I'm Not Dead Yet

The subway stops in NYC aren't air conditioned. That's important to note, because I'm from DC, where they -- for the most part -- are. Or their at least cool. So, when I emerged from the Times Square station I was already pretty miserable, suffering from swamp crotch(thanks UB) and longing to get to the office water cooler as quickly as possible. Then, in the bright New York sunlight, there was nothing. But the stench.

I felt cliche thinking that it smelled like shit, until I saw a truck that read NYC Free Waste Control. So, it was literally shit, being pumped out of the street. Or into the street, who knows. Anyway, the smell made me think of my blog.

I've been gone for a few weeks, and like many things left unattended, this blog has started to reek. My apologies to all six readers. If you still remain.

Anyway, I know I promised pictures from my high school reunion. And I would have them, if not for the fact that I started drinking and socializing first, and completely forgot I had a camera.

The reunion was fun. I had people tell me I looked exactly the same, and others tell me I looked completely different. Most people looked the same to me, and hardly anyone looked like they had put on a few. Well, maybe a couple. I hung out, reminisced, and drank. Afterwards, I ended up at an after party with all the cool people who wouldn't have been caught dead with me ten years ago. And what was I missing out on all those years ago? Drinking, hanging out, and reminiscing, though ten years ago I'll bet there was more sex than reminiscing.

What else has happened since then? Oh, this Thursday I will have my first professional photo shoot. The ad agency I work for decided to go in-house for a sunglasses campaign, and against all odds, I was picked along with four other guys to take part in the photo shoot. Doesn't guarantee I'll be used in the campaign, but I get a free pair of sunglasses and some professional head shots. Not a bad deal.

I'll try not to go AWOL for this long ever again, though the way work has been going, I can't promise anything, My team is up against an arguably impossible deadline, and we've all been putting in extra hours.

Hopefully things will let up soon.

Above Ground, Where The Warlocks Really Are

At my old gym, in the heart of DC's Chinatown, the facility was buried in the bowels of the complex of buildings that had sprung up around the Phone Booth(the erstwhile MCI Center, now going by Verizon). It was the official gym of the Washington Nationals, which is a lot like the Washington Generals sponsoring a basketball court(I kid, I kid...the boys in Federal Red are actually playing well lately, almost .500 ball since a 1-8 start). Being twenty feet underground brought one very appreciated blessing: cell phones were useless.

At my new gym, near Times Square in NYC, the gym floor and locker rooms are actually two stories above ground. Now no one is dumb enough (yet) to bring a cellphone onto the gym floor -- though I have seen some crackberries -- but the locker room is apparently a no-holds-barred zone. Conversations with colleagues, friends, and significant others abound.

The topic is usually mundane: business, errands, what to TiVo, etc. What's interesting, at least to me, is that no one is the least embarrassed to say where they are calling from, or what they are doing. I often hear:

"Yeah, I'm in the gym locker room...toweling off, putting on my pants...anyway..."

It's very nonchalant. Since modesty is not an issue, I think they should go a step further:

"Yeah, I'm in the gym locker room...toweling off my testicles, spread-eagle...putting on my pants, sans underwear, doing a nice tilt-a-whirl impression as I'm trying to balance the phone while getting dressed, mooning three or four people in the process..."

Why leave out any details?