Belize

A few observations...no, wait, a few updates!

My love and I are finally honeymooning, and--on the good advice of a friend--we are doing it in the Caribbean country of Belize. Google it. (I mean, a "Great Blue Hole"? How many countries can offer such straightforward gynecological-slash-Smurf jokes? Yeah, I said it Smurfette, you whore.)

Okay, on to the observations. This is a foreign country. Hm, let me clarify--this is a foreign country the way certain neighborhoods in the Bronx are foreign. The place is populated by low income, dual Spanish-English speakers who are living in below-middle-class-American environs. The UK won this corner of Central America from the Spanish in all those sugar/coffee/slave arguments they had back in the day, and allowed it to incorporate (as such) about 46 years ago. Bully!

The food is incredible. I'm currently suffering from a sinus infection and water on the ear--meaning I'm operating at about 3/5 capacity when it comes to the whole 5 senses thing--but even without the taste and smell I would need to truly appreciate my environment I can tell that the dishes being laid in front of me are pretty damned exquisite. I mean, they have a 20 sq. ft. drywall shack that serves the best falafel I've ever had, and I'm coming from NYC. What do you do with that? No wonder the host is smiling.

Um....it's also hot. The you're-the-butter-in-the-frying-pan-of-the-gods type hot. What are the gods cooking with our hard-earned calories, you ask? Awesomeness.

Also too: I don't give a fuck--as a New Yorker I have a god-given right to hate tourists even if I currently am one. Figure out how to walk down a sidewalk without inconveniencing everyone around you and without needlessly barking to the herd of slow moving buffalo you call a family and we're cool. Those seem like two good general rules, no matter where you are. White people, I swur.

Okay, back to the wonderful, lovely, beautiful wife!

~~~~~~~

Update: Pet a shark, a stingray, saw a sea turtle, climbed the 2,100-year-old Mayan ruins at Lamanai, drank way too much one night, and swam a lot, a lot. Overall, I love my wife very much, which is what this whole thing was about. Yay!

The Season In Review

A lot has happened in the past couple months. I won an Obie. I gave it back. 'Cause really, when you get past the funny sounding syllables, what's an Obie nowadays other than some funny sounding syllables? Not that I don't appreciate the premiere artistic award from the premiere forum for Asian alt-sex enthusiasts.

Me giving back the Obie, forcefully. No really, the Village Voice web site
has its own Wii (c) Thai Ladyboy "Return Merits" game where you can beat
an Asian alt-sex worker to death with an official V-Voice Obie-shaped dildo.

Also, I passed health care reform. Don't blame me if Max Baucus and Olympia Snowe collapse drunkenly into each others' arms on your lawn. This is what happens when you insist on bi-partisanship.

Speaking of collapses, we had the stock market, the housing bubble, Fannie and Freddie, my pants, and the Giants. They're all my fault. I'm sorry. I have a hard time telling who might benefit from a hard alcohol calmative and who could make do with a cocaine pick-me-up. My pants, for instance: clearly, a pick-me-up.

Finally: mawage. I did it. She did it. We did it together. Quit thinking like that. Actually, go ahead and think like that, cause I think I know of a proper outlet...

More finally, X-Mas:

She's smiling because she just won an Obie. Then she lost it when she repeated the word "obie" back to the committee and they realized how silly sounding their "award" really is. Then she got it back again for distributing Asian alt-porn to passers-by.

How To Reappear Incompletely

A confluence of events, both professional and personal, means I will probably be updating this site even less often than usual. As in, I probably won't have anything new for you, my devoted 4-6 followers (which count, based on the inaccuracy of web tracking, may also include myself--hi, me!), until after I have mounted a five act, two theater beast of a show, and officially said goodbye to my life as a single man. The latter I'm looking forward to. The former? Not so much.

This is not goodbye. This is the promise of, um, a belated "nice to see you again." Or as those thieving bastards--also known as Led Zeppelin--put it: I can't quit you, babe, but I gotta put you down for a while.

I will be back--I promise, promise, promise--with more inanities expressed with the highest syllable count possible, most likely by the third week or so in November.

And yes, you can consider that a threat...

In From The Wild

My love and I are back from not-New York City and I have the poison ivy rash to prove it. I'd tell you where, but that would mean describing this wonderful, concealed little spot we two found in the underbru--okay, it's on my forearm.

And now, pictures! (Click 'em to big 'em.)

Right over there is not New York.

Doing my best Viking funeral impression.

Chillin' by the swimmin' hole.

A big goddamn spider, also chillin' by the swimmin' hole.

This may surprise some, but this is actually a picture of the surface of the sun. I know, I know; "where's all the fire?" you ask. Believe me, on the day in question this landscape was close to combustion. I know this because so were we.

Cooling off by a stream...

...and making a friend. Admittedly, this "friend" was trying to figure out if I was
edible, but hey, I'm a beggar not a chooser. Besides, I am edible.

Another friend, this one thankfully uninterested in the question of my edibility.

Finally, after our allotted number of mosquito bites and allergic reactions, my love and I waved a slow-motion goodbye to this:


...and hopped the train back to civilization. It was, in the end, a very nice vacation.

That way home...