Yesterday, I checked gmail.com and saw that Tricoli calling me lots of things. He also said that I am "pure evil". Whatever. Later, I saw the NY POST's headline, it reads: PURE EVIL. A-ha! That guy also has no creativity. Plucking a headline from a local tabloid to call me that. How interesting.
Speaking of creativity, Tricoli should call himself "HIV Boy" because in his last 20 entries, 65% of his rantings are all about HIV. Such a bore. Waiter! Check, please!
Now on that Monceaux guy, he took an opportunity to criticize the US Army in his blog about the prison abuses but he also fell silent about the barbaric beheading of Nick Berg.
These things made me roll my eyes from time to time.
Yesterday, I went to NYU's Grad Alley Party with Web. Before we arrived, we walked through the East Village, we saw a guy carrying the clothes from the dry cleaning store. Among his stuff was a plastic cover over the faded blue jeans. Jeans? Web and I slowly stared at it then looked at each other and said, "Jeans?" at the same time. Perhaps next time, we shall see a plastic cover over the jockstrap. Irrationality rules in this town.
Anyway, the NYU Grad Alley Party is interesting and nice. Very mellow. We saw the fireworks, it is small, we did not realize that we were standing right below the fireworks. We actually had to look at the whole thing right above us. Some bits of Fireworks get in my eyes. Ugh. Should I pretend that I was injured and in the process, sue them?
Went to the NYCASLCLUB, I think Emerson is charming. Perhaps sometimes we might go out and see how it goes -- I asked him, he said to make some plans with him by e-mail. Anyway, at the GLBT Center, I chatted with Ryan and felt bad for Ryan when he pointed at a certain guy, "He kiss very good, I like him." I turned to see him, and groaned. But I did not say anything about the guy over there to Ryan because it is always awkward for me to talk about guys who used to be gals. So I say SYL to the whole drama.
Emerson and I had a nice chat at the corner of 14 Street and 8 Avenue, too bad we did not make out (but again, I would not permit it, anyway) before we parted for the night.
Just saw the NEXT Magazine, looked through it -- was amused by one advertisement. Since there is no advertisement on its website, I'm writing it down. It is about Mother's Day.
* * * * *
"Dear Mom,
I love New York City. I've made a lot of great friends. We like to party with Crystal Meth, and I've even become addicted.
Happy Mother's Day. You mean the world to me.
It's not so bad. The suicidal thoughts, depression, paranoia and guilt about missed work go away with one little bump. So does my fear of HIV.
Happy Mother's Day
Love, Ricky"
* * * * *
Me? Me snorting meth? Please. The last time I snorted meth was in Seattle back in 2001 and I did not like it at all -- will never do it again. But that was funny advertisement.
Someone talked about John F. Kennedy Jr today to me and I quickly thought about what I told Carl Denney a long time ago and he broke into a wide grin. As you might know, JFK Junior was killed along with his coke-snorting wife and sister-in-law in a plane crash en route to Martha's Vineyard.
I told Carl, "At least, this is the first time I heard of luggages that arrived BEFORE the plane did anywhere else in the world." I was talking about the dead victims' luggages found on the coast of the island not far from the plane crash.
Sick joke, yeah. That is me.
If I die, Merritt, Kekua, Manny are required to dress up in drag to weep and be like Tammy Faye Messner's make-up. That would be a sight to behold! And party hard -- be like my great aunt who is 4'11 and once stood on a chair, flicked the lights to get everyone's attention and stomped her left hand on the coffin of my great grandmother twice and bluntly in ASL, "THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" -- she pointed at a certain person in the audience. All hell broke loose. This happened in 1970s, my mother told me about it. All it took is a 4'11 woman to get everyone's attention to start a drama.
But my funeral should be fun, dramatic and plenty of laughs. I still remember Larry's drunken moments as Drag Queen where he never realized that his wig was fucked up all night long. That was so funny.
Cheers,
R-
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