Leave work early.
Stop at Pavilions on the way home and partake in their special weekend sale on sausages.
Make up a cocktail and have it on the back porch. Something with Root Beer.
Put on my holiday short shorts - they are actually kind of preppy.
Layout polos and matching bottoms for the weekend.
See SEX AND THE CITY 2 four more times (in my fantasy it's amazing).
Have dinner at Cecconis (that's actually happening).
Go to Dance Bitch at Fubar.
Sleep in.
Therapy (again, happening)-- a really great session
Hang out near pools. In my fantasy, my body is exactly where it should be by the 4th of July.
Laugh a lot with the boyfriend.
Brunches.
BBQs.
Hot dogs and potato salad.
Ribs.
Closeness and intimacy.
Ice Cream
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
The Biggest Loser is on Taco Tuesday
Isn't that just God's sick sense of humor at play?
And speaking of God, I think he has everything to do with the fact that on Biggest Loser Taco Tuesday I want to eat as much as I can in front of the TV while I watch The Biggest Loser. Tonight was homemade chicken fingers with a salad that was loaded with blue cheese dressing and honey mustard to dip the chicken fingers in. And I mixed taco seasoning in with my breadcrumbs. Plus A&W Root Beer.
It's okay because tomorrow is Workout Wednesday and I'm meeting my friend Tim at the Gym at 7:15. It IS okay, right? I don't have too many calories to burn off, do I?
We have to resist the temptation to work out too hard because last week Tim overexerted himself and bruised a muscle or something. I thought he might have strained his neck by looking at all of the guys at the gym. But it was his bicep that was hurt.
Let me get back to the blaming God part. I think it's my Catholic sense of repression and rebellion that makes me want to eat a lot of fatty things on Biggest Loser Taco Tuesday. It's like Friday's in Lent. I don't get real cravings for meat except on Fridays during Lent. I could literally be a vegetarian all week and it'll be on a Friday during Lent that I binge on a Whopper. Or a pastrami sandwich. And it can't just be good meat like a grilled chicken breast. It will be a chili burger or an Italian sub. Or a plate of french fries topped with carne asada meat and strips of bacon.
So all of this talk of food might lead you to believe that I have a weight problem. Which thankfully I don't. But I kind of think about food all of the time.
Well...okay, food and sex. I'm a man. A man who can cook. So when I'm not looking at porn sites, I'm looking at food sites for recipes. It's kind of sick. But also kind of delicious.
But not both at the same time. That's a no-no. Keep the bedroom separate from the kitchen. Real pearls of wisdom to live by.
And speaking of God, I think he has everything to do with the fact that on Biggest Loser Taco Tuesday I want to eat as much as I can in front of the TV while I watch The Biggest Loser. Tonight was homemade chicken fingers with a salad that was loaded with blue cheese dressing and honey mustard to dip the chicken fingers in. And I mixed taco seasoning in with my breadcrumbs. Plus A&W Root Beer.
It's okay because tomorrow is Workout Wednesday and I'm meeting my friend Tim at the Gym at 7:15. It IS okay, right? I don't have too many calories to burn off, do I?
We have to resist the temptation to work out too hard because last week Tim overexerted himself and bruised a muscle or something. I thought he might have strained his neck by looking at all of the guys at the gym. But it was his bicep that was hurt.
Let me get back to the blaming God part. I think it's my Catholic sense of repression and rebellion that makes me want to eat a lot of fatty things on Biggest Loser Taco Tuesday. It's like Friday's in Lent. I don't get real cravings for meat except on Fridays during Lent. I could literally be a vegetarian all week and it'll be on a Friday during Lent that I binge on a Whopper. Or a pastrami sandwich. And it can't just be good meat like a grilled chicken breast. It will be a chili burger or an Italian sub. Or a plate of french fries topped with carne asada meat and strips of bacon.
So all of this talk of food might lead you to believe that I have a weight problem. Which thankfully I don't. But I kind of think about food all of the time.
Well...okay, food and sex. I'm a man. A man who can cook. So when I'm not looking at porn sites, I'm looking at food sites for recipes. It's kind of sick. But also kind of delicious.
But not both at the same time. That's a no-no. Keep the bedroom separate from the kitchen. Real pearls of wisdom to live by.
Why All the Sudden Blogging?
I'm inbetween projects, so I have more time to spend on here.
No longer clogged, now I blog.
No longer clogged, now I blog.
The Single Body
Why is it that when people find loving relationships, they also find love handles?
I've been in a relationship for four and a half years now. When Wes and I had been dating for about a year and a half, I noticed something. I had to start buying size 34 jeans. Listen, I'm not fat by any stretch of the imagination. I'm 5'10" and around 160-165. I look lean. But I was getting to 175 and I looked like I swallowed Frosty the Snowman if Frosty was made out of matzo balls. It was not cute.
I remember calling my friend Brian because Wes and I were going to run the Florence Marathon together. I thought: "Here's my new weight loss plan."
Brian's response: "Why do you need to travel half way around the world and train for a marathon just to lose 15 pounds? Get to the gym!"
Then he offered another important piece of advice: "You've got to get your single body back, man. You can't just let it go. You've got to be training for life, not just eating for love."
It's like some crazy sexist advice that one's grandmother would give to a female child: "Fall in love and get married. But whatever you do, never lose your single body."
Well, I actually did run the marathon with my boyfriend. And we did cross the finish line, hand-in-hand in a Catholic country. And I did cry. And I ran with a single body, which I've worked hard to maintain. I've done P90X, six days a week for three months. I work out with my friend Tim, who's single.
Another piece of advice you'd probably read somewhere:
"To maintain the single body, one must exercise with a single friend."
I guess the main reason we let our single bodies go is that we find comfort in someone else. Obviously, we don't feel like we need to maintain certain appearances after a while. I don't know, I like looking good for my man and I know he likes looking good for me. And we sleep better when we're fit and we eat better and we basically make sure that we're around for each other for a long time.
On the other hand...we love to eat and there are so many restaurants that we need to know about so that we can recommend to our friends. And it's sophisticated to drink.
So it's tough. At the very least, one should learn how to dress around their extra baggage. Camouflage at least works for about 15-20 pounds. After that, diet. And after that...(sigh) exercise.
I guess those cute annoying couples do things like work out together. But how can you check out other people if you're going to the gym at the same time?
Joking!
Besides, it's not fun to check anyone out when you're working out hard. I like to be sweaty and stinky and grungy when I work out. Getting the single body is not pretty.
Epilogue: My friend Brian has now been in a relationship for a couple of years. I wonder if it's as easy to maintain that single body.
I've been in a relationship for four and a half years now. When Wes and I had been dating for about a year and a half, I noticed something. I had to start buying size 34 jeans. Listen, I'm not fat by any stretch of the imagination. I'm 5'10" and around 160-165. I look lean. But I was getting to 175 and I looked like I swallowed Frosty the Snowman if Frosty was made out of matzo balls. It was not cute.
I remember calling my friend Brian because Wes and I were going to run the Florence Marathon together. I thought: "Here's my new weight loss plan."
Brian's response: "Why do you need to travel half way around the world and train for a marathon just to lose 15 pounds? Get to the gym!"
Then he offered another important piece of advice: "You've got to get your single body back, man. You can't just let it go. You've got to be training for life, not just eating for love."
It's like some crazy sexist advice that one's grandmother would give to a female child: "Fall in love and get married. But whatever you do, never lose your single body."
Well, I actually did run the marathon with my boyfriend. And we did cross the finish line, hand-in-hand in a Catholic country. And I did cry. And I ran with a single body, which I've worked hard to maintain. I've done P90X, six days a week for three months. I work out with my friend Tim, who's single.
Another piece of advice you'd probably read somewhere:
"To maintain the single body, one must exercise with a single friend."
I guess the main reason we let our single bodies go is that we find comfort in someone else. Obviously, we don't feel like we need to maintain certain appearances after a while. I don't know, I like looking good for my man and I know he likes looking good for me. And we sleep better when we're fit and we eat better and we basically make sure that we're around for each other for a long time.
On the other hand...we love to eat and there are so many restaurants that we need to know about so that we can recommend to our friends. And it's sophisticated to drink.
So it's tough. At the very least, one should learn how to dress around their extra baggage. Camouflage at least works for about 15-20 pounds. After that, diet. And after that...(sigh) exercise.
I guess those cute annoying couples do things like work out together. But how can you check out other people if you're going to the gym at the same time?
Joking!
Besides, it's not fun to check anyone out when you're working out hard. I like to be sweaty and stinky and grungy when I work out. Getting the single body is not pretty.
Epilogue: My friend Brian has now been in a relationship for a couple of years. I wonder if it's as easy to maintain that single body.
Laundry and other Excitements
I was talking with my friend Sarah yesterday about what we did over the weekend. And I guess it's just a sign of getting older or tired that I was a little jealous when she said she did laundry. I used to be the guy who lived in NYC and was out until 4:30 in the morning on Sunday/Monday morning and had to get in three hours sleep before work. And here I am now saying: "Oh my God, that would be so great to spend a whole day just listening to NPR, doing laundry and cooking for a week. Luxury!"
But I guess those are the things I like to do now. I like to get caught up on my Real Housewives and fold laundry. I love going through my refrigerator and looking to see what needs to be cooked up. I love putting on my headphones and listening to my iPod while grocery shopping. I love looking through the circular and making shopping lists. I am so strange.
Am I just turning down the volume? Is that a bad thing? I could go through cookbooks and make new recipes all day. What is that saying about me? Is it saying good things or bad things?
I want to go to Savannah and hang out with Paula Deen. Wouldn't that be kind of fun?
But I guess those are the things I like to do now. I like to get caught up on my Real Housewives and fold laundry. I love going through my refrigerator and looking to see what needs to be cooked up. I love putting on my headphones and listening to my iPod while grocery shopping. I love looking through the circular and making shopping lists. I am so strange.
Am I just turning down the volume? Is that a bad thing? I could go through cookbooks and make new recipes all day. What is that saying about me? Is it saying good things or bad things?
I want to go to Savannah and hang out with Paula Deen. Wouldn't that be kind of fun?
Monday, May 24, 2010
I Dreamed a New Dream
I'm reading the Joe Papp book FREE FOR ALL: JOE PAPP, THE PUBLIC AND THE GREATEST THEATRE STORY EVER TOLD. It's got all of these great stories of The Public Theatre, told in oral history. My favorite part of course is where they cover famous productions from Hair to A Chorus Line to True West and The Normal Heart. I'm not all the way through yet, but I have to say that it's a bit like hearing your parents tell stories as a kid and just imagining what it was like to be there.
And, like everything in my life, it got me thinking. What am I passionate about? Sure, I've got this brilliant brand name education, some good life experience, and a shit load of things I've written. But am I living my passion? Here comes the life crisis, I'm sure you're thinking. That seems to be the theme among friends and my boyfriend. You grow up with dreams and then some of us face reality. Some of us kind of face reality and manage to do what interests them - that's kind of like moving to Orange County from Oklahoma because you want to be in Hollywood. It's "I'm doing what I love" adjacent.
I don't want to be adjacent any more. I want to be smack in the middle. I'm a playwright who should be working towards having more plays produced. I've started in the right direction and I finished two plays at the end of last year. And I'm currently working on a third. I've got a fourth that I'm trying to figure out and an older one we might produce. I'm tired of thinking - I can only be a produced playwright one way or another. Like self-producing is a bad thing. Like it means the work is of lesser quality. Like someone else has to like it in order for it to be good. And that someone else has to be an off-Broadway or regional house.
I'm more interested in the experience of it all. I haven't had that rehearsal room experience in a while. I haven't had those crazy discussions about things I've written with a group of actors and a director. I haven't rushed home after a read-through in a while to do an all night rewrite.
It doesn't mean that I'm abandoning the idea of working in television. It just means that I'm making more room. If I'm going to be struggling, I might as well be passionate about some of the things I'm writing. Because the dream is living that life. It's not making a shitload of money. And at the same time it's not about abandoning the idea that I can write for a living and only write. It's just that I don't want to sacrifice one for the other.
Putting it out there.
And, like everything in my life, it got me thinking. What am I passionate about? Sure, I've got this brilliant brand name education, some good life experience, and a shit load of things I've written. But am I living my passion? Here comes the life crisis, I'm sure you're thinking. That seems to be the theme among friends and my boyfriend. You grow up with dreams and then some of us face reality. Some of us kind of face reality and manage to do what interests them - that's kind of like moving to Orange County from Oklahoma because you want to be in Hollywood. It's "I'm doing what I love" adjacent.
I don't want to be adjacent any more. I want to be smack in the middle. I'm a playwright who should be working towards having more plays produced. I've started in the right direction and I finished two plays at the end of last year. And I'm currently working on a third. I've got a fourth that I'm trying to figure out and an older one we might produce. I'm tired of thinking - I can only be a produced playwright one way or another. Like self-producing is a bad thing. Like it means the work is of lesser quality. Like someone else has to like it in order for it to be good. And that someone else has to be an off-Broadway or regional house.
I'm more interested in the experience of it all. I haven't had that rehearsal room experience in a while. I haven't had those crazy discussions about things I've written with a group of actors and a director. I haven't rushed home after a read-through in a while to do an all night rewrite.
It doesn't mean that I'm abandoning the idea of working in television. It just means that I'm making more room. If I'm going to be struggling, I might as well be passionate about some of the things I'm writing. Because the dream is living that life. It's not making a shitload of money. And at the same time it's not about abandoning the idea that I can write for a living and only write. It's just that I don't want to sacrifice one for the other.
Putting it out there.
My Surreal Life
Yesterday was a quintessential Old Hollywood moment. I went to Hollywood Park, which I had never been to, despite being a native Angeleno. It was the memorial for John Forsythe who my boyfriend represented for years in voiceover. We got dressed for the races: he pin-striped pants, a cardigan and a dark straw hat complete with dark sunglasses and stogie; and I was wearing a stone colored suit with bright striped shirt underneath, hair off my face, grey Oliver Peoples sunglasses and green Prada loafers. We arrived in our caviar colored BMW convertible. It was very Hart to Hart, which was very appropriate given the stars who were at this event.
Of course, much of the cast of Dynasty was there as was Bernie Koppel (Doc from The Love Boat) and the guy who played Oscar Goldman in The Bionic Woman. My two geek moments were when I saw this put together, but not overdone, older woman in a black fedora and black trenchcoat. I looked at her and thought she looked very chic, but very understated and then I realized it was Angie Dickinson. That was kind of amazing. No-nonsense. I was later next to her in the buffet line and was secretly squealing.
Tippy Hedren and a bunch of hairdressers - and I don't mean that in a derogatory way. I think they were both hairdressers and gay. But they were more botoxed than she was.
But all in all it was a day at the races and that seemed delightfully retro. It was also a gathering of people who all knew Mr. Forsythe and had fond memories of his kindness. There wasn't some big thing, it was just people gathered at tables and reminiscing.
That was probably the most chic and understated thing of all.
Of course, much of the cast of Dynasty was there as was Bernie Koppel (Doc from The Love Boat) and the guy who played Oscar Goldman in The Bionic Woman. My two geek moments were when I saw this put together, but not overdone, older woman in a black fedora and black trenchcoat. I looked at her and thought she looked very chic, but very understated and then I realized it was Angie Dickinson. That was kind of amazing. No-nonsense. I was later next to her in the buffet line and was secretly squealing.
Tippy Hedren and a bunch of hairdressers - and I don't mean that in a derogatory way. I think they were both hairdressers and gay. But they were more botoxed than she was.
But all in all it was a day at the races and that seemed delightfully retro. It was also a gathering of people who all knew Mr. Forsythe and had fond memories of his kindness. There wasn't some big thing, it was just people gathered at tables and reminiscing.
That was probably the most chic and understated thing of all.
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