Friday, February 29, 2008
My friend -- let's call him Todd -- recently got dumped by his boyfriend -- let's call him Kenneth. Todd is devastated, especially because it just happened, and Kenneth is already dating other guys. So Todd and I are instant-messaging each other at work today, and he's telling me all this, and as I'm chatting with him, I'm emailing three other friends of mine -- let's call them Pat, Jeff and Seth -- about dinner plans tonight. Then I send out another email to them:
Subject: Good dirt...
Message: ...about Todd and Kenneth. Will share later tonight...
I hit "send," and suddenly my blood runs cold. Because I realize instead of sending the email to Pat, Jeff and Seth, I SENT IT TO PAT, JEFF AND TODD!!!!!
How I feel.
So I IM Todd right away: I just did something very stupid, and you're going to hate me.
Me: I just sent an email to you... ABOUT YOU!
Todd has logged off.
Back when the Internet was new, I used to do stupid shit like this all the time. Once at Fox News, I IM'd my boss, Patrick, the following: "I hate Patrick."
And I can't count the number of times I've accidentally hit "Reply All" when I REALLY didn't want all the recipients to read my reply, or forwarded a long email thread to someone without realizing that somewhere, down at the bottom of the page, was an unflattering comment about him.
That's why I'm always SO SO SO careful nowadays. I always reread everything before hitting "send." And it's not that I'm some malicious bitch who's always talking about people behind their backs, but let's face it; we all say shit sometimes about people in our lives that we wouldn't necessarily want them to hear. It's a way of blowing off steam.
In this case, though, it was simply mean-spirited gossip, and the result is that a friend of mine who was already in pain is now hurting even more.
So not happy with myself right now.
Monday, February 25, 2008
UPDATED! PHOTO OF ME IN MY HEATH LEDGER COSTUME NOW ATTACHED!
I received the following email via my web site last Thursday:
hi sweet adam ..i am zlatko by croatia 26 year old..189-73 sexy ok boy ..i am gay....please you send me any your free .....dvd+photos+autogram for nice memory on you...my adr..
my cell for sms...003XX..XXXXXXXXX...
write me a soon....zlatko.kissessss
you are very , very sexy...kisses
Incidentally, I hear Durdevac is beautiful this time of year.
First of all, Zlatko Patacko may just be the coolest name ever. If I ever use a stage name, that will be it. And while I'm not exactly sure what a "189-73 sexy ok boy" is (perhaps they catalogue their gays in Croatia?) his email was very sweet, so I'm definitely going to send him an autogram.
Far creepier was an email sent last week to one of the editors at "Out in Jersey" magazine, in which I write a regular column called "Jersey Queerys." First, some background: Some of you may recall an incident about a year and half ago, when the magazine published an interview with Lily Tomlin in which I was briefly mentioned. After it was published, a man with a fetish for sheer socks contacted me because he had seen the following photo of Lily Tomlin in drag...
(Note the socks...)
...and had somehow become convinced that I was the person in the photo.
Well, my stockinged stalked has returned. Only this time, he's sent me a photo:
Adam; I saw a recent picture of you on a publication and saw that you and I have there same taste in socks. I have a great collection of all types of sheers and wear them all the time. If possible, please send me more pics of you in the sheers if you can. I don't know if they rise to the level of "playthings" with you as they do with me but if they do, let's hear from you on that also. Pic attached.
It puts the socks on itself...
Phil, you get points for the "SinSHEERLY" sign-off, which made me laugh out loud. But again, for the record, and what I hope is the last time: I DON'T OWN ANY FUCKING SHEER SOCKS! I DON'T WEAR SHEER SOCKS, AND I DON'T FIND SHEER SOCKS EVEN REMOTELY SEXY! IF YOU WANT TO TALK TO SOMEONE WHO WEARS SHEER SOCKS, PLEASE CONTACT LILY TOMLIN.
Couple other quick hits I've been meaning to mention for some time:
Has anyone else noticed that MTV makes it impossible to speed through the commercials of a show that's been recorded using DVR? I find it truly maddening. Time after time, I sit down to watch my recording of "The Gauntlet III/Real World-Road Rules Challenge" (which features more male flesh than gay porn). A commercial will begin, I'll hit the fast-forward on the DVR, it'll advance about 10 seconds... and then it'll freeze. When you hit play, it actually rewinds 10 seconds and forces you to watch the commercial in its entirety.
HOW THE FUCK IS MTV DOING THIS? And if such DVR-zapping technology exists, why is MTV the only channel using it?
Gratuitous shirtless pic of Danny, my favorite Gauntleteer.
Finally, New Rule: Please Do Stop the Music. Yes, this Rihanna tune was catchy when it first came out, especially the whole Michael Jackson "ma ma say ma ma sah ma ma koo sah" part. But after hearing it on the radio 1,000 times a day, every day for two months, I'm over it. It's done. Finished.
Incidentally, that song was playing when Boy Wonder and I first danced together on New Year's Eve. Somehow, the moment wound up on YouTube. See if you can spot us...
That's about all for today. Sorry no Oscar recap this year; it's just too much work. For what it's worth, I enjoyed the show. Not sure why everyone's bashing Jon Stewart today; he made us laugh at the Julie & AJ Jacobs party I attended. Oh, my costume for this year's party? Heath Ledger.
Many, many thanks to all the people who sent me warm birthday greetings. It was one of my nicest birthdays ever, culminating in the wedding of my dear friend, Jennifer Starobin, at which Boy Wonder and I wore matching tuxes:
It was just like my high school prom.
But with sex afterwards.
Come see me host the Electro Shock Therapy Comedy Hour this Sunday, March 2, at 10 p.m., when my special guests will be Rick Crom, Helen Hong, Chantal Carrere and Dave Rubin. Details on my web site.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
A couple weeks ago I performed once again at Rainbow Mountain Resort in the Poconos, my favorite homo away from home. On the Thursday prior, the "Philadelphia Gay News" ran a big color photo of me with a writeup of the show as their "PGN Pick." It was really cool; I wish I had saved a screen grab because the link no longer works.
This just in: One of my loyal blog readers was able to grab the image from the PGN Web site! Here it is:
More about the gig a little later in this blog. But anyway, a couple of days later, the owner of Rainbow Mountain emailed me to ask for my mailing address. He had received a letter addressed to "Adam Sank ONLY, c/o Rainbow Mountain Resort."
"It's not ticking," he added. "So I guess I'll just forward it to you."
The letter arrived yesterday. I could tell it had been written by a crazy person before I even opened it. It arrived in one of those teeny tiny envelopes used only by small children and the very elderly. The seal had been completely scotch taped, like those letters The Zodiac sent to the "San Francisco Chronicle" in the 70's. The handwriting was jagged and scrawly.
I actually opened the letter in the hallway outside my apartment, afraid that powdered anthrax would come pouring out. Instead, I found a little tiny piece of stationery. On the top was a cat wearing a Santa hat and a red bow.
We Need a Little Christmas Meow...
The note read:
Hi, I saw your picture in P.G.N.
You look very good.
I write to you because
Do you have someone to love, If not I would
But I think you do.
You are good. I hope you can write back
Because, if you got this
letter OK. Good luck
What ever you do.
You are a very good looking
And it was signed with a name and a phone number.
Needless to say, I called him. We're dating now. It's the best relationship I've ever had.
No, I'm kidding. But I will say, if I'm going to have a stalker, at least it's one who thinks I "look very good." Like a choice fillet mignon.
So I know many of you want details of "Last Comic Standing." Alas, I can't give you any. I can't even show you photos from the auditions, because I accidentally just erased all of them while trying to upload them from my camera. (Sucks because I had some great ones of Bill Bellamy taping promos inches from me.)
You'll have to settle for his generic photo of him.
Suffice it to say, I think I'm going to wind up with at least a few seconds of air time, which is cool. Tune in when the show premieres in June...
The other big news to which I alluded in my last big blog: I've met someone special. No, not my stalker, an actual person. For the purposes of this blog, I shall call him Boy Wonder.
Boy Wonder lives in another city. I cannot reveal his name nor any identifying information about him because he's in the U.S. Military. And even though he serves his country proudly and honorably, our nation's fucked up "Don't Ask Don't Tell" policy prohibits him and all the thousands of other gay service people from being honest about who and what they are. At least until President Obama is sworn in.
Me and Boy Wonder at Therapy. Ain't he cute?
Anyway, he's the greatest guy I've ever met. Here's all you need to know about him: One day when he was staying with me, I left him in my apartment while I went to work. When I got home at the end of the day, he had caulked my bathtub.
Anyone who knows me knows the surest way to my heart is caulk.
Anyway, We've spent a number of long weekends together since meeting, and it's definitely the most serious involvement I've had with someone in five years.
Here's the problem: Not only does he live in another city, but he's actually moving to another other city -- one that's even farther away from New York -- in a few months. (And no, it's not Baghdad, thank God.) And so the question is, what do we do after he moves? He has no choice in this matter; he must move to the far-away city.
Now I know what you're thinking, "Adam, how can you even CONSIDER leaving New York, where you've lived for more than a decade, and moving to another city for a guy you've known less than two months?"
And you're right. I'm crazy to even be thinking about it. Except here's the thing: I adore him. He seems to feel likewise. And kids, I'm no spring chicken. In ten short days I will be 37 years old. There will come a time in the not-too-distant future when the marriage proposals stop. And I haven't met anyone with whom I've felt seriously compatible since Bill Clinton was in office.
So it's something to think about -- that's all I'm saying. No rash decisions here. Just something to think about. Stay tuned.
Now onto less weighty matters. Some photos for your perusal:
Showing up at the car rental place, completely soaked,
in advance of the Rainbow Mountain gig.
Incidentally, don't try walking to Prestige Rental Car
on 62nd and West End Avenue during a freezing rain storm.
It feels like working towards the end of the earth.
Feb. 1, 2008, 2:45 p.m.
With me as my opener and co-pilot is
the mysterious Tom Ragu.
Four hours later, after the most frightening
drive of my life, we arrive.
Tom is thrilled by the fabulous accommodations.
Me so tired and cranky; don't want to perform...
...But I manage to pull it together by showtime.
Like the shirt? Sixteen dollars at Filene's Basement, baby!
10:30 p.m. Ragu takes the stage.
I'd give you a rundown of his jokes, but
you can just read them yourself off his hand.
Look! It's me! Back on the world's weirdest comedy stage!
The audience consisted primarily of a Jewish gay and lesbian group.
They LOVED when I chanted in Hebrew.
The Holocaust material... not so much.
And as is my custom, I topped off my set with
some shirtless karaoke downstairs.
Somewhere, my mother is frowning.
That's it for now, bitches. I gotta go; someone's knocking at my door.
Come see me host the Electro Shock Therapy Comedy Hour this Sunday, Feb. 17, at 10 p.m., when my special guests will be Bernadette Pauley, Yamaneika, Matt Daly and Jeff Lawrence. Details on my web site.