind.

It's been slow going. I'm infamously out of shape and pushing myself on the bike has caused muscles I haven't used in an age to revolt against me- I see tonight being an epsom salts kind of night. Add to that the discomfort of trusting drivers to NOT kill me, people opening doors, kids running out in the middle of the street, and you have me in a situation I'm really not used to: loss of control.

So far, I'm liking it. Robin and I intend to start taking out our bikes every night, as weather permits. I think it'll be good for both of us.

Baggage

I finally took time last night to do the post dating maintenance that I've meant to do for the last two weeks; those little tasks you have to do eventually but are far too difficult to do immediately after the parting.

The first and most immediate point of order was to remove the gallery of pictures of the ex from my Iphone. It's far from any kind of malice- I still think about her fondly and miss her very much. But the reality of having to see pictures of her or more to the point pictures of 'us' is more than I should be expected to bear.

I've moved from stunned/hurt to that bruise like state of everything just being a little bit sore. Little comments catch me- my mother saying "Uncle Shawn's over there alone" to my nephew, making travel plans and putting "guests, one" in the field for hotels; what to do with the present I bought for her birthday... all things related are sort of rubbing my already exposed heart and making me a little more melancholy than I need to be right now.

In matters of the heart, I think I should take a little time off before I set myself up for failure yet again. That said, I think that I'm changing my Prom Contest rules to "KISSING INCLUDED".

You never know.

Why am I single?

"Well-liked. Well-established. You are The Loverboy. Loverboys thrive in committed, steady relationships—as opposed to, say, Playboys, who want sex without too much attachment.

You've had many relationships and nearly all of them have been successful. You're a nice guy, you know the ropes, and even if you can be a little hasty with decisions, most girls think of you as a total catch. Your hastiness comes off as spontaneity most of the time anyhow, making you especially popular in your circle of friends, too.

You know not to make the typical Loverboy mistake of choosing someone who appreciates your good humor and popularity, but who offers nothing in return. You belong with someone outgoing, independent, and creative. Otherwise, you'll get bored. And then instead of surprising her with flowers or a practical joke, you'll surprise her by leaving."

I just took an online dating site's dating persona test. 

That all sounds fairly accurate, save the "you constantly get dumped by women who claim to love you" part.  This isn't an "oh woe is me" trip, just random observation.

Being freshly heartbroken makes you introspective, I guess. I'm ok with being single right now, for the most part- but I'm still looking for that white picket fence romantic dream of old- with a little extra perversion thrown in.

Just need the right gal.

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls

My friend Rain came down to visit this weekend.  We did silly best friend-y things like watching bad movies, drinking odd flavoured martinis (the blueberry sucked, but her tang martini wasn't too awful) and keeping each other in stitches with our often confusing and sort of not funny brand of mutual humour. It was nice. 

It made me think how much more comfortable I am around women than I am around men. I have very few male friends- I can count on one hand the amount of men I'm close to, but if I look at the most significant friendships I've had in my life- they've always been with women.

I'm really not sure why that is. I'm sure my therapist would have had some idea, but unfortunately we never really got to work on that before he passed. So I can just write it off as some oedipal thing and go with it, I s'pose. 

Either way, I'm pretty damned lucky to have the friends I have- the people who take me at face value instead of some imagined construct of who they want me to be. I used to keep just about everyone at arm's length- not letting them get close enough to me for fear that one day I'd lose them anyway. Or maybe for fear that they'd eventually 'get to know' me; the real me; and just lose interest. Either or. 

But these days, between Rain, Lauren, Carm, Robin... and the Y chromos that watch my back like Brian, Bob and Bucket- I have it pretty good.

the Valley of the Dolls

It was bound to happen, with the frequency a new piece of vinyl catches my fancy- my toy display case had reached maximum capacity and a trip to Ikea became a must.

Luckily Ikea is only 5 blocks away. With the visiting parents in tow, I made the trek and picked up another all glass display case to match the one that's already in the reading room. With little to no difficulty, I put it together and it lived happily ever after.

Ok. That's totally a lie. In all reality, I've been half in the bag and done Chinese arithmetic with less difficulty than putting together this case which, in theory, should take about 10 minutes to complete. It's a wobbly, poorly plotted out all glass deathtrap. But hell. I'm usually up for the challenge, so we do what we can.

As it turned out, I only needed one lemonaide and Jack to get through the process, which took the combined efforts of not only yours truly but Robin and the Gator to build. Once we put the finishing touches on it, it was no longer a wobbly deathtrap, but a well lit womb for my vinyl babies to show off a little for the guests.

Luck held, and the very next day my Pushead "Astrozombies" piece from Secret Base came in and had the honour of being the first toy to reside in the new case. Followed in quick succession by two amazing FRIENDS WITH YOU pieces.

Now it's just a matter of time before I start worrying about space in the second tower.

Being a toyspazz has its moments of joy.