And I have never seen that dress you're wearing...

One night many years ago, my good friend Mike and I decided to go to Trax. Well, Mike decided to go and I decided to tag along. From what I heard, Trax was a great place to go cut a rug as it had four dance floors. One for techno, for trance, industrial and 80s. It was also a popular gay bar. Not that that matters, it just matters for the story.

Anyway, we got to Trax about 10:30 and proceeded to drink, dance and watch women. One interesting thing about gay bars; women are always at them. And, no, not lesbians--—straight women. Lesbians don't tend to go to gay bars. Well, not male gay bars. I guess women feel safe as most straight guys stay out of gay bars for fear of catching teh ghey. Me, I'm a firm believer of it's not where you are, it's who you are with and the time you are having. If that means going to a gay bar, then so be it. Let's party.

At one point or another during the evening, my buddy and I were out on the dance floor, cutting it up. Generally, if I'm into the cut, I am oblivious to everything else. So when the song ended, and the next one started, I suddenly realized three things.

My buddy was gone, the women were clearing the dance floor and the men were rushing to it.

Before I realized what was going on, I noticed my friend at the bar, a HUGE grin on his face. He tipped his beer to me and started laughing. I had no idea why.

Then it dawned on me.

The song.

It was the song.

It's Raining Men. Halleluja..

By the time it hit me, it was too late to run off the dance floor without looking like a complete and utter ass.

Understand, this was my first time being surrounded by a swarm of gay men. I didn't know what to do.

So I did what I thought was best.

I said fuck it, I'm in their house.

So I started to dance.

I was doing my thing when I suddenly realized someone was behind me. All up on me. Hands on my hips and having a time.

I turned around--—or danced around, as I didn't want to make a scene. After all, I was the one on the dance floor at a gay bar when it was raining men (halleluja).

The hands never left me as I made my way around, and by the time I got a look at whose hands they were, I didn't mind at all. No sir. Not one bit.

The person who was dancing with me was a smoking hot brunette in a red dress. A clingy red dress. And she was curvy. Oh, man, she was curvy and fine and hot and a woman.

And so we danced.

At the end of the song, I simply thanked her. I was pretty sure she knew what she was doing, and I was right.

She leaned up to me and said, "You know, you are a pretty good dancer, but you are obviously straight. Your friend may have bailed on you, but I wouldn't."

And she left.

That was it.

But that is okay. She made an uncomfortable situation comfortable, so if that was all she wanted to do, fuck it, who am I to argue.

I do wish I could have bought her a drink, though. Not to pick her up, but because of her cooltitude.

Rock on, sister.

Oh, and my friend was pissed off at her. He would have been able to bust my balls for years with this story, but he got nothing. Ha.

Check another one off the list, soon...

There is a mental list I have of things I want to do before I die.

A lot of them I've already knocked out, but there are still some things I want to do, given the opportunity.

One of the things that's been on "the list" for a good while is to drive cross country.

Well, last night I found out that I may be doing exactly that in September--on someone elses dime.

A buddy's brother is in the military and he's coming home. He wanted his car shipped from Hawaii to Maryland, but, for whatever reason, they couldn't do it when he needed them to do it. So they told him they could ship it to California and he could drive it to Maryland. And they'd pay for meals, lodging and gas. He just has to do the drive in 9 days.

So my budd'y brother called my buddy to see if he wanted to go. He said yeah. I asked if I could go. My buddy called me last night and said yeah, I could go.

The only thing I would have to pay for is my meals.

I'm ready to order my plane ticket to California now.

Fuck yeah.

To that girl on the metro today...

...the one on the orange line wearing the white tank-top and fanning herself.

You are absolutely stunning.

For the first time ever, I was happy to be riding a packed metro. It's rare that I see a good looking woman on my line and you made up for all the bad ones.

Now, if you had shaked your ass to "Fire Woman", you would have been perfect.

I was in the thick of it...

1988. Junior year.

The class of 1990 is called to the gymnasium for an assembly--the reason for the assembly is irrelevant.

200 - 300 students chat with friends as they sit impatiently on the bleachers waiting for the assembly to start.

Assistant Vice Principal, Mr. Gibson, steps up to the podium and tries to get the students' attention.

The students ignore him. That's what kids do.

Mr. Gibson tries again.

Again, he's ignored.

In anger, he yells, "If I don't get your complete attention by the count of three, there's going to be trouble!"

At two, the bleachers collapsed, taking the Class of 1990 with it.

That's exactly how I remember it. I remember Mr. Gibson's thread, I remember him starting the count, then, as if I blinked, people were running over me to get outside of the gym. One minute I was watching Mr. Gibson--blink--screaming kids running over me. I had two bleachers on my legs and a bleacher on my back.

Now, why they were running has always bothered me. I mean, for fuck's sake, it's not like they were being chased, or there was a fire. What happened, happened--the danger was gone. Unless they thought the floor was going to collapse, too.

Me? After I scrambled out from under the bleachers on my legs, I walked out and found my friends waiting for me in the hallway. We went to the bathroom to grab a smoke since we figured the teachers would be busy with the situation at hand. Afterwards, we headed to the cafeteria as per the instructions from the voice in the overhead speakers. I guess they wanted to make sure everyone was accounted for. There was a lot of running, someone might not have stopped and ran right on home.

At the cafeteria, the word was out, there were TV crews at the hospital. Kids were getting interviewed by the local news. Rumor had it that CNN was even there. Lucky bastards, I thought.

Soon enough, we were herded into the auditorium for another assembly. I'm fairly certain the topic for the first one was postponed. This one was to calm the students, or at least inform them what's going on. After a bunch of "blah, blah, blahs" from the administration, I heard the magic words. "If anyone is hurt, or feeling any pain AT ALL, you should go to the hospital to get checked out."

That's all I needed. I stood up and started to go to up to the front. My buddy grabbed my arm and said, "Where are you going, you're not hurt."

"Yeah, but there are cameras at the hospital. I could get on TV."

I faked a limp and headed to where some other students were gathering.

My folks were called and my dad met me at the hospital. I was fitted with a neckbrace and my dad and I were sent to a room where I would wait for the doctor. Before the doctor arrived, a reporter and a cameraman came in the room and asked my dad if it was okay to film. My dad said it was up to me, and I said sure thing.

Long story short, I got interviewed by two reporters (I got hit by another one on the way out of the hospital) and made two stations (Fox 5 and CBS).

But the best part was the lead in on Fox. It opened with a shot on the doctor checking me for damage, then the reporter's voice comes over "Stewie Redrum was in the thick of it."

Cut to my interview.

Yeah, me faking an injury to get on TV was probably not very cool, but, like most everything else in my life, I have no regrets.

It was worth it.

5 questions...

Caught this over on Mero's blog.

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I asked the fabulous and fascinating Merovingienne to interview me. I will answer the questions shortly, but first, I am contractually obligated to explain the rules to this inquisitive round-robin.

Here are the instructions:

1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying "Interview me." "Blow me" or "Eat me" are not acceptable substitutes.

2. I will respond by asking you five questions - each person's will be different. I'll post the questions in the comments section of this post.

3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post on your blog.

5. When others comment, asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

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Merovingienne's questions...

1.You have the opportunity to take revenge on someone who has wronged you personally. Who do you pick and what do you do to 'em?

The kid who throw the stick in my eye when I was 7. Granted, he was a kid, but he grew up into a punk. Last I heard he was in the pokey.

I'd blind him.

2.You are granted the wish of one superpower, your pick. What do you pick and why?

The ability to stop time. The fun I could have with that one.

If I had to use a superpower for good, however, it would be time travel. Then I could go back in time and do whatever I can to save great shows like Miami Vice and Knight Rider from going off the air. Oh, and I would kill the producers of reality tv. That would benefit all of us.

3. If you had to be married (with all that marriage entails) to a male celebrity, who would the lucky guy be?

Robert De Niro or Samual Jackson. Both are bad motherfuckers. I'd withhold sex, kissing and all other shows of affection, too, so I don't know how long the marriage would last.

4. You get to change the ending of any movie you want. Which movie do you pick, and what is the new ending?

Chasing Amy. Up until that dreadful scene at the end, the movie is damn near perfect.

I would cut out the whole "talk" scene Holden has with Banky and Alyssa. I'd keep the last 3 minutes that immediately follows that scene.

5. You've mentioned being attracted to women who are unattainable. What makes them unattainable?

Oh hell, tough question. I know what the answer is, but I don't know how to answer it without getting too personal.

Generally, however, I always seem to develope a mutual attraction with women who either are already in a relationship, live in an area that it just wouldn't work or are mentally unobtainable (meaning issues).

I love our friends across the pond...

A friend of mine who lives in London sent me this today.

It was in the London News Review.

A Letter To The Terrorists, From London
July 07, 2005

What the fuck do you think you're doing?

This is London. We've dealt with your sort before. You don't try and pull this on us.

Do you have any idea how many times our city has been attacked? Whatever you're trying to do, it's not going to work.

All you've done is end some of our lives, and ruin some more. How is that going to help you? You don't get rewarded for this kind of crap.

And if, as your MO indicates, you're an al-Qaeda group, then you're out of your tiny minds.

Because if this is a message to Tony Blair, we've got news for you. We don't much like our government ourselves, or what they do in our name. But, listen very clearly. We'll deal with that ourselves. We're London, and we've got our own way of doing things, and it doesn't involve tossing bombs around where innocent people are going about their lives.

And that's because we're better than you. Everyone is better than you. Our city works. We rather like it. And we're going to go about our lives. We're going to take care of the lives you ruined. And then we're going to work. And we're going down the pub.

So you can pack up your bombs, put them in your arseholes, and get the fuck out of our city.

Thanks for the letter, R.

Fuck the terrorist pussies.

God bless the internet...

This is an old letter that floats around the internet, but everytime I read it, I still giggle like a school girl because it perfectly shows the hypocrisy of the church.

Whether or not it was actually sent to Dr. Laura is not proven, but the points are valid. Here is a great site that points to the actual excerpts.

Dear Dr. Laura,

Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and I try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind him that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate.

I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some of the specific laws and how to best follow them.

a) When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord (Lev 1:9). The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

b) I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

c) I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness (Lev 15:19-24). The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.

d) Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

e) I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself?

f) A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an Abomination (Lev 11:10), it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this?

g) Lev 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?

h) Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev 19:27. How should they die?

i) I know from Lev 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

j) My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? (Lev 24:10-16) Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)

I know you have studied these things extensively, so I am confident you can help.

Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.

Your devoted disciple and adoring fan.

God bless the internet.

Hold me Spock...

So I went to a scifi convention today, Star Trek style.

Wait. Wait. Wait a damn minute.

I didn't go as a fan. I went as a favor.

My buddy had a table there, and he asked if I could hang out so he could run and get drinks, get food, go to the bathroom, that sort of thing. And so I said what the hell. I had nothing else going on and I figured it would be an experience.

Oh, and I was not disappointed.

There is only one combination of words to describe a scifi convention.

Train. Wreck.

Oh man, I had seen the documentary Trekkies, but I had no idea. None, whatsoever.

I go to horror conventions, but they are nothing like the dorkiness that is a scifi convention. If nothing else, I feel MUCH better about myself today.

That said, I had a great time. I am a people watcher by nature. I love watching people and making fun of them. And what better place to do it (other than a furry convention. I'd say cosplay, too, but a lot of those chicks are smoking hot, so I am less likely to poke fun).

Is it right that I had a good time making fun of others? Probably not.

Does the fact that I spent most of the day laughing my ass off? Absolutely not.

Hey, if I ever suffer a massive head injury and dress up like a klingon, you damn well better laugh at me. I'd deserve it.

Oh, and the most interesting thing being sold at this convention? The fan fiction with spock and kirk on the cover.

In a lovers embrace.

Priceless...

1 Ticket to see Def Leppard and Brian Adams - $48.00
The cost of gas to and from the show - $8.00
1 Beer and hotdog - $12.00

Getting out of the parking lot in under 5 minutes - Priceless

Sometimes it pays to leave when Brian Adams comes on stage.

Gunter glieben glauchen globen...

All right
I got something to say
Yeah, it's better to burn out
Yeah, than fade away
All right
Ow
Gonna start a fire
C'mon!
Rise up! gather round
Rock this place to the ground
Burn it up let's go for broke
Watch the night go up in smoke
Rock on! Rock on!
Drive me crazier, no serenade
No fire brigade, just-a pyromania
C'mon
What do you want?
What do you want?
I want rock'n'roll
Yes I do
Long live rock'n'roll

The Def Leppard concert is tonight. And I'm going. Yes.

The only downside is they are touring with Brian Adams. Ug. But, fortunately, Leppard is opening, so I can leave as soon as their set is done. I won't have to stick around and I can beat the traffic.

Good times.

(Now I wait for the inevitable comment on my music from shiki. :) )

Hope you enjoy your stay...

The article title is Court jails N.Y. Times reporter.

I read that and did a jig.

Here's the gist as I understand it...

Two reporters--one from the N.Y. Times, one from Time magazine--have been under pressure from the government to reveal a source who leaked the identity of a covert, I'll say that again, a covert CIA agent. Both have refused to name their source.

And now one, Judith Miller, is going to jail.

I say good.

This is the problem with fucking reporters. They feel like they can do whatever they want, then run and hide behind "freedom of the press" when they fuck up and print something that could endanger someone's life.

No. It doesn't work that way.

Freedom of the press doesn't give you the right to print whatever you want without responsibility, you jackoffs.

Did you think it was okay to print the name of a covet CIA agent and not expect any repercussions? Honestly? How fucking stupid are you?

Cooper, one of the reporters pressured to talk, said her jailing "is a sad day not only for journalists, but for our country."

Hey Coop, how did you manage that quote with your head up your ass? Talk to people outside of your field, numbnuts. Many, many people are supporting this. We are tired of this shit.

What if something happens to this lady because of your thoughtlessness? Oh, wait, it's not your responsibility. Freedom of the press and all.

Well fuck you.

Hey Ms. Miller, I hope you enjoy your prison stay. Don't think for one second you don't deserve it.

Smoke, she is a rising...

I'd like to thank that woman walking in front of me today.

She was shaking her ass to the beat of The Cult's Fire Woman.

Lord have mercy.

It's a fucking cartoon...

I have a buddy who watches anime, but doesn't defend it. He just likes it. I can dig that.

What I don't get, however, are the people who defend anime like it's some kind of art form.

Hey, knuckleheads, it's a fucking cartoon. That's it. A cartoon.

Just because it's made in Japan doesn't make it anything special. It's no different from The Simpsons or Family Guy. And watching a cartoon from Japan doesn't make you elite.

Come out of the basement of the science building, kids. You're defending cartoons.