Ranger Rick Woes

Last September, I wrote an entry about a mouse that entered my Brooklyn home. I have just been alerted that another creature has managed to call chez Timo its home. I’m not kidding when I write that a raccoon was found in my roommate’s bedroom earlier tonight! My roommate Phil called me to say that he heard a noise in our roommate’s room and he entered the room to investigate. He flipped on the lights and a raccoon raced into the closet. Now, instead of running out of the room and screaming like a girl (like I would have done), he walked toward the closet and saw it crawl back into a hole in the wall that probably leads to the attic. Pete, our handyman is coming by tomorrow to seal off the attic.

I lived next to a patch of woods in Eau Claire, Wisconsin for eighteen years and I never encountered a raccoon. The same goes for Madison and Minneapolis. So why do I have to move to one of the largest cities in the world to experience the foul, disgusting stink of a raccoon? And now that I think about it, it gets worse. This morning, I ate a bowl of oatmeal and I took it up to my room. I did not finish the entire bowl and in my haste to leave the house, I left the bowl in my room on my bed. If that bowl is empty when I get home (I’m at the school now), I will have to find a new place to sleep tonight. I’ll let you all know how it turns out.

Happy Thanksgiving

Yesterday I volunteered at a food shelter where I helped people load food into their carts. I think it was the first time I had done a volunteer effort like this, so I felt kind of guilty because I had waited until the week of Thanksgiving to do it. They're not kidding when they say volunteering is a rewarding experience so I'm looking forward to doing it again. I know this sounds sappy, but it reminds us to be thankful of the things we have so I hope we all do that.
I fly out tomorrow morning and will finish the week off in Eau Claire. I may return to Minneapolis Saturday night, but will definitely be there by Sunday morning for the usual Mpls. fun. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

My friend Anne recently created a blog to relate her adventures in China back home. Check it out!

Why Can't We All Just Get Along?

Thank you to my boss Yana for sending me this article from the Milwaukee Sentinel about the Wisconsin vs. "Coasties" rivalry. In case you do not know, a coastie is an out-of-state UW student, usually from New York, New Jersey, or California. Apparently the rivalry has reached a boiling point that now requires it to be addressed at freshman orientation. I'd like to hear the orientation group leader on this one: "Wisconsin kids, there are some students who will be tucking their jeans into Ugg boots. They're called East Coasties. You don't need to be afraid of them." "And East Coasties, there are some students who will be wearing yellow Old Navy fleeces. They're called Wisconsin kids. You don't need to be afraid of them." Sidenote: I HATE UGG BOOTS.
One of the reasons I loved going to UW was because the student makeup was not a homogenous demographic of upper Midwest kids. The article reports that a third of UW's undergrad makeup is students not from Wisconsin or Minnesota, with which UW has tuition reciprocity. The coasties brought their fashion, accents, and BMW's and we WI kids learned a lot from them. Okay, maybe not every coastie had a BMW... I'm sure many of them learned stuff from us like the magnificent delicacy of cheese curds and how to finish a boot of beer so you don't have to pay for the next one. They attended UW because they wanted to experience a different way of life just as I'm attending a NYC school to experience a different way of life.
I love the rivalry. I lived with a coastie named Jen. I'd make fun of the way she said "cwoffee" and she teased me when I said "bAAAg." It really is a feud in good fun. I hung out with an old college friend last Saturday who grew up in New Jersey. We lived together on the 9th floor of Shitty Witte B. I mentioned the article and she agreed that the rivalry was to be taken in jest, though she did say she had been the target of coastie discrimination at times. I replied, "That's what you get for owning a purple puffy North Face jacket." Okay, I didn't say that, but let's be honest, that jacket was a dead giveaway! If you're interested in the JSO's sociological analysis of the University of Wisconsin, click here.

Any UW kids care to comment? <----- pathetic attempt to boost number of comments on this blog

Money, Success, Fame, Glamour (if only a night)

I borrow that song title for this entry's title because that was kind of my night last Tuesday. Supermodel Iman came to the school to hawk her new book, "The Beauty of Color." I'm not a big makeup guy, but hey, it's Iman, and rumor had it that David would be there too. David wasn't there, but no matter, Iman looked hot. She spoke about makeup of course, but also about her upbringing in Somalia, schooling in Kenya (where she was discovered), and arriving in New York back in the mid-seventies. She's incrediably intelligent, sophisticated, and cool. The two messages I took from Iman that night were 1) Follow your dreams (or something like that); and 2), quoting Iman, "It doesn't matter if you have the best eyeshadow, the best eyeliner, or the best mascara. If you don't have the right foundation, you're fucked." Happy Times: I won a door prize! Yes, I submitted my name and won an Iman Cosmetics makeup kit. I felt a little awkward approaching the stage to collect my prize given the fact that I'm a guy and stuff (no jokes please). To save myself from the suspicious eyes, I mouthed to the crowd, "It's for my sister." So Jane, you've got some Iman Cosmetics coming your way! You know...the event reminded me of my friend Billy who works for LaForce and Stevens, the PR firm that handles Iman. Hmmm...this is a good time for a transition.
I went home and Billy called me. Turns out LaForce and Stevens rented the penthouse of the Soho Grand for some event and they didn't need the room for the night. So they let Billy use it. Dave joined me and we found ourselves with other Minneapolis people past and present on the terrace overlooking the city. A tour of the penthouse revealed two bedrooms, flat screen televisions in every room, a sauna, and a really big remote control. Nice place, but not worth the $5,000 a night price tag. Yeah, I guess that sounds like a lot considering I probably won't break that amount for tax year 2005.
Afterwards, we taxied our pretty selves to Happy Valley, New York's latest nightlife extravaganza. Now, it's true that one can find a party on any given night in New York. If the human body permitted it, one could theoretically party eternally. I've been known to go out until 4:00AM on a Tuesday or Wednesday night, but I was unprepared when I opened the doors. The placed was packed with fashionistas, the glitteratti, and the party monsters. A twelve foot diameter disco ball (Anne, this one trumps the one you had in your dorm room) hung in the corner from which nestled inside the DJ's safely played music. Go-go dancers danced from high heights. A pair of eight foot legs emerged from the bar spread eagle, happy valley indeed! Amanda Lepore (pictured above and hands down my favorite tranny in the world) entertained the crowd, and as expected and anticipated, I saw her boobs. Twice. You can see them too here. Michael Musto popped on by, but we didn't have a chance to chat. Maybe next time Michael. The $10 drinks didn't seem so bad after the 15 minute open bar was announced. My mom taught me to never turn down anything that's free. So the night turned out to be a blast. I love New York!

Then on Wednesday...I managed to see not one, but two Broadway shows in the same day. Do NOT see "In My Life" but do see "The Color Purple." I also saw hilarious comic Shecky Beagleman who is in a mockumentary about stand up comedy called "Hacks." You must go to the website and watch the trailer. Is it really true that the temperature in Minneapolis was 8 degrees this morning?! Don't miss that.

AC Baby! AC!!!

I just got home from a long birthday weekend. Last Friday was my birthday. Thanks to everyone who phoned me to wish me a happy birthday. And Alona? You and me is officially in a fight, k? My birthdays tend to be low-key affairs, kept on the DL. I managed to get dragged out of my self-pity around 11:30PM and headed on down to the 9th Avenue Saloon where my birthday cake shot actually tasted like birthday cake! I ended up at comedian Ted McElroy's place where the night ended with cocktails and DVD clips of the gay Rex Reed recounting the greatness of Judy Garland.
The next day, Dave, Cooper, Ted, and I packed the car and headed to Atlantic City for a night of adventure and sin. We stayed at the Borgata, AC's latest and most exclusive hotel. I think I live in a comfort zone here in New York. I can walk down Avenue A or Bedford and I feel comfortable. I'm with PLM's (People Like Me). The Borgata? Not so much. Here are some reasons: I decided not to wear a Men's Express button down collared shirt with ill-fitting blue jeans. I was not wooed by females wearing black hot pants and glittery tank tops. I did not gain 100 pounds for the trip. I didn't sport a colorfully dyed leather jacket. I didn't high-five anyone in the casino. But I was in good company so who cares?
Highlights of the trip include walking along the boardwalk and smelling the ocean. I'd love to go back next summer and do the beach/casino/beach/casino flip flop deal. We stopped for a drink at AC's only gay bar, The Brass Rail. FYI: The Brass Rail in Mpls. is not affiliated with The Brass Rail in AC, though you probably couldn't tell the difference anyway given their eerily similar interiors. Oh yeah, and I did gamble a little despite my inability to comprehend gambling’s appeal. Played some naughty nickels and lost five dollars total, which is five dollars that could have been spent better otherwise.
As I write this, I’m drinking tea that I hope will cleanse the alcoholic residue that has formed inside the lining of my veins. With any luck, my body (which went to bed at 6:45 this morning) should be back to normal by Wednesday.

Benissimo! Quasi...

Every year my school sponsors a foreign language poetry recitation competition. Participants memorize a poem in the language they are studying and recite it with the most raw emotion they can find in their souls. First place prize? Fame, fortune and a dictionary. Never one to turn down the opportunity to win a dictionary, I entered and recited my poem, "L'arboscello" by Umberto Saba. For round one, I recited the poem in front of my class while a panel of judges watched. Out of about 25 Italian students, I made it to the top three and competed again on Tuesday. Today was the awards ceremony and I did not win first place. Oh well. It was fun anyway. Here's the poem I recited and its translation:

L'Arboscello

Oggi il tempo è di pioggia.
Sembra il giorno una sera,
sembra la primavera un autunno,
ed un gran vento devasta l’arboscello
che sta, è non pare, saldo.
Par tra le piante, un giovanetto,
alto troppo per la sua troppo verde età.
Tu lo guardi, hai pieta.
Forse di tutti quei candidi fiori che la bora gli toglie?
E sono frutta,
sono dolci conserve per l’inverno quei fiori,
che tra l’erbe cadono;
E se ne duole la tua maternità.


Today the weather is all rain.
The day seems like evening,
springtime seems like autumn,
and a strong wind ravages the sapling
which stands, yet seems not, firm.
Among the other plants, it is like a young man,
too tall for his too green age.
You look at him, you have pity.
Perhaps for all those snow-white flowers the north wind deprives him of?
And they are now the fruits,
the sweet preserves for winter, those flowers,
which fall among the herbs;
And the spirit of motherhood in you grieves.

Something to Think About–Won't Last Long So Watch It

I've never watched Boston Legal, but I came across this clip from last night's episode. The dialogue coupled with Spader's acting is incredible. Watch it before the link disappears. It just concisely sums up what's been on my mind regarding the Iraq War and gives reasons why it's dumb that we're over there.

While I'm ranting, here are 10 reasons why gay marriage is BAD.

I Want My Mummy.

I celebrated my first Halloween in New York on Monday. Halloween was never a big celebration in my family. Blame it on my parochial elementary education? Every year I used the same costume, a hand-me-down robe that my older brother had used in a school production, that would transform me from a "he'll grow up to be gay" adolescent to the coolest biblical prophet there ever was, Moses! I think I was Moses like four years in a row. Maybe one of those years I ventured to the New Testament and became John the Baptist, but I don’t remember. It was a costume awesome enough to open the Red Sea.
Then there were the college years where the masses flocked to State Street, and without failure, managed to light something on fire. I was a sailor those years. I remember once going to the mediocre gay club, Club Dive, err…Club Five and this older man approached me. “Those pants have nine buttons?” I looked down and began counting the U-shaped formation of the buttons. “That’s right! How did you know?” He replied, “I used to be in the Navy years ago and we called the flap that comes down our serving plate." Say, didn't the Village People record a song called "In the Navy"?
Post-UW, my costumes have become last minute creations. A cowboy one year. Last year, I was especially proud of my funny punny get up, a pot brownie. I dressed up as a brownie girl and pledged my allegience to Troop 4:20.
As you can tell already, I went as a mummy this year. It wasn't that I really wanted to be a mummy. Since purchasing some long underwear last week, I've become obsessed and I really wanted to wear my new favorite undergarments in public without getting arrested. My boss threw a party on her roof which just happened to be located above the start of the Village Halloween Parade. I loved the parade. The puppets, the music, the costumes, and especially the 60 degree temps–all great. One of my favorite costumes was the gay couple that each dressed up as John Paul II, then proceeded to make out hardcore every so often. Sin stank the air and the crowd overwhelmingly erupted with applause and cheers. Yes! The best though was the group of 20 to 25 people who recreated the "Thriller" music video as the song blasted down 6th Avenue. The party ended when the cops showed up. Something about 50 people on a roof and safety concerns? Afterwards, we headed to the Ear Inn (also known as the John Brown House), arguably the oldest bar in NYC. Its history is pretty neat. We ended up at this one guy's apartment and as the elevator arrived at the fourth floor, I expected the door to open to a hallway that would lead us to a tiny one bedroom. No...the door opened to one enormous room (think Alexender Petrovsky's place on SATC) that took up the entire area of the building itself. The Basquiat next to the coffee table that was bigger than my queen-size bed added a nice touch. After that, we went to The Cock which was...The Cock of course. Just a really fun night. Hop on over to Bonjour Photo for more photos. I'll be receiving a few more photos in the coming days too.

Isn't it amazing how fast time flies by? GWB won a second term one year ago. And really, isn't the country in better shape?!