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October 30, 2002
Fetishes and Hair
So I am riding the subway yesterday on one of many Tex in the errands. I had completed my last errand an was on my way to rehearsal at Michicko Studios on 46th. In the packed #1 Subway I noticed two people. One man, an Asian guy reading an Asian newspaper. This happens enough. New York is the city of diversity. It's not uncommon to see Arabic, Spanish, Chinese, English, and Hebrew newspapers all in the same train. I noticed this guy...we'll call him Bob...I noticed Bob's face. Bob was intently reading his paper; his thoughts completely consumed by the stories reflected in a language that looked like pretty squiggly lines to me. He was completely oblivious to the fact that we were all stuck on the same crowded train that may or may not leave the 34th Street Station. His face was smooth and clean shaven. At 5:30pm there was no shadow. I wonder if this is an Asian thing. I don't really recall ever meeting an asian person with a full beard...As I am pondering the rates of Hair Growth among the cultures I notice two spots where "Bob" is growing some serious hair...on his face....in two moles. These were not unobtrusive, cute little adorable, petite hairs. Each mole had a small cluster of grey and black hair and their length was outrageous...2-3 inches at least. Now I was really hooked on staring at this guy. An inch of hair in a mole and you can call it laziness or lackadaisical personal hygeine but 2-3 inches is a grooming statement. This guy was growing the hairs in his mole because he thought it looked good...or sexy? Perhaps it's his way of starting off a conversation with a girl. "Excuse me, are you staring at my moles?".....
The other person I saw was a woman standing directly in front of me. She looked normal enough. Mid-Forties, red hair, well dressed. Probably just going home from the office. What intrigued me about this woman was her book. She was reading a genre I had never known existed. A Genre which can only be described as a Fetish. It was a cat mystery. I had a sudden vision of this woman's house full of cats and cat acoutrement. I thought I would include the book's title here but I couldn't remember it. I tried a Google Search. "How many "cat mysteries" can there be?" Well, in my search there were a number of children's books. That is to be expected. Then I happened on this website. And that's when I discovered this is one serious cottage industry. The "Refined Ladies" were thoughtful enough to include an extensive list of cat friendly books by their favorite authors. You can read classic mysteries like "Whiskers and Smoke" or "Paws for Alarm". Oh my. This is why I have the "no more than 2 cats" rule. I will never own more than 2 cats at a time and that is pushing it. (My cat Cosmo who has been staying in Houston with my aunt is destined for an adventurous life in the country on a friend's ranch near my home town of Wichita Falls.) Any more than two cats and you start wearing the cat shirts, and the cat jewelry. Buying cute cat shoes, cat knicknacks, gushing at every frickin' feline that passes you by in that sickly sweet gaga voice. BLEH! I will not be middle-aged and crying in whiskers!!!
This gets me thinking about fetishes. For this can only be described as a serious diversion from the norm. Cat Mystery Fetish, Foot Fetish, Spanking Fetish. There is a weirdness about all these things. It's the weirdness that compels people to get into them I guess. There is alot of press about this movie lately. Everyone is talking about how sexy and inventive it is. It's all about the spanking. I have to admit; after all I've heard about this movie I am dying to see it. Should I be worried?
I suppose everyone has some sort of Fetish. I wonder what mine is. Foot? Doubt it. Spanking? Umm...maybe. Cat Mystery? NO F***ING WAY!
Posted by mermu at 10:26 AM | Comments (5)
October 26, 2002
Where she gets it, I'll never Know
Found these on my sisters once dormant, now active blog. I am really excited about finding out which Strictly Ballroom character I am.
I actually filled the Goddess thing out and got two Goddesses. How about that!!!!
And I am Scott Hastings!!!
You're Scott Hastings!
Take the Which Strictly Ballroom Dancer Are You? Quiz
Also try my other quizzes.
Posted by mermu at 12:30 AM | Comments (4)
October 20, 2002
Apple Butter?
I decided to pull a "Betty Crocker" and do something with the apples I picked on Monday. The apples alone are really tasty but there are alot of them and there is no way I can eat all I picked before they go bad. So I made Apple Butter from a recipe I got from the orchard from whence I picked apples last year. It took 9 hours in a slow cooker. It tastes scrumptious. It does not look like the apple butter you buy in the store; pureed and thin as a spread. My friend Jim says it's not Apple Butter then. I suggested that it is, perhaps, Apple Chutney. To which he replied, "Or Apple Chutter." He then said something I didn't hear. And then I was inspired. It's not Butter, Chutney or Chutter. It's "Apple Buttney!" which he actually said when I didn't hear him. So I made my first batch, ever, (and perhaps the first batch of anybody ever) of Apple Buttney. And now, we are off for Sunday afternoon cocktails at Posh where I hope to chat with Derrick the Dressmaking Bartender about my Bridesmaid Dress for the Big Fat Gay Wedding. Disclaimer: Fat in no way implies the size of the grooms.
Posted by mermu at 04:56 PM | Comments (2)
October 18, 2002
In Memoriam
In Memoriam
Two days ago as I was walking to work, I saw a dead bird feet up, ragged, and in rigomortis in the middle of the wet pavement on 51st and Broadway. The corpse was in remarkeable condition for being dead and in the path of a high traffic sidewalk, as if there were an invisible coffin around him. Snow White with no dwarves to guard his fragile dead figure. I noticed the bird, paid my respects and immediately raised my head and looked for Kambri. She has a special nack for finding dead creatures and bones in New York City and I thought she might be invited to the impromptu funeral.Posted by mermu at 09:31 AM | Comments (2)
October 17, 2002
Worth the Price of Admission II
My cuz, Elizabeth suggested that perhaps this title had to do with seeing Guy Forsyth. I don't think so as it was written before I saw him on the 6th but it reminded me of a nice story. I did see Guy at the famous Antone's while I was in Austin. It was my first time at Antone's. I liked it okay, but it's kind of cavernous. Guy was great as usual. He had a new CD so I picked that up. I did have an interesting New Yorker on vacation experience there. I ordered a beer at the bar. The bartender set it in front of me and said $2 please. Two dollars!! I was in shock. I felt like he had given it to me. I drank that beer with an entranced, dopey smile on my face. It took me awhile to get back into Guy's playing; as I was too busy thinking about my $2 beer.
Lesbians think I am Hot
While listening to Guy there was, well, a guy next to me for most of the night. We chatted a little here and there. I went to the restroom and when I came back "Angela" was between him and my barstool. So I sat down and said hello and started listening to Guy. We exchanged pleasantries and she offered to buy me a $2 beer which I cheerfully accepted thinking how cool it is for girls to be friendly enough to meet and chat in a bar and how extremely cool it was to be empowered enough to buy each other beers. DUH. She wanted me. She thought I was hot and said as much as we were leaving the bar after the last set. This got me frustrated on two levels. 1) How can I be so savvy in some areas and so dumbfounded in others. She wasn't buying me a beer to be friendly. She was buying me a beer to be "friendly". 2) Son of Gun!! I finally meet a perfect gentleman and it's a WOMAN. In Texas. God cracks me up. She has a really sick sense of humor if you ask me.Posted by mermu at 01:32 AM | Comments (1)
October 16, 2002
My anniversary
Happy anniversary, Baby
Today I celebrate two years in the big city. I can't believe it. For many transplants two years is a landmark anniversary. Either you stay for at least another three or you move back home. I can tell you that my last trip to Texas was the first time I actually wished I could have hung out awhile but I have no intentions of leaving this area anytime soon. I think that feeling of whistfulness in Austin was due mostly to the whirlwind pace of the occasion. I am a mix of New Yorker and Texan now just as I am a mix of Mexican, German and Irish descent. Some days it's 80% Texan, some days more like 40% and whatever is left belongs to New York. There will always be that Texan inside. No matter how much of me is New York, I will always need that occasional dose of stifling heat, good Southern music, a howdy and a "how do ya do" in a good twangy drawl, true tea that's brewed, driving in a car for miles without seeing a town, wildflowers on the highway, and the wide smile of my fellows that know the true meaning of "tejas". But as I toast my second year in the Northeast and raise a glass to the future in my third, I know there are things in New York I need a dose of too. In some ways the two places aren't so different. You can find the colors of a Texas sunset here. They have just made their homes in the trees of a crisp fall day instead of the massive blanket of a Texas horizon.
Posted by mermu at 11:15 AM | Comments (1)
There's a reason they call them BridesMAIDS
Well, my sister finally snagged the man who now makes her #1 in my mom's book. She and Stepan got married in Austin on October 5th. I found the wedding and reception to be mostly frustrating. I think weddings in general are like that. All of these people I love on both sides of my enormous family and I had no time to really get to chat with any of them. Argghhh! Also I worked my tail off. There is a reason why they call them Brides MAIDS. The funny thing is I think I am a natural party planner type person. Through a mixup at the bar, our Tex in the City party was moved to Friday instead of Wednesday of the same week. I was bummed I was going to miss it, especially since I had procured a really cool sponsor for the event and wanted to enjoy the fruits of my labor. It was not to be alas, as I was scheduled to be in a rehearsal for the nuptuals at about the same time. The irony is at about 9pm Texas time, at the rehearsal dinner, I had just about enough time to glance at my watch and think good thoughts for my party in NYC before dashing off to mingle briefly with a guest at the rehearsal dinner or to introduce one of my cousins on my dad's side to my future brother-in-law's brother. I was doing the same thing I would have been doing in NYC at the rehearsal dinner in Texas!! I guess it just goes to show, 'you can take the girl out of the party, but you can't take the party host out of the girl' Or something like that.
By night's end after the reception I was a little strung out. There was a traditional Czech attempt to kidnap the bride that went awry due to some evil "central Christians" as well as a few other balls that were dropping that I took it upon myself to catch. I tried to console myself with the fact that one day I would get my sister back when I get wed and she's my Matron (ha ha, that is such a stodgy word.) But then a realized I would never get her back. BECAUSE I WOULD HAVE LISTS!!! lol, The truth is a wedding is the ultimate production and I would never pass up the opportunity to create my own masterpiece ala Demille, or Fellini. Lights, camera, music, organically grown turtledoves....Dum dum de dum. Dum dum de dum.
I will someday write a book on how to be a Maid of Honor for a passive bride. I will include one of the central nuggets of wisdom for that book here. This one literally saved my life. I would be a pile of bruised, battered, and weeping strings in a really expensive eggplant dress wandering the streets of downtown Austin on nubs if it weren't for this one instinct. Look awesome in the ceremony. Wear the kickass, very New York, very chic shoes as you are walking down the aisle. As soon as she says I do and the guests are going for the wedding kolaches outside the church, slip into your oh-so-comfy black satin isotoner slippers. Everyone will remember the shoes at the ceremony. And you will definitely need flat and comfortable feet as you sashay from one situation to the other to do the bride's bidding at the reception.
Posted by mermu at 11:14 AM | Comments (3)
October 02, 2002
Worth the Price of Admission
Worth the Price of Admission
I am sad to say that I have no idea what this title is about. I saved it in my drafts section with no notes. Let that be a lesson to me. If anybody has any idea to what I was reffering please let me know. It Could be...
One night last week...or the week before (it's all a blur) I was working late at the bookkeeping gig as was my coworker Laura. She is an associate producer for documentary films and was trying to put some finishing touches on a script. She works in a room next to a big window that reveals the many windows and pool area of a hotel situated across the street. We, the employees of Pangolin, have had many good times watching the tourists lounging in their speedos, trying to get the hookup with the cute blond two deck chairs over and other such shenanigans. On this particular night I am knee deep in bills to pay when I hear Laura from the other room, "I am so tired of this guy jerking off in the window. This is the third time this week."
Huh? I raise an eyebrow from my bills. "Laura, what are you talking about?"
"This guy. He's masturbating in front of his window. AGAIN."
Well, I didn't have to see it to believe her. This is New York City. I kept working but my curiousity was certainly piqued. I went in to Laura's office thinking I could surreptitiously slide next to the window and get a brief glimpse of the Masturbateur. A quick glance at this bizarre circumstance couldn't hurt right. (Geez, I am so Catholic!!!! I can't stand it.) Well, there was no way to be surreptitious about this. I barely get through Laura's door and I see this guy in all his glory and up close about 2 floors below our floor right in front of the window!!! He is putting on a show. It's as if NY is his whore and he is getting his money's worth. I immediately back away with a resounding, "WHOA" and go back to my job, perplexed and maybe just a teensy bit shocked. Now I have my own naked guy story to contribute since I was out of the room that time the streaker tapped on the window where my sister Jenny and cousin Elizabeth were playing one Christmas in Houston.
This guy probably travels alot; sees alot of hotel rooms. This is his thing. Everywhere he goes he has his own special love affair. I left the office about an hour later and the guy was still in the window. Only this time with a polo shirt on and talking on the phone. It could have been business or the family. He was just having a regular conversation with none the wiser of his secret fetish. Well, none except the 16 floors of people in my building.
Posted by mermu at 11:52 PM | Comments (4)
The Fly Had it Right
So I can finally come clean about what I did on the 1st. I went to my friend Marcus' studio to record a song I wrote for my sister and new brother-in-law. It's called "Dancing with You" and chronicles the evolution of their relationship in a poetic and musical way. This is what came out of me that fateful night I spoke about in the entry entitle Art Vomit. I haven't written a song since "He's My Marine"; a campy ode I wrote a few years ago with my friend Kevin. "He's My Marine" may have been good, but I think I am really hitting my stride now. I like the idea of writing songs for specific people. It reminds me of those olden days when kings and queens commissioned guys like Willie Shakes and Ben Johnson for new plays and such. I wonder if there is a market for commissioned songs? Just what I need. Another business venture.
So while I am at Marcus' feverishly trying to get it all in and record this song before I get on a plane to go to my sister's wedding, Marcus tells me a story about Leonard Bernstein. The legend goes that Bernstein was working on a new composition with a pianist. The pianist was playing the composition as Mr. Bernstein was listening. While sightreading the piece, the pianist had mistakenly played a note that turned out to be a fly that had landed just so on the sheet music. He stopped to correct his mistake at which point Mr. Bernstein looked at the music (after the fly had buzzed off) and studied where the fly had sat masquerading as a note. After a brief pause Leonard Bernstein instructed the pianist to play the piece with the note the fly had requested, saying only...."The fly was right."
I love that story.
BTW, Jen and Step decided to dance to "Dancing with You" as their first dance as husband and wife.
Posted by mermu at 12:42 AM | Comments (5)
October 01, 2002
A new Tradition
Roomies for Tradition
Last month, I had a first date and my roommate did something really sweet that I will try to carry on as a tradition. When I told her it was a first date she said, "Hang on. I am going to give you something." She reached into her pocketbook and gave me a 10 dollar bill. She said, "The last time I went on a first date my coworker gave me ten dollars and told me to treat myself to manicure. And so I am going to do the same for you." Hmm. It's a good idea. If you get the manicure right before the date you will have pretty and soft hands and the relaxing benefits that come from a person kneading and massaging your fingers and palms into willing submission. It worked. The manicure made me feel really great that night and I couldn't help but occasionally glance at my lovely manicured hands. It was a good date. I emailed him on Sunday (one of those manners things) thanking him for a lovely evening. The next weekend, I had yet to hear from the fellow and the manicure was showing signs of wear. Then it came to me; Miss Manners for the 21st Century single girl. I had just discovered one of a new set of rules. If a man doesn't contact you before you remove the chipped and flaking polish of your outdated manicure; he's not serious dating material. Single Girl Beware.For the record, "the date" contacted me the same day I removed my forlorn and worn polish.
Posted by mermu at 01:43 AM | Comments (3)
The Subject was Personal
The Subject was Personal
I was talking to a colleague of mine this week. He spent a year experimenting with the Personals and came away with some really wild stories and over 100 dates for coffee, cocktails, dinner and the like. My favorite story (that he told me) had to do with a midget who described herself as "petite". Apparently there are some wacky truth in advertising rules in Personals World. I have a few friends who are on some online dating services. They seem to enjoy the process, though one friend calls her service "www.fatuglyandjobless.com". I think she is just being playful. She still maintains the service and is currently courting some guy who is really into puppies and karate for kids. I myself have never quite had the guts to put myself on the block so to speak. But this is my "Fall of frivously dating" and I find myself eager for my own wild stories about midgets and fat, ugly, jobless men. So I think I am going to do it. Enter the world of the online personals. Perhaps my friends and I can form a support group or the stranger-dating equivalent of a book club. "This month's selection will be..."My Frivolous Fall Dating Season has taught me a few things about the qualities I need in a date. There are certain things I have discovered are necessary for me to maintain more than a passing interest in someone. Without those pivotal attributes, I find myself frustrated and disappointed. The Dealbreakers. Everyone has their own dealbreakers. My dealbreakers have quite surprised me. I have always considered myself a laidback person with regard to dating. I once dated a guy who submitted to me a profile of who he was and what he was looking for in a woman. Stuff like "listens to jazz and will under no circumstances eat steak with ketchup." I have also dated a man so laidback, he would insist I pick everything. "what do you want to do?" "I don't care, what do YOU want to do" And so on and so on. I like to think I am somewhere between the two. I am unconcerned with archaic and preconceived notions of gender responsibility in the dating scene; or at least I used to think I was unconcerned. Maybe it's my Southern background, but there are certain aspects of dating where attention must be paid. To my surprise, my biggest dealbreaker is manners. There are guidelines about who to contact and how, and generosity and gentility that are lost in today's culture. Or is it just New York? Ask any single New Yorker and they will swear that the dating scene is different here. It's the cruelest kind of urban jungle with a kill or be killed mentality. You either stand your ground and get your due or you get stomped on. I have tried to suppress that kind of thinking but given my own limited personal experiences maybe there is some truth to that mentality.
A few weeks ago as I and a friend were picnic-ing in Central Park a middle-aged woman with flaming red hair came to sit next to us and show us her beaded jewelry for sale. Her name is Munda. As she displayed her wares of chokers, necklaces, anklets, earrings, and hair baubles she told us about the time she was introduced to John Lennon by a mutual friend, Salvador Dali. We talked about men and dating. She was definitely from the North and of the culture where a woman was expected to catch a man. Rope him in with alternate doses of feminine wiles and cold shoulders. I had just gone on a date with a man who had, as of 10 days, yet to contact me. She asked me if he paid for everything. I said no. He bought me a lovely dinner after which we each took turns buying rounds of drinks throughout the rest if the evening. I told her I didn't feel it appropriate for the guy to pay for everything. I am a generous person too. And I don't go out with men for a free ride; I go because I enjoy their company. She railed, "Never pay for anything. The man always pays. Otherwise, he will lose interest. Men like to feel they are getting something...and never, NEVER, sleep with them until they say they love you." I put up a valiant argument against such notions. Especially the last one. After all, I have needs. Munda said if you sleep with them before they say they love you, they will think you can be had by anybody and will wonder who else you are sleeping with. What can I say? Munda is old school. But there is a part of me that wonders if maybe she is right. I am usually pretty laidback with dating and it seems to me that the guys I have dated in the past seemed to take that laidback-ness as far as it would go. Too far.
We all have sob stories that play like a number one country song. I am no different. And yet, I am not ready to believe the worst. I am unwilling look at the dating game as survival of the fittest or "huntin' season". I don't necessarily know how to snag the right kind of man or how to marry that ever elusive doctor or lawyer. To be sure. I'm not even sure I want a doctor or lawyer. What I do know is, whatever he does for a living, however much money he makes or doesn't make, or whatever his political affiliations, the man for me must be genteel and generous with his time, energy and in the way he lives his life. Because the lack of those two attributes, gentility and generosity, are definitely Dealbreakers.
Posted by mermu at 12:15 AM | Comments (6)