Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Riggle Me This, Fatso!

The following internet article caught my attention this week.

Go ahead and take a moment to read the article.

I'll wait.

You back?

Ok good.

So let's break this down. Gay men don't get fat because of fear. Ok I'll go along with that. But then they go on to say that it's because of threesomes and only threesomes. Hold up. Am I missing something here? Because I'm sure that there couldn't possibly be something in working out to look good for your partner, or working out to stay healthy, right?

Let's go back a few years. Around 1999. I was a freshman in college and i weighed somewhere in the 120-130lbs range. And all the while I was 6'0". So you can pretty much imagine that I was skinny as all hell. I was a dance major and I was in theatre shows and it just kept my weight down. I hated it. I hated every second of being so skinny. I hated everyday hearing, "Are you anorexic? Don't you eat? Are you bulimic?" It dawned on me to go to the gym, so I did, but I worked out all wrong. I did circuit training which just kept me skinny. Basically I was a mess.

Fast forward two years. Summer of 2002. I had just finished my junior year of college. I went home for four months of summer break. After having watched a performance of myself earlier in the year, I was horrified by what I looked like. I"m sure many people feel this way at times in their lives. They think, "i'm too fat. I don't like this. I don't like that." and blah blah blah. I decided to start working out. I went nuts.

I started going to the gym for three hours a day. I added in some fake tanning to add to my new transformation. I was convinced that this was all going to make me happy.

And it did, for awhile.

But, after a few years in the city, I learned that there are more things to life than the gym. But that the gym is a healthy way to blow off steam. It's also a fun place to see your friends, or take classes and just be active.

Now, of everyone I know, I am the biggest fitness geek of all. You'll never catch me skipping the gym for pretty much anything. However, I have limits and I have reason. I know that it's good to take some time off. I also have watched the health of people much older than me fade and I know that I can do a lot to prevent that from ever happening to me. I see my parents and know all of their health problems and I know that I want to do everything I can now to make sure I don't have to deal with much as I get older.

So, in the 8 years of going to the gym (i only count from the time I gained weight) I have learned a lot. I went from being that stereotypical man at the gym who was only interested in being like the men I found myself attracted to, to being the man who works out to see the look I get from one person in my life. I love knowing that I make one person above all else excited to see me based on my appearance. I mean, I hope he's excited because of more than my appearance, but you know what I'm saying.

Basically, I say this. Doonan is full of shit. Yes, there are a portion of gay men who will only go after men who workout and it's all based on sex. But there are a lot more people in our community who don't go to the gym and have very important things to say. Funny things to say. Or just want to be themselves. They aren't nearly as pretentious as all of the muscle clad men who scoff at the tiny cute boy in the corner because he dared approach one of them to say hi. And in my opinion, all of those other people are far more interesting.

Of course, one could argue that it's because I'm in a relationship and that's why I feel this way. Well, I can assure you that I felt this way before I was in a relationship and thank God for that! So, I ask this Doonan guy, "why did you have to write about such a small portion of gay men? Why did you have to be closed minded to (most likely) your own people and just write some little fluffy thing? DOn't you think your time could have been more utilized had you written something groundbreaking? (i mean, like a blog?)"

The bottom line is, not everyone is the same. Not every muscle boy wants another muscle boy. Generally speaking, yes they do, but not all. And not everyone needs to go to the gym. But if they do, they should do it for health reasons, not for your penis.

And that's all I have to say about that. So Riggle me that, Fatso!

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Riggle me this, Old Feelings?

Every now and again, I go back and read old blogs I posted on myspace. Yes, myspace was the site of my first blog and now it's just taking up space there because, let's be real, who uses myspace anymore? Seriously, I"m going to post this, then link it to FACEBOOK, like an adult, Sheesh! ANywho, I found this blog humorous and hope you do too!

"I should be a trust fund baby"

So, from time to time, I help out my friend Scott with the subletting of his apt in NYC. He's somewhat bi-coastal, well, more like 85% LA and 5% NYC, and then 10% other places. IN any event, he maintains his NYC location, just in case.

Anywho, I've seen a lot of people come and go as I usually am the one who gives them their keys and whatnot, but I've never had to deal with someone like I did yesterday.

Ok, we begin with last week, just the initial request that I meet up with this girl and her friend to give them the keys and collect the deposit for the place and the first months rent, all of which is more money than I have to my name right now. Emails are sent to both me and this girl, who's name is Britta, yes, like the water filter company. This basically gives cue to her intelligence level as well. So, we discuss meeting on Monday even though she won't be moving in until the following Monday as I am about to depart for Denver on Thursday(today) for the weekend.

Strike One comes in the form of a voice message that could be left by a valley girl. Keep in mind this NYU student is from Minnesota yet somehow doesn't understand that statements don't have an upward inflection at the end like a question does.

"Hey Steve. This is, like, Brit-ta?" There was a definite emphasis on the 'ta.' "Can we, like, um, move our, like, meeting date to, like, later in the week? Because it's not really that important that we, like, get the keys just yet and it'll gives us, like, extra time to get the money? Thanks!" I wish I were making up how many times she said the word like. But I called her back and actually spoke with her, which was difficult in and of itself, but suggested we meet on Wednesday as I was pretty much free. So we decide 630.

Cut to Wednesday afternoon I receive another voicemail from the water girl...

"Hey Steve. This is, like, Britta, again? Can we just move the appointment to like, later in the week? Because we are having problems getting the money? And my parents are wiring it to me? But it's just, like, so difficult to get to it today? So it would really, like, help me out if, like, we could, like, move this meeting to, like, Friday?" I'm about to pull my hair out. I'm leaving thursday. But I call Scott and ask him what he wants to do. So, it's decided that we're going to still meet and all the business end of things is just fine. They worked something out. So off I go to Scott's apt to meet up with this girl, just wanting it all over.

No sooner do I get off the subway does my phone blow up with another voicemail from her.

"Hey Steve? This is, like Britta, again? I saw that you called me and I'm calling from Jess's phone, so like, we were just wondering if you would let us pay the deposit in cash? Or like, does he have to, like, be a money order? Because like, we would love to just pay in, like cash? But, like, we totally understand if that's, like, not possible."

I call Scott again. Cash is fine. I call her back and actually talk to her. Cash is fine. I end the conversation as quickly as possible because at this point I have got to pee more than I recall ever having to before. And finally, I make it to Scott's front door to wait for them to show up.

They show up and while I'm not fully prepared for what I see, they are basically exactly what I expect, just younger. Blonde, skinny, kind of cute if you're into fraternity sluts. But, she's about 22, I would guess. Her friend, Jess, was actually pretty and seemed somewhat smart. But I digress.

So, there we are on the street, me collecting cash from two girls, which just looks like a shady drug deal, when I ask them what they are doing in NYC for the summer. Britta looks at me and just says, "Oh, I like, just wanted to live NYC for the summer. So, you know, like, just hit up daddy!" I wanted to bash my head against the cold disgusting pavement of the sidewalk. I then asked if she was doing a summer internship somewhere. "I like, don't know if I want to. So, I might not." Again, back to the headbashing.

I couldn't believe it, and still kind of don't. Her parents are just letting her run wild in NYC for the summer. I'm so pissed off about it sometimes that I struggle so hard to just break even and someone that obviously couldn't give two shits about it gets everything they ever wanted. And, to top it off, you go to NYU but speak like you went to some reject school in California run by Elle Woods. Just knowing what their parents are spending for the summer on this apartment for these girls makes me crazy. I could put all of that money to such good use it's ridiculous!

Anywho, I am a person that should hit the age of thirty and then find out that he really has a trust fund of millions of dollars because not only would I have worked my ass off up to that point to truly appreciate it, I'd put it all to really good use, not just living and playing in nyc with no purpose, drive or contribution to society. This girl should be sterilized and forbidden to reproduce.


SO riggle me this; as it stands now, I'm thirty and no magic trust fund appeared. Either it's God's cruel joke to keep hiding it, or there is never going to be said trust fund just showing up on my doorstep. Maybe when I go out today, I'll follow the first L.P. (little person) I spot and see if she/he leads me to a pot of gold?

Riggle me that!

Friday, May 13, 2011

Riggle me this, Fear.

Every Monday evening, I hang out with a few people. It's kind of a standing arrangement. If one of us can't make it, it never seems to be a big deal, the evening just goes on without that person. I live for Monday nights. It's a blast. There's always food involved in mass quantities, television/movies, great company, and always hilarious conversation.

However, I noticed a trend in the past few weeks from one said person I've been hanging out with. Justin Summa. Yes, Justin, you're getting a shout out in my blog. HA HA. I think that should get you a check mark on a bucket list you're hiding somewhere. Justin and my friend John Alix (again, check that bucket list!) are fond of making up games where someone has to hum a tune and people have to guess what the song is, or, following suit of RuPaul's Drag Race, making people get up and perform a two minute stand up routine in a character of their choosing. There are various other games, but that is the one that stands out the most to me.

While this is all fun and games, I'm thrown into a tailspin of sweating, nausea, and tragic memories of my youth involving stage fright. Yes, I did go to school for performance and have been a performer my whole life, however, intimate settings are the biggest stages of fear in my life.

I can recall, in third grade, how I was to sing a solo at the school choir concert and I was so scared I started crying into the microphone and if I'm not mistaken I ran off stage. I could be making up that last part(I'll have to check with my mom, Mrs. Riggle, and get back to you).
However, it was just the beginning of my stage fright. My piano teacher also made me perform for my classmates during "music" hour at school so I "could get more practice in live performance." I was deathly terrified and, sadly, tormented by my friends. I was known as "Stevie Wonder" for most of elementary school. I know you're all wondering how this was a bad thing, but trust me, I am not comfortable being the butt of a joke, however good intentioned it may be.

Then came a moment, that I will always remember. My mother asked me to play a song on the piano and sing it for her. My nerves were shot. leading up to the big day, I practiced and practiced and practiced for hours on end. But for some reason, I was so terrified that she would be disappointed in my performance that I chickened out at the last moment. To this day I regret it.

And it happens all the time. My mom recalls stories of my piano recitals growing up, my sisters would be nervous wrecks, yet I was cool, calm and collected going up to the piano to perform. Little did she know that there was that nagging voice in my head that told me, "you're not good enough, you suck, you didn't practice enough, everyone is going to make fun of you!" leading me down a path of fear and dread everytime I knew a recital was coming up. It did, however, make me practice harder and prepare harder just so I knew that I was really ready, so no mistakes would be made and I would be able to hold my head high and know that I did a good job.

These are all of the things I think about when i am put on the spot. It is my achilles heel, so to speak. I clam up at the mere suggestion of something impromptu or impulsive. It's not something I love about myself, but there it is. In drama class, I would freeze up just looking at a syllabus that said, "improvisation." I was and still am terrified of such things.

So, what do Justin Summa and John Alix have to do with this fear? Well, they continue to put me on the spot over and over again, and I'm, quite frankly, more embarrassed about the fear that causes a wall to go up than I am about what would happen if they made fun of me. I'm pretty confident in my friendships with them, that I could fall flat on my face and make an ass of myself and they'd still love me. Yet, I struggle over and over and over again. So this is where they come into play. I am gonna conquer this fear if it's the last thing I do in my life, so I hope they won't (but they probably will) bombard me with questions like, "Steve, name a pop song!" or other such nonsensical questions, but I hope they will help me overcome this fear of mine because well, it's just a dumb little thing that I hate about myself. And I'm too old to be afraid of trying, right?

Riggle me that!

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Riggle me this, I'm back!

So, I took a little time off from my blog. I can only justify this by saying that all of my favorite television shows took the month of March off, so I felt like I could do the same thing. I've been busy though, writing other things, just nothing I want to put up on the internet yet, but I'm loving taking the time to write and just create things. I could take a nose dived side bar into how I love to hear the rapid typing of the keys when I"m truly inspired, but I'll spare you the boring details of all of my personal quirks!

So, what's been going on. Some loose anecdotes of bartending! Let's start there. A few weeks ago, I was at the end of the bar talking to one of the other bartender's girlfriends, Darci. Sitting next to her was this old lady who began asking me a question about the bologna sandwich that we used to have on the menu. I began talking to her about it, as that's my job, and informed her, mistakenly that it was coming back to the menu. I thought that was the end of the conversation and I walked away to help other guests and whatnot.

When I came back to her, she had more questions. I obliged, went on my way, then she called me over again and had even more things she wanted to talk about, still on bologna. In my head, I was like, "bitch let it go!" But she was REALLY interested in this fucking sandwich. So, finally, I catch Darci out of the corner of my eye, holding back a laugh and passing over her empty glass with a bar napkin underneathe. She says to me, "I think you need to take that away."

Happily, anything to get me away from crazy lunchmeat lady! I took one look at the bar napkin and on it, Darci had written, "who eats bologna anyways?" I about died.

Not even a few minutes later, a nasty french man came up to the bar with his unfortunate wife and he ordered a "Framboise-Peche." With two glass so that could share. Side note. This is a champagne style beer her ordered, however he ordered two flavors, so they can't share one.

So I asked him which he wanted, the framboise or the peche, to which he was totally confused, as he clearly had little grasp on communication skills, though he knew English quite well. I stuck with it and eventually came to the conclusion of which flavor he wanted.

SO I opened the beer and being that it's champagne style, it gets poured directly into the glass with a small stream down the center of the glass, not the glass tipped to the side. THe man looked at me in disgust and said, "ugh, you're pouring it wrong." To which I responded, "excuse me?" and then he literally snatched the beer and the glass out of my hand and said, "I'll just do it myself!"

I saw his credit card on the bar and just ran it and slammed the copies of paper down in front of him, it took everything in me not to ram my wine key up his fucking nose, but I refrained, keeping my shit together and eventually laughing because what else could i do? He was some douchebag who wouldn't be there much longer and I can keep it together, right?

But now that I think about it, I've NEVER had something snatched out of my hands before in my entire life, and that includes when I was a small child. I can't recall a time, ever, that my mother or father or my sisters ever took something away from me with such force. Sure they took things away that I wasn't supposed to be playing with, but never a snatch. I kinda want to find this asshole and let him know that I'm thiry fucking years old and he's a prick, however, I think that might not really be very affective.

Anywho, not long after that, I was on the subway being pushed into the car by some bitchy lady. She was actually pushing me into a stroller with a child in it who's mother was trying to get situated in the center of the car. The woman behind me said, "excuse me go in," very bitchily, so I turned and glared at her and indicated why I couldn't move further in. To which she, again, very bitchily said, "i need to get in the car!" So i just turned to her and rudely said, "there's a stroller in front of me, I can't move!" I thought that would be the end of it but then she said, somewhat under her breath, "ok, calm down, don't get so worked up" and out of the corner of her eye, I saw her roll her eyes and mock me, so I had to respond with, sarcastically under my breath, "don't be a bitch."

And that was the moment I found out that her husband was stand with her. Of course he was pissed and gave me an, "excuse me? what did you say?" So I just stayed silent, when really I should have gotten into a fight with him. He was definitely shorter than me and TINY! I totally could have taken him. I mean, no I shouldn't have called the woman a bitch, but seriously, she was pushing me into a child filled stroller. I"m pretty sure if that man and his wife had the child, and someone was being pushed into them, they'd be pretty pissed off. Maybe they are just angry people. I don't know them so I can't say much about it, but she was a bitch. And I said it. And while most people don't like being called out, fuck her. She got it, and she deserved it.

So, yeah, sometimes, I behave in such a way in public that I'm surprised I haven't gotten my ass kicked yet, and maybe one day I will, but for the time being I'm pretty proud of being able to stand up for myself more and I'll just take what comes.

Riggle me that, bitches!

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Riggle me this, dog poop!

So, I frequently see this sign while I'm walking my dog, but for once, I actually stopped to look and think about what this sign means.

My first thought was, "wow, that's a wide range of a fine." I mean, come on $25-200? That means a lot. I just don't understand what would constitute a $25 fine, something small? Like having your dog off their leash? Is that all it would take? Or if you don't clean up their pee? I don't get it. But then I thought about what would constitute a $200 fine? If your dog struts up to a cop standing nearby and just takes a good old fashioned dump on his foot? 'Cause, ya know, that would piss me off, too!

BUt, the more I thought about this sign, I realized that these signs are all over the city, and yet, I still step in dog shit from irresponsible pet owners who don't clean up after their dogs. I almost feel like I should be like Barney Fife and scream "citizen's arrest! citizen's arrest!" at the people I see leaving a mess behind. There is one bitch on my street who put's her dog into the fenced in tree area and lets her dog go, and assumes that it's appropriate to not clean it up.

She assumes incorrectly.

It's a horrible thing that too many people have just let go and part of the reason why my dog can't go to many area's of public parks or even certain parts of the city that he should be allowed to go. That old adage, one bad apple will spoil the bunch has really rung true in my life. So, in the spirit of the old bitch who tried to tell me that my dog needs a coat in the cold, I would like to tell all of you fuckers who don't clean up your dog shit that if I see you doing it, I will not only rub your dog's shit in your face, I will run down to where this sign is posted, steal it, and then come and bitch slap your dog shitty face with it, and then call the police.

Will I really do that? Most likely not, but that imagry will be playing in my head when I see it.

Riggle me that!

Sunday, January 23, 2011

RIggle me this, Shitheads!

Ok, so a lot has been going on and I've done little or nothing about keeping everyone informed of the idiocy that I'm faced with on a daily basis.

First up, let's begin with my bar and what happened with a wonderful old couple sat at one end on a random saturday afternoon. I said hello to them and they said hi back. Right off the bat, things looked good and everything seemed ok with them. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Then the man ordered a drink.
"Yeah, I'll have a blood orange margarita. No salt, and ice on the side."

Me: "Ok." Then I hesitated. Because ice on the side could mean several things, so I ask, "would you like the drink chilled at all? or just straight no ice?"

Him, "No ice at all."

I said, "ok," and went about making the drink. As I was making it, he looked at me and asked, "would you like to know why I want it that way?" "No, I don't," was the first thing that popped into my head, but it wasn't like I could avoid his next statement.

"See, it's like when I'm at McDonald's and I order a coke. If I let them make it with ice, I don't get as much soda as when I ask for it with ice on the side. Well, it's the same thing here. This way I get more alcohol. Aren't I smart?"

At this moment, I wished sooooooooo badly that I could have been mean to him. Not only was he wrong, but just overall stupid. However, I made a huge mistake that I wish now I could take back. I said to him, "actually, you get the same legal amount of alcohol regardless of how much ice is in it." I think about this statement now and I just wish I could go back and hit myself over the head before the words escaped my lips. Because it opened the flood gates of an old man yelling at me about how he was right.

After a few minutes of listening to this, I smiled and said, "ok," then went to get his beer. On my way back to deliver it, he was telling his wife about how he expects people to just make the drinks the way he asks, and "i can't believe they always just try to tell me how it is, and I just want a drink made the way I want it without question, is that so much to ask for?" Apparently it is, if you're mistaking telling people your opinion for them schooling you, you ass-tard.

But, it gets better.

He goes to order. Two things. That's it, just two items off the menu. But, he told me about 4 or 5 times what he wanted as to ensure my stupid-ass wouldn't forget in the amount of time it took me to turn around and ring it in. And then, to make it worse, I asked him, "will you be sharing this?" because his wife hadn't ordered anything. His response? Oh it was amazing.

"Nah, she's too fat, she doesn't get to eat."

Priceless. Stupid AND a charmer. I mean, what??? Was he serious? I honestly couldn't tell, and his wife just sat there not saying anything so great, she's an idiot too. Man, this guy must be loaded to put up with that much bullshit. I mean, come on! And to make it worse, when I gave them their requested bill, he looked at me and said, "you'll have to get money from this bitch(indicating his wife), I don't pay for service."

I just made an awkward face and said, "ooooooooookkkk"

I mean, what else was there to do?

Shithead number one.

Shithead number two came in the form of an old lady who lives on my street. This afternoon she decided to tell me a thing or two about raising my dog.

I took him on a relief walk (for non pet owners, it's a short walk intended for them to do their bathroom business and that's it, a normal walk is just for exercise). So, as I was walking him, this lady approached me and asked if she could pet him. I said yes without even thinking because hell, she was so nice already. Then the shoe dropped.

She said to me, "I see you and the other guy walking him a lot, and i just think it's sad that this cutie has such irresponsible owners to just walk him without a coat. It's so cold outside."

I thought she was kidding. I was stunned.

She went on, "you see, a dog like this only has one coat of fur and it's like human hair, so he's really really cold."

Still shocked, I replied angrily and yelling, "Are you kidding? He has two coats, he's not like some 5 lbs little Yorkie. Mind your own business, you bitch! I'm not irresponsible? Who the fuck are you?"

To which she told me that if she saw my dog again without a coat on, that she would call the cops on me.

I mean, for real! Several things about this bother me.

1. My dog has two coats of fur, trust me when I tell you how nervous I am for spring when he sheds his undercoat. It won't be cute at my apt.
1a. Mind your own business.

2. It's not a legal issue to put or not put a coat on a dog when it's cold outside.
2a. Mind your own fucking business.

3. Mind your own business.
3a. Oh yeah, mind your own business.

And there you have douchebags of the day.

Riggle me that!

Friday, January 14, 2011

Riggle me this, Jumbled slew of information.

IT's be a little bit since I've written anything, but it seems like nothing major has been happening. But it has been! Hooray!

So, I've been writing scripts lately. And immediately upon finishing them, I've been sending them to Matt to read. It's kinda nerve wracking. So, last week, I finished a script that I wrote in my bedroom, and emailed it to Matt, who was in the living room. Not wanting to be around while he read it, I stayed in my room. A few minutes go by and I hear Matt laughing. Not just laughing, but loudly giggling. "This is great," I thought, "what I wrote is really funny!" I was so proud of what I wrote. I couldn't believe it. So fast forward to a few minutes later and Matt comes to tell me that he liked my script a lot. I asked him which part he was laughing so hard at. His response? "Oh, I saw something my mom wrote on Facebook." My ego was crushed.

A few days ago, I came home to see a few women standing at the elevator door banging it. My first thought was that hitting the door wouldn't really help. A few minutes later, I came back downstairs and saw a new group of people hitting the door again. Not the same ones, but new people. And i just thought to myself, "what do they think? That there is some little elevator monkey churning a crank and hitting the door will alert him more than pushing the button will?" I just want to pass by and not see people hitting a door.

Then, last night, I was at the bar and a girl ordered a glass of wine and a beer. So I set them down and told them that it would be $14. They looked very puzzled. So I waited for them to pay and one of them, very confused, asked, "are the $7 each?" I replied, "no the beer is 5 and the wine is 9." They paid and still looked very confused. So then about twenty minutes go by and the girl with the wine looks at me and says, "I'm sorry, I"m really confused, but the board up there behind you says this wine is five dollars, did you guys change your prices?" Now, I was the one that was confused. I turn and look behind me at the board and it said Wishing Tree Shiraz '05. I looked back at her and said, "Oh that's the year, not the price" She responds with, "the what?" I told her, "that's the vitange." Again, she seemed a little bit confused. Now, I know I promised I would be nice this year, and I was nice to her, but I still couldn't shut of my head. I was so embarrassed for her, I couldn't stand it! I mean, who has glasses of wine for $5? And further more, we have vintages that are '04, so who would sell wine for $4? So, I couldn't really control my laughter. I felt bad. So then, about twenty minutes later, she pulled one of the bartenders aside and said, "Can you please tell that guy(me) that I wasn't embarrassed?" um, what??? Ok, first of all, you should have been embarrassed and if you weren't, you should be now because you had to proclaim that you weren't. I mean, what?

People are stupid.

Riggle me that!

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Riggle me this, New Year!

Happy happy new year!!!

I hope everyone who actually reads this doesn't mind a little positivity coming your way. I've decided to be nice. Yes, I've actually made a new year's resolution. I never believed in them before and usually I tend to make a resolution on my birthday as opposed to the new year, but I'm trying something new.

So, I've made this resolution to be nicer. I know, some of you are wondering how someone as sweet as myself could get any nicer, but trust. I can. And now that I've made this resolution, I'm having more problems than ever. I can't stop the meanness in my head. It's like the moment I committed to be nicer, the funniest and meanest shit pops into my head.

And it's not like I can control it, but, for real, the universe is not without a sense of humor. I get it. You give me wit and cleverness when I can't do anything about it.

In other events, I had to work on new years eve, which was fine with me because I saw, after work, what I missed out in the big scary world of NYC.

Seriously, it was hilarious. I left work around 1:45 AM and saw immediately near my restaurant a woman puking in the snow. She was wearing high heels, a skirt a bra and an open trenchcoat. Somehow in the course of the evening she, like Michelle, couldn't find her top.

Then a few blocks over, closer to the 1 train on seventh avenue, a very large man wearing only a speedo and flip-flops was also puking in the snow.

Somehow I missed the memo on scantily clad snow puking. I mean, who sends those out, Mark Zuckerberg? Is he in charge of this?

So then, the next morning, the first day of the year, of course I have to work! So I get on the subway to head downtown. I select the last car on the train and, as per usual, it's empty. Except one man, who is dancing around in the car. I get on anyways and just figure I'll stick to myself.

This man became the most amazing thing I've ever witnessed on the subway before. He was dancing with his backpack in the crook of his arm like he was holding a handbag. His backpack had his initials embroidered on it with a sign on it saying, "if you find me lost somewhere please return me to this address." And obviously there was an address, but i couldn't read it clearly.

As we traveled, more and more people boarded the train and simply pretended that this man didn't exist. I mean, why would anyone pay attention to an adult man dancing? But then he begain singing and quoting movies from the forties and fifties. Then, out of nowhere, he started shrieking in this high pitched voice, "Judy! Judy Jetson!" He kept on talking and somehow got from Judy Jetson to Judy Garland and said, "Judy's dead. there's not place like home, there's no place like home!" And with that, he began clicking his heels together! I was in heaven. Seriously, this was actually happening. I was losing my mind.

Then, a woman seated across from me pulled out a bag of pretzels to give to her daughter, and suddenly his high pitched voice thing stopped and he said, in his regular, deep voice, "Oh, may i have a handful of your pretzels please?" Of course she gave him some, because I mean, how do you not? So, he got the pretzels and continued dancing and still, STILL, most of the people on the train were ignoring this man. I seriously do not understand how they could.

And with only one stop, for me, to go, he sat down next to me and asked so politely, "do you mind if I watch you play your video game, sir?" I died. I was pissing myself at this point, i mean, what?

So I have decided that this man is either autistic, or is the greatest actor to ever live, because it was genius.

And I've concluded that 2011 is going to be a great year because of this day.

Riggle me that!