Adventures in Employment...?

That's right! After 50 some-odd days off I've finally landed my next hot and spicy gig back in the world of bubblelicious pop-reality TV. Now that I'm into my first week of working I already regret spending my two months of free time moping around being all, "woe is me" and shit. Dammit! I should have taken those P-Town trip offers opposed to staying in town and telling myself to put priorities first. What a moron. Youth truly is wasted on the young. I am ecstatic to be back at work though and to regain a sense of purpose. I was adrift for too long!

Adventures in Unemployment- Korea Town

Day 47...

Matt Lewkowicz- Korea Town, NYC

Riot showed up at Rapture Cafe where I was emailing and doing everything possible to find a job. She shows up wearing a bikini, ya know, on a Monday, in the middle of the day, why not? How fierce.
One of my best bro's in the world, Matt Lewkowicz, is in town from Los Angeles visiting family and what not and blocked off time with me and two other friends of ours, Jannica and Gruber, to grab dinner and drinks. I was in the mood for Korean food and Jannica, being Korean recommended we go to Korea Town for dinner. Korea, where? What? There's a Korea Town in Manhattan? Oh. Ok, let's go.
Matt, Jannica, Gruber, and I sat down to a wonderful Korean Barbecue restaurant and caught up on our current lives as well as talked about the days of our distant youth. All four of us, much like my core group of inseparable friends, have known one another since Junior High. It is always a wonderful and often crazy time when we can get together. And tonight was no exception to this rule.
Jannica, being quite an adventurer mentioned we should all go to Rick's Cabaret around the corner and get lap dances. Having 1) never been in a strip club before and 2) never received a lap dance, I shrugged and said, "Sure, what the hell..."
$40 dollars and a few drinks later, I had a girl grinding herself into my body and beard and also my wallet because when she was through she told me I owed her $20 bucks. I didn't ask for this lap dance but I suppose I didn't say "No thanks," firmly enough either and before I could say "stilettos" I had an empty wallet. Then she asked, "Did you enjoy that," to which I grinned and responded, "um, yeah, that was nice." "Good," she said with a wink, "Do you want to go upstairs?" "Uh, er...No thank you but I really enjoyed your moves, quite swanky." She rolled her eyes and then preyed upon Matt sitting adjacent, pointing and laughing at me.
After we all spent more money than we had planned to we decided to book out of the joint and hit some other place. Jannica made another recommendation which was to go to a local karaoke place. We're in Korea Town, right? We ended up going to this place which I can't blog about because it was all in Korean and I wouldn't be able to even tell you the name of the place. We went up the elevator and ended up being lead by a small man down a narrow corridor into what looked like a cell block straight from the movie Blade Runner. Everything was metallic, shiny, and complete with a touch of 80's cheese- everything I expected from a true classic karaoke bar. We ordered some drinks and were handed a massive remote control which, of course, was all in Korean and after much deciphering couldn't make heads or tails of how to work it. Finally, Jannica punched some numbers in and American songs started popping up. We sang along to a few songs. Gruber: Slim Shady by Eminem. Matt: that song by Dido, ugh. Me: Milkshake by Kelis. Jannica: just stared at us with an appalled look on her face. We very quickly grew tired of trying to figure out the remote and singing songs to one another so, having a whole room to ourselves, what else is there to do besides get rowdy, wrestle, and scream obscenities into the microphone. We proved to be more talented at being obnoxious than singing and more fun doing this too.

Just One of those Nights

I wasn't exactly drunk when I met Lindsay at 1Am on the corner of Christopher St. and 7th Avenue. She was coming from a bar in midtown which was "a great venue but filled with the cheesiest Italian guys with shaved arms and fake tan" and I just escaped from the howls and growls of the bears at Ty's. We both weren't ready to call it a night and decided to duck into some place for a night cap.
A beer, a scotch, and a planter's punch later our innocent plan for a night cap turned into a whirlwind night of sloppy and obnoxious goof ball mania. Somewhere between gently sitting at the bar and my three-quarter empty Planter's Punch Lindsay and I lost it. Then, we grew wild.

Luckily I have my camera to illustrate the progression.

First it was like this









Then it became this









Then all hell broke lose





...Apparently, from what Lindsay told me the morning after, we owned the juke box and at some point Lindsay pretended to be a writer for a magazine working on article about escorting and hustling in the West Village, going up to people and asking them if they knew about "the scene." In all honesty I can't remember much after the Jukebox and as Lindsay was on the phone this morning, the receiver placed far away from my throbbing brain, I asked, "Lindsay what the hell happened to us last night?" and bewildered, as if she couldn't tell if she had seen a moose or a ghost responded simply, "I don't know..."

Adventures in Unemployment

Day 46...?

"JazzFest" Thompkins Square Park- East Village, NYC

...I jumped up the subway steps of the 7th Avenue, Park Slope F train and stood on the corner waiting for Jill. Friday made the start of her last weekend in town and I met up with her to grab dinner and drinks and wish her off. Jill is a rip-my-heart out utterly close friend of mine. I bleed love for her. She and I became friends at 5 years old and there hasn't been a time in my life when she hasn't been a constant presence of friendship, understanding, and absolute hysterics. Jill is the epicenter of the just-one-the-guys type girls. Bawdy, tough, witty, brilliant and naturally gorgeous, Jill ranks high, if not highest, on the coolest chicks alive chart.
Park Slope, Brooklyn is one of those neighborhoods where on a perfect summer day you'll want to drop to your knees, unzip your chest, and allow the bucolic urban beauty to seep into your soul. I took a few moments, leaning up against the street light, taking in the old, classic brownstones, their age and craft, the level of lush in the green of the humid tree-lined streets, people at a sidewalk cafe, took a deep breathe and resumed waiting for Jill.
She arrived, we hugged and I kissed her so many times on the cheek she had to push me away. She handed me a cigarette and with my arm thrown over her shoulder we walked to a restaurant to catch up and keep being the friends we've always been.
After dinner another very close friend, Gwen was throwing a nearby rooftop barbecue. Jill and I went over, ascending the seemingly weak ladder to the roof and found Gwen and about 15 other people swigging beer and eating ribs cooked over a tail-gate bbq grill. Classic New York style. What else you going to do? Where else are you going to go? I ate some dessert, drank a beer, smiled at the NYC skyline during the wrap of summer and caught the F train back home to bed.

Adventures in Unemployment

Day 40...Dance Floor- PS1 Dance Party, Queens

This weekend came and went faster than a quadriplegic's surfing career and in the end everyone was left cold, wet, and miserable.
Having experienced the quiet and comfort of the southern New Jersey suburbs I felt I couldn't possibly handle another aimless day wandering around the sweltering, stuffy city and decided to head 20minutes west of me to my parent's new condo in Little Falls, NJ. Making this an even more serendipitous event is the fact that my parents are away in Dallas, TX visiting my older sister, Rachel. This meant I would have an entire 2 bedroom/2 bathroom condo, complete with new house smell, central AC, and all the On Demand cable microwavable popcorn could handle at my dispose. I salivated at the idea and by Thursday night I was there: feet up, shirt off, and remote in hand scanning everything HBO had to offer. Unfortunately, the On Demand selection was too vast and I started shaking with a "Sophie's Choice" anxiety like I wouldn't be able to pick the right movie. In the end I decided to ditch the entire menu and dive into my father's DVD collection like a 4th grader to his first pinata. I flung Dreamgirls and Pirates of the Caribbean over my shoulder as that same 4th grader would have a small packet of Necco Wafers or a box of raisins. I finally went with Bobby, one of the few in Dad's selection I haven't seen and figured judging Lindsay Lohan in a serious role would be satisfaction enough for me to give it a shot. You know, what? It wasn't half bad. In fact, it was quite good! I really dug the "not really about Bobby Kennedy's death" but moreso "the time's surrounding his death" approach. And that Lohan, man, I'd say she's as proficient in acting her lines as she is snorting them! I'll give it the I'd see that again thumbs up review. After the movie was finished and I chewed the salt out of my fingertips it was 2AM and I was ready for sleep. My mother left a note for me, in case I came home, entitling me to sleep in either my parent's room or the guest bedroom but since I was scared of New House Monsters, I decided to sleep on the couch with the television on all night.
Friday was an easy day. I watched more Bravo programming (I love it!) Particularly enjoying their new show Flipping Out in which a quintessential LA douche-bag monster of a Weho gay man with overdone chemical peel (AKA Gay skin) tries to flip n' sell houses faster than he can say narcissist to his brow-beaten employees and equally gay skinned friend/new gay Dad on the block/ex boyfriend. The whole show drips with that bubble gum snap of pure popumentary and I ate up every second of it. Even the crumbs on the floor because I actually went to the Bravo website and watched "Behind the Scenes" footage. And yup, that main character Jeff Lewis reaffirms every reason why I left West Hollywood behind in the dust. Ugggh- he makes me shiver! I can't wait for the next episode! Bravo, Bravo! Afterward, I went to the gym, carefully cruised every Italian guy there (especially the one's who resembled construction workers, delivery guys, cable guys- basically anyone looking as though they'd love to beat me up) and took a drive in my mother's emasculating PT Cruiser convertible, with the top down, listening to KTU: The Beat of New York all while smoking a Marlboro Light. Yeesh! Well, I suppose you can take the boy out of Weho but you can't take the Weho out of the- yikes!
I spent the rest of the day lounging around the house, becoming one with the AC, laying on the carpet, eating everything in the fridge and falling asleep again in front of the TV. Ahhhh, Mom and Dad's!
Saturday I snapped myself back into the city via an old Jersey pal wanting to take his dog to an NYC dog park. I was back on the streets of Manhattan by noon and finished with the gym by 1:30PM. Nice! The whole day was now open. Saturday in the city in the summer with nothing to do? What's that you say? PS1 dance party. Hell-shit yeah! I called Scott and low and behold my bearded friend already had plans to go around 4:30. I told him I'd catch the E Train after lunch and meet him there. I threw myself into a Union Square Diner, my stomach ravenous for a Bacon Cheese Burger and ordered upon sitting. When my food came I savored the first few bites and realized I was eating a burger with bacon and cheese opposed to a Bacon Cheese Burger but for $6.95 I wasn't going to let it ruin my day. I sat in Union Square for a bit and finally made my way to Queens to listen to DJs, dance, and drink beer all day with my friends.
By the time I arrived at PS1 the main courtyard was already packed and the unce-unce-unce of the bass beat was getting me all hot and bothered. I ran into Scott, already two beers in, and decided to catch up quick. PS1 is a huge, old elementary school (PS1=Public School 1) that The Museum of Metropolitan Art converted into a new exhibition art space. Inside the buildings are exhibits of everything from photo to installation to paintings while outside, every Saturday in the summer, in the enormous courtyard is a huge, eclectic, community-feelin' dance party. Just my type of scene. People are there to have fun, mingle, drink and enjoy the summer. It's a beautiful thing. I strongly suggest checking it out before the summer runs out. I took my time chillaxing/dancing with my peeps, meeting new peeps, raging-out and as 9PM rolled around I realized my feet were bleeding from blisters and took that as a cue as having an outrageous time and headed back to Manhattan to debate the night's events.
In desperate need of water I crashed through my apartment door and finished off an entire Brita before I had taken off my backpack, kicked off my shoes, or threw my wallet and keys on the kitchen table. Needing some mellow music I flipped on Bright Eyes: I'm Wide Awake and It's Morning turned off all the lights and laid on my couch in the dark (cliche or deep? you tell me...) I drifted off, losing all sense of time or obligation to go out, and let the quiet summer darkness consume me.
The next thing I know is it's midnight and I've missed 8 text messages. There were a few from my usual Saturday night gays, a few from my roommate, and one from an unknown number talking about some birthday party at some lame club in the Meat Packing District (obviously a mass text of which I was unfortunately included.) One of those, "Hey you! What's up? Come to so and so's b-day party at wherever...see you there." Please people, the gig's up. Nice try. I decided to by-pass my gays knowing they were either at The Eagle, or uh...The Eagle and punched on the dial pad to my roommate. He was drunk and in some undesirable location and asked if I had any ideas. I didn't. I told him I'd see him at home unless he could think of something local, shut my cell phone, my eyes again too and didn't open them until it was a very overcast and cold Sunday.
It was about 10:30AM and I shook myself awake still a little tired from the running around of Saturday. 1o:30 was late enough and felt I shouldn't sleep any longer. Eric's, my roommate, door was still closed so I began making my usual "is he or isn't he sleeping" noises. First I groan, then I chirp, then I make squeaky mew noises like a new born kitten until he yells, "shut the *!@^ up!" or he gives a pleasant, "hiiiiiiiiiii." Fortunately I got the pleasant "hiiiiii!" Excited like a 6 year old on Christmas morning I wrapped myself in my blanket, busted through his door and jumped on his bed as if I were to exclaim that Santa had come over night. Eric was already up watching the pubic hair's end of his Six Feet Under, 5 seasons on DVD in one month, journey and together, each wrapped in our blankets like a pair of twisted, "we're too old" for this slumber party Russian dolls enjoyed an episode of Six Feet Under.
We were both hungry for an early brunch and I received a text from Riot to meet her at Mud. I threw on my shorts, tee shirt, backwards cap, chain wallet and backpack- gear for the day and Eric and I walked to Mud. It was cold out, literally no more than 67 degrees and I wondered if shorts were going to be enough coverage for the day. Dare I even pull out the hoodie? No- no way, this was summer and whether it's 100 degrees or snowing, if it's August I'm wearing shorts. Tough it out! Deny that it's past the middle of August! Don't even think it!
Eric and I met Riot at Mud and grabbed a small table in the garden. Riot was only able to hang with us for a few minutes as she had to be at an East Village tattoo parlor for her latest addition of body art. I've had brunch at Mud before. Eric had not even realized they served a brunch and declared the experience positive by stating, "I love this place" and enjoyed his frothy-foamed hot Mud coffee. We had a nice time talking about which of our friends were to get married next, the longevity of relationships, monogamy, and the difference between our generation and our parent's . They got married because that's what you did. We get married because we run out of having anything better to do.
We wrapped up and Eric walked me to NYC Adorned where Riot was getting her latest permanency needle-buzzed into her arm. It was chilly outside, windy and just on the taste-buds of rain.This was the first tattooing I ever fully witnessed before my eyes and Riot handled like a champ. In fact, she even winced-smiled throughout the whole thing in that sexually ambiguous pleasure/pain, feel-good-hurt, kind of way, and in that, I grew the urge to scratch a mosquito bite and dump antiseptic into the open wound. Owww-aahhhh!
The tattoo is fierce! A simple lotus flower with the word RIOT in black bold type-font above her elbow. What a hot mama! Rad.
Randee and I walked back to our apartments promising each other that we'd hang out later in the day. Little did we know the cold would keep us all to the dismal confines of our apartments, holding a power over us that said, "don't get up- you know what, don't do anything." And that's what I did, for the rest of the day. Nothing. I watched the gray sky break open and spray-mist water, then rain, then fade to deep blue and eventually black. Eric mustered the strength to go to the gym but I couldn't bring myself out from under my laptop. The day was done as was the weekend and all we had to show for it were a bunch of good memories smudged into blur by this awful, unexpected weather.

*I plan to link this blog up but my internet is wavering and will have to do it tomorrow*

Adventures in Unemployment

Day 38...

New Jersey Transit Train to Hamiliton, NJ

...Meredith, my oldest sister, knowing I have nothing to do and nowhere to be, invited me down to her house in Hamilton, NJ to spend time with her and my 7 month old nephew, Max. She said my company would be appreciated as her husband (my much loved brother-in-law Jeff) is out of town on business. Having a desire to be the fiercest Uncle this side of the Mississippi I gladly accepted her invite.
I hopped the 12PM express train to Trenton, NJ out of Penn Station and was in Hamiliton, NJ by 1:15PM.

Meredith (Mer) picked me up at the train station and took me home to change into my bathing suit as Max loves the local town pool. It's been an awful while since I have been to a "town pool" and I was excited to go and spend time with her and my nephew.

I know people must say this about their newborn relatives all the time but Max truly is the cutest and most well behaved baby I've ever met. He doesn't cry all the time, nor act grumpy, or displays an unreadable manner. I swear, at all times this baby is smiling, playing, and making happy sounding noises every time I see him. (I've already gone ahead and taken care of buying him the cutest baby shirts possible: see pic to the right.)

I ventured with Mer to the town pool and took Max for a swim. The whole place was so white and suburban I couldn't help but feel guilty when I asked Mer if smoking was allowed. Mer didn't know if it was or wasn't so I decided to stave off my addiction and spent the time with Max. He and I played on the grass for awhile and then worked on our dance routine until it was time to go into the pool when I mentioned to him that (like a handsome Patrick Swayze to a young Jennifer Grey that,) "The best place to do this is in the water!"

Mer said Max and I should go for a swim and I nervously but gladly obliged. Max and I went for a swim and the whole event was completely nerve-racking (but entirely enjoyable.) I've just become comfortable with holding Max without feeling as though I'd drop or break him at any given moment. But, Mer is a fantastic, roll-of-the-eyes "you got it" type of coach and had me swimming with him in no time. Mer gave me one note- to hold his face above the water, which no matter how much she reassured me I'd be fine, still scared the living shit out of me. Max and I enjoyed our time together as we played "Jaws" and "Shark week" and she finally took him from my arms to dry him off and watch me jump and flip off the kiddie diving board.

It's been a long time, maybe since the 6th grade, since I've attempted to run and jump off a fully loaded spring diving board. None-the-less, I put my fears aside and attempted my best efforts. Fortunately I neither belly-flopped or set a bad example for the youths around me while doing so. Mer, the Super-Mom that she is, was able to dry off Max (in his Elmo robe) and document me at the same time.

Soon enough both Mer and I grew tired of our ultra-white suburban sun bathing and headed back home for dinner and rest. (Yes, don't worry- when Max was eating I asked, as John Bender and "Breakfast Club" as possible, if he "was a messy baby and did not like his strained peas and carrots.") After dinner I ducked out to the backyard to suckle from the teet of my nicotine-filled smokey friend and realized the beauty and quiet of the picture-perfect NJ suburbs. In that moment, as I sat outside, I realized that once my career is stabilized and I find "him," I'd like to leave the city and find a place just like this, in the tranquil suburbs, with the barbecue, lawn chairs, and chirping crickets, making a life for ourselves and leaving The City behind in an idea of "those were the days..."

Mer and I spent the rest of the night playing with Max, catching up on the Top Chef marathon and enjoying the benefits of saved Tivo programming. Ahh, what a vacation from a vacation this all was...

Adventures in Unemployment

Day 37...

Delancey/Essex Subway Station Platform

...Nothing too exciting or adventurous happened today. Hell, I didn't even get an ice coffee until well after 5PM. I woke up around 10AM but couldn't manage to leave my house until close to one when my stomach started to feel like it was eating itself. I flopped down the four flights of steps and was out on the sidewalk looking for a meal. I turned the corner to 10th street and decided to swing by and visit Matt.
Matt is a baker and owns the Tompkins Square Bakery on 10th St. between A & B. Yes, of course I ask Matt if he knows the Muffin Man. He assures me he does but says he's a dickhead. Matt's bakery is a brightly painted boutique pastry shop. I strongly, strongly recommend the bread pudding and my roommate loves his croissants. They're just the perfect balance of buttery and flaky while the bread pudding is always moist and either has strawberries or cherries. Today I got two servings and savored every bite, sucking on the fork like I would my lip if I were 19 and rolling on ecstasy. On Saturday the bakery can be quite a scene as a quintessential cast of East Village characters come in and out chatting with Matt and other familiar faces. It's like a gay 227 but with more tattoos, tight jeans and the latest in hipster-boi hair. With
my belly now settled I walked down 1st Ave to the F train and accidentally took it downtown to Delancey/Essex when I should have taken it up town to West 4th to transfer to the C & E to Canal. I was on my way to Tribeca to talk to a work contact about a potential upcoming gig. I said hello to the remaining old co-workers who are still wrapping up and enjoyed meeting with my old boss about an upcoming project. The meeting went well and left me with a small glow of hope that I'll land something sooner than later.
I was hungry again and craved real food. Something heavy and satisfying. In Greenwich Village there's a Cheese Steak place that promises the "Best Damn Cheese-Steak. Period." So I put it to the test. Unfortunately the Cheese-Steak turned out to be maybe the 21st Best Damn Cheese-Steak. Period. But for $4.95 I wasn't all that upset.
Every time I'm in Greenwich Village I make it a point to stop by my friend Scott's. Scott and I met just this past December but he's come to be one of my greatest friends since moving back to NYC. Scott is unique, cultured, intelligent, unfathomably witty and comes complete with a very diverse group of friends surrounding him. We met on the dance floor of Super Snaxxx and I immediately picked up on his sense of charming-obnoxiousness. Needless to say we became fast friends. Scott coined the nickname, Baby Jew Bear, for me and I've come to be known around his friends as, "BJB." (If Baby Jew Bear were an actual super hero I'd throw rainbow colored ninja Star of David's.) Scott was in the middle of work so I crashed on his couch and fell asleep for a few moments. He could tell how tired I was and urged me to lay down for longer but figured getting up and walking around would suit me better.
I was close to where Eric, my roommate, worked so I headed in that direction and found him drinking an Iced Tea at Think Coffee. We caught up and both decided to skip out on the gym. The crash nap I had at Scott's was too much and I knew if I hit the gym I wouldn't be into my workout and want to leave as quickly as I came. Eric and I played a quick game of: He spits ice cubes at me and I try to kick them and he went off to meet his Sister for her birthday dinner.
I started home and cut through Saint Mark's Place to survey the crowd and people watch. I found the same kids occupying the same corners dressed in the, "Dude, Punk's not dead. I'm serious, man! Ya know, what? Fuck you, asshole! Got any chaaaange?" fashion. I smiled at them and although I kind of feel they're a bunch of annoying douche-clowns I did have an urge to put on my sleeveless Dead Kennedys t-shirt and studded bracelet. Oh, ok...A safety pin, too.
As I approached 1st Ave my cell phone buzzed (playing my current ringtone of Avril Levigne's and Lil Mama's "Girlfriend" WeMix-ReMix) and I yelped in glee like a 5 year old peeing in his bathing suit when my phone displayed the name "Randee."
"She's home!" I chirped and began jumping in place.
Who is this Randee? Where has she been? And why, when Eric saw her name pop up on his cell phone, did he regress to the behavior of a 13 year old girl at her own Bat Mitzvah upon hearing that the DJ was about to play "Locomotion."
Randee deserves the all suspenseful...to be continued.