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.

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Death's Door

If I haven't mentioned this before, there are two holidays I really hate. Christmas, and my birthday.

Patrick - 6:44 AM -

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Drooling Lawyers

Can you spot the odd item in this grouping?

A group of men are sitting having lunch together. A lawyer, a surgeon, an anesthesiologist, an investment banker, a plastic surgeon, a second anesthesiologist, and an executive assistant. Yes...I felt like I was sitting at the wrong end of that table.

But I was stuck there, in all my inadequacies listening to these doctors and lawyers talk about their lives and careers. Listening to the stories of the surgeons, I realized something. I'm never going to a doctor again. Or if I have to...I'm bringing a witness.

I asked the doctors if they ever took a look under the hospital gown once the patient was sedated. All four doctors admitted to looking under the gown when the patient didn't know it (and yes...a penis will get erect while a patient is in surgery). Could this be why they demand you not wear underwear while going for hand surgery? You run the risk of stretching out the fabric?

But here is the one thing that made me ill to my stomach. The anesthesiologist told us a story about one of his first surgeries during his first year of residency. The patient had been given a level 2 sedation (meaning the patient was asleep, and not feeling pain, but didn't need an air tube to keep breathing). As the surgery was nearing completion, the attending physician (the resident's supervisor) injected a drug into the IV of the patient. This drug causes immediate paralysis of the patient (including the ability to breathe). The resident anesthesiologist is then surprised by the event and has to insert a breathing tube into the patient. Once the breathing tube is inserted, the attending pushes another drug and the patient is brought back out of paralysis.

This attending physician does this to all of her residents as a way of teaching them. The patient is never made aware of the situation, and the drug is not listed in the patient's chart.

I was completely pale after hearing this, and will never trust another teaching hospital again. This is the kind of thing that could make a malpractice lawyer drool.

The next time you go into surgery, and you feel the familiar soreness of having just had sex...really look your doctor in the eye, and ask him, "was it as good for me as it was for you?"

Patrick - 3:19 PM -

Monday, February 26, 2007

God's Law

Yesterday, I came to a conclusion. Your 20's are about "finding yourself" and what it is that you find important in life. The early 30's are about realizing that what you are currently experiencing is bascially what your life is going to be, unless you make some significant changes. The late 30's are all about accepting your limitations. After snowboarding yesterday, I accepted a limitation. There are much better ways to revive my youth (like liposuction, botox, and rent boys).

I traveled up the mountain with 4 other snowboarders (all who've only started this season) to the top of the Southern Peak of Mountaing Creek Ski Resort. You can click the map to get a better view of the trail map.

Yes, the south peak only had intermediate and expert slopes. My fellow boarders proclaimed "It's the East coast! How bad could it really be?" Getting off the lift, I think we had been transported to Arizona, and were standing on top of the Grand Canyon. My fellow boarders started their ride down the mountain...AND LEFT ME BEHIND. I stupidly took my first run 1/2 way down the mountain, where I switched to a lift that would take me over to the middle mountain, where easier runs might be. The trip down took me over 45 minutes.

Now some people may ask why I just didn't start over there. Mainly, because the bus left us all off at the Southern mountain. Their was no shuttle service between the mountains.

I got off the second lift, and looked at the trailmap, and realized something. I would eventually have to get back to the Southern lodge. I would like to make it to my birthday this week without an injury, so I took off the board and walked the 5 miles back down the mountain (using the snowboard as a sled on steep areas) until I finaly got back to the lodge and switched to skis, poles and boots...just in time for lunch.

Ariving upstairs, I sat at the end of the table, (where I grudgingly ate soup...AGAIN), as the other skiers and snowboarders arrived. Another beginner and I sat next to eachother and bonded over a cocktail.

My afternoon was spent in a civilized way, sking with a gay surgical resident from Norway, and a Lesbian graphics designer from the Upper East Side. God gave me two legs...I shouldn't fuck with that and strap them to one piece of wood. Unless it involves a sexual act. Any takers?

Patrick - 2:16 PM -

Friday, February 23, 2007

Rescue 911

Yesterday's doctor's visit was not the most wonderful experience I've ever had, and I went home feeling a bit sorry for myself (I'll talk about it another time). I walked home (after being sedated...not easy) and sat in my $5.00 chair while the daylight began to fade from the room. I was teetering on that edge between sleep and awake when a bell ringing brought me back to reality. I opened my eyes thinking my house guest had come home early from his dog sitting assignment. Not seeing him anywhere, I was ready to close my eyes again when I heard the bell once more. Coming from out in the hallway.

I opened my door and heard a muffled "hello" coming from the elevator. Aparently, one of my neighbors had taken the risk and ridden the "elevator of death". Yes, my building has an elevator, but I wouldn't get in it. The poor woman had been stuck in there for over an hour and finally got the emergency bell to work. She would have called the landlord, but no cell phone works in the elevator...otherwise known as "Panic Room".

I kept her company while the superintendant tried doing all he could to open the doors. Finally, we called the fire department. There is something hot about having 12 NYC fire fighters come to your house in uniform. That they were all good looking and all taller than 6' made it even better. Do you think my house guest would mind if I set fire to his belongings this evening? I could use a little mouth to mouth.

Patrick - 12:49 PM -

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Swallowing it Whole

In a few hours, a gay man is going to lay his thick tube in front of my mouth, and tell me to swallow. Kind of like last night...except this time it's an endoscopy.

Modern medicine amazes me.

Patrick - 10:51 AM -

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Recovery

I'm rubber and you're glue,
My heart bounced on the floor and stuck on you.

Most anyone can agree that relationships are difficult, but ending relationships is so much worse. Regardless if you are the person being broken up with, or the person doing the breaking...it just sucks. In the past few months, I've seen three people I know suffer the tragedy of their relationships ending. And for each of them, I along with the rest of their friends were on hand to help them pick up the pieces and try to move on. But what exactly is the best way to move on?

Advice column after advice column tells you that you are supposed to go out and do all the things that you enjoy as a way of moving on, but what happens when everything you do reminds you of the person you are trying to get over? For instance, a restaurant in town here has a "themed bathrooms". The one bathroom plays music that just happens to be music a friend and his ex "shared" one evening over dinner. He came out of the bathroom depressed.

How can I...forget you girl,
When there is always something there to remind me.

How is a gay boy supposed to do to get over a heartbreak? In my case, I've found the best way to get over someone is to get over someone else as soon as possible. Walk into a bar where nobody really knows you and look available. Someone will take up the initiative and make a move, and if they don't...take matters into your own hands and make a move on somebody. Although it's best if I don't drink too much as my standards drop significantly. Hell, I just need someone to smile at me and he's getting lucky. I have learned to use a fake name. Currently I use Rob Byrnes. My three friends however, each mend their own hearts in very different ways.

Friend A, retreated into his own world. He stayed in his apartment (prison) and loaded up his I-tunes with nothing but sad music. He actually purchased "Endless Love" and unfortunately, after a night of drinking a bottle of wine by himself, drunk dialed the son of a bitch that broke his heart. Only to leave him a drunken voicemail. This was his biggest mistake. Always remain with your friends. Friends won't let friends drunk dial their ex's, but since he decided to wallow in his own self pity...he now has to live with calling him and making a fool of himself. Two months later, he's started to venture out into the big world of cruelty I call the single life.

Friend B, took the advice of the "professionals" and decided to surround himself in the things that he loved most. Unfortunately for those of us who care for him, his favorite hobby is cooking. After gaining nearly 5 pounds eating homemade eggnog, enchilada tortilla soup, and home made ice cream, I had to put a stop to the buffet at least for my part. I'd like to remain a size 31 waist. My friend continued to cook like a madman, until he couldn't fit into his clothes very well. Rather than buy new clothes, he finally hit the gym again.

Friend C decided the best way to get over his man was to look like he never needed him in the first place. He took his credit cards and started in lower manhattan and worked his way north, spending two months rent (yes...$3500) on new clothes, cologne, haircut and personal products. He called it a personal emergency. It's going to take him a year to pay all that off.

After writing all this out, I find myself wondering, is it worth it in the first place? Should we still be risking our hearts, or just stay single and learn to love it?

Patrick - 2:25 PM -

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Fashion Cents

One thing that always used to tick my Ex off about me was when we would go shopping. I can go through a store, pick up a hundred different things, try things on, remark at how nice something would be to own, and leave the stores without purchasing anything. It made him nuts, as he would leave the same mall having spent $200 and I'd walk out having only purchased a lunch.

Truth be told...I just never got the gay shopping gene. I can look at stuff, but really don't care to purchase things that much, yet every once in a while I realize it's time to purchase a few items. Like denim jeans. The last pair of jeans I bought was in the summer of 2005. A pair of "luxury" Levis 529, in a slightly faded color. I call them luxury jeans because they cost $45.

Some of you scoff and say that $45 isn't that much, but for me it is. All my other pairs of jeans are pairs that I purchased while I was still in high school, when denim still cost $25 a pair. In fact, while shopping this weekend, I was wearing a pair of Circa 1984 Lee jeans. Yes...they still fit. Tapered leg and all.

It was time to go shopping, and I thought, why not look at several stores and see what I like. I started on the East side of town, walking into a store called Bergdorf Goodman. I'll state for the record that I had never been in this store before, nor did I know it is considered very high end. All I wanted to get was a black belt. I'm still wearing the same belt I've been wearing for the past 7 years, six sizes too big.

Entering the department, I found the belts, and picked out a wide black one that would work with both jeans and dress pants. I took it to the sales lady and had her ring up the sale. She quoted me a price of $800.

I laughed out loud and asked her to clarify. (I honestly hadn't looked at the price before hand.)

She once again quoted the price. I turned and walked out of the store in search of a Gap. I've lived in Athens, Ohio where whole cows have cost less than that belt! Fuck...I bought an entire leather harness for $70!

I spent the rest of the day in SOHO shopping for jeans. I learned several definitions:

Slim Fit - Only for men that have no ass.

Skinny Fit - Only for men that have no ass or legs.

Boot Cut - Think bell bottoms post 80's.

Straight Cut - Loose enough that you can at least touch your toes (especially after Slim and Skinny Fit).

Relaxed Fit - These make short men look like they just crapped their pants.

Regular rise - sits below the waist.

Low rise - Showing a few pubes.

Super low rise - Might as well just let your dick hang out as the top is already showing.

What surprised me the most though, was the cost. Why would anyone spend $178 for a pair of freaking jeans? Seriously...I just don't get it. Sew a fucking alligator onto an article of clothing and you can mark up the price 400%.

I could understand an innovative design...but a polo shirt? Same floppy collar, same three buttons, and same material and color. Target price $19, Lacoste price $89. My track shoes nearly cost that much!

I think I had an epiphany this past weekend. I'm going to design a spotlight graphic, and have my grandmother (who was a seamstress) do the embroidery design. I'm then going to sew that damn spotlight onto each and every item of clothing I own. When people ask me about it...I'll say it's a one of a kind original. I'm going to buy 1000 shirts and stick that logo onto them and sell them at the boutiques for 6 times what I pay for them.

Personally I'd rather have the "gay single and paying my bills gene" as opposed to the "gay fashion gene".

Patrick - 1:59 PM -

Friday, February 16, 2007

Challenge me?

Yesterday, I was in a sour mood as I got to the office. I sniffed and sneezed my way to lunch hour, where I decided to throw in the towel and get a package of Sudafed from the pharmacy. Duane Reade pharmacy to be exact.

Now, I'm the first to admit, then when I'm not feeling well, I can be a bit difficult (read = raving lunatic bitch from hell), but I hate this particular pharmacy and it's barely middle school educated staff. I've had several problems with this pharmacy, including getting another patient's prescription drugs, enough HIPPA violations to shut down the store, and incorrect pricing nearly every time I shop there. Thus yesterday, I had had it.

I searched the aisles until I found the Sudafed section. I remember when I used to be able to purchase Sudafed without having to go to the counter and asking for the particular product (just like condoms), but with Crystal Meth so easily produced...those days are over. Thus, being the good customer, I went to the pharmacist and asked for my product.

I had to show a picture ID.

She then made me put my name, telephone number, and address down on this list. I gave her my PO Box, which she refused to take.

"We need your real address." she barked.
"That is my real address. look at my ID." I answered. (yes...my ID has a PO box address).
"If you don't put down where you live, I won't sell this to you."...and then she rolled her eyes!
While staring at her in the eyes I calmly stated;
"If you don't sell me that drug, I'm going to blow the contents of my nose onto your counter."

Today, my nose is clear thanks to my dosage of Sudafed!

Patrick - 1:03 PM -

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

What I Did for Love!

Love...that four letter word we strive for, that hopefully leads to other four letter words like "dick", "suck", and "fuck". Those special happy words.

I've done some crazy things when I felt the intoxication of love, things I've not always been proud of. I'm made compromises I normally wouldn't, and forgiven transgressions I usually can't (did he actually take the mail into the bathroom?). But yesterday...I sank to a new low.

I tried online personals...all for love. In this case...I love skiing, and the gay skiing organization was giving away a free ski trip at an event last night. A "last minute Valentine's" event sponsored by an online personals website. Are you cringing? You should be. This site markets itself as a "relationship" oriented site.

Every 30 minutes, the announcer would get on the microphone and tell us how wonderful we were to come to this event, and that we were worthy of "healthy, long-lasting, monogamous, loving relationships that can lead to marriage! Relationships that are not based on sex!" I feel so validated...thanks for letting me know it's possible. But I like sex. A lot. Like several times a night please.

While talking with the owner of the site, he explained that gay men are too sex focused. He recommended getting into a relationship before having sex, and that perplexes me. People test drive cards before purchasing, and they only last 10 years. Why wouldn't you take a ride on a prospective boyfriend seeing that potentially it could be a lifelong commitment? I was about to ask the owner this specifically, but the announcer was once again looking to validate us.

"Look around the room at all these attractive single men!" I looked around the room, but all I saw was Valentine's Day desperation. Men so determined to be "in love" that they didn't even care about who it was with anymore. The most interesting man I found in the room was the photographer, who happens to be a personal trainer and massage therapist as well. And he was "straight". Yes I put that in quotes. How many straight male massage therapist/ personal trainers with faux hawks do you know? I debated asking this guy if he wanted to cut out and go back to his place while the announcer once again validated us all for looking for love. Yeah...whatever...nothing says "love" like a personal trainer's ankles on my shoulders, and even straight guys like blow jobs.

The night continued to drone on...and I only stuck around because I wanted the freaking ski trip. I was going to get it...even if it meant screwing the guy who actually won it. And believe me...that would have been work. If I haven't mentioned it before...I love skiing.

By 11pm...they were finally doing the drawing, and thankfully...they pulled my name, and it only took my wishing I had committed suicide to get the trip.

I so freaking earned this.

Patrick - 1:50 PM -

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Let Me Count the Ways

Seeing tomorrow I'll be in a perpetual bad mood as I'm single...yet again on Valentines day, I figured it was better to get the love crap out of the way now.

Ways to say "I Love You".

"How about you sit and relax. I'll do the dishes."
"Have you lost weight?"
"Your grandmother called. I told her you weren't home."
"No...I'll sleep in the wet spot."
"Let me get you the Midol."
"Did you want the wings or the overnights?"
"I want to do it in the position you like best."
"Why don't you quit your job. My job can pay all the bills."
"Tonight...it's all about you."
"Can I hold your hand at the dinner table?"
"I really don't like to top."
"I only want to do a threesome if you are the center of the attention."
"There was somebody in the room hotter than you?!?"

Patrick - 2:39 PM -

Monday, February 12, 2007

Efficiency Expert

When I first started applying to colleges, there was one thing I was most anxious about. Living in a dormitory. The thought of having to share a bathroom with 20 guys was bad enough, but having to shower at the "shower pole" was just a traumatic thought to me. I was shy about my body and being naked in front of other people. I still am.

Of course that sounds a little ironic after somebody has had their face in your crotch. So maybe I'm not that shy..now.

Now I lucked out and lived in a student apartment with my mom for a semester before she dropped out, so I never got the whole dorm room thing. I've always had my own bedroom, so I never had close quarters to share, with my only worry being that a neighbor would see my naked butt through my curtainless windows. That or hear my "company" making whatever sounds he deems appropriate (like "ow, ow, ow..."). Until recently.

For the first time in my life, I'm living in a dorm room. I have a house guest sharing my studio until he "gets back on his feet", and I'm living through the events that all of my friends had when they were in college. Being in such a small space, I find it very difficult to have "personal" time. The kind of time that says, pop in the porn and pull out the lube...it's going to be a long and hard night. Now...I find myself having to "take care of business" in as quick, efficient, and soundless a manner as possible. It's amazing what you can do under the covers while a roommate snores 15 feet away. Let's just say I've become an efficiency expert.

Let alone my adjustment to the routine. For the first time in years, I'm not doing the post shower naked streak back to my bedroom area to get dressed in the morning. Heck...I've even gotten to showering with the door closed! It's like going to college all over again without the tests and class schedule.

I wonder if I should initiate the "towel on the doorknob" rule?

Patrick - 1:08 PM -

Friday, February 09, 2007

Wish Granted

Patrick - 11:36 AM -

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Dear Eric

Most of you don't know this, but I'd been involved with someone in my neighborhood for the last year. Yesterday...it was time to end it.

Dear Eric,
It's amazing how fast 13 months can fly by when your happy, and this is exactly how I've felt since I first met you. You were one of the first people I met in my neighborhood, and with your help, you intoduced me to all the good restaurants, the fun "to-do" activities in New York, and even helped keep me informed on the local politics.

It's been fun, really. You knew that I wasn't interested in a serious relationship ...I was still getting over Mr. Emotional Power Top (He's just in and out of my life) and you encouraged me to date others. Heck...you helped me meet a few men. None of which were worthwhile...but the fact that you let me look was something I appreciated. You understood me.

I love your taste in music, and often, when you weren't looking, I'd scan you IPOD music and marvel at the different types. ABBA, Patsy Cline, En Vogue? No wonder we were meant to be together. You are special.

But lately...you've not been as reliable as I would have liked. I'm not sure why. Was it the curtains on the windows (yeah...I know you liked it better without them), or was it that I have a house guest that you've run into a few times (which is platonic)? Is it jealousy? It doesn't matter though. With you being more out of touch, I realized it was time for me to stand on my own a bit.

I called Time Warner Cable and ordered my own highspeed internet service. For the last 13 months, youve given me free access to wireless internet...but it's time I got my own. If I ever meet you in person...I owe you a nice dinner out.

Thanks,
Patrick

Patrick - 12:29 PM -

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Streak Marks

Late Friday afternoon, I cut the cuticle of my left index finger. Those bitches hurt, but life goes on, and I was about to enjoy a nice evening out with my friends. Thus Saturday when I wasn't feeling all that well. I blamed it on the few (read = lost count) Vodka Cranberry cocktails I had had the night before.

But by Saturday night, I was experiencing the all too familiar chills that come with getting a fever. So I did, what anyone else would have done...I took some cold medicine and stayed home for the night...and alternated shivering and sweating for the night and the next day. I finally felt better on Monday morning, with one exception.

My left index finger was really sore and swollen. So I cleaned it well, put a band aid on it and went to work. By the time I arrived at my second job, My left arm looked like this.

I thought I had bruised myself or bumped my arm on a subway, yet the emergency room staff was way more concerned than I expected. I've never walked into an emergency room and had a doctor see me before I had filled out the paperwork and showed my insurance card. In my case, I had an IV in my arm within 5 minutes of walking through the door.

What I didn't know was that the streaking lines of infection had run all the way up to my shoulder by that point. They pumped me full of antibiotics, and then sent me home to carefully watch my marks (which have not disappeared yet).

And this is why today at work...I'm typing one handed. That's my story...and I'm sticking to it.

Patrick - 1:05 PM -

Monday, February 05, 2007

Lost

Lost:
Two nipples. Unpierced, highly sensitive to the touch, and always perky...especially when cold.

Last seen traveling with me in the bitter cold on my way to work this morning. Aparently, they froze off my body.

A reward is being offered.

Patrick - 2:45 PM -

Friday, February 02, 2007

Am I Too Hard?

We've all got our pet peeves. The certain things that irk us. The things that say...if you do that particular thing I personally will have TO CUT YOU!!! Those things can become the deal breakers of relationships, and are things I'm just not able to live with. Therefore, I must end a relationship for any of these reasons:

Taking a newspaper into the bathroom to read while you shit and bringing it back out for someone else to read. Exactly how sure are you that the newspaper is still clean? On that same note...changing a baby and not washing your hands afterwards.

How about not flushing when it's only urine? Do you know how bad that can smell after a few hours? Waste the freaking water already and flush!

Smoking in my apartment.

Clipping your toe nails in the living room and leaving the remains on the floor.

Not washing your hands before cooking dinner. Did you really expect me to want to eat?

My grandmother likes you. Of course...that would make you a woman...so it wouldn't work anyway.

I look at my list and wonder though...am I being too rigid? My answer...NO!

What are your deal breakers?

Patrick - 12:27 PM -