"I'm going to the Redwing to watch the Oscars." This Man told my friend, Jason and my house mate, Jay.

I'd been looking forward to Oscar Sunday since this past December. And while there was a time when I would've watched the Academy Awards with Lucy, this was the first year that I would be watching them alone (technically).
Oscar Sunday. Sure it's exciting to watch the Red Carpet show and see who's wearing what and to get commentary on the nominees. This year, I planned to show up at the Redwing Bar & Grill just as the show started, thereby forgoing the long, drawn out pre-show. I couldn't have time my arrival better (I showed up just as Ellen DeGeneres was delivering her opening monologue). There was only a handful of people in the dark bar, watching the show on 3 flat screens and on 60 inch television. I found a bar stool and settled in.
About an hour and a half later, Jason showed up. He was going to meet his online friend, (read, trick) Ryan to play darts. An apple martini in hand, he settled in and munched on some free KFC ("...but you have to drink something!" the bartender informed me) that the bar provided.
"Ryan's getting fat, " my friend, Jason (forever the critic) started. "He's gained some weight since I saw him last."
"And you're saying this as you're scarfing down a 2 piece chicken dinner with a side?"
"It's a 3 piece, honey!"
I hadn't planned on drinking but here's how it started. One word: karaoke.
Somewhere in between the nominees for Best Art Direction and before the Best Supporting Actress categories, some queen got the idea to set up for karaoke.
"Okay, I think I'm ready for that beer now!" I declared as soon as one guy started singing. Budweiser number 1. No one was really paying attention to this queen trying to sing some horrible song, but once George Clooney came on stage to present the Best Supporting Actress award, things became serious.
"Shut that music off!" Jason screamed. Suddenly everyone was focused on the televisions.
"...and the Oscar goes to--Jennifer Hudson for Dreamgirls." And like the people in the Shrine Auditorium, everyone in the Redwing erupted into cheers and applause. I got chills! I was so excited that you would've thought that This Man was going to get an award also.
Mike, Jason's ex, joined us shortly and things started to really take off. Even Jason (who normally wouldn't be caught dead in a bar like the Redwing) looked as if he was having a good time. Even when he had to dash home for a brief conference call with his office and even when he promised that he would be right back, you have to imagine my surprise when he actually did return.
Sometime between one of my numerous trips to the outside patio to smoke, I'd ran into an old buddy, John (not the one that I was seeing recently) who I hadn't seen in almost 2 years. A ball of fire, he was still as feisty as when I'd seen him last.
"Oh my god! It's been, what--damn near 2 years since we've seen each other?!" I was so excited to see him. So we hung out. I introduced him to Mike and Jason, who by now were feeling super-festive (not to mention all over each other) and we all had a great time.
Initially, I'd planned on going to the bar, watching the awards then coming home, blogging about it, then going to bed. Instead, I stayed at the bar longer than I'd planned, I met more people than I'd anticipated and all around had a fantastic time. It felt good and I definitely needed it.
Once we finally left the Redwing, Mike drove Jason and I to Extraordinary Desserts and treated us to something sweet. Afterwards, it was home for me.
So that was Oscar night at the Redwing with some friends. And now here are the photos.
Jason and Mike looking adorable (and a bit drunk).

Jason had his boxing gloves in his car. It was a mishap waiting to happen, but the picture is cute actually.

Jason, Mike and myself.

The three of us and some drunk & frisky queen.

You gotta love Extraordinary Desserts!

Mahalo

My friend Jason.

There are times when he truly has the power to amaze This Man! This evening was one of those times. He worked from home today because he'd been a bit under the weather and I'd agreed to stop by his house to check up on him on my way home from the doctor.
"Where are you?" He asked. I was about to commence my 30 block stroll from First Street in Hillcrest down to 30th Street in North Park. "I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."
We agreed to meet in the middle (Park Boulevard & University Avenue).
Of course, we started with our usual argument of where to eat. I usually opt for someplace where the food is good but cheap whereas he goes for restaurants where the food is good and the patrons are young and attractive. This time we compromised and settled on Brians'.
We were looking at our menus when he noticed a nice looking guy, sitting at the counter, eating a starter salad. He was alone.
"That guy is hot!" I should point out that Jason has a thing for young, slim, fresh faced bois and sitting in front of us was exactly his type!
"Why don't you go up and talk to him, " I was still looking at my menu. "He's by himself. Why don't you go up, introduce yourself and invite him to come and join us?"
"I can't do that."
"Why not? He's by himself, what's the worst he could say?"
"Why don't you show me? Teach me how I should do it." Jason and I tossed this around for a bit.
" Just go up and say, 'Hi, I'm Jason and I was wondering if you would like to come over and join me and my friend over here since you're eating by yourself'"
"Okay, I can do that." And he did. He got up, walked over to the guy, introduced himself and invited him over.
And it worked! The guy came over, slid into our booth and joined us.
Turns our, our dinner companion was from Tennessee and he was in San Diego for his six month tour in the Navy Reserves. He was 28, a bit on the shy side, married (yes, married) and he was cute. But he was nice. Jason and I even managed to get him to relax and actually laugh a little (which was no easy task, I mean you try being a White guy asked to join two Black men at their dinner table and see if you relax) .
The conversation flowed and the three of us had a great time. Finally we settled our bills and parted ways. Jason and I still can't remember what his name was.
Back at Jason's apartment (which he got the place looking fantastic), he informed me that he was expecting a guy from Dallas at any moment.
"He's coming into town and I told him that he could stay in my empty room for a few days since he was new to this city and was looking for a job. He reminds me of when I first got to San Diego."
I instantly thought of the last 'roommate' that he'd offered his home to and prayed that there wouldn't be a repeat of that. The guy showed up half an hour later and actually seemed nice. Like Jason and myself, he was from Texas so that was a big plus. He started moving his things in. At first I thought that Jason, who isn't big on animals (namely cats) would frown on the small dog, but he was cool.
Again, I was amazed.
This evening, once This Man got home, I chatted with him on Gay.com.
"You know, " I typed. "You truly amaze me sometimes."
I explained that it was refreshing to see Jason going outside of his normal self. At Brians', he would've never have went up to a total stranger and invited them to join us at our table, normally opting to gawk at an attractive guy from a distance. Not tonight. And though he swore that he would never get in another roommate situation again, he was opening his home up to a guy who truly seemed to appreciate the gesture. Again, something that truly wowed me about him.
"I don't see what the big deal is," he typed back.
Here's the big deal, Jason: contrary to what you think, sometimes you truly have to power to wow me. The last thing I typed to him during our Gay.com chat session (he'd went to bed by then because he didn't respond) was, "You are truly a wonderful person and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Mahalo

I found this flier in the front yard.

Whoever he is, he sounds like someone worth getting to know.
So I did. I checked out his myspace site and This Man has to admit, his music is hot (my favorite track is Never Enough)! If you're reading this, go check him out.
He sounds like someone that's on the way up.
Mahalo

This Man was in the kitchen, washing dishes, when I saw him drive up.
I thought he'd left for his trip to Texas already. But here he was. I had no idea what I was going to say, but it didn't matter because by the time I realized that John was coming to the door, just like that, he was heading back to his car.
Then he was gone.
On the porch was a letter with my name on it.
It was over. Actually it was over on Saturday evening, but I'd been struggling with whether or not I could forgive and thereby truly forget and continue the way he and I were going or was it best that we stop and go our separate ways.
I stood and read the letter, then re-read the letter then finally just folded and put it back in its envelope and went back to what I was doing. Should I call him and let him know that I'd gotten the letter or should I just leave it alone? At first, This Man thought about calling John, but finally I decided to just leave it alone. It was over--I was fine and he was fine.
And that's all there was to it. Period. End of discussion.

Mahalo

This Man finally decided that it was becoming increasingly frustrating using initials when blogging about my friends, family and loved ones. So I've decided to start using first names only. The writing's starting to get a bit better as well.

Mahalo

Once This Man had made it to John's house and after I'd shared my story of torture at the hands of the doctor on duty at Scripps Mercy, John told me about his trip to Las Vegas. He'd taken his niece to Vegas for her 18th birthday (how cool is that). Then he presented me with a souvenir.

Quite possibly one of the--if not, the coolest souvenir that I've ever gotten from anybody. It's too cute to so much as flick an ash into it. It brings to mind a story that I'll share.
One Saturday, John and This Man went strolling through Hillcrest (for lunch and to grab some bread and pastries from Bread et Cie) and on our way back to his house, we passed a woman who was walking a small Yorkshire terrier.
"Hello princess, " I leaned down and said to the petite dog. Instantly, she sat and looked up at me.
"Wow!" The Yorkie's owner said. "She never does that."
"That's because she recognizes royalty when she sees it." I told her. Both she and John laughed. When we turned the corner onto John's street, This Man said, "It's true. Royalty recognizes royalty. I acknowledged her [the dog] and she knew what to do."

Sitting here, looking at the picture and seeing the actual ashtray to my left, This Man can't help but smile; just like I do whenever I look at the fur that John gave me for my birthday.

Mahalo

So by Thursday evening, This Man realized that this bite on my right knee wasn't getting any better, but rather was getting progressively worse. The pain and swelling was starting to go down my calf and I could see my skin starting to redden. It was time to make an executive decision.
I had to go to the emergency room.
While heading to Hillcrest, I chatted on the phone with my friend, Jason. I hesitated about going to the E.R., but by the time I hung up the phone with him--I knew I had to go. So I walked the 2 blocks to Scripps Mercy.
There's a reason why they call it Scripps Mercy hospital. It's because [they] don't have any.
As expected, the emergency room was crowded and I figured there would be a long wait. The triage nurse (she was a real sweetheart) examined my leg and told me that I would definitely need to be seen and given an antibiotic for the wound. Now it was time to wait.
Next, I was called over to fill out my paperwork and get billing out of the way. During the wait, This Man called John, who was flying back into town from Las Vegas.
Hey John. By now you should be getting off of your plane and being held up and harassed at the airport. I'm just calling to let you know that I'm at Scripps Mercy in the E.R. and from the looks of it, I'm going to be here for a while. Anyway, rather than stop by my house, just swing by the hospital and we'll go from there. I left that message on his voice mail.
By the time I called John (his flight had been delayed) and Lucy (in Texas), tried to read a few pages of my book (Impeach the President: The Case Against Bush and Cheney), watched Animal Planet (it was on the waiting room television) and grew tired of being restless, This Man along with three other patients was escorted to another waiting room. We were told that we would be seen shortly.
In the second waiting room, it was me, a lady in a wheelchair and a young Mexican boy, who'd broken his right arm and injured his left pinky finger in P.E. class. Finally, after blindly watching an episode of Law & Order: Criminal Intent, I finally was escorted to a bed to be prepped for the doctor. Sitting on the hospital bed with the hospital gown on (thankfully, I decided on clean underwear, heck thankfully I wore underwear PERIOD), This Man started snooping around and snapping pictures of myself. Then the doctor showed up. She looked at my leg and informed me that it was an abscess. In other words, I had a boil on my knee.

"We're (as if I was going to assist her) going to have to lance it. That means, we need to..." she began.
"I know what it means." I told her. Which didn't matter because she was already filling the syringe with anesthetic.
"Okay, I'm going to numb this..."she was telling me this as she was doing it. Rather than wait a couple of minutes for me to feel numbness, right away she started with the scalpel, slicing into the abscess. "Now we drain the pus..." Again, she's telling me this--not before she starts, but as she's already pressing on my swollen knee and shin.
At this point, I have to tell you, This Man was screaming through clenched teeth in pain!
"I CAN FEEL THAT...I CAN FEEL THAT!" I grunted. She repeated the whole process, only before she started, the doctor told me that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't looking at her actually do the process. So I leaned back, clenched my eyes shut, gripped the sides of the bed and grunted.
Once I finally opened my eyes, all I could see was blackness. But the pain didn't stop there. Now that she'd sliced it and lanced it, it needed to be packed. And she packed it--just as roughly as she'd lanced it.
"You need an antibiotic. I'll prescribe one right now." And just like that, she was gone!
Another nurse showed up minutes later and informed me that he would be going over some instructions and giving me an antibody.
"...in your hip." He said. Okay, now we have my right knee which feels like it's been sawed at with a butter knife and here we have this nurse (who, I swear I've seen at Beer Bust Sundays at The Hole) snapping on a pair of latex gloves and gearing up to give me a shot in the--I don't care what they call it, it's in the ass. "And you're all set. Here are some instruction on changing your dressing and locations of clinics that you can go to should you have a problem. Or you could come back here. Do you have any questions? No? Okay, then you can get dressed and go."
I struggled to put my jeans and shoes on. Now, my right knee was in pain and so was my left ass cheek. It didn't matter, really because all I wanted was to get out of there. I was doing a kind of limp & slide movement and eventually I made it back to the E.R. waiting room.
Out of the double doors, This Man could see that it was still crowded, but there was only one face that I was searching for.
John's.
He'd just arrived and was at the desk, asking where I was. He grinned when he saw me.
"You look like you're ready to get out of here."
"You have no idea!"
And through the sliding glass doors we went.

Mahalo.

My horoscope today:

If amping up you career isn't on the top of your to-do list right now, it should be.

There it is. In black and white. Plain and simple. Time to get crackin'.

It all started with this damned spider bite on my right knee.

Last Saturday, while working in the yard of John's house, This Man was bitten by, what I later concluded, was a spider. The bite left a nice, aching bump just slightly to the right of my right knee cap. Not paying any attention to the growing wound, Monday the bite grew and was pretty red and that's when I realized that it needed to be looked at.
"You need to get that looked at immediately." John precautioned.
"Oh my god, you HAVE to go have it treated." Lucy told me from Texas.
"...Yeah, you might want to have it checked out." My housemate, Jay, advised.
Rather than travel all the way to La Jolla to the VA hospital and rather than endure the emergency room, This Man decided to walk around the block to the neighborhood clinic.
This was late Monday evening.
The first guy working at the clinic briefly dismissed the red bump as merely an insect bite. "You'll be fine," he said. "Just put some calamine lotion on it [for the itching]." I ran into John, showed him the bump and he recommended that we go back to the clinic to have it looked at.
Back at the clinic (again) and that's where I saw him. It was Raymond. My ex.
He didn't see me.
That was a good thing.
The charge nurse informed me that the doctor had already left for the evening and I would, in fact have to return tomorrow, seeing as I would need to get an antibiotic. "Come back early tomorrow morning, " she advised.
Tuesday. 8:30 bright and early. This Man strolled back to the clinic and that's when I saw him again.
Raymond. Right there behind the counter. He was smiling.
" I thought that was you! How have you been?"
We stood there in the foyer of the building and exchanged pleasantries. He was good. I was good. Not much had changed. His mother was well. Even though we lived in the same neighborhood, Raymond and I hadn't seen each other since we'd called it splits back in early December.
"I still think about all the crazy times that we had," he told me. We did have some fun times together. We also had some turbulent times...some dramatic times and it was those that caused us to break up.
"I miss you," he said. That scared me because he was looking me dead in the eyes. "Do you ever think about me?"
How do you think I responded?


Mahalo

To my "buddy" Scott:

I can't even begin to describe the anger that I felt after I left the park and your house today. In fact, I should confess that the only reason that I didn't kick your ass, while we were walking down Texas Street was simply because I was walking with your bicycle. I've never and will never tolerate anyone talking to me the way that you did. You were totally out of line and I hate that you put me in the position, where I have to question our friendship. At first, I thought that cool down period would've allowed me to gather my thoughts before I spoke to you again, but now that I think about it, no amount of cooling down could ever tame my raging temper.
If there's one thing that I'm sure of it's this: all of my friends have faults. That's true , I know this and I accept it. But I would never, ever dream of telling any of them the things that you said to me. I would never stoop so low as to attempt to belittle any of them to make myself feel somewhat superior.
It's because of all of this that I've decided that I can no longer be friends with you. Initially, I said that the only way I would talk to you would be if you were to apologize for what you said, but now... I don't even need the apology. Anybody that tells me that they think pretty poorly of me just isn't a person that I need in my life.

(Just so you know, the only reason that I used these two pictures for this post is because I know how much you detest them.)