sundries

[rm]

I'm back and my body clock is COMPLETELY screwed up. We'll see how long I last at work. I kinda just want to wear crap, go in and get out. But part of me thinks I should be fabulous and then have some New York. I don't know. I'm totally having Chipotle for lunch though.

My mobile really is actually working again this time. If you need me, you can find me.

Blessedly, nothing went wrong in the apartment while I was gone. Of course, that meant our bathroom ceiling started leaking just as I went to leave for the office. They just looked at it, are checking the pipes upstairs to stop the ongoing issue, and will do repairs early next week. I am competent!

For some reason I ALWAYS set off the metal detectors in Heathrow, even though I never do in New York. I was patted down professionally, thoroughly and non-invasively by a female officer there (she did not touch my genital or breast area, but did check legs, thighs, sternum -- she did not touch my skin, she did not give me detailed warnings about what would happen next as the TSA pat downs seem to, which implies, to me, that all involved know what's going on with the TSA pat downs is not right, acceptable or effective). HOWEVER, as this transpired, the male agent also standing there (for men who set off the machine), told me to smile.

This is a HUGE pet peeve of mine (no one orders random men to smile, and it's not my job to present my body/face in a way that makes random strangers happy), even when said in a non-smarmy way. I mustered all my cheer and said, "Dude, I know your job sucks, and it's not your fault, but this sucks for us too." Sigh. Anyway, as annoying/patronizing as that was, I think to myself -- TSA, what's so hard? Some people after a pat down or bag search are referred to a backscatter machine at Heathrow (where both the person its used on, and the images are both shielded form public view, but the machine itself is in a public area), but that's only seems to be as a last-case resort if other modes of inquiry can't resolve the issue. This was Terminal 5.

Wicked Wednesdays/Theater Thursdays and so forth should resume without time-zone and other interruption tomorrow (let me know if you have things you want to know). Meanwhile we have 21 days to raise the remaining $1,835. Eek!

Am leaning strongly towards not submitting anything for the PCA conference this year. On top of D&J, 2011 is going to be another big travel year and there's _way_ too much stuff up in the air right now for me to want to insert that into it just now. I doubt more than half of those up in the air things will be resolved by the deadline (December 15), so I'm just trying to be chill about it.

Bespoke crafting from Hoxton Street Monster Supplies, via the Ministry of Stories: Your Respect, Your Courage, Your Imagination Will Bring You Victory. Inspired by The Boring Store.

The red bees of Brooklyn: "When the sun is a bit down, they glow red in the evenings."

Trans woman strip searched, twice, in Israeli airport, for, it seems, the amusement of others.

When life and art converge: an actor with prostate cancer that has spread to the lymph system plays a dying Freud.

Just one reason the NY housing market gives me anxiety: income and guarantor requirements are onerous, and then there are the landlords who make you sign affidavits that you are not a prostitute (in fact, a remarkable number of the horror stories seem to involve women not being treated as adults or "respectable").

I'm not sure I could be more tickled by something this random: Anderson Cooper says Lady Gaga got him drunk on whiskey during an interview.

Kenya's Prime Minister calls for gays and lesbians to be arrested.

There is good and bad in this (and a lot of complexity when you'll note things haven't changed at all-gay guest houses -- gay women are more accepted than gay men; we're also not recognized as a cultural force and more expected to be assimilationist because people find us less threatening): lesbian guesthouse in Florida to welcome all.

India's first Pride celebration takes place in Delhi.

The ongoing Spiderman musical situation: what do we think, is it getting this much scrutiny because it's the most expensive musical theater production in history or because a woman's directing?

Despite agreeing that its existence is near inexplicable, I think Cowboys & Aliens looks pretty cool. Non-geek audiences, however, think it looks like next year's Snakes on a Plane.

Comments

[marchek.livejournal.com]

When life and art converge: an actor with prostate cancer that has spread to the lymph system plays a dying Freud.

I was there! Seriously, it was bizarre because it really did seem like his collapse on stage was part of the show. I'm glad the guy is okay (cancer aside). James, his parents, and I were all sad not the see the rest of the show because the dialog was really great. We were able to re-book our tickets for March and his parents plan on coming back to NYC just for it although I have my doubts that the same actor will be playing Freud at that time.

Just one reason the NY housing market gives me anxiety: income and guarantor requirements are onerous, and then there are the landlords who make you sign affidavits that you are not a prostitute (in fact, a remarkable number of the horror stories seem to involve women not being treated as adults or "respectable").

Did I ever tell you that the landlord formy union square apartment required that they personally meet both myself and Alan before we signed the lease because of a male prostitution business that had been run in our apartment building a few years earlier?

[tdanaher.livejournal.com]

Did I ever tell you that the landlord formy union square apartment required that they personally meet both myself and Alan before we signed the lease because of a male prostitution business that had been run in our apartment building a few years earlier?

Wow, a memory -- when the decision was being made as to whether we would be allowed to move into our current apartment, our current building manager actually came to visit us in our old apartment, because he wanted to see how much stuff we had and whether we kept it in order before he'd let us move into his building. (It worked out, we did the old trick of baking bread, and we put Segovia on the CD player which it turned out he was a huge fan of.)