The Musings of a Confused Man

Today, I started working on a new project. As part of this new project, I will spend a considerable amount of time working at the customer's site. This means that I spent most of today getting set up onsite and going through some training about their processes.

As a part of project kickoff, the customer took the three of us who are coming on board from our company out to lunch. This is a rather common practice in my line of work. But this was a remarkable unusual lunch. (And let's just say that singling out any particular lunch that is attended by a bunch of engineers as unusual is saying a lot!)

Our waiter, for reasons that totally escaped us, decided not to write our orders down. Instead, he decided to keep all eight lunch orders in his head. We found it a strange thing to do and even joked that maybe he had a lapel microphone and was recording our orders as we said them. Naturally, this proved to not be the case, though our waiter thought it was a great idea.

Well, after he left our table, he came back and asked Brian which side he had asked for. Someone else jokingly commented that he hoped this meant that the young man had remembered all of the rest of our sides (and main orders, for that matter) correctly. Those hopes were proven unfounded when he came back again, and asked the four of us on my end of the tabe to repeat what sides we wanted. (Oddly, he didn't write them down this time either.)

Well, when the food came, all four of us on my end of the table indeed got the wrong side. We ended up having to swap sides. By this time, the whole thing had reached the point of farce, and we just got a couple plates, dumped the sides (two orders of steak fries and two orders of sweet potato frieds) into a couple of bowls and just shared them communal-style. Strangely, they got Brian's sandwich order wrong too, so the poor guy had to wait for them to make the right sandwich.

I've never laughed so much at a luncheon (except maybe for the WOTL luncheon). The food was great, but I hope the service doesn't always get confused so easily. And hopefully, someone learns to use that pad he was carrying around.

I don't normally post quizzes and memes, but since I was tagged by Pisco on this one, I'm making an exception.

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

The running commentary going through my head for some of the questions was funny.

I think everyone has those people who came into their lives for the briefest of moments, yet touched them in a profound way despite how temporary their presense may have been. Darcy was one such person for me. I spoke with her a total of three times in my entire life, and I doubt I'll ever see her again. And yet, the first night we met, she left an impression I doubt I will ever forget.

That night took place several years ago. It was the night that I agreed to go out to a movie with my older brother -- the first and only time I ever went someplace with him since I became an adult. Terry wanted to go see a movie, but didn't have his license due to legal issues at the time. As such, he needed someone to go with him. Being the generous, if foolish, person I am, I agreed to go with him when he asked me. Both before and after the movie, we decided to hang out at the bar in Ruby Tuesday's, which was located in the same mall as the cinema complex we went to.

When we returned to the bar after the movie, I was seething. The entire outting had been a real eye opener to just what kind of person -- and let me just say that I'm being polite in using that word -- my brother was. At one point, I was sure he was going to get himself thrown out of the theater during the movie. (I had decided I was going to sit there pretending I didn't know him if that happened.) But I allowed him to convince me to return to the bar with him. By that time, Darcy was working behind the bar alone. Things had slowed down enough that Darcy had a lot of idle time, and she and Terry got talking.

Darcy was a sweet girl, a few years older than me at most. She was on the short side with long, blonde hair, but a real spitfire. She was the type of person that could say some incredibly cutting things, yet smile the entire time. I suspect that many of her customers were too drunk to realize she had actually said something biting until after the fact. Her personality struck me as admirable, and entirely conducive to the line of work she was in. And I have to admit that I was enjoying the process of watching her spar with my brother, who was too dumb to recognize all the jabs she got in despite the fact that he was perfectly sober at the time.

The incident that truly earned her my admiration, however, was when the topic turned to that of gay people. I forget what exactly came on the television to spark the conversation, but Terry made some sort of nasty remark on the topic. As I felt my heart sink and my stomach lurch, Darcy turns to Terry and asks him in a friendly, yet pointed manner, "What? Do you have something against gay people?" As soon as she asked the question, she gave me a quick wink. I'm not sure how she had managed to pick me out, but it was clear that like many other people in my life, she had immediately known I was gay. (Fortunately, my brother was clueless, and still is to the best of my knowledge.)

Terry stammered a bit and tried to make excuses. Of course, the first thing he did was played the typical male double standard, pointing out he had no problem with two women being "like that" -- and even found it somewhat alluring. However, he pointed out that he just didn't want any gay guys to hit on him, because that would not be okay.

Darcy's reaction was incredible in that she didn't pause, take a breath, or even blink. As soon as Terry said what he did, she just looked at him, smiled, and said in an even if somewhat patronizing voice, "Oh, hon, don't flatter yourself." And before either Terry or I had time to register what she said, she was off to serve another customer at the other end of the bar. I just about fell off my bar stool. (And for the record, I was sober, too!) Terry could only respond with a hurt and shocked "Hey!"

I was just totally amazed at how easily, gracefully, and politely Darcy had shot him down. Every time I find myself in a similar situation, I find myself thinking of her response that night. I can only hope I handle things half as well.

I went back two weeks later just to thank Darcy. I also left her a very big tip on my second trip, as an expression of my gratitude. We had a nice conversation, and she was shocked to discover that Terry was my brother. She couldn't believe we came from the same family.

I only returned one more time after the night I went in to thank Darcy. I'm not the bar type, and even hanging out with such a great gal as Darcy was sufficient reason for me to keep returning. As a result, she disappeared from my life as quickly as she entered it. But that brief encounter is something I still like telling people about several years later. I think I always will.

Friday night, I took Becky back to her place after spending a few hours running around town with her and watching a movie at my place. As we were driving, I noticed that my brake light kept coming on. Being a bit concerned, I called my favorite mechanic Saturday morning. He informed me that it sounded like I was losing brake fluid, especially considering my answers to his questions ruled out the other possiblities. Unfortunately, he also informed me that he wouldn't be able to get to my car until Monday, but I was free to drop it off and leave it there, just in case he found some free time this weekend.

As I didn't want to have to take extra time on Monday to get my car there, I agreed to drop it off Saturday morning. However, I decided I still needed a car, so I picked up the phone a second time and called Enterprise. They indicated they had a car available and I could have it through Tuesday. So when I dropped my car off at the garage, I walked the two blocks over to Enterprise's Henrietta office and filled out the paperwork to get my rental car.

As the woman who was taking care of me went to get keys, she asked her coworker what midsized cars they had available. He told her the PT Cruiser would be the best bet. Now I have to admit, I think PT Cruisers are ugly cars, but I'm not inclined to be too picky when it comes to a rental car. After all, I only have to drive it for a few days.

Apparently, I was completely oblivious (probabl due to the list of items running through my head that I really should've been doing at that exact moment rather than worrying about transportation), because I never noticed the color of my new rental car when I got into it and drove it off the lot. It wasn't until I got back to my townhouse, gathered up the stuff I needed for the day, and walked back out to the car before I realized that it was this incredibly light shade of lavendar. I looked at it and started laughing. The only thing I could think to say was, "Well, I guess I don't have to worry about anyone assuming I'm straight for the nex few days." I also wondered if the people at Enterprise gave me this car because I happened to be wearing my "2QT2BSTR8 shirt at the time."

I have to admit that as Saturday progressed, the car actually grew on me. I've affectionally named it "The Queermobile," much to friends' amusement. I've especially fallen in love with the color. I'm actually considering saving up my money and finding a body shop that can paint my car that same color, or at least something close.

Isn't it strange the things I find amusing?

In my last post, I left out an amusing anecdote from the lunch trip with Mindy and Belinda. When we went to lunch, Min ended up driving because both Belinda's car and my own were filled with junk. So we all piled into the cleanest car of the three. I noticed a couple of Hawaiian leis hanging over the front passenger seat. I commented on how beautiful they were, and Min offered to let me take one. After pondering whether I felt okay with it, I decided to accept her generous offer. I ended up choosing the one that had light blue and lavender (there's that color again!) flowers. The other one was pretty too, but this one was more subdued, and therefore seemed more appropriate for me. I ended up wearing it for the rest of the day. Naturally, this resulted in many jokes along the lines of the title of this post.

It was quite funny to notice the reaction many people had throughout the day. After all, I wore this in Psychic's Thyme for the rest of the afternoon, and at the restaurant when Michele, Belinda, and I decided to have dinner together at Red Robin. And I wore it into the two convenience stores I stopped at later that night. According to Michele, the people a few tables away from us in Red Robbin kept staring at me like they were trying to figure out why I was wearing it, as did one of the waitresses. The girl at the Kwik Fill actually came out and asked if I was planning on going out that night or something. Of course, I also got a lot of compliments on it, as everyone thought it was quite pretty. What can I say, I like pretty things. In some ways, I do fit the stereotypes about gay men.

I had considered wearing it again today, but realized I had no shirts clean that it would really go with. Today, I'm wearing a rainbow-color shirt whose colors are just too bright and loud to match the more subdued pastels of the lei. It wouldn't have looked the same as it did against my white "2QT2BSTR8" tee shirt. I might have also been able to get away with my white tee shirt with the rainbow-colored cats embroidered on it. The rainbow colors on that shirt are also bright and somewhat loud, but I think that given that most of the shirt is white, it would still work.

So over the next several weeks, I suspect I'll wear the silly thing off and on. I think that's mostly because it is silly, and I'm in the mood to express a little bit of silliness. Plus I like the idea of wearing something that I consider pretty.

This evening, I picked up Becky at her apartment and headed over to the Clarion Riverside Hotel to catch Vickie Shaw doing her comedy act. Before I saw the announcement a month ago that ImageOut was sponsoring her for a one night act in the area, I had never heard of her before. All that I can say is that I now know what I've been missing.

Vickie Shaw does an incredible standup routine that mostly focuses on her life, her relationship with Sargent Patch, her relationship with her kids and other family members, and her general outlook on life. She then salts this routine by having a bit of fun with the stereotypes about gay men and lesbians. Her delivery is accentuated by her personality, which is the essence of southern refinement with a coarser edge. (Or maybe it's the other way around, it's hard to say.)

Some of my favorite lines from tonight's act are as follows:

"I told you I love you once. If I change my mind, I'll let you know!"

"We gay people think you straight people out there are just fine. We just don't want you teaching our kids."

"And the baby dykes scream, 'No! I dont want to wear it!'" (Talking about little girls and Easter dresses.)

The entire show was an hour long stream of stories and jokes which kept us all laughing. After her act was over, she held a question and answer session, inviting the audience to ask her anything. At this point, Ms. Shaw demonstrated that she was not only a comic genius, but an intelligent and deeply thoughtful woman. This particularly became clear when she spoke about the stand-up comic business and the difficulty that lesbians and gay men -- the latter more especially -- face in trying to make it in the business.

After everything was over, I took Becky around and introduced her to some familiar faces. I also made a point of taking a moment to speak with Ms. Shaw and thank her for such an enjoyable experience. I also bought a copy of her DVD, "Vickie Shaw Live." I plan on tormenting Belinda with it tomorrow evening.

It was a spectacular night, and I'm glad I went. Becky had a great time too, an being able to share the experience with a friend certainly added to the overall experience. And if I ever get a chance to catch Ms. Shaw's act again, you better believe I'll jump all over it.

A while back, Seething Mom was kind enough to post a link to my coming out story on her website. Apparently, this has led at least one other blogger to mistakenly assume that I'm Seething Mom's son.

I discovered this fact this evening when I checked my site statistics and saw a large influx of visitors from Rising Up Whole. Naturally curious as to who's linking to me, I paid a visit. And while I'm certainly grateful for the added attention the post over there has brought to my story, I'm sorry that there's been a bit of a confusion over the relationship between myself and Seething Mom.

So to clarify to anyone who might be confused, Seething Mom and I are just friends. I found her diary originally through a mutual friends. Since then, I've had the pleasure of communicating with her via blog posts and comments and even a couple of emails. However, I am not her son. I only wish I was. ;)

Last night, I took Belinda and Jim to Equal Grounds to hear the musical and comic stylings of a local group called The Monastery Dropouts. Unfortunately, this group doesn't appear to have a website, so I can't link to them (or keep track of their future performances).

I had never heard of group until a couple weeks ago when I received an email from Equal Grounds (I'm on their mailing list) announcing that they would be performing live at the coffee shop. I forwarded the email to Michele, knowing that she and Belinda would be in town the day of the show and suggested it as possible entertainment for the evening. Everyone seemed to like the idea, though Michele was unable to go with us.

The group's act can probably be best described the way Jim put it, part cabaret, part comedy act. The two members of the show are quick-witted, funny, and sing quite well. Their musical repertoire included such songs as The Vatican Rag by Tom Lehrer. In between songs, both men would banter back and forth and even with the audience, making for a humorous atmosphere. It's not clear how much of the banter was scripted and how much was improvisational, though both men would probably claim it's 100% the latter. If so, I would certainly never want to get into a battle of wits with either of them.

The show was marvellous and lasted for over two hours. The four of us (Becky joined us there late) all agreed we'd go see The Monastery Dropouts again if given the chance.

Matt Hill posted the following clip from Loggerheads on his blog. I had to share it here.

The horror!

Of course, what I think is particularly funny is how the husband makes the comment about another neighbor only being "half mad" since only one of the new neighbors is Mexican. It demonstrates how we can easily make fun of another person's prejudice while being completely oblivious to our own.

Apparently, the gods decided I needed a bit of a confidence boost this evening. Two different guys decided to check me out while Michele, Belinda, and I were at the restaurant tonight. Unfortunately, neither of them took it to the next level by asking me for my phone number, but it was a nice experience, nonetheless.

In reality, I didn't notice the one guy checking me out, but both of my companions assured me he did. It was while we were standing at the front of the restaurant waiting for our turn to be seated. Two young men in their mid-twenties (or so I'd estimate) stood on the other side of the aisle leading from the front door of the restaurant to the hostess's station. Apparently, the one looked over my way and took several seconds to check me over. What a shame nothing came of it, though.

The other instance I'm not 100% sure of, but the guy who seated us when it was our turn seemed incredibly friendly. Once we took our seats, he turned to me and complimented me on my creative tee shirt (it's the "2QT2BSTR8" one). Now many people have commented on this shirt, but this is the first time someone has struck up almost a full minute long conversation over the topic. Granted, I still might have shrugged it off as nothing if Michele didn't comment on the incident herself. (Indeed, she went so far as to say she wanted to tell him to ask me out already by the time our brief conversation ended.) And he did exchange smiles a couple more times throughout the meal, so it was interested. But alas, he never said anything. And to be frank, I've embarrassed myself one too many times to take a chance on mistaking yet another person in the service sector as being more friendly than their job requires or even suggests.

All the same, it was nice to be noticed. I hope it keeps happening on a regular basis. Though I also hope one of these guys gets up the courage to do more than just check me out.

Yesterday, I decided to run to Friendly's for lunch. The place was relatively empty, and I think there were only two servers working. Stef met me at the door and seated me. She asked me if I wanted a diet coke (a sign I go there way too often), to which I assented. As she headed back to the kitchen, the other server, a young man named Kyle, walked by and said he'd be right with me. Apparently, Stef had planned on waiting on me herself, so they had a brief conversation in the kitchen to decide who would actually take my table. (I love it when servers fight over me.)

Apparently, they eventually agreed that Kyle would be my server, because he walked over with my diet coke, introduced himself, and asked me if I was ready to order. I placed my order only to have him give me the perfect opportunity to tease him a little. After I ordered my food, he asked me if I wanted anything to drink. I laughed, glanced at the table, then looked back to him to politely ask, "You mean besides the diet coke you just brought me." He laughed in flustered embarrassment (I consider the fact that he didn't turn beet red nothing short of miraculous) and explained he was used to doing things in a certain order. I just smile and said I understood.

While we had been talking, I noticed a chain around his neck, so I looked closely at the two pendants hanging off it. This is a new habit I'm working on developing, as I'm realizing just how much a person's choice of jewelry or body art can offer an opportunity for conversation. I noted the crucifix (which, when combined with my estimate of his age, gave me enough reason to decide to keep things to a bit of fun chat and maybe some slight flirtation) as well as a large "55." So when he stopped by later to check on me, I inquired. As it turns out, he's a football player and that's his number. (Of course, we won't go into the thoughts of being tackled that suddenly came to mind.) He mentioned that it had been his number in both high school and now college. (Of course, I was relieved to confirm that he was at least in college. I'm much more comfortable with feeling slightly lecherous rather than downright criminal.)

When it came time for ice cream, I ordered the recently re-released the peanut butterpan sundae, so I ordered that. Kyle commented that he never tried that one. I said I had it last time they offered it and loved it. I mentioned in passing that it had peanut butter in it, so that meant I'd naturally love it. So the sneak decided to demonstrate just how good a server he was by making the sundae with extra peanut butter. Needless to say, someone got a very good tip (even moreso than usual).

I have to admit, I enjoyed the meal, and I had fun chatting up my waiter just a bit. Sure, he's too young for me (I think I'm through with college students), and the religion thing would be an issue. (After all, he's not goth, so I'm pretty sure he wasn't wearing a crucifix just for the "cool factor.") But sometimes, it's just fun to be able to chat and have a little harmless fun with someone. And besides, I think it was good practice for me. I really could use more practice being chatty and flirty, as it's something I struggle with (especially if I actually find the person I'm chatting with attractive). So this was a great activity. And either Kyle didn't notice or didn't exactly mind, so it worked out well.

And I do like that I'm learning to be more attentive to picking out little things to comment on. It should really help me with starting conversations in the future.

I decided to post my favorite joke, since I was writing it up for another site, anyway.

John came from a relatively conservative hometown and had great parents. He went away to a college about three hours from home. During his first semester there, he came out to himself. After a few months, John decided he really needed to come out to his parents. So he called them and let him know that he'd be home that weekend.

On the drive home, John decided it would be best to tell his mother first. He figured it would be easier to talk with her and then have her help in breaking the news to his father.

As he arrived home and opened the front door, he was greeted by the smells of his mother's home cooking. "Mom!" he called out.

Her voice carried through the house despite its soft tones. "I'm in the kitchen getting supper ready!" He wandered back, slightly nervous but determined. Once he reached the kitchen, he found his mother standing in front of the stove, dutifully stirring the contents of a large pot with a wooden spoon. "Did you have a pleasant drive home, dear?"

"Yes, I did." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Mom, I need to talk to you."

She continued stirring as she replied, "Okay, dear. I'm listening."

"Mom, I've been doing a lot of soul searching at school, and I don't really know how else to say this. Mom, I'm gay."

She continued to attend to her cooking without speaking. After several moments, he broke the silence. "Mom?"

"I heard you," she replied in her usual tone, not betraying her thoughts or emotions.

John shifted nervously. "Don't you have anything else to say?"

After a moment, she paused stirring looked out the window. Finally, she asked, "Does this mean you like putting other men's things in your mouth?"

Suddenly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going, John shifted and stammered. "Well, yeah, I guess."

Quick as lightning, his mother turned to face him, wielding her wooden spoon like a weapon. She brought the utensil smashing down on his head with a large cracking sound. He was still stunned when she brought her face inches from his own and hissed, "I don't ever want to hear you complain about my cooking again!"

Yesterday, I learned from fellow blogger Benton Quest that this month is National Masturbation Month.

Feel free to have a bit of fun in the comments with this topic, but try not to let things get too out of hand. ;)

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