One stupid conservative politician (I think it might have been Jesse Helms) once said that if he had his way he'd round up all the homosexuals and send them to an island somewhere. Curt and I though this was a fabulous idea, and we'd be the first on the boat. Can you imagine the beauty, the decadence, the fun? If fags can take undesirable urban neighborhoods and turn them into much-sought-after, highly desirable places (as we always seem to do) just imagine what we could do with our very own island! The irony in the politician's statement is that it would no doubt become a much in-demand vacation hot-spot for all the hetro's left on the "main lands". Can you imagine San Francisco, Provincetown, Fire Island, New Orleans, Mykinos, and Ibiza rolled into one? Why wait to be "banished" there? Let's frickin' go!!! The problem is, where can a few million fags find a suitable island to inhabit? This looks like a good place to start.

Although I usually criticize MTV for its staggering lack of music programming (with the exception of "The Real World New Orleans", which I loved more than any other "Real World" season), last night we caught "Scared Straight '99" which was fantastic. A repeat I suppose (considering it's title), the boyfriend and I watched the show and marveled at:
A) what a great thing the prisoners are doing for those kids
B) how cute several of the kids were (yes, we are turning into chicken hawks); and
C) how perversely homo-erotic the whole thing was
"Yo motherf*$#!r, hang on to my pocket! Your name's Rebecca and I gonna make you suck me dry every damn night."
Grrrrrr!

If I weren't expected to be such a role model to my staff now, I'd be sending the 9to5cafe url to everyone here at work. Doesn't stop you from trying it out, though. You don't work for me - do you?

In the quest to loose body fat through lowering my carbohydrate intake, I've learned that in my mind FREE trumps DIET every single time. On my way to go buy a salad, I encountered a tray of leftover bagels from a meeting someone had this morning. Guess what's for lunch?

I have been promoted to director of my own department, which indicates to me that I'm working too hard at my job because I've gone and impressed somebody. I'm happy about the money, but not thrilled about the responsibility. Here's the truth of the matter - I didn't (and never have) actively sought promotion. I've always been pretty much happy with the level of job responsibility that I've had at the moment, and I've had promotions just given to me. Never gone after one. Now what's happening is that I'm being given promotions into responsibilities I'm not sure I want. Yes, I can probably handle it, but it's reaching a certain level of ridiculousness. So, I'm feeling pretty insecure because now because (for the first time) I've been given a job that I feel I could, possibly, maybe, fail at. I'm scared about my ability to succeed in a job for the first time in my life. Yikes! I hope nobody catches on.

Thanksgiving is something of a blur. Hit heavy traffic and black ice on the way to Albany on Wednesday night. Cars were off the road and hitting each other everywhere. Thank God Curt is such a great driver. Went out to the clubs only to find that two of the four had closed down. The others were filled with college kids and lesbians. No one remembered us (Curt lived in Albany for a year), although we recognized several people. It's a little depressing to be so (seemingly) forgetable. Thanksgiving was nice. The whole family was there. I feel like I've "checked in" with everyone now and don't feel a burning need to make any family plans anytime in the near future. One of my neices gets married in July - that's probably soon enough. Friday we were on the road back to Boston early and stayed in all afternoon and night. It was too cold and raw to venture out. Saturday night we did the rounds, got good and snockered, and met 3 guys coming out of the Eagle at 2am and invited them back for a nightcap. Turned into a whacky, wicked vintage Curt and Cory evening. They left about 4:30am with smiles on their faces. Curt slept in on Sunday until 2pm. The poor boy can't take excitement like that anymore. Then, once he woke up, he said he thought he was still drunk. Oh, what an enchanted life we lead!

So, do I have some sort of gay gland that secretes this stuff? Does it only work on other gay men? What if I start attracting women!!!??? I had no idea I was pheromonally deprived.

Okay, Madonna really has found herself one of the most remarkably handsome, suave, fantastically sexy men on the planet. This is a horrible picture, and he looks great even here. I want to marry him, too.

I don't get it. Blogger doesn't seem to be showing my archives correctly. Where are the early November ones? Help!?!?

I think we've finally agreed that we won't be going to Europe for Christmas. Pushing the trip to February or March seems much more sensible. Frankly, I'm relieved - not just from a penny-pinching standpoint, but because of tradition also. I LOVE waking up on Christmas morning with my honey, opening presents, drinking mimosas, making breakfast. Maybe having friends over later in the day for dinner. If I weren't at home that day, cooking and filling the house with the smells of stuff cooking in the kitchen, I think I'd really feel that I was missing something.

Monday morning again? Already? Well, at least it's a mercifully short week thanks to the holiday. It was a relaxing and slightly hedonistic weekend (again). Saturday was spent in the car, shopping for the elusive perfect coffee table (or as Curt prefers, cocktail table). That was followed by an hour-and-a-half of driving around aimlessly searching for our friend Mark's new pizza shop in West Roxbury. We finally found it, and yes - the pizza is yummy. Saturday night was a fairly forgetable evening of bar hopping, except for the fact that I discovered the joy of Wild Turkey burbon, so the evening was not a total waste. Sunday began with a surreal brunch at Appetito's with my ex, his boyfriend and 3 of their friends, all of whom had shaved heads and goatees. Curt was the only one with hair on the top of his head. Thank God I was wearing a hat (I do not enjoy being part of a bald boy side show). The bartender/waiter was quite amusing, and since the group had a high percentage of tea-tottalers, he allowed Curt and I to have extra Bloody Mary's. Gotta love that. A stop by Wendy and Rob's, a trip to the store for ice cream and an apple pie, and soon Curt and I were home for the rest of the day. A three hour nap, a little pie, now that's the way to end a weekend!

Some days start more fun than others. What can beat being driven to work by the man you love, having "She Bangs" by Ricky Martin cranked on the stereo, all the while pointing out cute boys to each other and giggling at stupid things all the way?

My handsome, funny, wonderful boyfriend has really been wanting to travel abroad lately, and I've been somewhat mystified about where this sudden desire was coming from. What a dope I am - about three weeks ago I pushed a book on him that I'd read last year, "Under the Tuscan Sun". It brought back wonderful memories of my visit to Italy several years ago, and the descriptions of renovating a home and discovering the food in the Tuscany region of that country made all my nesting instincts kick into high-gear. I thought it was perfect for Curt because he loves home renovation and, like me, all the wonderful nuances that make a home a comfortable, personal, inviting place to be. He has protested me making him read this book since he started it, but he hasn't stopped reading it. Finally, tonight, after one more converstion where I pointed out the expenses involved in a trip internationally, it suddenly occurred to me that this book was the fuel for his sudden need to travel. So yeah, the book has engrossed and inspired him, just not quite the way I thought it would. London seem inevitable.

The first of this year (literally 1/1/2000) Curt and I started a low-carb diet. We were pretty strict about it right through until June. Curt lost tons of weight, I lost quite a bit also. Enough so that I could comfortably get back into 31 waist-size jeans (at my skinniest - in my 20's, I could wear size 29's). I remember in the Dallas airport last Spring Curt remarked that I looked skinny. People were telling me that they noticed a difference. I loved it. We were never so strict that we didn't allow at least occasional carbs (and certainly, we never deprived ourselves of our drinkies), but we were very good about cutting out huge quantities of the stuff. But in the past few months we've been falling off the wagon. Generous portions of bread, pasta, and rice have all found their way back into our regular diets. My 31's are tight again, and Curt has been noticing he's regained a few pounds, too. I guess it's time to go back into low-carb mode. It would help a great deal if I could make myself get back to the gym on a regular basis. I certainly wouldn't need to worry about my carbohydrate consumptions so much. There for a while at the end of the summer I was going to the gym up to two times a day and was really seeing a significant body change. Muscles I hadn't had in years were coming back. For some reason though, I haven't been motivated to step foot in the place for several weeks now and so all that progress is slipping away. I have a very strange motivation for loosing weight and going to the gym. I'm sure it would be frowned upon by most heterosexuals, but I'm also sure it's pretty common among gay boys. It's not for better health, or even necessarily to remain appealing to my boyfriend (I'm secure enough with him to know it's not just about how big my pecs are). Without a doubt, most of my motivation is simply the desire to be noticed as a potential sexual partner by other cute boys. Being in a very happy and committed relationship certainly cuts into that motivation a little, but not entirely. Not that there's any need for Curt to ever worry - I'm not going to run away from something as good as I've got! Still, I want to be noticed. I still want to get offers. Considering that fact that he had his tongue down some guy's throat the other night at the Eagle (as I stood next to him, happily nursing my scotch on the rocks), I'm confident that he understands. But here I am, trying to loose weight, guilt ridden over not working out, and for what reason? Just so I can jump in the sack with a stranger if and when I want to. Is that pretty whacked or what?

Cell phone envy and penis envy really are the same kind of thing (only different). Jonno is right. Naturally, the first thing I thought after reading his page was that I really wanted to go out and get a new cell phone just like the one he wants to get.

I know it's not PC to eat red meat (hell, I generally don't even like the taste of red meat), and steakhouses are a bit of Americana disappearing from the landscape, but once in a while there's really something appealing about going to an old-fashioned steak house and doing the whole slab of meat with salad, baked potato and rolls thing. So yesterday Curt, Wendy, Rob and I found ourselves jumping in the car on a whim and driving to the Hilltop Steakhouse just north of Boston for a little flesh eating frenzy. Strangely, even Wendy, who hasn't eaten a bite of animal carcass since she was 17, wanted to go and was tempted to actually order a good cut of meat (in the end she ended up with broiled salmon, though). My Barbecue Pork Rib platter was so huge it didn't fit on my plate. Curt said it looked like something Fred Flintstone would eat. Now I won't feel like eating a piece of red meat for several months, and maybe I can finally get Curt to go to Todd English's new restaurant, King Fish, which is really where I wanted to go in the first place. Having said all this, I realize that just as recently as Friday night I was eating veal. Maybe I'm more of a flesh eater than I think.

So last night Curt and I went out and got a little drunk after work. Curt had a cute boy go ga-ga over him and tell him that he wanted to climb all over him. The boy ran away when I got back from the bathroom. But anyway, we ended up at Mario's eating ceasar salads, crustini, spicy shrimp and sharing a plate of veal parmesian and a bottle of champagne. Curt finally made it clear that all he really wants for Christmas is a trip somewhere oversea's. So, I guess I'm resigned now to get tickets for somewhere - probably London. I checked on ticket prices today and they're pretty high. At first I was hoping to be able to book a week-and-a-half that would have us in London for both Christmas and New Years. We may need to re-think that since we seem to be too close to Christmas to get good fares, or maybe it's just that the fares are really high due to the holidays. Hotels would probably be crazy expensive too. Maybe it's best to plan it for March or something like that. I'm actually looking forward to getting to London again. What is this, my third or fourth visit there? I can't remember for sure. Great city, and a good first trip for Curt who has never been abroad.

Such manly-men around me today. Rob is parked outside our condo and he's repairing his brakes. Curt just took the vacuum cleaner apart and fixed the frayed cord. Me? I'm downloading dance music from Macster and playing with my website. Woo-woo. Oh, I did feed the boyz the last of my chicken stew. Rob laughed because we eat Wonder bread.

19,120 ballots thrown out in Palm Beach county because people got confused and, after realizing their mistake, tried to vote again on the same card. I don't care who those people were voting for - that's just not fair. Hellooooo - there's something wrong here! 19,120 people!?!?!

Go to The House Of Diabolique to read a great story about going to see Madonna's concert in NYC last week. Lucky bastard!

Yesterday I stayed home from work sick. My cold finally overcame me. I was miserable and achey Tuesday night (perhaps that was because of the election, though) so I decided to take the day off and rest. Woke up at 10:30am feeling a little better and spent my day laying low and playing around with this site. Obviously I am now Blogging, which I'd been hoping to do for a while. Makes doing my daily updates a hell of a lot easier, that's for sure! So anyway I'm still screwing around with it. No doubt I'll make many more changes before I'm done. Oh, and yes I'm feeling much better and even made it into work today.

Can we all just puh-leeze go back and do the whole election over again? It all got so screwed up in Florida. Maybe at least that state should be allowed to re-vote. It strikes me that if Bush wins, it would have to be a pretty hollow victory for him, knowing that he won only because of some screw-up/fluke. Would he really want to take office knowing that if ballots had not been thrown out/goofed up he probably would not have been the people's choice for president? Yeah, he probably would.

And my entry from yesterday - Monday, Nov. 7. Prior to all the election hell: I'm feeling very privileged today. That's a word with horrible connotations, but it's exactly how I feel (despite the annoying cold I've come down with). First of all, it's a gorgeous autumn day here in New England. Curt had a breakfast meeting this morning, so I had time to leisurely watch the first part of the TODAY show and sip coffee before taking a shower. Then I secured a seat during my bus ride to work (that's an unusual treat). Plowed through a ton of work this morning, then left at noon and took the subway back to the South End and met Curt for lunch at a favorite little cafe. Had one of my favorites - goat cheese drizzled with olive oil and tomatoes, kalamata olives and baguettes to spread it all on. Then I headed over to vote. Only a small wait in line for that. I had a "cheat sheet" of all the ballot questions and how I wanted to vote on each one. Having performed my civic duty with exceptional ease and speed, I returned to my office and now I'm leisurely putting together some schedules and talking with co workers about the election before an interview appointment at 4pm. Dinner is already made at home (I made chili at the same time I was making chicken stew last night), and the chili is sitting in the refrigerator "thinking about itself". All I need to do is heat it up, adjust the seasonings, and dinner will be served. So this means we'll be eating at a decent hour for a change. All in all, it's turning out to be a good day so far. I may just pop open a bottle of wine when I get home!

In the interest of having a full November listing of entries, I need to update this space with what I wrote for the past few days. Here is my Monday, November 6 entry: Last week flew by so quickly. It seemed like it lasted about 20 minutes. I really got into my work and spent most evenings cuddling on the couch with my honey. Friday night Curt and I went to a horrible restaurant a little south of Boston to meet a group of about 30 of his former co-workers, all of whom had been laid off when their facility got closed. Curt really enjoyed seeing them all again. Of course, I didn't really know anybody. It would have all been much nicer if the food had been edible. I ordered stuffed shrimp for $17.95 that was really bad. Maybe I should have ordered pasta. With the food at that quality, I'm not sure how they place manages to stay open. All I ask of a restaurant is to do at least as well with the food as I can do at home in my own kitchen. Doesn't even have to be better. This tasted like it had come from the frozen food section in a box. Saturday turned out to be a relaxing day with Rob and Wendy watching a "Real World New Orleans" marathon and drinking many, many bottles of champagne. (Champagne and the Real World. Odd combination, that.) Of course, this isn't what we had planned. We had only stopped over to their place to peruse wedding pictures and order duplicates of the ones we wanted. Somehow though, the Real World got put on and a bottle of champagne was opened (then another, then another, then pizza was ordered), and we didn't leave until 10:30 at night. We called Eve and sucked her into our madness, too. Considering I had woken up with a sore throat and wasn't feeling very energetic, this was a perfect way to spend my Saturday.