'Nuff Said Monday.

Happy New Year!

(All photos from the Dieux du Stade French Rugby team calendar, 2008)

It's sad that I've only found time for 'Nuff Said postings. Blogging will commence again after the craziness of the holidays has passed.

'Nuff Said Thursday.

A 'Nuff Said Bonanza!

Pedro Palacio.

Marc Bartolomeo.

Ivan Sergei.

Don't know his name. Doesn't matter.

The Most Romantic Christmas Ever.

Christmas Eve. I finished the wrapping, watched "The Grinch" (the original animated version, not that horrible full-length film), had some egg nog, and made the easiest fudge in the world (1 can creamy milk chocolate frosting, 1 bag semi-sweet morsels, melted in a pan and poured into a foil-lined 8x8 pan, firmed in the fridge). At 9:30, I arrived at Michael's, where we enjoyed dinner-- which he had made. Roasted chicken and yummy ravioli filled with cheese and spinach. Then we sat in the living room and listened to the special "First Christmas" cd I had mixed just for us (see below).

Michael has never seen "It's a Wonderful Life." I, on the other hand, have watched it on Christmas Eve every year since 1979. It's my all-time favorite movie, and it was great fun to watch it with a first-timer. He loved it, and I cried several times during the movie-- something I haven't done in years.

After the film, we stood in the kitchen and talked, and hugged, and then I said, "I have something to tell you.... (wait for it, wait for it)... I love you." And he said, "Oh, and I love you, too." Then the passionate kiss, and the embrace, and the flood of joy and emotion. The rest of of the evening, we listened to the cd I made (again), then went to bed about 2:15 a.m. The dogs were with us on the bed, being their usual disruptive selves, but I didn't care. Every time one of us was awakened, we whispered to the other, "I love you." It was so beautiful, so heartwarming, so... right.

Christmas morning, I let Michael sleep a bit while I watched tv and thanked God for my blessings. Once Michael was up, we had coffee and exchanged cards (both perfect cards for the sentiment and the occasion), then gifts. I gave him the sweater I had bought him in NYC, a gift card to the Gap, and some of his favorite coffee, Starbuck's Verona Blend. He gave me a Gap gift card and a Starbuck's gift card. It was so sweet and simple and un-pretentious. I left to go home, take care of Bailey, and to go to my brother's for the family gathering.

My family numbers 19-- Mom and her husband, sister and her husband and 2 kids, older brother and his wife and 6 kids, younger brother and his wife and 2 kids. It's always chaos during the opening of presents; fortunately, we don't do a meal. We all bring hors d'ouevres and/or desserts and graze around the food whenever we're hungry. I managed to have a few moments to tell my younger brother and his wife about Michael (now the whole family knows), and my mom even asked me how it was going and how we spent our Christmas. She seemed genuinely interested... although I didn't share the part about professing our love. She'll know soon enough, and I'm sensible enough to edit where necessary.

My sister had drawn my name in the family grab bag, so it was more Gap gift cards and Crate & Barrel, too! I now have $150 in Gap gift cards... everyone was way too generous.

After leaving brother's, I returned to Michael's, picked him up, and we went to the home of a co-worker of his. They had invited us for Christmas dinner, and it was quite lovely. Here was this family of about 12 who welcomed us in, and we sat at the table and enjoyed a big ol' Christmas dinner. I knew I liked them when someone, during the toast, mentioned that 2008 would be Bush's last year in office, and everyone cheered. There was no judgement on anyone's part, and I felt as though they were really happy for me and Michael. We sneaked out after an insanely large cannoli cake was sliced and served.

The holiday came to a close with cuddling on the couch, kissing, and saying, "I love you" over and over. I got home about 10:30, and I had the best night's sleep I've had in a long time.

FYI... the "First Christmas" cd included the following songs:

1. "Just in Time for Christmas" Nancy LaMott

2. "In the End" Kevin McMahon

3. "Here & Now" Jana Stanfield

4. "That's the Way I Feel About You" Jana Stanfield

5. "Let's Fall in Love This Christmas" John Berry

6. "We Can Be Kind" Nancy LaMott

(all of the above titles available on iTunes)

Non-Sequitur.

This has absolutely nothing to do with Christmas. I'm sitting here on Christmas Eve after wrapping the last of my family's gifts and preparing for a little nap before I go to Michael's for our first Christmas together.

I happened on this while visiting Java's Blog, and had to steal it, as she had done.

Brilliant!

A Little Christmas Humor.

I love this! It's cute and silly, and very well done!

Check out this video: SNL (Charlie Brown Christmas with Phish)

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The Seven Deadly Sins Meme.

Just in time for Christmas, my delightful friend Stephen tagged me to do this meme. I feel compelled to do it, almost like one of those emails you have to forward to seven friends and then wait for the phone to ring.

Anyway, here it is. Oh, and let's see if RobOrange and Java might do this one as my tag-ees.

1. If you could kill someone (or injure them egregiously) who would it be and why? Bonus points for ‘how’.

I would never want to kill anyone, or even injure them. But there’s this bitch I know who causes nothing but trouble. She can certainly go. And how? Cast her in a play. She would suck so bad she’d be pelted to death with rocks.

2. You have been given 25 Million dollars, and you have to spend it all (no donations to charity or investing). What do you spend it on?

A big ol’ huge piece of land with a fairly average-sized home for me and Michael somewhere warm. Then homes for all my family.

3. You have the opportunity to steal anything in the world without getting caught. What is it and why?

This is a very materialistic question, and I really don’t care for the material things. So I guess I would steal all the money from a huge Swiss bank, and not have to work for the rest of my life.

4. You have the opportunity to pawn off one facet of your life to someone else forever. What is it and why?

My temper. No question. It’s my downfall whenever it rears its ugly head.

5. If you could have sex with anyone (or anything) throughout the history of the world without repercussions, who or what would it be and why?

Wow… this is a difficult question! I don’t usually think about having sex with people who are now dead. Someone sexy. Someone who I wouldn’t otherwise have any chance of having sex with—so someone straight. You know, JFK Jr. was always pretty hot and unattainable to me. Yeah, JFK Jr. This was a tough one, because any answer seems so shallow.

6. Describe the time in your life when you were the most bitterly jealous.

About 3 years ago, almost to the date I am writing this. I was burning a holiday CD on the computer when a little alert popped up telling me I had a new email message. I thought it odd, since I wasn’t even online. Turns out, my husband had been online and never signed off. The email was for him—and it was from the man he’d been having a long-distance affair with for nearly a year. It was the first I knew of it, and it ruined my Christmas. (I kept it to myself until February, but that’s a story for another post!)

7. If you could have free, no-death, GOOD plastic surgery on anything and everything that you want, what would you alter and why?

Well, I used to hate my nose. My skin is a little scarred near my temples from adolescent acne. I’ve always wanted a bigger wienie. But the one thing I would alter (and it doesn’t really involve plastic surgery) is my teeth. I was given a lot of tetracycline as an infant, so my teeth came in discolored and have stayed that way. I also dislike that my two front teeth look like rabbit teeth because the ones next to them are slightly crooked. This is something I will probably have fixed one day—just my own personal thing.

Chat Rooms.

This is a really clever short film about chat rooms. If you've ever been in one (and really, who hasn't?), it's cute.

I'm bored at work this afternoon... can you tell? I mean, who comes to the library on a Saturday afternoon right before Christmas? I think I'll post the "7 Deadly Sins Meme" that Stephen tagged me with.

Sweeney Todd: The Motion Picture.

I went with my three lesbian friends, Bonnie, Mary and Elbrey, to see the movie Sweeney Todd tonight. And one word to describe this film would be: phenomenal.

I went in with some concerns due to the brief clips I'd seen on tv. Johnny Depp's singing voice occasionally veers into pop style, and this score is operatic, really. He tends to oversing some high notes (particularly in the "Pretty Women" duet), giving them a sort of contemporary belt. Most of the time, however, his singing was moody and dark, appropriately. A small criticism of an otherwise brilliant performance. He is marvelous.

Helena Bonham-Carter plays Mrs. Lovett with a supreme understatement, making her much more real and much more sympathetic. Every stage production I've seen of Sweeney (including the Angela Lansbury tour) has featured an over-the-top Mrs. Lovett; I think it's the stage that forces it. Her first number, "The Worst Pies in London," has always seemed loud and artificial. Whether it was the decision of Ms. Bonham-Carter or her husband, director Tim Burton, the choice to hold back on that particular song and play it as somewhat defeated and pathetic makes it so much more real and accessible. The real cockroaches were also delightfully gross.

Another amazing performer: Ed Sanders as Toby. A real kid playing Toby! Not some 25-year-old elfin man with a freakishly high voice. This kid is fantastic, and makes the character that much more tragic. Beautiful.

I could go on and on about all the performers: Alan Rickman, Sacha Baron Cohen, etc. Not a weak link in the bunch. Tim Burton has done great justice to Stephen Sondheim's masterpiece. It's very interesting to see the artistic choices: much of the film seems black and white, or even sepia, with occasional bursts of vivid color (Joanna's yellow hair, Perelli's blue outfit, the red blood, etc.). It's magical and engrossing... evidenced by the high school age boys behind us, who were silent through the entire film, despite talking (profusely and profanely) through all the previews.

Oh, and the number "By the Sea"-- perfection. I love this musical, and I'm delighted the movie was so good. It will hopefully win lots of awards.

(A word of warning: there is lots of blood in the film. If you know the story, it comes as no surprise, but just be prepared. Elbrey and Bonnie didn't watch most of the throat-slitting, but Mary and I were looking at it more technically, I guess. I'm a bit de-sensitized to gore; I've seen both Hostel films and all the Saw films, too.)

My High-Maintenance Sitcom Episode True Story.

My dear friend Debbie suggested I post this story, and it's worth reading for a good laugh.

I own a t-shirt with the design shown here. I bought it last year when I was playing the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz. The make-up crew had quite a time getting my face all silvered in time for my entrance, and my costume was very cumbersome and limited my movement, so they kept saying I was high-maintenance. Hence the shirt.

So the other day Michael said I was high-maintenance. Now, I've been really good (for me), and I've been extremely proud of how easy-going I've been. I took offense to the term, and told him so. "That's a really negative thing to say. I hate that expression." He apologized and said, "Can I call you a nut case instead? I mean, after last week..."

"Last week" referred to my sudden attack of panic. So here's the story that earned me the title "high-maintenance" and/or "nut case....."

I had some pictures from my trip to NYC that I wanted to email Michael. He asked me not to use the email address I have, but to use his new one. "It's michaelreynaldo@yahoo.com." (NOTE: names have been changed to protect his privacy.) I thought it was strange, since he had told me his last name was Censario... that was in fact his old email address. I said, "What, is Reynaldo your other name?" He laughed and said yes, it was. I said, "No, seriously, where did you get the name Reynaldo?" "They gave it to me," was his reply. Now, I've had a Yahoo email account, and I know they don't just give you a last name. They might suggest a number if, for example, the name "michaelr@yahoo.com" was already taken. I didn't pursue the subject any further that evening.

But the next day, it was gnawing at me. I was at work, and being the good librarian that I am, I went online and went to www.zabasearch.com, which is a great place to look up info on people. I did a search of Michael Censario in Illinois... nothing. I did a search of Michael Reynaldo in Illinois, and sure enough, there was his address! Yahoo did not give him that name-- it was his real name! So the other name he gave me, Censario, was an alias. I literally gasped and put my hand over my mouth. Were this a tv show, the commercial break would come right now.

After the commercial, back to me at work with my dear co-worker Penny. I told her what had happened. "Why would he give you his real name if he didn't want you to know he had an alias? It just doesn't add up." My mind kept going, and then I gasped again. "Maybe he's not really a counselor! Maybe he... you know, he always has Trader Joe's bags and Whole Food bags. Maybe he's a bag boy at Trader Joe's!" Penny's response was simple: "Doug, the crazy train is pulling out of the station and you're on it." She suggested I simply call Michael that evening and ask him to explain.

Which I did. I called him and said, "I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer honestly. What is your name?"

"Michael..."

"Michael what?"

"Michael Reynaldo."

"Then where did the Censario come from?"

"We had this discussion, honey, at your friend Jackie's house that night. My full name is Michael Joseph Reynaldo Censario. Censario is my grandmother's maiden name. It's a Latino custom. Don't you remember me explaining this?"

Pause. "No, but maybe I was in the kitchen when you were explaining it." Pause. "But then why did you say Yahoo gave you that name?"

"What?"

"I asked where you got the name Reynaldo, and you said they gave it to you."

"Umm, yeah, they gave it to me. 'They' meaning my family. Did you think I had like an alias or something?"

"Well... yes, I kinda did. It was just confusing, that's all."

"Look, if you want my social security number so you can do a whole background check on me..."

So there it was. I didn't dare tell him I had looked him up online. I didn't dare tell him I thought he was a bagboy at Trader Joe's. I just nodded, smiled, and listened as he told me how charmed he was by my paranoia. And the next time I saw him, I wore the "high-maintenance" t-shirt.

So, yes, I am a little high-maintenance. Okay, a lot. But I'm so worth it. He'll see.

And for Christmas, one thing I'm giving him is a gift card to Trader Joe's.

That's the kind of guy I am.

'Nuff Said Thursday.

Arpad Miklos.

One of my favorite porn stars. Dreamy, muscular, just enough hair, with a strong masculine face. Woof!

Christmas Songs.

I am a member of ASCAP, something I am extremely proud of. As yet, I have not had a hit song off of which I can make a bundle, but perhaps someday. Anyway, I receive the monthly newletter from ASCAP, and there was an interesting article about Christmas songs I thought I should share.

ASCAP'S TWELVE SONGS OF CHRISTMAS KEEP SLEIGH BELLS JINGLING Radio Stations Playing More Chipmunks' Holiday Music to Coincide with Big Screen Debut

New York, NY, December 13, 2007: Twelve days left to Christmas may conjure for some people an image of a partridge in a pear tree. For the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP), however, today marks the release of the top 12 most played holiday songs of 2007, tracked by radio airplay monitoring service Mediaguide from over 2,600 radio stations nationwide. And, just in time for the blockbuster movie release, ASCAP has also tracked the very special holiday anthem attributed to chipmunks: "The Chipmunk Song: Christmas Don't Be Late." The top 12 most-played holiday songs in the ASCAP repertoire so far this holiday season are:

1. "Sleigh Ride" (Leroy Anderson, Mitchell Parish) - played 133,264 times
2. "Winter Wonderland" (Felix Bernard, Richard B. Smith) - played 126,638 times
3. "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" (Ralph Blane, Hugh Martin) - played 99,687 times
4. "Jingle Bell Rock" (Joseph Carleton Beal, James Roth Boothe) – played 96,162 times
5. "White Christmas" (Irving Berlin) – played 90,434 times
6. "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" (Edward Pola, George Wyle) - played 90,030 times
7. "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" (Johnny Marks) - played 82,308 times
8. "A Holly Jolly Christmas" (Johnny Marks) - played 69,436 times
9. "Silver Bells" (Ray Evans, Jay Livingston) - played 68,665 times
10. "Frosty the Snowman" (Steve Nelson, Walter E. Rollins) - played 68,252 times
11. "I'll Be Home for Christmas" ( Walter Kent, Kim Gannon, Buck Ram) - played 63,959 times
12. "The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire)" (Mel Tormé, Robert Wells) - played 59,390 times

Note: The above list represents an aggregation of all different artist versions of each cited holiday song.

I posted earlier about Christmas songs I hate, and only one of my most hated appears here. Number 8. The Burl Ives version that is not from "Rudolph." Blecch. My most favorite Christmas song? Number 3. Any version, but especially Judy Garland's. (Yeah, I'm so gay.)

Coming Out Again.

My mom is amazing. I really treasure her. She's smart, funny as hell, and very loving. She's also a born-again Christian. I had a born-again experience in high school, around the same time I was coming to terms with my gayness... it was pretty sad to realize I was gay and going to hell for it at the same time. Over the years, I have come to loathe most organized religion, simply because any organized religion is based upon the belief system of a group of men (or one single man), thus rendering it fallible. Why else would there be so many religions around the world, right? And who's to say who is true and right and who is false and evil? I have come to an understanding that I did not choose to be gay, and that if God exists, he wouldn't banish me to hell for something that is as much a part of me as the color of my skin.

Since I broke up with my husband, my mom has said, "I hope now that you're alone this doesn't mean you're going to start dating people." After all, the word "bachelor" is so much easier for her to say than "gay" when pointing to a photo of her kids. I respect her choices, and she loves me despite my sexual orientation, although she still worries about my soul.

However, I didn't want to lie when she asked me how I plan to spend Christmas Eve and/or morning. So, I decided, at my sister's suggestion, that I should tell my mom about Michael. A good idea, I think. I approached it by saying, "I have something to tell you that I consider good news, and I hope you will, too." She figured it out before I even continued. "I've met someone very special, and we're seeing each other a lot, and we're having a wonderful time getting to know each other."

She sounded as supportive as she could, although over the phone I could hear her neck hair standing up. She asked lots of questions: "How old is he?" "Where does he live?" "What does he do?" The best was when she asked how we met and I told her, "We met through a new site called chemistry.com." "What, did you meet in a test tube?" That's funny. We both laughed at that one. I didn't go into the fact that he's the one for life, or that it was love at first sight, or any of the heavy-duty stuff. The important thing is that she knows Michael exists, and that he and I are taking it very slowly. She reminded me to be careful, as she doesn't want to see me get hurt. That was sweet.

In all, a good choice to tell her. Now, if and when she asks how it is going, I can respond with, "It's going great. We're taking it slowly and really enjoying getting to know each other." It's just what she wants to hear, and it's the truth. What more could a mother ask?

Breathe... relax... take it slow... let it happen...

A Better Matt.

Catty Bitch and Mark in DE both had concerns about the skinniness of our dear Matt Battaglia in the 'Nuff Said Monday post, so I managed to find this, which I think is better... don't you?

TMI Tuesday.

1. Are you done with your shopping yet?

Yikes, no. But I have a list of everything I need to get. I'll be out on Saturday, I fear, with all the other last-minute Larry's.

2. What is your favorite sexual position?

When the age-old question is asked of me: "Are you a top or a bottom?" I say that I'm a "next-to." If a gun was put to my head, I'd say any position where we can look into each other's eyes without getting a crick in the neck.

3. On a scale of 1-10, how open are you to trying new sexual things?

I'm a pretty simple guy, and "new sexual things" generally don't interest me. I'm not into anything that causes pain (in the spirit of TMI, I'll share that most of my body parts are extremely sensitive, so it takes little to cause me pain, thus a feather-light touch is plenty), and toys aren't necessary if I have the right man. Which I now do, thank you. The prolonged waiting period will make the "lovemaking" that much more amazing, and should eliminate the need for toys, creams, gels, outfits, equipment, or inappropriate body fluids. Rubbers and lube should be all that's needed.

4. What present are you hoping to get this year?

I'm not picky. Time with my family is always fun, and just having Michael in my life is gift enough. Really. Damn, I think I'm officially a grown-up.

5. With your current partner (or your last partner) how often was the sex better than just good?

Haven't had it yet with the current, and with the last partner the sex was infrequent (downright rare) and always just okay.

Bonus (as in optional):Can a relationship that you are part of survive on sex alone? Could it survive a prolonged period of abstinence? The relationship I'm in is surviving 6 months of abstinence. That is how long we have agreed to wait. It puts us around April or May. Given how we feel for one another and what we do now to pass the time (wink, wink), I have absolutely no problem waiting. I'm all about intimacy, and if I can have that without waiting, I'm in for the long haul. And to the first question... sex alone? Not gonna work for me.

'Nuff Said Monday.

Matt Battaglia.

'Nuff Said Thursday.

For my friend Mark at Tales of the Sissy, I present the following (and he should know why):

Nick Beyeler.

I Always Laugh at This.

I saved this image on my computer after seeing it on Oddee.com, and decided to share it here.

Here is the link to that specific post. If you visit this site (and you should), prepare to spend way too much time there! My other favorite post is this one.

Enjoy!

I'm Stephen's Bitch!

My dear friend Stephen threw down the gauntlet and invited me to be his bitch with the 10 Things Meme (like him, I have no clue what a meme is). I'm so honored. It's like being invited to Oprah's for dinner and not being Sidney Poitier or even black.

Forthwith...

The 10 Things Meme.

1. When you were born, how much did you weigh?

I have no idea. It was average. What made it exciting was that the umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck and I was a little blue-in-the-face when I first appeared.

2. What's your sugar poison?

Chocolate. Anything chocolate.

3. If you had to choose between meat and cheese for the rest of your life, which would you choose? Then be specific.

Well, since the new beau is a vegetarian, I'd probably choose cheese, since I'm planning on giving up red meat anyway. Cheese... I love Muenster especially.

4. What, is your opinion, is the worst song ever?

Tough question at this time of year, since there are so many holiday songs I despise. But I'll avoid the temptation and stay with non-holiday tunes. There are so many... I guess I'll just name the first icky song that comes to mind: "I've Got a Brand New Pair of Roller Skates." Bleccch.

5. Who was your favorite teacher growing up and why?

Miss Reese, my elementary school gym teacher. She knew I was uncoordinated and was especially understanding of my shortcomings in p.e. She even started a "special" gym class on Wednesday mornings before school for those of us who needed extra help.

6. What personal activity, when performed in public, bothers you the most?

I'm with Stephen on this one: talking on the cell phone. People are beyond presumptuous when they assume we don't mind overhearing their personal conversations. Ugh.

7. Ok, there's a $50 bill lying on the ground. You pick it up. Dumbfounded by your incredible luck, what do you selfishly purchase?

Wow. Maybe a carton of cigarettes. Or a sweater. I guess it depends on what store I'm closest to when finding the money-- because that's where it will be spent.

8. Do you have a recurring nightmare? If so, explain.

Yes, usually one to six months after I finish a show, I have an actor's nightmare that everyone has reunited to do the show again. Everyone has had their scripts to review but me. Or everyone has their costume but me. Everyone has rehearsed but me. I never get to the point of actually going on-- it's all about the worry of what I'm going to do. The worst was last year, when the nightmare took place at my high school, and we were doing the musical in which I had the lead... it's 20-some years later, and I haven't seen the script. Awful.

9. Name one place on Earth you've never been, but vow to visit at least once.

Australia.

10. You notice that question #9 wasn't really a question. You feel smart for catching such a small detail. What else can you do really well that reminds you how smart you are?

Tons. Really. I'm not modest about this. I have an i.q. that's really high. Let's just say over 140 and leave it at that. Seriously.

Apparently, I'm supposed to tag someone now. So I will tag Java and Mark in De. I bet they will do this!

Good Listening.

I went to Michael's last night, despite the forecast of freezing rain. It turned out to be of no consequence at all, particularly since I drive like a 90-year-old woman in bad weather and there was scarcely a vehicle in sight.

I assembled a kitchen cart for him (I'm handy and love projects like this-- he isn't handy and hates them). It took all of 30 minutes, and as I worked, he brought me coffee and my cigarettes, asked if I needed anything, and made me feel so appreciated. I never really had that sense with my ex. He was always impressed when the job was done (with a few criticisms, of course), but didn't seem to value my efforts.

Then we cuddled, watched tv, and talked. And made out. Okay, mostly made out. But he is such an insightful person. I mean, he's a clinical professional counselor, so he knows how to listen and process. I was talking about the frustration with my job and how unfulfilled and unappreciated I feel with my work. I'm a Youth Services Coordinator for a suburban public library. (That's a picture of my turf there.) I left teaching (music, grades K through 5) after 14 years because I was feeling burned out and needed a change. I had my Master's in library science and had been a librarian prior to teaching; however, I had never worked as a children's librarian, and it is far better than working the (yawn) adult side. And the library where I work is the same one I worked at as a part-time clerk all during college, so it was like coming home when they hired me. Some feel I am being groomed as the next library director-- although that's probably 10 or more years down the road, in my estimation.

Michael listened as I voiced my frustrations and concerns, my feeling that I always felt destined for something much greater. How I had dreamed of being rich and famous many years ago and how I now realized that no one was going to come knocking on my door looking to discover me.

His responses were simple and direct.

"You can be discovered anytime, anywhere, so don't assume it will never happen."

"Regarding your present job, it is as fulfilling as you make it. If you want it to be a great job, be great at it."

"And as for being rich and famous, I already am. I'm rich because I have my health and a place to live and enough to eat. And I'm famous because I know that at any time of any day, there is one special someone thinking of me-- and I'm thinking of him."

Is he not the best???

'Nuff Said Monday.

Colin Egglesfield.

Still So in Love.

Since my return from New York, I saw Michael only twice: last Sunday and then again last night. Sunday we cuddled on the couch and watched "Desperate Housewives," "Brothers & Sisters," and "America's Most Smartest Model." (I know-- "most smartest" is a double-superlative and a big grammatical no-no. The sad thing is that many, many people probably don't get the joke.)

Last night I slept over at Michael's (no sex until the 6 month mark, remember that). We watched a couple Christmas movies and went to bed, joined by his two large dogs, a black lab/Rottweiler mix and a pit bull (the picures are not his actual dogs, but look a lot like them). There was also an electric blanket on. At 4:00 a.m. I had to remove myself from the bed and go to the couch. The heat of the blanket, the dogs, and Michael was just too much! And I'm not a wearer of pj's, so you know it had to be really hot! At 6:00 a.m. Michael discovered that I was missing and came and got me-- he felt so badly for me. he turned off the blanket and distracted the dogs long enough for us to run into bed and into a nice embrace. Eventually they invaded again, of course, but we wouldn't let them in between us. I was so relieved when he suggested that, in the future, he'll keep the dogs gated in the kitchen. This way I didn't have to sound anti-dog by requesting that they not sleep with us.

Meanwhile, Michael has asked for my ring size. I was obviously thrown by the question, and he said I shouldn't be so curious about it-- he just wanted to know. Now, is it planning to give me jewelry for our first Christmas? I'd be delighted, and we both know that we are together for the long-term... but it just seemed so soon. (And, no, he wasn't referring to a cock-ring-- I asked just to clarify.)

Breathe, relax, take it slow, let it happen...

'Nuff Said Thursday.

Jonathan Schaech.

The Big Apple, Part the Last.

In which I discover I cannot fly.

Check-out time at the Y is 11:30 a.m., but I didn't really need to be at LaGuardia much before 2:00, so they keep my luggage in a holding room, freeing me up to make one last shopping trip.

I head over to Rockefeller Center. I wanted to see the ginormous tree. And it was ginormous, indeed. And also a very crowded place to be. Suddenly I discover a J. Crew store and remember that Michael had mentioned he loved their stuff. I also recall that he prefers 100% cotton, so in I go. I leave a short time later with a lovely sweater for him. I continue to wander the shops under Rockefeller Plaza, picking up a few Christmas gifts for friends along the way.

Finally, after a quick snack, I decide I will retrieve my suitcase and get a cab to LaGuardia. Simple. I am at the airport at 1:45 p.m. and my flight isn't until 4:00. The nice thing about LaGuardia is that they have bars and restaurants you can visit before going in through security. I am pretty hungry, so I stop and have a burger while listening to my iPod. I head through security around 3:00 (and it was pretty slow-moving, I must say). I arrive at the gate in plenty of time for boarding, and at 3:55 I am in my seat, ready to nap during the flight.

And that is the last positive feeling I recall. At 4:10 the captain gets on the p.a. and informs us that one of the airline ground crew has discovered a fluid leak at the tail end of the plane. They have to investigate, and it will take about 35 minutes. So we wait. And wait. And wait. Finally, back comes Captain Cheerful with the news that it will take at least another 45 minutes to an hour, so we are free to get off the plane and stretch, etc. Fifteen minutes later, everyone is taken off the aircraft, which has been deemed unfit for flying. There is a 5:00 flight, but it is full and already late. There had been a 6:00, but it was cancelled, so all those passengers are being moved to the 8:00 flight. The 8:00 fills up quickly, too.

I return to the main ticketing area, where I am moved to the next flight, which will be at 6:00 a.m. Saturday. I am able to connect with Michael via my cell phone, but it starts to beep the "low battery" alert, so I tell him I will re-charge it and call him later. I proceed to the lower level to retrieve my suitcase... which has been put on the 6:00 flight and is now on its way to O'Hare, where I can pick it up Saturday morning when I arrive. And, of course, my cell phone charger is in the suitcase.

I don't think $130 is a fair price for a gross airport hotel, particularly when it's almost 9:00 by now and I'd have to get up by 4:30 a.m. to ensure I don't miss the 6:00 flight. So it's LaGuardia for me. The main food court is closed, as is security and all the gates, so it appears there is nowhere comfortable to sleep. On the opposite end of the airport, though, I find one of those Au Bon Pain restaurants open all night, so I can have some hot soup and a Diet Coke. Further wandering brings me to a small waiting area, near the "Dentist" sign. While ruminating on how odd it is that there is a dentist at LaGuardia Airport, I find an unoccupied chair and plop down to sleep.

It's not comfortable, but I manage to sleep. For one hour. Then I am awakened by a woman's voice, "Your attention, please. Your security is very important to us. Be sure to keep all your belongings with you at all times. Unattended bags will be confiscated by the New York City Police. Thank you for your cooperation." I fall back asleep. For another hour. And then I hear it again: "Your attention, please. Your security is very important to us. Be sure to keep all your belongings with you at all times. Unattended bags will be confiscated by the New York City Police. Thank you for your cooperation." I fall asleep again. For one hour. You get the idea.

Finally, it's 5:00. I get to my gate and board without incident. At 6:10, the captain gets on the p.a. and announces that one of the gauges in the cockpit is giving a false reading. "Equipment malfunction" is the technical term. Twenty minutes later, an idiot from the gate desk gets on the p.a. and announces, "This plane will not be flying today. Please return to the gate-- oh, wait a minute." After 5 more minutes, the idiot gets back on. "The Captain has gotten the okay. We'll be taking off in 5 minutes. Please stay seated." What an asshole. We leave at 7:00, and I finally walk back in the door of my house at 9:15 a.m.

And, yes, my suitcase was right where it was supposed to be at O'Hare. But what was missing from all this? Two simple words from any United employee: "We apologize." No apology, no offer to put anyone up at a hotel for the night, no offer of travel vouchers. Not that I'd use one. I believe I'm done with the Unfriendly Skies.

And that's it. We won't even go into the winter storm that hit that afternoon right as I left my therapist's office, stranding me on the Eisenhower expressway for three hours. We just won't even discuss that.