The Former Traveling Spotlight

The tales of a "30" something gay former stand-up comic living in NYC who is searching for his soul mate or soul...which ever comes first.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Smell That?

Lots of things in this world have scents. Flowers are scented to attract insects and birds. Gay men are scented with gallons of cologne to attract other gay men (which is why you can reek when leaving a gay bar), and well, who doesn't like the pine fresh sent of industrial strength floor cleaner?

"Puff..."

But last August, I woke up to the most awful of smells. Sometime during the summer, my neighbors had taken up smoking, and the smell of second hand burning tobacco was wafting in my apartment as they were smoking right next to my window. Each morning, my apartment would reek of Marlboro Filtered, and each morning I would wake up gagging. So I had to do something.

"...the magic dragon..."

My first attempt was to put a fan in the window that would blow the air inside my apartment out the window, and towards the smoker. I thought it would work, but alas...I still woke up each morning to the smell of cigarettes.

"...lived by the sea..."

So in the spirit of Emeril Lagasse, I decided to "take it up a notch" and give those pesky neighbors of mine a taste of their own medicine. I put an fresh open bottle of poppers in front of the fan that would blow the smell of alkyl nitrites towards their new smoking spot. The results were fantastic. They stopped smoking outside my window...and although I can't confirm this...I think they started having more sex.

"...And frolicked in the autumn mist..."

After one night, I put the cap back on the bottle and forgot about it. Eventually they made my way upstairs to my bedroom. Now I'll be honest here...I hate poppers. They give me a massive headache, and my blood pressure is already low enough...I don't need anything that will lower it more. But I kept the things in my bedroom in the event I had a visitor (Tunagirl?) who might need them.

"...in a land called Honah Lee..."

Two nights ago, I mistakenly knocked that bottle off my loft's edge and onto the floor. A floor 6 feet below. Did you know that a bottle of popper will break when it falls 6 feet to the ground? Instantly my apartment was filled with the mind numbing scent of poppers. And 2 days later...I'm still high as a kite!

No wonder my sex dreams have been so vivid.

Patrick - 12:23 PM -

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Sponge Worthy

In this city, everything has a price, and it's expensive. Dinner out with friends? $60. Drinks out after happy hour? $15 a drink. Toilet paper? $5 for four rolls. Everything is expensive here, and it's difficult to save any money. Yet, I'm trying to be more fiscally responsible. I like to have a little money set aside in the event I have an emergency expense. I know...how grown up of me. So I set up a special financial plan.

Anytime I have sex with a new person, I have to put $200 into a special savings account. For the first time in my life, I'm paying for sex...and it's beneficial! I'm paying for my own prostitute, except this is completely leagal. I figured it would be a great way to save up for deposits on a new apartment if I decide to move next Christmas.

So cut to last night. I'm talking to this nice gentleman at the gym. He's cute and we've been flirting all through the workout when he suggests I accompany him back to his apartment. Now normally I would have jumped at this chance. Cute guy around 25 years old wants to take me back to his place? Except, I'm not sure this guy was worth two hundred dollars. In fact, I'm not sure most guys are worth $200. Hell...I have a hard enough time spending $40 for a pair of jeans...how the hell am I going to determine if a guy is worth the $200 sex ticket?!?

I might need to rethink this savings plan...

Patrick - 12:42 PM -

Monday, November 19, 2007

Haunting

Growing up, I always wanted a Labrador Retriever as a pet. Besides being one of the most affectionate breeds, they aim to please and thrive on attention (which as a child I was dying to give). All through my college years and into my early adulthood, I put off getting that coveted dog. I always needed a bigger place, the time to care for the animal, the money.

When I moved to Ohio with the Ex, we got conned into adopting this "itty bitty little thing", which turned out to be a 110 pound black lab mix. The dog I always wanted...and unfortunately a major problem. The problem being that the house I lived in was so small that the dog couldn't turn around without knocking over furniture.

Yet, my partner and I tried. We bought a crate for when we weren't home, and a lease and balls and toys, and 25 pounds of dog food that the dog polished off a week at a time. In the three weeks I taught him the basic commands of "Sit", "Stay", "Fetch", and "Don't hump my leg!" He really was the perfect dog, but it wasn't fair to keep him in our tiny house. So, my partner used his connections and found a nice lesbian couple who lived on 30 acres of land. Those women agreed to to adopt my baby.

We drove him out to their farm, and he as always sat in the back seat with his chin on my shoulder...so he could look out the front windown. We took him out of the car, and his new moms met us in the front yard. Our dog was running around playing with their other animals and we figured it was probably the best time to leave. We got in the car and as we were driving away, I saw my dog for the last time. The look on his face is something I will never forget. He looked so confused, and started to run along with the car until the farm brush became too thick. That was the last time I ever saw my best four footed friend, and I cried the whole way home. The look on that dog's face haunts me still sometimes.

Yesterday, I got nearly an identitical look from someone as they rode off in a taxi cab to the airport. That look is going to haunt me as well.

Patrick - 2:28 PM -

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

What's Worse?

What's worse? Waking up in the morning, looking out your window, and seeing the local homeless man peeing on the wall right next to your view?

Or?

Seeing that said homeless man is bigger?

...just wondering...

Patrick - 2:32 PM -

Monday, November 12, 2007

The Bums Rush

For years, I always said I'd be fairly good at the amazing race. I know some of my strengths (I'm fairly fearless of heights, physical challenges, have a strong sense of direction...). In fact, my Ex and I auditioned and made the call backs. That's as far as we made it, but we made it further than some.

So it was only natural that I would join a race of similiar fashion that took place in New York City.

55 teams
110 participants
The 5 boroughs of New York
The Grand Prize...A week ski trip to France.

My partner in this event? A life long born and bred New Yorker, who is also a fellow runner.

We arrived at our starting line which was a movie theater on 23rd street, and were given the basic rules. No taxis, cars, bikes, or rollerblades. Only public transportation or travel by foot. On each subway, you must take a picture of a team member on the platform with the train station name in view, a picture of a member on the train while traveling, and a picture of a team member on the platform with the station name in view where you are exiting the train. If you change trains, you must take new pictures for the new train.

My team mate tried to be smart and took seats near the exit of the theater, so we could be out the door first. Our competition was pretty fierce. Both men and women...all determined to do whatever it took to get that free trip. I personally wanted to pull a Tonya Harding on some of the other teams. It was while we were leaving the theater, I realized how difficult this was going to be.

The only time I've seen people scatter as fast as this group was going was when I party I attended was raided. Seriously, people were sprinting out the emergency exits to get out of the theater faster. Panic on the streets of NYC and Jase and I were among them.

Clue: Liberte!

"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free".

This poem is inscribed inside the base of a 305 foot tall gift to the United States from France.

Travel by subway and on foot until you can see this gift. Take a photograph of one team member with this gift clearly visible in the background, then proceed to your next clue.

And with that, we were headed to find a view of the Statue of Liberty. Now trains go down to South Ferry, which gives you the best view...but a real New Yorker knows you can get a view of the monument from the Christopher Street Pier...which is where Jase and I went. It's also where we made our fatal mistake.

A round trip run from the Christopher Street Station to the pier is just over 1.25 miles. When we had taken the picture, we checked our next clue.

Clue: Stone Cold
Make your way on foot to the site of the first Presidential innauguration and take a photograph of one team member posing in front of teh statue that marks this site.

First...thank god for Google and my Ex for giving us directions to this site over the telephone. However, this site was on Wall Street, five miles away. Jase and I would have had to run that distance. Instead, we got back on a subway and redid the Statue of Liberty photograph, and then made our way to the George Washington statue on Wall Street.

Back on the 1 train! Notice that the man in the photograph is looking at us like we are crazy...we got a lot of that.

At this point, my team mate and I were close to exhaustion, but yet we still continued. We needed to find 5 people who were willing to pose as if they were snowboarding on the subway platform. Thank god for tourists! These four sisters and a random woman stranger agreed to help us...just when I thought I was going to have to pay someone off. If anyone knows who they are...let me know. I so want to thank them, not to mention I'm sure they'd love this photo. Broadway may be dark...but these ladies know how to form a kickline!

Off to SOHO...the shopping grounds of my team mate. Upon exiting, we followed the directions of our next clue, which ordered us to proceed to a snowboarding shop and have one team member try on a hoodie, jacket, hat, and snowpants. My team mate grabbed clothes like he does on a regular Saturday shopping trip and had things on his body in less than two minutes. One of the other teams forgot to take the items off before they left the store.

From SOHO...my team mate and I had to run 2.4 miles to a bookstore on 6th Avenue and 8th street. We had to take a picture of the the Novel "Frankenstein" as well as get a stranger to act out a scene with one of the team members.

That look on my face is pure exhaustion...having at this point run over 4 miles.

By the time we finally made it to our pit stop, 2.25 miles away, we were sweat soaked, and ready for a rest before going on to the next task. Our task? Go home, shower and take a nap. We didn't get to the pit stop fast enough and were eliminated. Would I do this again? Oh yes...but you can guarantee I'd do some aerobic training first. Currently today I can barely get out of my office chair!

Hmmm...maybe I'm not ready for reality television after all...

Patrick - 11:20 AM -

Monday, November 05, 2007

A Hated Woman

After watching the leaders finish the marathon, I "ran" down to the Bed, Bath, and Beyond for a new mattress pad. I don't know if you knew this, but if your mattress has a stain on it...you lose your warranty.

Hello? I'm a gay man. I'm going to need at least 6 or 7 mattress pads as insurance!

Anyway...while at the store, I heard the following conversation being said between two mothers who were pushing their babies in strollers.

Woman 1: Did you hear that the woman who won the marathon had a baby in January?
Woman 2: Seriously?
Woman 1: Yes. She did training runs during her pregnancy!
Woman 2: Bitch. I bet she ran to the hospital while in labor.

Sometimes I can find comedy in the best places.

Patrick - 1:30 PM -

Friday, November 02, 2007

Worst Ever

I'm the worst mother/father ever.

I've heard that phrase uttered so often from so many parents I respect, and each time it makes the hair on my arms stand up on ends. I want to shake the parent who says it and say something along the lines of "Did you leave your child in a vehicle with the engine running while you went to an ATM?", or "Did you play pass the joint with your child?"!

Yet all too often I see parents judge themselves by the accomplishments and failures of their children. Their offspring, which are a genetic make up of themselves are supposed to be perfect...even when children have a will of their own. Why do parents judge themselves so harshly? Yet, parents do it. And it made me wonder...How do single people do to judge ourselves?

What makes a single person a bad person. Is it a person's credit rating? Where if you can't pay your bills, you are doomed to suffer for 7 years, hiding from collection agents, praying that you never get your wages garnished, hoping that eventually you will get your head above water.

How about the number of sex partners? Where a person who has too many (or too little) is considered less of a person?

Is it solely on our looks? Where if we gain weight, we are considered a failure in the eyes of a judgemental society that enforces an unattainable eternal youth?

Or is it employment? Where those of us with the high paying, high status jobs are the only good single people out there. The job is essentially our "child" and if we aren't successful...we're just such a bad employee/person.

Perhaps it's just all of the above in that until we have a relationship and/or children...we are already failures.

God...I'm the worst human being ever.

Patrick - 2:03 PM -

Thursday, November 01, 2007

Mourning

I know...I've not posted lately...but recently...something close to me died, add that with working the two jobs, I've not had a lot of time to post.

Sadly, this past weekend my air mattress died. I'm not sure when it happened, but somewhere during a...."gymnastics" filled weekend, the air mattress sprung a leak. This bed has seen me through a lot, and unfortunately I can't seem to find exactly where the tear has formed. This bed has seen a lot of my life and I regret I have to say goodbye to it.

Jerry, John, Patrick, Patrick, Larry & Mike, Robert, Curve Ball Rick, Canyonboy, Architect boy, Michael, Ricardo, Mr. Talkative, Low-hangers, Closet Case, DC, Frick, Steve, Bridge, Tunagirl, TunaDaughter, and TunaBoy have all experienced the pleasures of its supportive structure (some have experienced a bit more pleasure than others). I'm probably forgetting a few. Sadly...looking back, I should have charged users $25 a use, and this way I could have easily bought a new one.

So my question now is besides what mattress do I go out and buy, should I tell the person who helped inflict the demise of the mattress exactly what he did when grabbing it with his nails?

Patrick - 2:01 PM -