I arrived in The District's Chinatown section at 9:20 PM. Thank God for these little pagers, be it sidekick, blackberry et al -- they practically helped me and Deafies tremendously in communicating to work out the last-minute changes.
Off to Green Lantern with Manny, Joey and Mike -- it was good to be back. Saw some familiar guys -- don't they ever leave the town? Darn, I hadn't seen the fool, Rob. I'd LOVE to 005 him. Oh, well. I get to see many old friends and familiar faces. Toby, Masa, Lee, Mark, Vic, Richard and many more. I was bit stunned when I came to the counter -- the bartender still knew my drink after a year of absence at Green Lantern! Some old things never change.
Buck bolted in the bar and saw me, he rolled his eyes and said, "My god! Ricky Never Dies!" That was funny line. Thanks, Buck.
After we took advantage of free drinks at Green Lantern, I was bit buzzed -- I was talking to Manny, I think. Then during the 'talk', my hand knocked the Bud Lite bottle off the table. It was smashed completely. Ahh, time to flee the bar -- the group emigrated to Apex where I used an old college ID to get in for free. So typical of a cheapskate, is it?
I ran into Kiki, he looked fabulous. I ran into some people that I knew but do not know their names. There were about 80 to 100 Deaf people running amok the bar/club.
After that, we dominated SoHo. I was famished -- then crashed at Merritt's palace. God, I am still famished. I'm heading down to Metro and ride the red line to the new station -- New York Avenue / Gallaudet Metro Station. That is something to see, is it?
Cheers,
R-
Friday, October 22, 2004
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Off to the District! Be afraid, be very afraid.
Just finished the paperworks at work, am heading back home to pick up the bag -- then off to Chinatown for the bus en route to Washington. As someone would say, "Onward, Lord Emperor!"
I feel I should include something about my Hrandparents. When I was 4 or so, my parents took us all to Big Stone Gap (Trudy, try to find the town), Virginia -- a tiny town of 4,000 pocketed deeply in the mountainous region of the Appalachian mountains. When we arrived very late, I saw an elderly woman with white hair standing on the proch, inhaling the cigarette. Who's that freak, I wonder.
My mother said, "That is your grandma!"
"But my grandma is deaf, she is in Richmond -- not her!"
"you got two -- all grandchildren has two sets of grandparents."
I stared with wary. Oh, fuck. She cannot sign. She only talked with her voice. In the kitchen, I could feel the vibrations where she boomed with her voice, yelling at my father who nodded. Then she grabbed my chin and made me look at her while she talked to me. I didn't understand what she was trying to say.
Mom stood behind her and said, "Just nod, just nod."
I nodded, she lets me go. That Hrandma is total weirdo and bitch.
Later, she walked around the house (I just visited the home few years ago -- it's so fuckin' tiny!) -- and I followed her around. Later, she was in the bathroom staring at the mirror. I crept in and looked at her with curiosity.
Then I saw her pulling her teeth out.
Oh, fuck. I wailed and ran to my mom's arms, terrorized by the fact that my Hrandma pulled her teeth out in very casual way. Mom frantically explained that Hrandma has dentures. Dad was laughing hysterically. Hrandma was horrified and hurt that I freaked out by that.
Oh, I was only 4. Give me a break!
R-
I feel I should include something about my Hrandparents. When I was 4 or so, my parents took us all to Big Stone Gap (Trudy, try to find the town), Virginia -- a tiny town of 4,000 pocketed deeply in the mountainous region of the Appalachian mountains. When we arrived very late, I saw an elderly woman with white hair standing on the proch, inhaling the cigarette. Who's that freak, I wonder.
My mother said, "That is your grandma!"
"But my grandma is deaf, she is in Richmond -- not her!"
"you got two -- all grandchildren has two sets of grandparents."
I stared with wary. Oh, fuck. She cannot sign. She only talked with her voice. In the kitchen, I could feel the vibrations where she boomed with her voice, yelling at my father who nodded. Then she grabbed my chin and made me look at her while she talked to me. I didn't understand what she was trying to say.
Mom stood behind her and said, "Just nod, just nod."
I nodded, she lets me go. That Hrandma is total weirdo and bitch.
Later, she walked around the house (I just visited the home few years ago -- it's so fuckin' tiny!) -- and I followed her around. Later, she was in the bathroom staring at the mirror. I crept in and looked at her with curiosity.
Then I saw her pulling her teeth out.
Oh, fuck. I wailed and ran to my mom's arms, terrorized by the fact that my Hrandma pulled her teeth out in very casual way. Mom frantically explained that Hrandma has dentures. Dad was laughing hysterically. Hrandma was horrified and hurt that I freaked out by that.
Oh, I was only 4. Give me a break!
R-
My Drandpa Never Spat -- Drandma Would Slay Him
When I was a kid, my parents would take me to see my grandparents which is about two miles down the street from my home. My mother's parents are pretty close with us all more than my father's parents do. See? My mom's parents = Deaf. My dad's parents = hearing. See the math? We usually see my father's parents once or twice per year. But mom's parents, thousands per year.
Anyway, when we visited my Drandparents (I did it the 'D' to identify who's who -- Hrandparents pointed to my father's parents, ok?) on Bloomingdale Avenue. When we walked into the living room, there are two television sets on a large drawer designed primarily for the living room -- these two TV sets are strictly designed and enforced for my Drandma and Drandpa. The one on the left was my Drandpa's access, the right belonged to my Drandma. Often I'd see Drandpa watching the Atlanta Braves and I could see his blood boiling when the Braves fell behind, but he rarely showed his emotions. Rarely.
As for Drandma, she loves her remote control, flipping the channels again, again and again to a point where sometimes it distracted Drandpa on the left and he bemoaned her to stop distracting him. But they sat separately -- one on the far left, one on the far right. The space between these two can hold maybe 3 or four persons, though.
I normally sat on the right because I find the baseball games to be extremely boring.
Which brings me to this point -- last night, I watched the BoSox-Yanks game out of curiosity -- yes, I flipped to other channels at times but mainly, I watched the game. I noticed something interesting.
When the camera came up close with a player's face, he often spat. When it spotted another player, he spat. Another, spat. There, spat. This, spat. Over there, spat. God, everyone spat.
From the umpires to the players to the managers, they spat, spat, spat and spat. Be it Jeter, Rodriguez, Damon (hottie!) and many more -- they still spat.
In the dugout, you could see lots of guys spitting -- I wonder what it's like to be in the dugout right after the game with all of these disgusting gooey on the floor. What is up with the spitting? Is it a fad? Is it a macho thing to do that in baseball?
I also noticed that the managers tend to eat or drink lots when the camera focused on one? There is always something in their mouths.
What the fuck is going on?
God, it is making me nervous!
But bravo to BoSox for coming up with a win. Let the riots begin.
R-
Anyway, when we visited my Drandparents (I did it the 'D' to identify who's who -- Hrandparents pointed to my father's parents, ok?) on Bloomingdale Avenue. When we walked into the living room, there are two television sets on a large drawer designed primarily for the living room -- these two TV sets are strictly designed and enforced for my Drandma and Drandpa. The one on the left was my Drandpa's access, the right belonged to my Drandma. Often I'd see Drandpa watching the Atlanta Braves and I could see his blood boiling when the Braves fell behind, but he rarely showed his emotions. Rarely.
As for Drandma, she loves her remote control, flipping the channels again, again and again to a point where sometimes it distracted Drandpa on the left and he bemoaned her to stop distracting him. But they sat separately -- one on the far left, one on the far right. The space between these two can hold maybe 3 or four persons, though.
I normally sat on the right because I find the baseball games to be extremely boring.
Which brings me to this point -- last night, I watched the BoSox-Yanks game out of curiosity -- yes, I flipped to other channels at times but mainly, I watched the game. I noticed something interesting.
When the camera came up close with a player's face, he often spat. When it spotted another player, he spat. Another, spat. There, spat. This, spat. Over there, spat. God, everyone spat.
From the umpires to the players to the managers, they spat, spat, spat and spat. Be it Jeter, Rodriguez, Damon (hottie!) and many more -- they still spat.
In the dugout, you could see lots of guys spitting -- I wonder what it's like to be in the dugout right after the game with all of these disgusting gooey on the floor. What is up with the spitting? Is it a fad? Is it a macho thing to do that in baseball?
I also noticed that the managers tend to eat or drink lots when the camera focused on one? There is always something in their mouths.
What the fuck is going on?
God, it is making me nervous!
But bravo to BoSox for coming up with a win. Let the riots begin.
R-
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
The Preparation
I had been preparing the trip back to the District. This weekend is Homecoming for Gallaudet. I probably will not attend the homecoming events at all. I'm too old for that. I'm gonna be there to meet friends and mellow around and see what's up with the city. You know, I am secretly hoping that Rob, the 'taken' guy whom I had a fling with last year, will be at a certain bar on a certain night so that I can see how he reacts to my presence ... long after I spilled the Truth to his lover that he cheated on him with me!
No, I won't go to BlogjamDC. I will not caught dead in that place. A major ugh! That 'BlogjamDC' made me think of something -- we need to organize a group of DeafBloggers to gather and meet each other, that would be cool, is it?
I need to wash some clothes before I hit the sack -- then work, then zoom to the bus chartered by gibberish comments spewed by none other than Chinese folks. The Chinatown bus services are hilarious -- when you approach them with your luggage, there are 5 or 6 Chinese women screaming at the top of their lungs, trying to sell the tickets for us to head down to DC. I feel like a king, courting their desperate pleas. Well, Chinese folks drove the bus badly, but I cannot help it if they're so cheap to ride back and forth.
Cheers,
R-
No, I won't go to BlogjamDC. I will not caught dead in that place. A major ugh! That 'BlogjamDC' made me think of something -- we need to organize a group of DeafBloggers to gather and meet each other, that would be cool, is it?
I need to wash some clothes before I hit the sack -- then work, then zoom to the bus chartered by gibberish comments spewed by none other than Chinese folks. The Chinatown bus services are hilarious -- when you approach them with your luggage, there are 5 or 6 Chinese women screaming at the top of their lungs, trying to sell the tickets for us to head down to DC. I feel like a king, courting their desperate pleas. Well, Chinese folks drove the bus badly, but I cannot help it if they're so cheap to ride back and forth.
Cheers,
R-
Oh, Geez
Today on the subway train en route to downtown for a meeting, Donna and I chit-chatted about different things -- I saw a young, cute man of early 20s sitting with the red "B" on his dark blue cap. I mentioned the series to Donna. Donna rolled her eyes as to say whatever.
I grinned and she asked me why I root for BoSox. I told her that I'm not a fan of professional baseball teams but I want to see how Boston fans reacts when they finally break the Curse. I mean, they caused a riot when they won the Super Bowl. But breaking the curse will incite much far worse than just a riot. Donna grinned.
I kept on looking at this young man who was occasionally looked at me talking.
Then the subway train screeched at a local stop which Donna and I stayed, this guy stood up and walked past me out of the train. He said, "Sorry, excuse me, thanks."
I was stunned. He said it in ASL. Donna gasped. I was perplexed, offended and amused that someone was watching us talking about BoSox.
Damn the people who knew ASL but chose not to say anything and watch us talking. So fuckin' rude but he was so cute. Very doable. Very fuckable. Oh, well. C'est la vie!
R-
I grinned and she asked me why I root for BoSox. I told her that I'm not a fan of professional baseball teams but I want to see how Boston fans reacts when they finally break the Curse. I mean, they caused a riot when they won the Super Bowl. But breaking the curse will incite much far worse than just a riot. Donna grinned.
I kept on looking at this young man who was occasionally looked at me talking.
Then the subway train screeched at a local stop which Donna and I stayed, this guy stood up and walked past me out of the train. He said, "Sorry, excuse me, thanks."
I was stunned. He said it in ASL. Donna gasped. I was perplexed, offended and amused that someone was watching us talking about BoSox.
Damn the people who knew ASL but chose not to say anything and watch us talking. So fuckin' rude but he was so cute. Very doable. Very fuckable. Oh, well. C'est la vie!
R-
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
This Is Just Cute
It is raining here in Manhattan. Very soggy weather. I got something to cheer y'all -- enjoy the picture, thanks to LM for forwarding this to me.
I think the guy on the top left is cute if he has some hair on his chest.
Wonder why did the blogger bother to add the 'webdings' font? Nobody can truly understand what I may type like this:
Rodir shall reign the universe
I said: Ridor shall rule the universe.
So you can see why I said that the webdings is ridiculous to use, to be honest with you.
Oh, yeah, after 5 hours and 48 minutes, BoSox tipped Yanks and sent the series back to The Bronx. Will the BoSox be able to handle the Yanks and win at the hallowed ground? Only time will tell. If BoSox wins, the tensions in Boston will increase. Lots of people might end up in the local hospitals with health problems. If BoSox wins the series and break the curse, I bet you few dollars that several people will die because of that. Die of happiness, euphoria and more -- then heart attack sets in. Brain anuerysms sets in. Plus, a massive riot that burned Boston to the grounds.
So let's see how it pans out tonight.
R-
Wonder why did the blogger bother to add the 'webdings' font? Nobody can truly understand what I may type like this:
Rodir shall reign the universe
I said: Ridor shall rule the universe.
So you can see why I said that the webdings is ridiculous to use, to be honest with you.
Oh, yeah, after 5 hours and 48 minutes, BoSox tipped Yanks and sent the series back to The Bronx. Will the BoSox be able to handle the Yanks and win at the hallowed ground? Only time will tell. If BoSox wins, the tensions in Boston will increase. Lots of people might end up in the local hospitals with health problems. If BoSox wins the series and break the curse, I bet you few dollars that several people will die because of that. Die of happiness, euphoria and more -- then heart attack sets in. Brain anuerysms sets in. Plus, a massive riot that burned Boston to the grounds.
So let's see how it pans out tonight.
R-
Monday, October 18, 2004
Here Is The Mava Doll
Manny Vazquez designed his own doll and named it ... Mava Dolls. Many of them are interesting and cute. They are not for rough play, it is for contemplation -- hang it up on the wall or whatever you wanted.
Last night, I was looking at this doll. It seems to be adorable, mysterious and up to something. It is nice, and not only that -- its colors fits who I am.
If you want to know more about the Mava Dolls in terms of shapes, colors, eyes et al, you may contact Manny Vazquez at mavacouture (at) yahoo.com
Thanks, Manny for holding this one for me.
I need a haircut. I look awful, do I?
Here is another picture of Mava dolls.
Cheers,
R-
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