This is kind of turning into a travel blog, but that's usually the only thing of note going on lately. I'll try to come up with a few different topics here after this. But, we just got back from New Orleans. It was technically my second time there, but first time since I started forming and retaining memories.

The main reason we decided to go now was for Ben's 40th birthday party, which happened to coincide with a big gay festival, Southern Decadence and some big late night party called the Horsemeat Disco. Getting to NOLA is beyond easy. We took Southwest out of Love because Daniel had a leftover flight credit from his short lived stint at the startup and we needed to use it or lose it. We normally will only fly American because we're holding onto gold status by our fingernails these days, but it made sense to this time not to. And boy does that eliminate a lot of stress. Love is down the street, we could practically walk there. And the flight was barely an hour long, so easy.

We really had a nice time in the city. The food is great everywhere we went. Great drinks, good nightlife. The night of Horsemeat Disco we took a little disco nap and made it out. We had purchased new clothes just for the event so we would be ever so slightly appropriately dressed. Turned out we were almost the only ones wearing clothes. Lots of butts hanging out everywhere. It was crowded. It was stinky. You could hardly move much less dance, could hardly talk. All in all, I'd have to say not my scene. But I did my best to hang and have a good time, mostly by imbibing.

The next day we went to the Southern Decadence parade. It was so hot. It was so crowded. It was impossible to do anything, so when our friend Ashley had to head for the airport to get back to her kids, we took it as an excuse to escort her back to our hotel where she'd stashed her bag and then we went to the pool. All in all, I'd have to say not my scene. My scene gets more and more specificity added to it every year. Luckily Daniel agrees.

Our last night we went out to dinner in the French Quarter, had a lovely meal, and then strolled down Bourbon Street on our way back to the hotel. At the end of the street a complete nut job had set up an amplifier with a microphone and had dip shits on either side holding big placard signs letting us all know that we were going to hell. When he saw Daniel and me, he singled us out and started harassing us. Daniel grabbed my hand and we told them to fuck off as we walked by. What a downer at the end of the trip.

It did get me thinking though. The analogous opposite of that just truly doesn't exist. Nobody ever sits outside of churches on Sunday morning with big signs saying "None of this is real!" or "You're all morons!" while someone screams at them in a microphone, "You're not going to heaven when you die dipshit!" So ... looking for volunteers for next Sunday. Let's liberate a few minds from the clutches of Idiocracy!

I'm cheating again and I'm going to backdate this blog. I used to just say sorry I am so late getting around to it, but these days I use my blog like a Time Hop, so I'd rather have a semi-accurate date on it depending on the story I'm telling. But I digress. We just got back from a long weekend in NYC.

We've struggled to find our place there. Different hotels, different neighborhoods, nothing ever really felt right. Well, folks, you'll be as thrilled to hear as I am thrilled to announce - we finally found our home away from home in New York. The Chelsea Hotel. It's this super old building with a rich and storied history of being a haven for artists and musicians. But it's been bought out and turned mostly into a high end hotel. I say mostly because some people still live there, so walking down the hall to our hotel room, we passed two residents' doors. I assume that is occasionally annoying but it probably also basically saved the building so take what you can get. There were three restaurants, and we tried two. Both were fab. And we'd go to the bar at night for courvoisier and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

I'd never been to a Broadway show so Daniel got us tickets to two shows while we were there. One was Oh Mary! starring Meg Stalter. I love her to death and she did an amazing job, but ... eh. It was like bawdy and irreverent for the sake of it. I didn't really think it was that CLEVER or anything. Funny enough and we had a great time watching. But ... nothing like our second show Titanique - the telling of the story of the Titanic from Celine Dion's perspective. It was continuously riotously funny throughout with the best music and dancing. Loved it. Loved it.

What else? We went to the Met. Daniel had tried to gaslight me into believing I'd been to the Met before, but I definitely hadn't. Then we walked through Central Park and later on through Hudson River Park, and yowzah the eye candy. I definitely need to step it up or start taking peptides or something. We also saw Davbart and he and Colin took us out to a more traditional Chinese brunch that was completely chaos and then to the Tenement Museum which was super cool and I would def go back to that.

I don't know if New York changed, or if I changed, but I really enjoy it more now than when I was younger. I was even commenting that like nobody was rude the whole time. To us or otherwise. People on the subway said, "Pardon me," when it was their stop. Staff everywhere just super welcoming and friendly. Idk, it is just so enjoyable now where I didn't feel like that 20 years ago. The only thing I didn't like was that EVERY FUCKING ONE was playing Alicia Key's "New York" on repeat. Every store, every pedicab, everywhere you went, you'd sometimes even hear 2 or 3 renditions going on out of sync simultaneously. PEOPLE! There are SO MANY songs about New York. Mix it up!

Then whoosh, we were back home. A super fun little trip for no particular reason. And one we'll hopefully start to do with more regularity.

Well, I happened to notice that today marks exactly one year since my glorious return to SideshoViD.com. I just did a quick inventory and I made 38 posts in that year. That's actually a lot more than I was expecting. Though I have to say the addition of Instagram-like and Twitter-esque formats really helps boost those numbers. I wish I had thought of that back in 2002.

I came back from Spain, felt fine, went to work for a week, etc. Then Saturday afternoon I started to feel kind of shitty. I was sick right before Spain, so given how quickly I was feeling sick again, I decided to do what I never do and go straight to a doctor to get tested and find out what is ailing me. The doctor just called and said my test results were unusual, so it would be easier to explain over the phone (ALWAYS a good sign). I tested positive concurrently for 3 infections - a coronavirus (not COVID), an influenza bacteria (not the flu), and whooping cough? Fuck me. But the good news is a zpack will wipe out both bacteria at the same time, so I guess it's a good thing I went to the doctor straight away instead of waiting 3 weeks to see if it resolved on its own. Maybe I should do that every time I get sick. Is that what doctors are for?

In other news, I've been making minimal efforts to drink marginally less. One way I have done that occasionally is zebra striping. That's where you alternate one alcoholic drink, then one non alcoholic drink. The problem is, every non alcoholic drink sucks ass. They're just juice. Like, don't serve me a glass of juice and call it a MOCKTAIL. That is infuriating. So I went on a quest of my own to make a zero proof cocktail at home. Problem is, fake "liquors" are even worse. They're not even juice, they're just tea. Like literally a weak brewed spicy tea and they call it a whiskey replacement. It's insulting.

Well, folks, I am pleased to report I finally found a good one. I was talking through it with AI, because obviously, and I told it I wanted the bite, the flavor, the viscosity, the burn, the aroma, like everything. And it came up with 3 suggestions. We happened to be at Total Wine this weekend so I bought one of them. I told Daniel, "If this sucks, I'm giving up entirely." But it didn't suck. It's awesome. It's St. Agrestis Phony Negroni. And it pretty much tastes exactly like a real Negroni. Very satisfying and very reassuring that I should check out the other two AI suggestions and maybe get a repertoire going. We'll see, but I'll keep you all posted if I don't die first.

The last destination on our whistle stop tour of Spain was Madrid. Barcelona was big. Granada was cute. Seville was medieval. And Madrid was hip and sexy. It immediately had a different feel from the other cities. There were also rainbow flags ev-er-y-where. I dunno if it was just the neighborhood we were in, but it seemed like every bit of the city that we saw was the same. There was even a sex club next to our fancy hotel. We got brave one night and went in to check it out. It seemed like the more raunchy activities were all downstairs and we could just sit upstairs, fully clothed, in the tiki lounge and just have a drink. But the guy at the door didn't speak English and we couldn't really ask and then we got scared and ran away.

The first night we had reservations at the oldest continuously operational restaurant in the world, Botin. We got a set down in the basement which seemed more desirable than sitting upstairs. Daniel had eaten there many years ago and wanted to see if the grilled prawns were still the best thing ever, but after we ordered they came back and said no prawns tonight. Boo. So we both got the suckling pig that I read online was the most famous dish. And it was really good. As we were leaving the host guy said, "Did you see the wine cellar?" And we said no and he said oh you can't leave without seeing it. So back downstairs we went, and then down another level into a dark cramped brick covered tunnel filled with dusty wine bottles. And he kind of gestured, "Over here, there's more." And as he did he rubbed his hand on my crotch, and I thought, oh no! Don't acknowledge it, he'll get embarrassed! It's so cramped in here! And then it happened again. And again. And again. And then he put his hand on the small of my back and then ran his hands down and grabbed my butt. Haha. At that point, I looked at him and said, "Ohohokay, buddy. I think that's enough." I was SO excited to tell Daniel that I got groped. As we walked up the stairs from the cellar, I turned back to him and we both said at the same time, 'I just got molested!" This dude was doing it to him too! Like WHAT did he think was going to happen, best case scenario in a crowded tourist trap restaurant. So funny. We've both STILL GOT IT!

We did yet another tour in Madrid and our tour guide was awesome. He's even written books on Spain and gave us each a copy I look really forward to reading. We learned a bit more about the flip side of Spanish history after the Moors with the Spanish monarchy. This one is of note because they inbred SO fucking much that the later sovereigns were like deformed and sterile and it was a whole thing. We went through the Prado and our guide knew just about everything there was to know about just about every painting in there. It was really impressive and we had a wonderful day of learning. My fav.

The next dinner was at a Michelin star restaurant. We weren't sure we'd be up for it after so many nights of eating out in a row, but it ended up being a great idea. My dick didn't get groped, but my palate did get challenged. So many dishes I had ZERO idea what it even was that I was eating. And we paired it with a bottle of Krug, a nasty little habit we've developed, so that made it even more fun.

The Reina Sofia museum is full of modern art. It was sorta more inspiring than the Prado because I felt like I could do all of it. In fact, I might try. Instead of finding art for our house, what if I just made forgeries of existing pieces. It would be fun to try anyway. Our final dinner of the trip we just could not stomach more tapas, so we made a few aperol spritzes in the "red level" lounge at the hotel, then walked over to Popeye's and had a very disappointing chicken sandwich. The day we didn't fly home until 4pm, which was kind of sweet. Slept in, had a leisurely breakfast, took our time getting to the airport, and when we finally got home it was already time for bed. Win win win. All in all a great trip!

Today is the day I finally cut my rat tail off. I've been growing it for quite some time and it is understandably out of control. I took a picture of it last night just for documentation purposes and maybe I'll post it here sometime when I'm not so lazy. I am also going platinum today. I haven't dyed my hair in so long and I just can't wait. The hairstyle I'm going for is WWII chic. I want to look like I'm about to be shipped off to Normandy.

In other news, finishing touches on the bar began last night. All of the oak is stained and shoelocked and ready to go. Turns out oak is incredibly hard to get nails or screws through. Total pain in the ass. But we managed to get the trim and the first panel up. It looks fantastic. When it's all together I have every confidence that it'll be breathtaking. Toot! Toot!

Not much time to work on it today with my haircut and two parties to go to. The first one is whirlyball. If I remember from 6th grade correctly, its a game where there are two teams on a basketball court. Everyone has a little scoop that you can use to scoop up and fling a whiffle ball. And the objective is to hit a hoopless basketball backboard inside the square to earn points. Oh wait, did I mention the whole time you're in a hard to control bumper car? Cause that's kind of important. Then it's off to celebrate Katie turning 21. All these kids are growing up so fast.

And in final news, I've been thinking already about Febrehabruariv. I'm going to give up drinking and smoking and go vegan again. But I've been brainstorming ways to make it more difficult. It defeats the purpose somewhat if it's easy. I toyed with the idea of giving up driving. The bus stop is relatively close to my apartment but SO FAR from my office. It would certainly be a massive challenge. Maybe a tad too much. I will probably give up caffeine in any form now that I don't really need it to survive. But also for the middle two weeks, I'm going to do a master cleanse. Some of you may have heard me talk about it after C■■■■ introduced me to the concept. It's not so much that I think it's a great idea, although I am 100% intrigued by testimonials on the internet, but more that I think it would be HARD to do. Essentially the only thing you ingest for two weeks is this mixture of water, lemon juice, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper. You should google "master cleanse" to read more about it. It's insane. But people on the internet and C■■■■ swear by it. So I think I'll do it.

Let me know if you want to play along. Ha!

Today was the best trip of my vacation thus far, and it has nothing to do with the fact that it's my last day in New Jersey. We had to do a lot of work in a high school that involved going into classrooms. Since we couldn't do the work while class was in session, we planned on working from 2-11 today. My coworker, insistent that I not leave New Jersey without having at least a little bit of fun, decided to include me on his trip to the beach in Seaside Heights.

It was too much fun. It looks like a Coney Island or something. There's a boardwalk with shops and restaurants and bars and arcades all up and down the beach. It was absolutely dead since it was a Thursday morning and it's after Labor Day, but it was still fun. I want to come back here on vacation some summer to see it rawkin'. The beach was really nice. It was 80 degrees and sunny and just a gorgeous day to spend sunning. We even went down into the water and body surfed on these enormous waves. I got my ass so kicked. I was riding some waves that were way too big to be riding. I drank enough sea water to last me for the rest of my life.

I rode this one particular wave that was too big. When I stood up, I gasped for breath and immediately got hit by another wave. When I finally came up for air, I was stumbling through the rip current and stepped down right on top of something sharp. I kind of hop-skipped and then looked at my foot. There was a little dot of blood, so I was pissed that I'd scraped my heel. That led me to take a break from body surfing. The blood kind of ran out and formed a blood/sand cover for the wound, so I wasn't worried about it. We laid out a while longer and then drove back to my hotel.

I decided I should probably clean my scrape, but when I was washing it in the tub, there were two little piece of sand that wouldn't wash off. And it hurt like hell when I touched it. I realized they were stuck in my foot. No biggie. I went to get my tweezers and pull them out. I grabbed a hold of the first one and started pulling. Oh, it came out. It came out a little bit, then a little more, then some more, and then some more. It was a long ass little piece of some kind of crustaceon. It hurt like a fucking bitch to pull it out and then started bleeding profusely. Then I turned to the next one. It was even bigger and hurt so bad when I tried to pull it out that I stopped. My coworker tried to pull it out but he couldn't. After calling around to find out where the nearest hospital was, I decided to just giterdone myself. So I grabbed it with the tweezers, bit down, and pulled. It was like a good inch long and completely inside my foot. This one hurt even worse and bled even more. In fact, it spurted out blood. So gross.

Anyway, I'm okay now. It doesn't appear to be infected. I've been limping all day, but really the only reason I told you about this is because I used my camera phone to take a picture of it and I wanted you all to see it. Kthanks.

This morning I hit the ol' snooze button one too many times. Next thing I knew, I was laying in bed at 7:30 when I have class at 8:00. So I did what I had to do. I omitted certain things from my morning ritual. One of these was showering. When you're going to be late again (batting 1000 on being late to the 8) hygeine takes a back seat to speed. Also, grooming is out the window. Fashion is a non-issue. To sum it all up, I woke up, pulled some pants on over my boxers, threw on some flip flops and was pulling a shirt over my geezy, messed up hair as I ran to the bus stop. And since I was running late, everyone around me was running late as well, and looked the part ... or did they ...

As some of you know, I live on or near Sorority Row, the row of worthless houses containing worthless people. Two of these pillars of society got on the bus one stop after me. At first glance, they appeared to have rolled out of bed and gotten onto the bus. The pajamas were a dead give away. But as I continued to look at them, passing in and out of consciousness, I started noticing that they had clearly not rolled out of bed. This was a carefully crafted look.

Her makeup was impeccable, her hair quite styled. The pj's matched the baby T she was wearing and she was bright eyed despite the hour. Anyone who gets up early in order to achieve an unfinished 'look' and spends time trying to look cutesy for an 8:00 class should be hit on the head with a tack hammer.

Ergo, sorority girls are dumb. QED.