Do you see what I put up with? Gah.
Last Friday was Thomas's birthday. We have this little tradition of exchanging gifts in the most girly, feminine gift bag we can find. Usually in a public setting.
My favorite was when Thomas met me at Pita Jungle for my birthday a couple years ago and gave me a gift bag that looked like a purse. I'm not ashamed to admit I reused it.
Every once in a while, someone will ask me why Thomas and I aren't dating. Usually this comes from a straight person. For some reason some straight people think the only thing two gay men need to be a couple is to be gay. Once a coworker told me her roommate wanted to set me up with someone she works with.
Co-Worker: She says you two are perfect for each other.
Me: I haven't even met her. How would she know?
Co-Worker: Well, she's heard me talk about you.
Me: And what about this guy makes him so perfect for me?
Co-Worker: Well... he's gay.
Me: I'll pick out the china pattern immediately.
It's funny how they never apply those terms to other straight people. You're a guy and she's a girl. Isn't that enough? For their own, they know it takes common interests, attraction and lots of other stuff.
But Thomas and I get along famously. So why is it we aren't boyfriends? Simple. There are two main reasons.
Reason One: I am not Matt Damon.
If I were Matt Damon, I would probably be blissfully in love with Thomas, have a restraining order against him or be locked in his basement. It could really go any way.
Reason Two: Thomas is not a masochist.
If Thomas and I were dating, a typical conversation would go like this.
Me: What are you wearing?
Thomas: What? It's a vest.
Me: You look like Tyne Daly.
Thomas: It's very warm. I got it at the Renaissance Festival.
Me: Oh. My. God! Where's my camera? I need to blog about this!
End scene.
Thomas gets enough abuse from me as it is. I'm not sure he could handle it 24/7.
PS - I'm putting the banner up a few days early to ring in the holidays. You may need to bypass your cache to see the changes and not see it all wonky-looking.
First I wanted to tell you my fortune from tonight's cookie. It's the best fortune that goes with "in bed" I've ever received.
Good things are being said about you.
I wish.
For a while now, Friday nights have been reserved for Thomas. We have dinner, go get Cold Stone Creamery ice cream,
take it back to his place and discuss the finer points and challenges of the single gay man in the Phoenix metro area. We call it Misery Loves Company Night.
While eating a sensible dinner at Sweet Tomatoes, I noticed several super well-behaved, adorable children dining around us. I pointed out one little boy to Thomas and told him that occasionally, I'll see a kid and I think for a moment that I want one.
Me: When I see a kid like that, it makes my uterus ache.
Thomas: Um. You don't have a uterus... to my knowledge.
Me: My imaginary uterus.
Thomas: Your man uterus?
Me: Yes. My muterus.
Reality check: I know that kids are not in the cards for me. I have enough trouble taking care of myself, let alone a kid. Hell, I stress about having a cat sometimes. And a plant! So, this little branch on my family tree will end with me. But I will admit, there are times I feel the nurturer in me wanting to build some kind of family.
And then the next day I'm reminded why it's not such a good idea. Like this morning when I went get my hair buzzed and there was this little boy getting a haircut. OMG you'd think he was being tortured to death with all the screaming and the crying.
After I left, I called Thomas and left him a message: "The muterus is permanently closed."
First, take a look at a young Thomas.
This photo was taken in 1999 when we were volunteers at the now defunct GLBT community center. At the time, I was the volunteer coordinator and Thomas was one of the program leaders. This was taken before one of our committee meetings.
I know what you are thinking: What a kind, trustworthy face. But HA! You'd be wrong my friend. Shortly after this was taken, Thomas publicly humiliated me during this meeting, much to my chagrin. It was a heinous act of betrayal which may be why there are such posts as this, this, this and this.
I issue this warning to all: don't be fooled by his charming smile and sly wit. He will turn on you! Evil lurks within his boyish exterior. Pure, unadulterated evil!
That being said, please welcome my dear friend Thomas to the wonderful world of blogging!
That's right, Thomas is a'bloggin'. And it looks like he's already discovering the fun tools of The Internets® like the My Heritage Face Recognition website.
However, I think he forgot one important look alike.
Dear Thomas,
Thank you very much for the postcard from Lake Tekapo during your travels through New Zealand touring all the sites those Lord of The Rings movies were shot. While I have no idea what those movies are about (Um...jewelry?), it sure does look lovely there. I know this trip was excellent timing for you to get away, relax and have fun. I hope you had an awesome time.
I must admit, I was a little confused when I flipped the card over to see what I know is NOT your handwriting on the postcard. For a moment, I thought this postcard was meant for my new roommate from one of his friends. However upon closer inspection, I saw that, yes, it actually was addressed to me.
So I read the card to see that one of your fellow travelers, a "Deb", inscribed this card and signed.
This would be the part where I would begin my rant using your full name. However, since I value your privacy, I'll make up a middle and last name for you.
Thomas Ulysses Wallingford! Part of the joy of receiving a postcard from a friend is that the postcard actually be FROM that friend. Not some person he doesn't know named Deb.
I don't know Deb. I'm sure Deb is a lovely person — and I will say she has exquisite penmanship — however, Deb is not my friend. You are.
Also, it was sent to my old address. Not really Deb's fault. Deb doesn't know I moved.
But you do.
Don't worry Thomas. I won't stay mad long. I'm sure in no time we can both have a good laugh about this. A laugh out loud. Or, if you will, a LOL.
Actually in this case, a LOLThomas.
XXOO,
Brian
Thomas and I are having a two-night concert-going-palooza. Tonight we are going to see Nickel Creek, which is good since they are taking an indefinite break following this tour and they were such a hoot last time.
Tomorrow, we are driving to Tucson to see Andrew Bird, who is purely sublime. Seriously, if he's ever in your town, go see him. It's amazing to watch him perform.
I'm going to try to talk Thomas into stopping at the ostrich farm on the way. I told him it was mainly so I could post more mocking photos of him on The Internetz®, as if I don't give him enough crap as it is.
I give Thomas a lot of shit and good-natured ribbing. It's purely out of love. He is one of my best friends. Out of respect for him, I decided NOT to post his birthday ecard for all The Internetz® to view on his birthday.
See Thomas, I can show restraint some times.
Of course...
Today's not his birthday, so the man who saw the first Lord of the Rings movie a total of TWENTY-ONE times IN the movie theater back to being fair game. (The ecard is after the jump.)
Continue reading "Tix & Thomas" »
Last week, I gave my friend Thomas shit because I wasn't one of his top friends on his MySpace page.
He promptly reorganized his top friends to include me, however, upon closer inspection, now I see how I truly rank.
For Thanksgiving this year, I showed Thomas how to make Angry Black Bitch's Corn Casserole Yumminess. Here is Thomas excited to be given the task of opening the cans of corn.
Because Thomas is a vegetarian, I had to substitute the Jiffy Corn Mix with one that doesn't contain lard.
Mmm...tasty, tasty lard.
This is what the corn casserole looks like in the bowl. Disgusting looking...isn't it. That's a sure sign it's going to taste awesome.
After I added about 10 pounds of shredded cheese to it, it's ready for the oven.
While, they were baking, I decided to take a picture of Thomas's pantry so I could ridicule him on the internet.
Here it is in its sad, sad bachelorness.
Would you look at all that spaghetti on the top shelf of which has remained UNOPENED for the last two months.
Sometimes a Costco card is just not a good idea.
Time to check on the casseroles.
Still not done. This gives me time to mock the contents of Thomas's refrigerator.
Just look at all those microwave dinner for one meals. So sad. And check out that industrial bag of french fries. What goes well with french fries?
That's right...two vats of ketchup. With a gleam in his eye he announced, "Oh, I loves me some ketchup."
To reward Thomas for being such a good sport about making fun of his sad, sad bachelor kitchen, I gave him a tasty cake named after our Governor.
Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!
I tend to have very vivid dreams. I also frequently remember them. I believe this is unusual because when I tell people about dreams I've had they are often surprised at the detail I remember them and tell me they rarely remember their dreams at all.
I'm not into dream analysis per se, however I can usually pinpoint what certain elements of my dreams represent or at least where they were skimmed from the surface of my subconscious. I dream about my friends, people at work, books and magazines I have read, TV and movies I watch. Pretty much if I see it or think about it, it ends up somewhere in my dream life. This weekend I had a very odd work-related dream.
I was in a building on a corner of a busy urban street. The room had very large windows and I could see people constantly hurriedly walking by. It was a brisk, chilly day.
At first I didn't recognize anyone in the room however I knew they were people from work. My friend Thomas was there. He was waiting to be interviewed for a position open on my team. I don't know the other guy who was to be interviewed but I felt as if I knew him.
Then a group of people came in. Among them were Evan Williams, Jason Shellen and Biz Stone.
Time for a disclaimer: I don't know Evan, Jason or Biz, nor have I met or corresponded with them. I have only read their weblogs like countless other people. I know what they look like because they post pictures of themselves on their blogs. I make no assumptions about them nor have I any inkling about the kind of people they are.
They are taking off their coats. Evan and Biz go to talk to the group of unfamiliar faces. I walk up to Jason and stick my hand out to say hello and introduce myself. He uneasily shakes it and looks me up and down with a look of uncomfortable skepticism. I tell him I've read his blog. He avoids making eye contact, says "that's great," and blows me off to join his group.
The Blogger Team is there to interview the candidates for this position. Why? I have no idea. It is very clear I still work for "The Monster Company" and they still work for Google. I guess they are there as consultants(?). I am there to give my feedback. Noticeably absent are my superiors. I overhear someone say they know about the interview but the want to leave it to these guys to make a decision.
We all sit down at a long table. They are on one side. I am on the other with Thomas to one side of me and the other candidate on the other. The other nameless people are sitting around all of us.
Evan starts to ask Thomas and the other candidate interview type questions, but I am distracted by my thoughts and am not paying close attention to what is being asked and answered. In my mind, I know that these guys are unqualified to work on my team and I will end up picking up the slack of whomever gets the job. I am annoyed by this. I am annoyed no one asks me for or wants to hear my opinion. I ask the candidates questions, hoping to expose their inexperience. It doesn't work. Thomas is charming them. They laugh at his anecdotes and feel comfortable around him. Biz is doing Christopher Walken impressions and cracking everyone up. (Okay...I know where this one comes from. See this. I still laugh out loud when I hear it again.) Everyone throws back their heads and laugh in unison. It is all so David Lynchian.
Then everyone gets up. We are all going to have lunch. The Blogger guys are putting on their Blogger hoodies. I have one too. Suddenly everyone has their coat on, but I can't find mine. They are walking out the door and Biz tells me to catch up to them. I am looking around the room, under benches for my coat and ask a woman I know from work but have never talked to, if she has seen it. She says, "you're wearing it." I look down and see I am. I think how did that happen.
I walk out the door, onto the street heading the direction the left. I woke up before I caught up to them.
Pretty bizarre - huh? So what does it all mean? Hell if I know. Here are some random thoughts:
