And it’s one, two, three strikes your out!

There seems to be no fallout from the conversation.  Of course I didn’t get to talk to my mom today so I’ll get her side of the story tomorrow.

Adam and I and five of his c0-workers and their spouses, families etc. went to a Mets game tonight.  It’s the first baseball game I’ve been to in about five years.  I actually like baseball.  I grew up in the 70’s watching the Cincinnati Reds.  I was a huge Pete Rose fan, as well as Johnny Bench and Joe Morgan fan.  I would love it when my mother came home and told us we were going to a game.  I collected baseball cards and little hats that sundaes came in at Dairy Queen.  For about a second you might have thought I was straight.  But for no more than a second.

The Mets have a new stadium.  It’s beautiful.  There are a million places to eat and drink and a place to buy a souvenir on every corner.  The prices are as high as ever, but at least everything is new.  The one thing missing in the new stadium is piss troughs.


Riverfront Stadium’s public restroom was pretty much one big piss trough.

To a gay 12 year old boy this was amazing.  I had to go pee at least once during every inning.  And the ones in Riverfront Stadium were a circle so you actually faced other men who were pissing.  It brings back fond memories.  Alas piss troughs are pretty much a thing of the past.  With our sexual revolution and freedom came uptight men who were suddenly afraid to piss in front of another man.  I guess the 12 year olds of today will have to find some other way to look at men’s penises. 

I’m now going to sleep and dream of times gone by.


My life as I know it…is ending!

When I greeted my third table of the evening, I knew what my post for tonight was going to be.  Before I even put their order into the computer I was writing it in my head.  At the end of the night it was clearly what I needed to say.  On the train home I was thinking of more stupid things that this fucked up redneck table did while they were in the restaurant tonight.

So I get home.  I kiss my boyfriend and let him know that I’m home.  I turn on my computer.

I open up the mail program on my Mac and I see about 20 or so emails.  Most are junk or notifications from Facebook.  And an email from Adam.  He emails me before he goes to bed.  I email him when I get home.  It’s a nice way to share our day with each other since he’ll be asleep when I get home and I’ll be asleep when he leaves for work.  I save his email till last.  It’s like saving the best part till the end.

This is part of the email he sent me tonight:


you’ll be happy to know that im typing this on your computer for a change.

it took me a minute to find the ‘on’ button, though.

i got my cake baked, watered plants, potted the violet, didn’t play with harper as i should have (his cat), cleaned the kitchen, ate 2 gilled cheese, emailed my aunt, texted my dad, ironed a shirt, talked with the new roommate, mailed my rent check…what else did i do tonight?

oh yeah…i talked with mamma cat for 30 minutes!

WHAT THE FUCK???????????????



WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My mother’s name is Catherine.  Everyone calls her Cat.  Adam has joked that he’ll call her mamma cat when he gets to know her better.

Which he clearly worked on tonight.

My boyfriend.

My mother.

On the phone for 30 minutes tonight while I was at work.

I can feel the walls closing in around me.  My life as I know it is ending.  Clearly the Kentucky trip went well.  I just didn’t know that it went that well.


When I responded to his email, I didn’t even know what to say.  My jaw is still on the ground and I read his email almost an hour ago.


Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t mind.  I think it’s very sweet.  And I love that they both felt comfortable enough with each other to talk.   But for thirty minutes?


I suppose I can give the back story here.

My mother has really bad arthritis.  And really bad back pain.  Through many experiments she has discovered that Active On back medicine helps tremendously with the pain.  Seems that all the products this company makes are not the same, and only the back medicine works for her.  When I was home, she had just run out and although we looked in every drug store we passed no one seemed to have any.

Fast forward to last week.  Adam and I were out and he found some in a Duane Reade pharmacy here.  I bought three packages for her, and then asked him if he could ship them to her from work.  He wanted to add a thank you card for letting him stay there and so he sent the box and the card.  I didn’t know this at the time, but seems he asked her how to make her famous chicken salad on the card because we talked about it when I was home.  He gave her his email address and asked her to send it to him.  She couldn’t get the email to go through and so she called.

And they talked for thirty minutes.

Oh.  My.  God.

They talked about the weather.  My family.  Recipes.  Whether he’s coming home with me when I go to Kentucky in September.  That he was welcome in her house anytime.

I guess this visit to Kentucky really did go well.

I do think however, that my head will explode if they begin texting each other.