Back from Vay-Cay!

Okay, so it really wasn't a vacation. I managed to scam a boon doggle to San Diego supporting one of my projects. But just being away from the general madness was like a vacation.

Umm, I love San Diego. Why don't I live there?

Anyways, work was good. Lots of fun technical discussions. Learned a lot. The whole environment on this effort couldn't be more different that my other project. And I got to do more techincal stuff and not so much PM stuff. Which is nice for a change.

After the meeting ended on Friday, I drove up to LA with my co-worker. I was going to visit my sister, and he would visit friends, for the weekend.

Got to LA and was so looking forward to seeing my niece and nephew. My nephew saw me, said "Hi Uncle Trey" and then turned back to his robot thing. My niece pulled up the blanket and wouldn't come out from underneath it. So much love.

Saturday was my nephew's birthday. My sister, in a quite brillian move, outsourced the birthday party. It was held at a place called AdventurePlex. Only in LA I swear. This place had this huge multi-level jungle gym/fort/play thing. It was just unreal. But the hordes of little kids loved it. They could rumpus all they want and pretty much not get hurt. While my nephew had a great time, my neice was at a "princess party" and apparently Ariel was coming. When we finally got back home, she came in with a little tiara on her head and some cool face paiting. Then it was time for all of the gifts. Even though we had gotten some specific gifts for my niece, she still kept trying to steal her brother's toys. Madness and melt down ensued. They grow out of this stage, right? The next day we got up and went for a short hike before it was time for lunch and the trip back to San Diego. My sister rocks. I have no idea how she does it. I would snap. Often.

The second part of the work trip in San Diego was good as well. Even better because I had a kick ass view from my hotel room. It was awesome. I'm sure I wouldn't have this view if I lived there, but it's nice to dream.

The trip back was hellish. Flying these days isn't for the weak. Packed in like sarndines I was sort of bummed that I couldn't do any work. But I was more bummed by the fact that between the huge guy in the seat next to me and being on the aisle getting constantly bumped, I couldn't even pretend to sleep.

Anyways, back in DC. Taking a personal day to get a myriad of things done.

"I" Is for Introvert

"Hello, my name is Trey, and I'm an Introvert."

Yep, for all of those Meyers-Brigg fans out there, I'm an ISTJ. Please don't start to psycho-analyze me now, just sit back and enjoy the madness.

I think most people would find it odd that I'm an introvert. I'm a functional introvert, but I'm still an introvert. I can go out, and socialize, and be engaged and out-going when I need to be. But then I need to come home and just not talk with anyone, just shutdown, and rebuild my energy. It really does explain why I will go to a bar, hang out, and not speak to a soul. Oh well.

So I'm pretty sure my little melt down last week was just the end result of not having enough QPT (quality personal time) and some pretty intense crap at work pushing me to the frikking limit. And so I had that little snap.

I'm better, or will be soon. I chilled this weekend and it was nice. I did go to BlowOff with a friend, but didn't really mingle and left early. But over all, I did get some quality personal time in and I feel better. It also helps that I've got a trip to look forward to. I'm heading out to San Diego for work, but I'll be able to go up to LA on the weekend and will make my nephew's 7th birthday! So cool.

The Green Beans Are Money

Saturday. 1PM. Old Glory in Georgetown. Sitting at the bar ordering lunch. Trying to avoid the fries, I ask what my options are. The bartender, who's name is Flossie, I think, ends her littany of side dishes with: "The Green Beans are Money." Who uses the term "money" anymore. And to describe green beans?

I went with the mac and cheese side. It was okay.

While sitting there, this military guy comes up to the bar looking for his credit card from last night (St. Patty's Day). Flossie starts to rummage through a recipe box full of lost/left credit cards and licenses. She asks for ID and he pulls out his ID card. Yep, Army. And he couldn't have been more than 23 years old. I suspect it was a very good time last night if you were so drunk that you left your credit card at the bar. Ah, to be young and stupid.

Not Normal

Got up this morning. Showered. Shaved. Got dressed. Sat back down on my bed and cried for 20 minutes. Got up and went to work.

1. Not Normal.
2. How very Holly Hunter in Broadcast News.
3. I hate being a cliche.

I've written several posts about my current mental state, and then deleted them. So I've also got the whole self-censor thing going.

Hoping the weekend brings something different. I feel something drastic coming on, just don't know what that is yet.

The Phrase of the Day Is . . . .

"Task Saturation."

I'd blog more, but (see above).

Zeigfields & Secrets

Since the DC government and MLB finally settled on a deal, it looks like the clubs over in South East are on a death watch. Apparently eviction notices have been sent out, and despite some probably futile legal battles, it's clear that the gay adult clubs in that area are soon to be a memory. So Greekboy and I decided to hit Zeigfields & Secrets one last time. My thoughts in no particular order:

Ziegfields: Packed like you couldn't believe. Hot and smokey. And lots of drunk straight women( well the ones that were there were so obnoxious it felt like a lot). To be honest with you, I'm not a big drag queen fan. But you've got to give it up for these girls. They do work for their money. There was one who did a country western song which I had never seen before. And one who did a hard core hip hop song. Usually the drag genre is dance/diva music or lounge show songs, so the country western bit was kind of refreshing. Not sure about the hard core hip hop one. It just seemed a bit odd. As I said, the place was packed and as the drag queens strutted their stuff, people would give them dollar bills as tips. Now some of these people would sit at their chair and just put their hand out with their dollar in between their fingers. Some of them would stand in line at the front of the stage with their hand & dollar sticking out around waist level. Not sure what that was about. And them some of them would have 4-5 single dollar bills and go through this little act where they would give the dollar bills out one at a time. Even at a drag show, some gays need a little bit of attention. Kind of funny.

Scene for the night. Slender, slightly queeny guy in black pants, white long sleeve t-shirt, and a red sweater wrapped around his shoulders (a la preppy boy 1980s) is doing a partial dance thing next to the stage and singing/lip synching to the same music as the drag queen. Gee, come here much? He decides to bum a cigarette off the big burly guy next to him in a red "Marines" t-shirt that stretches quite nicely across his chest. The guy gives him the cigarette and little queeny guy flips his wrist with cigarette in his hand so the big guy will light it for him. Such a performance. It just killed me.

Secrets is the strip bar connected to Zeigfields, so when you get tired of the drag show, or just overwhelmed by the heat and cigarrette smoke, you can cross over and see young men dancing around just wearing socks. On their feet.

Now, here's my thing about strip clubs. I just don't get them. When I was forced to go to straight strip clubs when I was in the Navy (ok, I wasn't forced, but did it to fit in), I just didn't get the point. A bunch of guys, looking at naked girls, getting all hot and horny, surrounded by other straight guys, paying top dollar for crappy drinks, and then always going home all alone. Yeah, that sounds like a good time. Atleast at a gay strip club, you see hot (theoretically) naked guys, AND you're surrounded by other guys. So in theory you get all horned up, and you're surrounded by other guys who are horned up, and then the magic happens. Okay, so not really magic as much as hormones, but details.

Anyways, back at Secrets. Again it was packed. But atleast it was better air conditioned. The boys were up on the stage and I guess everyone just loves their Viaga. I can't think of a better profession where that little warning, "If your erection persists for more than 4 hours," is actually a good thing. The thing is, most of the guys were twinks. Thin, hairless, almost pre-pubescent types. Really, come back when you hit puberty. There was on guy who actually looked like he was over 21 and had some decent muscles. I gave him a dollar tip, in his sock.

We went back and forth between Zeigfields and Secrets a couple of times. And then after the drag show, they opened up the stage/floor to dancing and played some good music, so I danced a bit as well.

It was a good time. While I hardly ever go to the clubs in South East, I do think it is a shame that they are being forced out of business. You would think the the city would figure out a way to make a one time exception to the zoning laws to let them move some place, but this is DC. We never do anything that makes sense.

Indeblue and Cobalt

So I've been quite the social butterfly these last couple of days.

Thursday night I went out to dinner at the uber trendy, hip restaurant called IndeBlue. Located down in the Penn Quarter/Chinatown area near the newly named Verizon Center, it's part of the resurgence of that part of DC and specializes in french-indian cuisine. Yeah, think about that for a minute. I was invited by the Cool Couple, who are into such things, and Thursday night was also special as it was Dining Out for Life. It's where many of the restaurants in DC give a portion of the proceeds for that evening to Food and Friends, a really great organization that provides people with HIV/AIDS with meals and groceries in the DC, VA, and MD.

I tried to dress up. But my hip, trendy clothes do not really fit me anymore. But I managed to pull off a semi-decent ensemble so I wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb. I was glad I did. Indeblue is all about the beautiful people. They had a really cool lounge area which we didn't get a good chance to check out as we were promptly ushered up stairs to the restaurant. Seated in a little alcove in the back room, we sort of marveled at the decor and all of the different types of people we had passed. To be honest, the menu was a challenge to me. I've got a relatively simple pallette, so a lot of fusion cuisine is sort of lost on me. Plus, it seems that mushrooms rule alot of these type of restaurants, and that's not really my thing either. I ended up with the white tandorri shrimp with shaved fennel, chiffonade of romaine and artisanal goat cheese. That seemed the safest thing. For my main course, I had the chicken fricasse and morels with peanut potatoes and curry leafe pesto. Don't get me wrong, it was great. But I think I would have been just as happy with the burger. The evening was great as we had some interesting conversation and it just felt different/good to be out and about like a normal person.

Friday was another outting. I had re-scheduled a meeting I had at 2PM so I could escape and enjoy the great weather. Yeah, that worked. I ended up getting home around 630PM and promptly crashed. I woke up around 10PM only to find out that one half of the cute couple was already out and about and looking for me at Cobalt. But it took me about an hour to get my act together and then GreekBoy and I headed over to Cobalt. I haven't been there since my b-day party, but I had read on one of my favorite blogs that the DJ would be spinning some heavy vocals, so I was there. Plus, it looked like the homo-bloggeratti were going to be out in force. While Mr. BadKarma is an admitted celebrityf&^ker, I'm more of a blogger-stalker. I saw him, him, and perhaps him, but I'm not sure.. And even chatted with him. But that's definitely not the norm. Usually I'm the wall flower. It's the introvert in me.

Danced a bit. The music was okay. Greekboy doesn't like to stay out late, so I think we bailed a little before 1AM. Made the really bad decision to hit McD's. Yeah, I'm just full of bad decisions lately. Then did a quick pass through Juniors. It was weird. But then it was time to go home where I either couldn't sleep or had really bad dreams. No more frickin McDs. EVER!

Evolution vs. Creationism (or Intelligent Design) or whatever

I think they all suck..

Sick again and falling apart. Yes the warranty on this body is just about out and everything is falling apart. The countdown to 40 is rapidly approaching and while my mind is in denial, my body has just moved onto the express escalator going down.

If God did create us in his own image, I hope he's got the crappy ankles that I do. Not to be (overly) sacrilegious, but couldn’t God have done a little bit of a better job? Yes I’m whining about ankles, but there are other things I could bring up also.

I’m not sure evolution has done us any favors. The opposable thumbs so we can be the master of a joy stick. (And get your mind out of the gutter!)? I supposed the weak ankles are just nature’s way of making me fall further and further behind the pack so I’ll be easy to pick off by some predator.

Speaking of predators, went to a happy hour thing last night. It was okay. Interesting mix of guys. You know what I just love? (sarcasm) When two guys I find hot and interesting end up talking with each other and leaving together (/sarcasm). Oh, and I am so over the Ken and Ken thing. That whole premise just works against me. Unfortunately “the gays” rarely do the opposite attracts thing. Oh well.

My Resident Smart Ass

I’m a funny, witty type of guy. Atleast I think so. And then every once in while I get put in my place.

The rumor mill at work was rampant about some shifting personnel stuff, so I sent an email out to my team telling them to calm down and everything was okay.

I got a response from my resident smart ass (RSA) and the conversation was as follows:

RSA: So you're saying that we are not all being shipped out and replaced with a team of unicorns from Atlantis who are willing to work for tomato pulp? Cause that's what I heard from a highly reliable source.

Me: Hmm, my highly reliable source says the Atlantean unicorns only eat golden hay that has been sprinkled with pixie dust so they grow to be 6 feet tall.

RSA: Ok, so my source may have been a bit off on the produce types. Interesting that you didn't deny anything else in there.

Me: No the rest is absolutely true. The Atlantean unicorns are cheaper than our usual code monkeys, I mean, valued employees. How they can code so fast and so well with their hooves is just beyond me. Must be that unicorn magic.

RSA: Damn those Atlantean unicorns! This is the third job that I've lost to them. I think it might be time to look for another occupation. I hear there are plenty of openings in the golden hay farms.

Me: Yeah, but you don't want to know how they make the hay "golden". You'll never eat bread again.

RSA: I interned at one of those pixie dust plants a couple summers ago. Can't be worse then that.

Me: Did they make you wear the haz mat suits? If not, you might be contagious.

RSA: The operations necessary to extract the pixie dust from pixies were far too delicate to be performed with haz mat suits on. All I can say is that I'll never be able to look a pixie in the eyes again.

Me: I quit. You win.

And then I cleaned up the Coke I had snorted all over my computer screen.

Crippled and Crash

So walking down 17th St after lunch, I'm talking with a friend and not really paying attention to where I'm walking. And I pop my left ankle. Can you say "F%ck!" It's not too bad, but now I've got a matching pair of weak, tender, ankles. So I guess I'm not dancing anytime soon. On the plus side, I've been looking for a good excuse to not start running again, so there's that.

Just watched Crash. Good, excellent really, but in a really disturbing way. The whole multi-layer story is excellent and the unspoken commentary about race in our country was just over powering and made me think about my little episode outside of Whole Foods. ShouldI have reacted the way I did? Should I have just been the better person and walked away? My outrage and reaction was not going to change her mind, but at what point do you stop and say that type of behaviour just isn't acceptable. Walking away would have just re-inforced her perceptions and prejudices. Standing up to her felt good in an odd way, but in the end it probably didn't make any difference to her.

I Need A Better Poker Face

Seriously. I've had like four different people call me on my facial expressions in the last two days. Apparently it's clear when I think something is BS or when I'm starting to get annoyed. It's not very professional to have a sneer or look of disgust on your face in a meeting, but if someone is just tossing crap around, I'm not going to pretend it's all roses. I'm sure there's a fine line somewhere, but right now I'm just a little too obvious about my emotions.

And this is actually something I've been thinking about for awhile. I'm not sure if it's work or what, but I frequently feel like I'm just holding on to civility and the last smallest ounce of calm I have by my little pinky. I keep feeling that something is going to happen and I'm going to snap. Not go postal snap, but say something outloud that I shoudn't. To my folks, to my boss, or to my customer. I swear I've swallowed a gallon of blood from the times I've bitten my tongue about something. And I guess even though I don't say anything, my face gives it away. So that's still not good.

The irony is that for so long, I learned to mask a significant portion of my emotions. While in the Navy and deep, deep in the closet, I would not look at another guy. I would never do anything that might jeopardize my Navy career. So I learned to mask my emotions. But then I got out of the Navy, came out, and now I don't have to mask my emotions. But I wonder if the problems I'm having are the result of letting down the containment fields in my head (and my heart). I went from expressing no emotions, to expressing too many emotions. Somewhere along the line, I probably should have learned to balance my emotions and how I expressed them. But I didn't.So I've opened the floodgates, but I'm still trying to figure out how to deal with all of this stuff. Shouldn't there be a manual or something? ; )

The Quest, Child Abandonment, and Buying Body Parts

The Quest. So I'm totally in love with the new Natasha Bedingfield song, "Unwritten." I loved it when I first saw it on VH1. And then on the cruise at the last dance, they played this awesome remix of it and I was just overwhelmed by it. It was one of those moments that the music just completely resonated with me and just felt so right and so good. So I determined right then and there that I would get a copy of the mix of Unwritten. And so begins the quest. MSN Music: Nope. I-Tunes: Nope. Via Google I find out that what I'm looking for is a promotional CD that was sent to only certain DJs. Great. It's up for bid on ebay at $50. FIFTY DOLLARS?!?!? For one CD with 5 remixes of the same song? Aghh, I'm torn. In desparation I email this DJ I know from Ptown who emails me a copy of it. LOVE HER! And I am so rockin to this song right now!

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Child Abandonment. I totally forgot that my sister is coming into town and she shoots me an email. We're making plans to get together for dinner and in her emails she says that my 6 year old nephew had a meltdown the night before she left LA. Apparently he was just utterly convinced that she was moving to a new home and leaving them there. She said it was heart wrenching, but I just couldn't stop laughing. I know that's bad, but I can just picture it. Of course it's funny to me after the fact, I'm sure my sister felt like Mom of the Year as she packed her bag to come here.

Buying Body Parts. I can't wait for the future when we can buy body parts. Preferably online if possible. What's first on my shopping list? New ankles. Walking back from the gym tonight, I hit this one little piece of round concrete and popped my ankle. It hurt like a bitch and I've been walking on it all night. I just know that it's going to stiffen up tonight and I'll be limping tomorrow. So definitely new ankles. Then I'm thinking a new chest. Not Ah-nold big, but nice size. Oh and a size 30 inch waist. And since I'm working down that way anyways, I'd like a nice big . . . .

Another Whole Foods Altercation

(warning: foul language ahead)

Friday night. I go to the gym and on the way home I decide to hit Whole Foods. It's a weakness, I know. I grab some risotto and mediterranean pasta salad and I walk down to the express lane and I get behind a woman. A short, black woman with very short hair. And a grocery cart full of food. FULL. In the express lane. I'm tired, but I've got the whole post exercise zen thing going, so I'm like screw it. I don't care. I'll wait.

The poor checkout clerk is trying to explain to the woman that this is the express lane. But the woman won't hear it. "It's been a long week, I don't want anyone talking to me me, can you please not talk to me, I just want to buy my food and go home, can you please just ring my food up and not talk to me, I just want to not talk to anyone. . . ." and she continues to babble on. The checkout clerk is overwhelmed by the tirade and just starts ringing her up. And the whole time the black woman hasn't stopped talking. I think if she thinks if she stops talking then she'll have to listen to someone explain to her why she's not supposed to be in this line. I stand and watch and listen. She's buying some good stuff. Flowers, cakes, some salmon, etc. It's Whole Foods and it's not cheap and I think from her accent she might be an embassy person. Not sure.

The checkout clerk finally gets her to sign her credit card and she turns to me and starts to apologize for the delay, etc. I just shake my head as the short black woman wheels her cart out of the store. I tell the clerk it's not a big deal. But I add, "You know for someone who didn't want to talk about anything, she sure did talk the whole time." That got a chuckle from everyone in the two lines that had seen the little situation.

I pay for my food and I go to grab a Blade and I hear someone say, "Just mind your own business, faggot." I stop. And I turn around and there is the short black woman pointing to me. "You can keep your fagotty comments to yourself becuase I don't give a shit about what you think."

Now, my post exercise zen is gone. Evaporated. Now it's all about my post exercise adrenaline. And as K would say, "Oh hell to the NO!"

"I told the clerk that for someone who didn't want to talk that's all you seem to do." I replied. There's a stubborn streak that I have that's not pretty and I will not put with this crap.

"Well you can kiss my cunt you faggot."
"Gee, that's why I'm gay, becuase I don't want to kiss your cunt." I reply.

The conversation, if one wants to call it that, went downhill from there. I'm so glad there were no children nearby as I think every curse word I knew flew out of her mouth as she tried to denigrate, shame, and intimidate me. And it wasn't working.

She said that she would beat me. And I asked her if she was going to hit me. I was taller and bigger than her, and there were people around. I was thinking "Bring it on bitch!" But she said she wasn't going to him me, that she was going to "fuck me up." That's a nice general threat.

She brought up the race issue. "I'm a black woman and you can kiss my pussy." Yeah, I'm not blind. I think we've established that I'm gay and not going to be eating any pussy. "You think you becuase you're some white faggot that you can say what you want." Actually, I think I'm an American enjoying my freedom of speech.

The filth continued to spew from her mouth and I finally realized that she while technically not crazy, was pretty screwed up. So I started to walk away. Which only emboldened her. So I turned to her and said, "Have a good night. God Bless You!"

As I walked away, one of the guys who had been in the other line and seen this whole altercation said, "Wow, she's insane" as I walked by.

Ah, another routine evening in my diverse and friendly neighborhood. BTW: the sun dried tomato risotto. Fabulous!

Navy Leadership Part II

After about 10 months of daily abuse for the never ending battle against rust, or the problems with lead based paints, or the anchor, or the ship’s boat, or whatever, I was finally relieved as First Lieutenant. I had taken the ship through the final stage of overhaul, ship trials, and two major inspections, so I was rewarded with a new job in the Combat Systems Department. I was going to be the new Missile Officer. Which was perfect, so I went from one high visibility job, to another. All of the missiles had been offloaded prior to the overhaul, so now we needed to reload. Add to the fact that the previous Missile Officer had messed up the requisition and that we were in Hawaii (the end of a very long supply chain), it was a hassle. But I could deal with it. Sort of.

That summer coming out of overhaul, we participated in various fleet exercises including RIMPAC. RIMPAC is a multi-national exercise that includes the navies of several of our allies that rim the Pacific, to include Japan, Australia, and that year I think Singapore. Since the USS Reeves had previously been stationed in Japan, we got assigned to the Japanese battle group for the exercise. The only US ship in the battle group, we were sent out on point, very far south in the OpArea where there was basically no one around. We were definitely out of the ship traffic lanes and we would go days without seeing any merchant ships.

The problem is that for the exercise, the Captain had assigned three officers to each bridge watch. There was the Officer of the Deck, Junior Officer of the Deck, and then the Junior Officer of the Watch. The Junior Officer of the Watch was pretty much the flunky of the bridge team and got stuck riding the radar console, doing mo-boards during maneuvering drills, or breaking communication signals during the exercises. So it’s not like you were bored when there was stuff was going on. But when you are the edge of no where and not really involved in the exercise, it got boring. Quickly.

One day while the bridge team was sort of slacking off and just shooting the sh!t, the Captain came out onto the bridge. “The Captain’s on the Bridge” the Bosun announced. I went to go look at the radar while the Captain got up in his chair and looked out the window. It was a bright sunny day and there was nothing around but miles and miles of deep blue water. After a few minutes of fiddling with his papers, he turned and looked at me and said, “What do you do now LT R?” I was sort of confused by the question. I had been missile officer for a little over a month now, he surely couldn’t mean that. But I couldn’t think of a better answer, so I said, “I’m the Missile Officer now.” And that Captain smiled and said, “Yeah, that’s right. I’m going to need to check out the missile magazine. I haven’t had a piece of your sweet ass in quite a while.” He chuckled. Picked up his papers, and went into his at-sea cabin. “The Captain’s left the bridge” the Bosun announced to an oddly quiet bridge. No one said a word and everyone was looking at me. It was awful. To break the silence, I laughed and said, “He likes me, He really likes me.” A bad Sally Field impression, but it was all I had. Everyone laughed, but it wasn’t really that funny.

At the end of the watch, I ended up going down to the mess deck to eat lunch. An officer has to “sample” the mess every day to ensure the enlisted guys food is decent. And to be honest it was usually better than what we ate. But I got a tray of food and sat down on the mess decks to eat when one of my old M division guys sits down next to me. I asked him how it’s going. Not bad he replies. And then he says, “So how’s that sweet ass?” I paused, fork in mid air, and looked at him coldly. “I’m sure Petty Officer Second Class X that I must have mis-understood your question. Would you like to think about how you would re-phrase a question like that to an officer.” My voice may have been a bit louder than I thought because all of a sudden it was very quiet on the mess decks. Very quiet. Yes the tale of my little incident with the Captain must have gone from the bridge, into Combat, and then to the rest of the ship in record time. If the snipes had heard the story already, everyone must know about it. Great. Nothing like being known as the Captain’s bitch. I still caught a lot of sh!t in the wardroom, but after awhile most of the crew forgot about it. I think.

Navy Leadership (Part I)

My second CO on the USS Reeves had a saying. “A ship is judged by how it looks and how it communicates.” If the ship was rusty, had a bad paint job, if it couldn’t communicate properly via radio or signal flags, then there must be more things it couldn’t do well, such as fight. So we learned to live by that motto. I certainly did.

I was the First Lieutenant as we started to make our exit from the ship yards. After a complete refit that lasted over 18 months, we had made some major changes to the inside of the ship, and I was in charge of the outside of the ship. I quickly became adept in the art of Navy painting. Deck Grey, Haze Grey, Macine Grey. So many types of grey. But my job was a losing battle. The ship was older than I was, made of metal, and sat in salt water. Rust was just a part of everyday life. So it was a constant battle to stay ahead of the rust spots, the worn paint, and off the CO’s sh!t list. To say that I was micromanaged, would be an understatement. Not a day would go by where the CO hadn’t found some spot that he wanted fixed that day. And I would listen to him and then I would explain what everyone else was working on. And if he didn’t want those things done, then I would pull the guys from another job to fix this problem, or I would add it to the list for tomorrow. He never liked when I did that, but it was the only way to stop getting constantly re-directed and actually get something done.

Our sister ship, the USS Sterritt pulled in Pearl Harbor after their deployment and like most returning ships, they got the good parking spot. There are a couple of ships berths (aka parking spots) on the main waterfront that are close to the McDonalds, Enlisted and Officer Clubs, the main gate, etc. So those prime parking spots usually go to the ship returning from deployment.

About a week after the Sterritt pulled into Peal Harbor, they moved to the other side of our pier in the shipyard so they could get some minor work done. The next day as I walked down the pier, I started to smile. The Sterritt looked like sh!t. Big rust stains running down the side of the ship. There were huge patches of paint that had fallen off and rust was coming through the primer. Most ships usually do a total paint job before they return from deployment so they will look good when they pull up to the pier. But the Sterritt hadn’t done that and you could tell. I smiled because I knew we were going to look so much better than our sister ship, and the CO would probably be so mad looking at them that he would leave me alone. I was wrong.

As I wandered topside checking on my guys, the CO comes up to me. I pop a salute and say good morning and then next thing I know he’s got a death grip on my arm and pulling me towards the bow saying “Come with me.” As I was dragged away, my guys just shook their heads. They had seen this routine before and it usually meant long days for them. The Captain drags me to the very bow of the ship and points to the Sterritt. “Look at that.” He said. “LOOK AT THAT.” I did. And it was not pretty. He turned to me said very quietly: “If we ever look like that, I’ll cut your balls off. Do you understand me? I'll cut your balls off.” I said the only thing I could, “Yes sir.” And then he stormed off.

My Bosunsmate Chief had been called by the guys who had seen the Captain drag me off and had come up behind the Captain and me, but he dared not interfere. “So what did the old man want” he said after the CO left. “My balls.” I replied.

Land of the Living Dead

That would be me. Sick as a dog for the whole week. I've been shlepping my way into work and suffering through most of the day and then come home and just collapse. So sad. Interestingly enough, I seem to be getting the best sleep ever when I'm medicated with Nyquil. Better living through chemisty. Gotta love it. The only problem is the medicine head in the morning when I feel like I'm moving through jello. I almost fell asleep in a meeting. Not good.

Looking forward to the three day weekend when I can just relax. Need some good down time. And can hopefully get back on track with the diet. Today was my first day at the gym and I thought I was going to cough up a lung on the treadmill. Or throw up. Either one.

So at the gym tonight I saw someone whose profile I had seen on one of the more adult oriented web sites. Umm, not as cute as picture. Not at all. And then I wonder if that's what people say about me. Oh well.

Mr. President!! Mr. President!!

Not a Republican "Pioneer"? Don't have enough money to get a latte with Jack Abramoff? No good connections at Halliburton or one of the big pharmaceutical companies? Yet you dream of being able to actually attend one of the pre-screened orchestrated public viewings/speeches of the President and ask him a question?

Well, we can't help you. But Dan Froomkin asked WashPost readers what questions they would ask the President if they could. Love the questions.

"From Tracy:

"Mr. President, the CIA had described waterboarding, used with administration approval on several Al Queda suspects, as the following: 'The prisoner is bound to an inclined board, feet raised and head slightly below the feet. Cellophane is wrapped over the prisoner's face and water is poured over him. Unavoidably, the gag reflex kicks in and a terrifying fear of drowning leads to almost instant pleas to bring the treatment to a halt.' If this were done to an American soldier, sir, would you consider it torture?"

From Phillip:

"President Bush, many times you and your administration has claimed that a significant fraction of the Al-Qaeda leadership has been captured or killed. But when you consider that none of those persons were captured or killed in Iraq, were from Iraq, or, to the best of our knowledge, have ever been to Iraq, how can Iraq be 'the central front in the War on Terror?'"

From Oliver:

"Once you said Osama was 'like those posters in the old West: Wanted dead or alive.' Later you said you were really not that concerned about him. In your recent State of the Union address, you said, 'Terrorists like bin Laden are serious about mass murder -- and all of us must take their declared intentions seriously.'

"Which is it, Mr. President? And why is he still at large?"

From Mary:

"Mr. President, you have spoken often and with conviction of your Christianity and how you bring Christian principles to bear on your conduct of foreign and domestic policy. The 2007 budget you have just proposed extends tax cuts that mostly benefit upper income Americans, while drastically cutting programs that help the poor, including sick children. As news sources have pointed out, the cost of these tax cuts is far greater than the cost savings coming from entitlement program cuts. Given the number of times the Bible, and Jesus himself, references lifting up the poor and tending to the sick, how do you reconcile this proposed budget with your Christianity?"

From Shannon:

"Why was CIA Director George Tenet given a medal of freedom/honor after the failures of 9/11 and WMD intelligence? For an administration that uses the word responsibility and accountability why has no one been fired/held accountable for those failures?"

From Robert:

"How does it feel to be considered less trustworthy than Bill Clinton by the American people?"

There are alot more in the article. What question would you ask?

Wheel Watching

I got stuck with a poorly placed elliptical machine tonight and my viewing options was either Faux News or Wheel of Fortune. There was some Navy guy on WoF, so I ended up watching it and I realized two things. First, the puzzles seem easier to me for some reason. Not sure why, but they do. Secondly, Vanna White has the easiest job in television. I remember when she actually had to TURN the little square to see what the letter was. Now it changes color & shows the letter when she taps it! TAPS IT! How lame is that?

The hottie quotient at my gym is higher in the afternoon than in the morning. The morning folk are all serious and intent. If you've waken up at 5AM to be at the gym at 0530, you're pretty serious about your work out. There's no lolly-gagging, no social chit chat. You come in, you work it, and then you leave. In the afternoon, it's just got a whole different feel to it. It's more social. And slow. That being said, there are alot more hot guys walking around in the afternoon. So it's a bit more distracting. And apparently two of the young guys who work at my company go there at night. Cute, but not my type.

So yes, I've been pulling 2-a-day gym visits. I need to really need to kick the Fit By 40 program into high gear. I saw so many hotties on the cruise and I was there like a small whale. Must change.

Another pic of my imaginary boyfriend. And I am not obsessing!

Cruise Report Part III

Labadee

Royal Caribbean owns this private resort called Labadee. On the brochure they say it’s on Hispaniola, the island that includes the Domincan Republic and Haiti. But the resort is actually part of Haiti, but you don’t really want to say that for a marketing perspective.

The resort was huge, and nice. I did some more sunbathing and then I had a massage in a tent up on top of a hill over looking the lagoon. It was nice and the massage was great. The guy was working me over trying to get the knots out of my shoulders.

White Party & the Aftermath.

So the big dance party during the cruise is the White Party. Everyone dresses up in white and the dance lasts all night. I took my Navy chocker whites top, paired it with some white boxer briefs, and voila I had my costume. But the terrible twins, Polly and Esther, are not my friends and I was sweating like you couldn’t believe. If you have any type of muscle tone at all, you’re dancing shirtless and as much as I wanted to do that, I couldn’t.

The ships crew all come out to the party also and stand on the upper deck and just look at the maelstrom of hot sweaty bodies, fog from the dry ice machines, and the colored flashing lights from the laser light show that ricochet across the pool deck. The music was great and I had such a good time dancing and taking pictures of people.

Around 430AM, I decided to call it a night. I crashed, but my stupid body clock went off at 730 and I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I wandered up to the gym and ran into one of the hottie trainers. He made the funny comment that a lot of the guys were still “in state” from last night. Meaning that they were still in whatever drugged state they were in from the dance party. But then I heard that that party wasn’t over. The ship actually has a small dance club called the Dungeon and that’s where the party was. I still had my ear plugs so I went down to check it out.

It was packed. Packed with the living dead. Guys who were hot at 1AM, are not so hot at 9AM when they are cracked out of their minds. Do you really need another bump of crystal meth at 9AM? The music was good, but the crowd was a bit scarey and I just decided to go hit the pool deck instead. From what I understand, the party lasted till 1230 in the afternoon. That’s just insane.

Oh, and here's a pic of my i-boyfriend at the white party.

Last Tea Dance

As the ship sailed back to Miami, we had a final tea dance where Brett Henrichson was spinning. It was just amazing. Everyone had recovered from the White Party and was getting their groove on. We heard great mixes from everyone from Kelly Clarkson to Natasha Bedingfield to Sheryl Crow. It was just amazing. We danced as the sun set, as day turned to dusk and dusk turned to evening. As it got darker, the stars and the moon emerged in the sky above us as we danced to the beat. It felt so good.

Last Laugh!

Shann Carr does an amazing comedy show the night before the cruise ends and basically busts all of the guys for the stupid and funny things that happen on the ship all week. She told some great stories that were funny, poignant, and just too true. One of the great stories she told was about seeing a guy dancing in a corner during the Classic Disco Tea Dance all by himself. She went up to talk to him and he was said that he was dancing with dead people. That he was dancing with all of his friends who had died and who hadn’t lived long enough to see something like this cruise, full of gay man and women, and how special it was. How they would want him to be dancing and celebrating the progress and changes that have been made in the last 10 year. She went on to make a comment about the issue about pulling into Grand Cayman and how we’re making a difference just by going there and letting them see us for who we are. She said that in Cozumel, they know us. We’ve been there before and they know us. And they are actually marketing to us now! “Hey mister, you need a sarong for the White Party?” How’s that for change?

Cruise Report Part II

On the last cruise I had a bit of an infatuation with one guy. I would see him everywhere and I snapped a lot of photos with him. He has an amazing body which he has no problem showing off. All of it. He was on this cruise as well (here's a pic), but let's be honest, he's not really boy friend material, is he?


My new i-boyfriend.

Sitting next to the porn star is my new i-boyfriend. He’s tall, good build, clean shaven, great smile. Plus he's actually wearing age appropriate clothing. A nice white polo shirt not some too tight A&F t-shirt at dinner. So while I was staring at the porn star, I kept checking out my new i-bf.


I’m calling my new imaginary boyfriend Alex. And he’s just dreamy. He’s definitely someone I could take to the company Christmas party. I can totally see him in a suit and tie climbing the business world. I’m thinking he’s an investment banker or something like that. He works out, but isn’t obsessed with the gym. He’s knowledgeable about the world and is professional, but he comes on the cruise and can dance with his shirt off like a circuit boy.

I’ll be honest and say that I spent the rest of the cruise looking out for him. Technically it’s not stalking since we’re on the same ship and I wasn’t looking *for* him, I was looking *out*for*him. There’s a difference.



Grand Cayman

So we were originally supposed to go to Belize on this cruise. But a month before the trip, Atlantis sent an email letting us know that there were too many ships pulling into Belize City so we were going to Grand Cayman instead. Atlantis assured us that they had been in contact with the government in Grand Cayman and there would be no problems. What problems could they be talking about? Well in 1998, the Grand Cayman government refused permission for a gay cruise to pull into port. They were doing it in response to local political pressure and despite a non-discrimination policy that was adopted in 2001, no gay cruises had returned to Grand Cayman. Until us. The largest gay cruise in history.

We anchored off shore again and took the tender into port. We were waiting in the parking lot when I saw this huge crowd of people standing outside the port terminal in front of the Elmslie Memorial Church Hall. A reporter had made it inside the terminal and was asking us what we thought of the protesters and Grand Cayman. The best answer: “Well we just got here and we just want to enjoy this beautiful island. Ask us again at the end of the day and we’ll tell you what we think.”

But it didn’t take until the end of the day to get a feel for the protesters. We pulled out of the port terminal area in old school buses and there was a couple in the front seat. One guy was putting lotion on the other guy’s back and when the crowd saw this, they proceeded to yell and chant. Nice.

The excursion on Grand Cayman was nice. We took a boat out to the reef to snorkel a bit and then we went to Sting Ray city where you could swim/wade with the string rays. If you had seen the guys on my boat, you would think that they were straight. Most of them were in good shape and most of the nelly types don’t do excursions like this. But when they hit the water and the sting rays would rub up next to them, these big burly men began to scream like little girls. Kind of sad really. I thought petting the sting rays was cool, but you had to be careful you did it the right way or they would sting you.

When we returned to the port terminal, I walked into town to do a bit of shopping. There were just a few protestors left and they just help up little signs quoting Leviticus. Sure, quote Leviticus, but ignore the parts of the bible about slavery, women as property, eating shell fish, usury, etc. Anyways, they didn’t really cause any trouble.

As I returned to the port terminal, one sweet little lady thanked me for visiting Grand Cayman and wanted to let me know that she appreciated us coming to her island. It was a nice way to end our experience on Grand Cayman.

Gay Comedy

Atlantis does a great job of bringing some really funny gay and lesbian comedians on board the ship for us. The second night, they had this comedy showcase where these four comedians do a short set as kind of a sampler for their shows later in the week. All of them were very funny, except for one. This one guy had a very dry delivery voice and he just had the wrong material for the cruise. He started talking about BrokeBack Mountain and then bareback sex. He made a really bad joke and you could have heard a pin drop in the theatre. He drops that and moves on to circuit parties and that doesn’t win him a lot of laughs either. And at this point he realizes that he’s just bombing and decides to hang it up and leave. It was aweful. I felt so bad for him. Circuit parties are a great target for jokes, but they need to be in a funny “ha-ha”, not funny “sort of judgemental” kind of way. Atleast not to this crowd. These cruises are about getting away and relaxing and having a good time and basically escaping. Don’t ruin it by bring up reality.

Another comedian did this routine called: “You Might Be A Middle Aged Gay Man If” type thing. It was hilarious! If it takes you a week to decide on whether to spend $5K on a new living room set or liposuction, you might be a middle aged gay man. If you need your reading glasses to watch porn, you might be a middle aged gay man.

We also had Margaret Cho on board. Her opening act was the guy who bombed and I was concerned that Margaret’s routine would be too political and it wouldn’t work out. But she managed to do some light and heavy stuff at the same time. I loved the joke about how she had accidentally activated the “Al-Gay-da” sleeper cell when she had made some politically comments last year. She joked that the “Al-Gay-da” training camp had it’s own Pilates class. She was definitely very good.

Dancing & Dancing & Dancing

Atlantis does a great job of pulling in some well known DJs to host the different dance parties. There was the dog tag dance party, the Mardi Gras Party, the 90s Diva Party, and the tropical Heat party. All of them were outstanding. The music was really good on this trip. I know because I could here it in our stateroom. We were on the deck below the pool deck where most of the dances were held and I’m fairly certain we were right underneath the speakers. Even with ear plugs I could still hear/feel the beat reverberating in our stateroom.

But who needs to sleep when there’s dancing to be done. Each of the parties has a theme and a lot of people wear costumes, some simple, and some ridiculously ornate. But all so much fun and usually pretty sexy. Here are some of the pics from some of the hotties who would dance the night away.