Vive la vie!

This is a milestone for BonjourTimo. This is my first entry in which I am writing while drunk. I just completed a solo dance party à la iPod in my room (thanks "I'm Walking on Sunshine" by Katrina and the Waves!) and am now out of breath, but that's okay, I can write!
Tonight found me attending my first français conversation group. I've been meaning to frequent this group because I sorely miss my French speaking days. I'm always nervous attending social functions like this one because I never know what crazies (calling the kettle black) will attend. I attended one such event in Minneapolis, but realized upon my arrival that I would have pulled the medium age of the group down to 46 had I participated in the group. Though tonight's crowd was petit enough, it was still a really fun time. I'll be back, and with time, I hope my French sparkles like an illuminated Eiffel Tower..
Dave, who I had not seen since B2's party met me out and we found ourselves catching up with the latest. He managed to paintball my face with ugly green envy as he described his Eau Claire adventures. I afterall, found myself in New York all alone that special day, the birth of our Lord. I opted to celebrate an early Christmas with my family in an Orlando, Florida Howard Johnson the week before as I thought it would be a special/important experience to see my sister graduate from college. It was, but when it came to Christmas weekend, I felt awfully lonely. :( Thanks Nick for calling me. Sunshine=my face. My Christmas was spent tout seul hibernating in my duvet watching "Annie" and "A Very Brady Christmas" while it rained all day with temps in the lower 40's. I did walk around the city a little and have never witnessed the streets so void of people. Yes Virginia, NYC streets do quiet down on occasion. FYI: As a testament to my gayness, when it came to watching "Annie" or the Packer game, the choice was clear. I discovered indeed "It's a hard-knock life!" I hope everyone had a great Christmas in any case. I thought about many of you. No seriously...I did. Oh yeah, you probably heard something to the effect of a transit strike. I was in Florida during most of it so it didn't really affect me. I do feel though I missed out on a great opportunity to walk with my fellow man in solidarity across the Brooklyn Bridge, even if it would have taken two hours to get there...in twenty degree weather...
If I don't write some garbage about the New Year, I want to wish everyone an incredible New Year in advance. Bisous tout le monde!

Why I Love Russ

I'm proud to be from a state that has produced such an honorable senator.

Recently quoted:

Sen. John Cornyn: "None of your civil liberties matter much after you're dead."

Sen. Russ Feingold's retort: "Give me liberty or give me death."

I'm Back, But Not Back Back

Get me out of this red state.

It’s day four for me here in Tampa and given Florida’s recently enacted “shoot ‘em, ask questions later” gun policy, I’m thankful I’m still alive. My sister graduated from the University of South Florida on Saturday, and I came to sit through ninety minutes of name-calling before hers was announced. Hmmm…that makes me sound unsupportive. No, I am proud of her, and if anyone can offer her a job in finance, she’s ready to start working ASAP. I fell asleep during the ceremony, but that’s understandable because I felt tired on account of the three hours of sleep I had received. The night before, I went to my good friend B2’s (her nickname) Christmas party and pulled the party until it’s time to go to the airport thing. I left the party around 3:00 and sobered up in time to catch my 7:00 flight out of La Guardia. Thank goodness the transit strike had been delayed, but it’s a thorn in my side that I may encounter tomorrow. I’m prepared to handle the Brooklyn to Astor Place commute à pied if need be.
Tampa hasn’t been too bad. I had dinner with Minneapolis homeboy Danny K and his boyfriend Sunday night. Dan’s the state field director for the Jim Davis for Governor campaign. Send him love and money as he attempts to remove the fatter Bush from office.
Monday I saw BODIES...The Exhibition at the science museum here. All very fascinating, until I began to wonder from where all twenty-two bodies had derived. The certainty of their origin is sketchy, but the bodies are said to have been purchased from a northern Chinese medical school that obtained them from the unclaimed dead prisoners pool. Some of the bodies may even have been victims of unfair trials that resulted in unfair death penalties. There’s something fishy about the whole deal, but I’m too lazy to pursue it further. I wasn't too lazy though to read the comment books at the end of the exhibit and read that there are people in the world who believe that viewing a shriveled up, chemically preserved penis is completely inappropriate for someone under the age of 18. Let's teach the kids that penises and vaginas magically appear when one turns 18.
Tuesday found me in Orlando. What is it like to live in Orlando? Or Florida for that matter? In my few days here, I’ve gathered from residents and media reports that Florida is a haven for low-wage labor, high crime, increasingly suffocating traffic, and copious places where KIDS EAT FREE! I’m just being snobby as I write this so pay no attention to my Yankee mindset. I’m also bitter because my suggestion to see the Dolly Parton's Dixie Stampede was soundly rejected. Anyway, people criticize New York, but other than the weather, why are people moving to Florida in droves? Anyone have an answer to this? FYI: Florida is close to overtaking New York as the third most populous state in the union if it hasn't already happened.
Later today I will return to New York and I’m looking forward to it. Freezing temperatures, transit strikes, and basic human survival, I welcome it. I may even welcome the raccoon, who last week, struck a second time. The critter unleashed a greater horror in that he ransacked much of the second story. Picture this–the kitchen looked like someone had positioned a wood chipper, then dumped our garbage in it. The raccoon sprayed the floor with shreds of garbage bag, corn, and a bunch of carrots. We now know how he is entering the house and are confident that the air conditioner that we have propped against the closet door will prevent him from future midnight snacking.

Before Next Week Happens

Next week is finals so here's the lowdown before I enter hell. The raccoon is gone, though I still hear sounds throughout the house. Last Sunday I heard a cooing of sorts and it sounded like I wasn't the only one in the room. Probably just squirrels though that's not much more comforting.
I saw Doug McIntosh last week. He's a college friend who did the Peace Corps in Mali and now lives in Madison working. Doug, you look good and next time you're in New York, I'll take you to the seedy gay bars, the ones that don't close at 4:00A.M. and are full of thugs with only one thing on their minds.
Monday was a fun night. I went to see Dave's karaoke gig, "Wild Rice Night," at the Orchid Lounge. Between Dave's free drink tickets and one of the loveliest, generous bartenders I have ever met, I got really drunk. This is a good thing because I need that if I'm going to sing in public and subsequently transform into a whore for the microphone. There was no stopping me as I headed straight for the musicals. Sang some Rocky Horror, Little Shop of Horrors, and the capped off the night with Gypsy Horror. Lots of Horror. On the way home, we walked down Avenue A and encountered a 24-hour Christmas tree market. The cashier was in a heated booth, but he was slumped over napping. I tried to grab his attention by wishing him a Merry Christmas, but he didn't wake up. Then we gathered around the booth and began singing Christmas carols and he still didn't wake up! He probably was really sleepy. Anyway, after walking a block, I noticed that my friend Phillip had stolen a Christmas tree from the lot which begs the question, if the cashier dude is sleeping in the booth, does anyone hear the Christmas tree being stolen? Think about it. So as we're dragging the tree down the street, and we presented ourselves with a challenge. Will the Cock let you gain entrance if a six-foot Christmas tree accompanies you? I don't think we'll ever know the answer to that question because it was 3:50A.M and the Cock wasn't letting anyone in given the 4:00A.M. bar time. Next morning, bad hangover and curse words.
Last night I saw Jesus is Magic (above), Sarah Silverman's one-woman show. Trust me, if you like jokes about the Holocaust, AIDS, and rape, this one's a bona fide belly buster!
Not revealing too much at this point, but I have a new job! Will report more on this in the future, but needless to say, it hasn't hit me how great this job is yet.
I'll be studying a lot this weekend, but before I do that, I'll be attending a French conversation group so I'm excited to get back on the cheval and revive my Franglais skillz. Speaking of French, the amazing Steph sent me some books for my birthday from her publishing house, Sourcebooks. One of the books is the "Hot Gay Sex Coupon Book." My favorite coupon? "With this coupon, I'll let you cover our bodies with baby oil so that we slip and slide together." Where will this slip and sliding take place?! I knew that tarp would come in handy one of these. And where's the "Pee on me!" coupon?! The coupon book is fun, but I'm really enjoying reading "Sixty Million Frenchmen Can't Be Wrong." It's a book that examines why Americans love France, but hate the French. I'm loving it because I'm constantly bombarded with flashbacks of my life in Paris. I encourage all Frenchies out there to read it and anyone who ate freedom fries in 2003. Finally, I'm going to watch Bareback Mountain, err...Brokeback Mountain tomorrow. I've already seen Bareback Mountain. Jake and Heath, don't let me down!