Gay Pride 2010

To all the gays, lesbians, queers, bi's, trannies, fags, dykes, twinks, bears, boi's, femmes and freaks:

Thank you for living out loud and having the courage to be who you are.

May our children grow up in a world with less hate and more love, with less ignorance and more tolerance, with less violence and more joy.

And may all of us have the right to be proud of who we are each and every day.

Love,

this Fag Hag.

An herb grows in Brooklyn

Transplanted mint is thriving

Repotted basil and cilantro are a little weak, but trying

And dill seeds are sprouting up

I'm an ass

I had completely written off S, previously of e-mail fame, after not hearing from him for over a week. I considered contacting him, but decided I wasn't interested enough to make the effort for someone not that into me.

So I was surprised to get an e-mail from him today, after not hearing from him for over 2 weeks. He apologized for falling off the grid. He's been in Costa Rica caring for his sick grandmother.

I'm an ass. Maybe this is why people don't date me.

dating updates

Well the post-first-date-e-mail was the highlight of that dating escapade. We had fun e-mail banter all week and made plans for a second date of drinks at a wine bar the following Monday. Here's the problem with 7PM drinks - no dinner. So this guy either needs to buy me dinner or I need to start packing a granola bar. We both agreed we were more nervous on the 2nd date - there are more expectations. And nervous equals drinking too fast, so I had had about 3 glasses of wine by 9. It was lots of fun, and I was excited for our next date.

I had bought tickets to Ricky Gervais on Wednesday, so we planned a third date at the beginning of the evening. And it was nice; it was fine. And I haven't heard from him since.

Here's the problem with dating - I'm pretty sure it activates the same part of the brain as psychosis. I had like a 24hr crazy - like a 24hr flu, except that I consumed calories rather than expunged them. I don't even think it was about him - in fact I'm 99% sure it wasn't. It's just that the possibility of a boy liking me transforms me into an insecure, hysterical 17-year-old. When the crazy passes and I calm down, I can step back and think about whether or not I'm actually attracted to the guy or just reacting to whether or not I think they're attracted to me.

Moving on. I had made tentative date plans with D on Sunday night but didn't hear back from him. You may remember Spanky from a few weeks back - well he resurfaced with a text Saturday night saying "we should plan something for the weekend." Um, not sure what you're definition of "weekend" is, but it's 10:30 Saturday, so in my book that ship has sailed.

All hope is not lost. Over the weekend I made plans to go bowling on with A. On Monday we set a time for Tuesday, and I said that I just needed to set several reminders to bring or wear socks. Yesterday I woke up to an e-mail: "Amy, did you remember to bring or wear socks?" Very sweet.

Yesterday was a gross, rainy, windy, miserable day, and The Gutter is in a very industrial part of Brooklyn, so as my umbrella flipped inside out and my hair stuck to my lip gloss I was wondering if I was really going to a bowling alley or was going to end up dead in a gutter between two warehouses.

Not gonna lie, initially a little disappointed. We got our shoes and paid (separately) and walked over to the lanes (with no alcohol!). My inner monologue went something like this: "I'm in Williamsburg, on a Tuesday, wearing plaid, bowling, with an online date, and I'm sober. How the f*ck did I end up here?"

Despite my deep-seated cynicism, however, I had fun. He bought a pitcher of beer in between strings, so that helped. The date ended with a friendly peck on the cheek and a "maybe we'll do this again sometime?"

Will someone please buy me dinner?!?!

Awww

So maybe I should stop being such a cynical bitch. I went on the date Monday night and [gasp!] had fun.

And apparently so did he, because yesterday I got this e-mail:

here are the reasons why i think you should go out with me again (funny how closely the below list is a rundown of your dream date as per your online profile)
1. I am wildly racist, an elitist classist, and a misogynist
2. When I touched you I caused "searing pain"
3. I didn't call you out for being self-deprecating when I complimented you
4. I am "really really ridiculously good looking"
5. When you're out with me I respect your need for privacy by making you spend a lot of time by yourself because I have the bladder of a pregnant woman
6. I don't know how to "be cool" and despite having watched swingers many times, I'm writing you the next day.
7. I brought a book to the bar, even though i don't know how to read, to show how cultured i am and you clearly like me cause you didn't mention that Iwas holding it upside-down
8. I'm willing to go down to south brooklyn to make you avoid having to take six trains (including the mysterious H train)

and

9. I had a really good time with you last night.

slainte,
S

ugh

My date for tonight just texted to confirm time and location, and wrote this:

I'll be the guy with the overzealous haircut, wearing jeans and a grey tshirt possibly a black jacket (depending on the temperature) reading Trumane Capote at the bar.

I'm preemptively annoyed.

Ugh. I hate when guys are reading something self-consciously "intellectual". Don't get me wrong, I like 'em literate, but this doesn't bode well. When I went on my very first internet date, Guy #1 was carrying a worn paperback edition of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. It should have been a red flag, but I was a dating novice and didn't know the signs.

I texted back that I was intrigued by a haircut described as "overzealous," described what I was wearing, and asked if he's really reading Capote or if it's just an intellectual prop.

He hasn't responded.

When a problem comes along, you must stitch it

Stitch it good! That's my new approach to everything. Since being introduced to embroidery, I've become slightly obsessed. I've bought lots of different patterns and 3 of Jenny Hart's books. I'm constantly on the look out for new textiles to embroider. So far I've been sticking to kitchen linens - tea towels, napkins, etc. I recently completed this set with Om Sweet Om patterns for a friend.

And am looking forward to surprising someone with a long overdue birthday gift of summery cocktail napkins.

I went a little Lilly Pulitzer with the color palette - it makes me think of sipping a spiked lemonade on the Cape.

But I feared I was becoming a one trick pony and decided to branch out into clothing. I bought tee shirt stabilizer a few weeks bag, and Friday I picked up a plain top at Old Navy.

Beer + Tacos* + Criminal Minds + Embroidery (alone on the couch on a Friday night) = Sad -or- Awesome? I'll let you decide.

I started with a plain, teal blue tee, and I added some minor embellishments. The bird cage is on the back of the shirt in the middle at the top. The birds are on the bottom left.

Stitching on the tee shirt was harder than I had anticipated. It was cheap cotton - I think the shirt cost like $4 - so a better cotton might have been easier to work with, but I wanted to practice on cheap stuff. I wasn't thrilled, and think for now I'll stick with kitchen towels.

But I had one project left for the weekend. I'm back in occupational therapy for my right hand/wrist/arm/shoulder. I started having a lot of pain again. I now sleep with a splint that immobilizes my arm from just below my shoulder to my fingers. It kinda sucks, but I see lots of people when I'm at therapy who've had breaks and surgeries and wear all sorts of contraptions, so as far as that goes, I feel fortunate to just have the night time splint. For the day time, however, I have a sweet, sweet elbow pad. Yup, that's right, an elbow pad. Like it's 1996, and I'm roller blading. It's purpose is twofold: 1) it reminds me to be careful of my elbow, and 2) it provides a little extra protection for the nerve. When the therapist first gave it to me I mumbled, "Oh this is going to do wonders for my dating life." She looked at me with all seriousness and said,"Please, please, do not wear this on a date." I said if I could have two I'd stick them in my shirt and prop the girls up.

Anywhoodle, I decided to jazz up my elbow pad a little.

I'm still debating what to write across the heart. I was thinking "your mom" would be funny but am open to suggestions. I've got plans for a whole line called "Bad Ass Orthopedics" that will offer a full range of bedazzled knee braces and skull and cross bone wheel chair pads. I could open boutiques in rehab clinics and assisted living centers across the country!

*Yes, I took a picture of my tacos. I thought they looked pretty.

Easy there, spanky

I've been going back and forth with another guy online from the same website as Spot the tattooed Dragon. This one seemed more promising, but now I'm not so sure. We got on the top

See if you can spot the red flag.

Me: ooh, mini golf. I once got a hole in one on a split level hole. I usually enjoy this first 4 or 5 holes and then throw a temper tantrum around hole 7 or 8. should we get drinks and play mini golf? I promise not to throw a temper tantrum.

Him: seriously what fun is it if you don't throw a temper tantrum? can't get spanked if you don't misbehave....i kid. i'm free possibly tomorrow evening or friday and maybe even sunday if saturday hasn't beaten me up too hard.

Did you catch it? Because when I told a friend at lunch today, her response was, "How do you feel about spanking?" I stopped chewing on my chicken curry wrap and looked up at her. "I think you're missing the point."

And then there's this. We were trying to figure out a time for drinks, and I asked if he was free last night. He said he could be up for a drink at like 10PM. Really? For real? Okay, 10PM is not an appropriate time for a first date, especially on a Sunday night. 10PM is naked o' clock, not date o'clock. If that's what you want, there are plenty of other websites for that.

Not a red flag. Orange? Maybe.

Special Delivery

After a wonderful but exhausting weekend I came back to a apartment in need of some cleaning, a room in need of some tidying, and a life in need of some organizing - same stuff, different day.
Except for a flat white cardboard envelope that came in the mail.


Inside was this special surprise from Beth.

I am beyond excited to frame it and display it prominently in the kitchen.

I want Russians in my kitchen!

Dolls, that is. How stinkin' cute are these?!?!

These Russian dolls are actually Matrushka measuring cups. Consider them officially on my birthday list.

Good to know it's not just me!

First, a sympathetic e-mail from a friend (who has put in a lot more time in the NYC dating scene than me) after I told her about my last date:

Of course, I've had my own fair share of wretched dates....like the tall, handsome teacher who said that he wanted to "impregnate a lady sometime soon."....or the terribly Jew-y bloke who I went out with recently who was so boring and weird and up his own arse about himself and insisted on kissing me goodnight as though we had a great time (to which I said, "that's enough, good bye")....or the impossibly short and slightly effeminate guy who seemed very concerned with doing things that had "left wing street cred" (whatever that means)....oh the places we'll go with New York weirdos. Why and how are there so many of them? And why do they seem to be the only ones with whom I'm going on dates?!

And now scientific proof that dating in NYC sucks.

Somehow, I don't feel consoled.

new ways to hate dating

Howaboutwe.com is a new dating site that's recently launched in NYC. I like the idea behind it. Rather than setting parameters - I'm looking for a guy between 28-38, educated, doesn't smoke, etc. - daters propose dates. For example, my date is, "How about we...get drinks and play board games." It's a different way to match people based on similar interests - great in theory, but time will tell how well it plays out in practice.



I got my first match last week. He had clicked he was "intrigued" by my date, and I had clicked the same on his, which was, "How about we...ride the Cyclone at Coney Island and get hot dogs at Nathans." I've actually never been to Coney Island, and how bad can a date be if it involves hot dogs?! So we e-mailed back and forth a bit. Turns out it wasn't his date idea, a coworker suggested it, and he's never been to Coney Island either. Also, we had the same first concert (one of the questions in one's profile) - New Kids on the Block. We set a date for Wednesday.



I got into work on Tuesday morning and was telling friends about my date when I opened the website and saw I had a new e-mail from him.

PS - I realize my picture may not make it that easy to identify me. I haven't found a picture of myself head on that I like. I'll be the thin guy with glasses. I have a dragon named Spot on my right arm and a sun on my left. I may also be wearing a gray fedora, but I can't guarantee that. This is my first online date, I don't know how specific I need to be.

I threw my pen when I got to the fedora. "Fucking hipsters!"

"The fedora could be cool," my office mate encouraged. "Text me the second he goes to the bathroom."

"Okay, if he's too hipster for me, I'll pass him on to you." She's on this website, too, and she likes tattoos.



Hind sight is always 20/20. In his picture he's leaning forward playing his guitar, so I couldn't see his face, but I figured as long as he wasn't a cyclops I was fine. That night at drinks with another friend I told him about the e-mail exchange, and he winced - he has more online dating experience than me.



"Red flag, LeClair."

"I'm sure he's fine!"

"Or he's a cyclops."



Wednesday arrives, and my voice is still terrible, as it has been for the last week. I see someone recommending ginger scallion tea to a friend on Facebook and decide to give it a try. I found a recipe online and happened to have all the ingredients on hand, so I made a giant vat of it and tried to suck down as much as possible. As the day rolls on, I realize I may or may not have a voice for this date, but I am going to smell like miso soup. Awesome.



A little before 6 Dragon Boy called and let me know he was going to be a little late - the F train had stopped running to Brooklyn because of an electrical problem, and he was having a hard time finding a cab. He sounded nice on the phone, I appreciated that he called instead of texted, and I felt that he was coming from Manhattan. I waited for him at the bar.

Cyclops.

That was my first thought. In other words, if I had seen his face online we wouldn't be having this date. My second thought was, "urgh...I have to sit through 2 drinks with this guy." He wasn't that bad. He was just pale and dorky and looked like he spent a lot of time indoors playing Dungeons and Dragons. But he was perfectly nice, and we talked and played Connect 4. I won all but 3 times over 90 minutes - I wonder if he was as bored as I was. I had to get going at 8, so I shook his hand and wished him luck getting back to Manhattan.

Howaboutwe...pretend this date never happened and both get on with our lives.

Next!

hey baby, what's your sign?

I love checking out the fun stuff over at uncommongoods, and recently spotted these adorable kiddish zodiac charm necklaces. I've never been that into astrology, but who wouldn't be a proud Leo if it means sporting this cute little lion.

And we're just over 3 months from my bday. Just sayin'.

Notes from my morning

• I've had a head cold since for about 2 weeks whose symptoms have ranged from aches and chills to compulsive sneezing. It's progressed to a "productive couch." What this means is in the morning I'm a gross ball of phlegm, and I spend the rest of the day channelling my deceased grandmother coughing into a tissue and then squirrelling it away up my sleeve (or in my purse, pocket, etc.).
• If one is on a cleanse that involves a laxative, even if it's a natural, non-stimulant laxative, under no circumstances should one leave the house in the morning without pooping first. This is doubly important if you're going to engage in any type of cardiovascular activity, such as jogging.
• After harassing strangers in a coffee shop about how their baby looks like an Easter egg (note: not culturally sensitive in an area with a large Jewish population), I turned to my friend and quietly said, "I want one!" Then, not so quietly, added, "Let's steal it!" I need to work on my verbal filter and adjust the volume of what comes out of my mouth accordingly.

Just thought you'd like an update. Carry on.

splish splash

It seems the torrential rains have finally abated, but I still want rain boots. For starters, I feel like the surest way for the rain to really stop is for me to invest in a new pair. Secondly, I'm on my 3rd pair since moving to New York, so I feel somewhat justified in buying a more expensive pair - I'd rather spend more on one nice pair than $30-40 on several meh pairs.

Still, I cannot justify $125 on wellies. But if I could, how stinking adorable are these:

These Michael Kors boots are fun, too, with a little bit of edge. These Sperry Top-Siders have a fun wedge and are slightly less expensive, but I've had Sperrys in the past and wasn't enthralled with the quality. Besides, how fun would it be to puddle jump in those bright pink hotties?

The Debutant Hour

Last night I went to see a friend of a friend of a friend's band at the Mercury Lounge. I'm not really a "gig" person, but these friends are visiting from England, and it's good to do different things.



The first band (the one we actually went to see) was good, but the second act was brilliant! When they first got on stage they looked like the beginning of a bad joke that's going to have a disappointing punch line: "An African-American playing cello, a blond playing the accordian, and an Asian on percussian are wearing prom dresses..."



The costumes make sense when you find out they're called The Debutant Hour. They did an amazing cover of TLC's "Scrubs." The video is shit, but hopefully the audio gives you an idea of how great they were!

Happy St. Patrick's Day

stitch a bitch

After having a big night on Thursday, I decided to take it easy Friday. Being the Jane of all trades that I am, I loaded up the crock pot with a chicken taco stew and settled in for some needlework.

Inspired by Beth (where, as you may have noticed, 90% of my life inspiration comes from), I ordered a kit from Sublime Stitching. My new work friend is having housewarming next week, and I thought some bar towels might be a nice gift. She's a sex and alcohol researcher, so I went for the "pinups and panthers" pattern.

Voila!

I'm so happy with how they turned out. If anyone needs naked ladies stitched onto things, I'm your woman!

On your mark, get set, ...

DATE!

Okay, that's not exactly how it went, but speed dating was certainly quite the event.

Brooke is tall and thin and gorgeous, and despite this list of logical reasons to hate her, she's awesome. She wore a gray baby doll night shirt with leggings and heels. I opted for a bright pink silky camisole with black polka dots, black yoga pants, and a light weight black cardigan with my sock monkey slippers. We walked in to the bar to see young hipsters and pseudo-professionals in various levels of pajamas. Before we could make our way to coat check I spotted a young women wearing tights, boots, and a pair of Valentine's themed boxer shorts with the waist-band rolled down to reveal the word "Quixotic" tattooed on her lower back. This is the most hipster tramp stamp I've ever seen. I made a mental notes to rudely bump into her later when I was drunk.

Moving through the front lounge area and back into the larger event space, we worked our way to the name tag table, where a woman asked us if we wanted to serve as judges in the male lap-dancer contest. I immediately signed us up. After all, we were here on a mission, and that mission was not to find love or even lust, it was to get a really, really good story. Brooke was taken out of the action early on, however, because before we could even get drinks in our hands, a tall, dark and handsome gentleman decided Brooke was the one for him and spent the rest of the evening with his arm draped around her. It was awkward when I had to speed-date him after he pried himself away from Brooke's table, so we just spent our time talking about how to organize his closet.

Overall, I will say I like the concept of speed dating. Talking to guys in bars is tedious. If you have to actively seek out someone for conversation, you then feel a certain sense of pressure to force a conversation, and then if they're lame ending the conversation is equally tiresome. With this rapid date format, you sit at a table, and the men come to you. You only have to pretend to be interested for the length of one song, and then, beautifully, they go away.

A few of the guys were fine. Some of them were desperately dorky. No love matches were made, but I did learn two very important things:
1. Drinking in yoga pants is awesome. I want to wear my pajamas out all the time.
2. If you're going to lie, know you're subject. For example, if you're going to tell someone that, aside from being a graduate student and researcher, you're trying to go pro with your bowling; you've been training since you were 7, you come from a bowling family, and a tournament in Canada next month is going to determine your future - if this is your lie, know the basics, like what a good bowling score is. (I now know a 300 is perfect). When asked my score, I gave a cute and falsely modest shrug, saying I didn't like to brag. I like this lie; I'm going to develop it more.

After the speed-dating had ended, I actually started talking to a nice guy. He was from Sweden, and I asked him how he felt about his country's most famous company filling up landfills with crappy furniture and allen wrenches. He said he'd think about it while I fulfilled my duty as a judge in the lap-dancing contest. The young man who had the pleasure of gyrating over my lap was one of the guys from the speed dating. We'll call him Chin Strap, and he looked like an Amish kid on his Rumspringa. I believe they video taped the competition, and if that footage ever surfaces I'm pretty sure I've lost all hopes of ever being a tenured professor.

Unfortunately, the cute Swede is moving to Houston, TX, next week (he didn't know it was a single's event, his friends dragged him), so for the time being there will be no tiny meatballs, loganberry sauce, and cheap, modern home decor in my dating future, sadly. I had fun talking to him, though, and it's nice every now and then to be reassured there are normal guys out there.

In the meantime, I'm going to tune into the Olympics and see what I can learn about curling, because I think there's a fantastic "conversation enhancer" waiting to be developed here.

Happy things!

Tagged by the my favorite mistress of Irish Shenanigans.

Rules:
List 10 things that make you happy.
Tag 5 bloggers who make your day that little bit better.

1. Snow days. Almost 30, and a N'oreaster still gets me the day off work/school.
2. New friends.
3. Old friends.
4. Warm desserts served with cold ice cream.
5. Jewelry, especially from independent designers. It doesn't have to be expensive - I'll plan my whole outfit around a pair of $5 earrings from a street vendor.
6. Hugs from my little ones - nieces, nephews, friends' children.
7. A new recipe that turns out well.
8. Unexpected personal mail.
9. Seasonal fruits and vegetables - I'm learning to appreciate the local more and more.
10. A perfect latte - hot on a cold day, iced on a hot. I didn't become a coffee drinker until I was 28, and now the perfect balance of milk, sugar and coffee makes my taste buds dance. The caffeine helps, too.

I don't have 5 bloggers to tag - there are lots that I read and enjoy, but I'm not sure they're familiar with li'l ol me over here. So I'll just give a shout out to Lisa over at Color.Me.Blah.