Manhattan Offender

My mind? Dirty.

There will be blogs

Genius in the simplicity of its design, this music blog has my ear.

The first person to ever comment on this site now has a blog of his own.

Just some quick advice

If someone has the ability to remove a condom from you while you are inside them, then your inner danger signal should go full blast.  Also?  If they tell you they received a gold medal in the Olympics for Brazil, it's easy enough to look that up. 

Have a great day, I'll be getting tested. 

Valentine's Day: I Love You

Hopefully this little ditty will amuse and entertain you.  From its description on YouTube:

Mogul Larry Tee, fashion designers Heatherette, new media Artist Andrew Strasser, and music video producer Francis Legge threw together a wonderful little Valentine's Day treat for you to send to your loved ones!

More info from Herr Tee:  "I love U was sung by Amanita who was babysat by Amanda LePore and is friends with Patricia Field. The clothing was lent by Heatherette children's wear."

Valentine's Day: My Craigslist ad

Yesterday morning, spurred by an odd dream, I woke up thinking that I wanted a date for Valentine's Day.  As I never use Craigslist, I was unfamiliar with the typical content on the m4m section there.  Needless to say, my posting is not typical for the site.  Following is the ad posted on Craigslist, as written in fifteen minutes at six in the morning.

Note for the sake of clarity: I'm not seeking to date a blind person. Although I'm very open-minded and would date someone "differently abled", I'm not actively seeking someone blind. It's not a fetish of mine. So if you are not blind, it's okay, tiger; this posting is for you too.

This is not the posting of someone that never dates or can't find a date. I've dated several guys in the past year, but nothing really "stuck". It's all ended well and has resulted in increasing my Facebook friends. And the sex has been very good too except that premature ejaculator. (He came while we were kissing. Granted, I'm a pretty good kisser.)

Who am I? A dudely guy that lives in Astoria, but spends an inordinate amount of time downtown. A writer that is told he's funny, but isn't one of those "talks too much about himself" writers. Also a writer that doesn't pay all of his bills with writing and has an Operations/Logistics, hardcore small business, well-paying Monday to Friday job.

Oh, you want the statistics? Six feet, 190 in decent shape pounds, hair buzzed with a number two trimmer. I have a beard that's trimmed down and a mustache that isn't trimmed as much. Color? Kinda dark blond and red. (My pubes are totally red!) My eyes are steely blue. I'm white, mostly German background. I'm hot if you're into me, but just good looking if you're not.

(As I write more of this, I realize I'm not selling myself. I sort of dislike people that sell themselves. Not prostitutes mind you. Them I like; they're awesome. You know the type - self-promoting asshats. Them I dislike.)

What do I like? Well, if you've endured reading this, that's promising. I like story-tellers and jokers. Goofballs. I also really like businessmen. Really serious people. I like a lot of guys actually as long as they're conversant. Physically? I tend to be attracted to darker hair and eyes. Facial and body hair (natural looks) are a plus but totally not required. Nothing too fussy. Fussy is a turn-off. Please be within ten years of my age. No height requirement though. Don't really like super big guys I suppose. Or anorexics. (Sorry anorexics, but you'll find love somewhere!) And if you don't meet some of the criteria, don't pussy out. I'm very inconsistent.

As for a date, I'm all for meeting up to play some pool. Pool is a great first date activity. And I totally suck at playing pool. I'm a worse bowler. A first date just eating food and looking at someone on the other side of the table is too much. And if we get bored, that would totally blow. We could just about anything, really. Except go to a fast-food or chain restaurant. That would be disturbing.

We might make out. We might even have sex. I don't have hangups against that. But I'm in no rush either. We might just tease each other a bit to ensure seeing one another again. We might shake hands and wish one another "best in all your future endeavours" or become Facebook "friends", but hopefully not. I'd prefer to get at least a little play.

(If none of this works out, I can still meet up with some buds after work and have a couple of scotches, go home, check Manhunt, ask myself why I waste time looking at Manhunt, and then go to sleep with my cat nestled in my armpit. So, no Obi Wan Kenobi, you're not my only hope. But a date would be nice.)

So here is the tough part: next steps. Please send me an email and a picture (of yourself or of a funny animal). I'm not posting a picture of myself, but instead will post a selection of the new Totes Rhianna (sp?) umbrellas just as an act of random.

Yes, it is unfair that I get to see you first, but ... I don't want to catch shit for being so mucho desperado as to put up a craigslist ad. Because I'm not mucho desperado, I'm just open to trying something different. As are you for having read this. So send me the e-mail already, pony!

Surrounded by ads for those seeking a more carnal experience, my ad still drew several replies.  In fact I had dinner with one of them last night.  And will probably check a couple more of them out over time.  For now though, a couple of scotches with the friends is probably preferable.  The lesson?  Don't follow your dreams, kids.  Lock them up in a little box.  And put a condom in the box as well.  Just in case.

Lost in translation, Queens local paper evokes a truth

Star Spangled Banner, 2008

O!  Sai cn u see bai teh dawnz rly lait
Whusso prowdlee whee hailoled at teh twilis lazt gleee ming?
Whoz brod striepz n braight starz thru teh perilus faight,
Ovah teh rampartz whee wadged wer sooo galanlee streemee?
N teh rocketz red glair, teh bomz burtee nair,
Gimme prr oof tru teh naight dat owr fleg were still der.
O!  Sai duz dat star-splangle ban her yet waiv,
Ovah teh land of teh freeeee and teh homo teh brave.

Nightmare: I was the assistant manager of a Wendy's in a mall

The ending is very vivid, but the beginning is a bit of a blur.  There had just been a rush of customers and the counter was being cleaned up.  The ketchup "tub" had just been refilled.  The mustard tub was next.  After taking the lid off the tub, there was a visible ring of dried mustard that had obviously not been cleaned in weeks.

Because the mustard tub was gross, I asked some of the other employees to take care of it.  My hands were already dirty with mustard.  The other employees were mostly those 20-something "bears" that you see at places like Gym and Nowhere.  The one I asked, "Joey" told me that the job could wait for the weekend crew since they were notorious for not cleaning the dining area anyway.

I'm informed by a female coworker that the manager needs to see me, but I insist that my hands must be cleaned first.  She points at an oak veneer door with the words "Manager" in the red Wendy's font.  After yelling about the need to clean my hands, I storm downstairs to the "additional seating" area and enter the men's room.

The men's room is disgusting.  Encrusted poop is on the wall behind the toilet.  The sink in which I will wash my hands contains hair, a postcard, and something else under the card.  I remove the hair (long, black).  I read the post card which writing on it.  "Well since you won't come see me in the hospital, I guess I can't tell you that I love her."  Under the postcard is a mostly empty vial of blood, with a label on it that has the name "Sonia Adams". All of these items are thrown in the trash can, which also has a pair of dirty New Balance sneakers within.

As I turn to wash my hands, the dream ends as I wake up.

With morning wood.

Syed wants you to enjoy the ride