Open 24 Hours

It's 5AM and I find myself wide awake. So, I reach down beside me, I open my Mac, anxiously I sign onto iChat, finding the one and only, Benjamin Rauhala online. I know Ben through my dear friend Christina. She introduced us because she thought I didn't have enough gay friends, but you know what, I don't want gay friends. But Ben is a great friend, and I wish I got to see more of him. So Ben came into the city last summer and we had a little photo shoot in the North End. This photo is of me baptising him... I am a religion.

... Sonya's online as well. Hi Sonya!

What am I doing still awake at this hour? Well, my mind is just racing, and I have that nervous feeling in my chest. You know, it comes in waves, and makes you feel kinda hot? Anyway, I'm just thinking of a lot stuff that has happened in the last week or so, and what may happen in the future. Like I said before, I'm going to Italy on Saturday, so I'm anxious about that. Then there's moving next year: will we find an apartment? Will Patty still want to live with me? Will I afford it? Then my mind goes to the romantic/horny side...nuf said. And to top it all off, I'm sleeping in my younger brother's room, on a twin size bed! This is the recipe for insomnia.

Oh! So I went to dinner tonight with Mom and brother, and the topic of sex came up, and was of course brought up by Mom. Now, most of you probably cringe at the thought of discussing sex with your parents, but for some reason, talking about it with Karen is just so amusing. Mostly because she gets a kick out of all the terminology, which I generally leave up to my brother. Par example, my brother spouted out the term blumpkin. I had no idea what it meant. Apparently, a blumpkin, is the act of jerking a guy off while he poops. Great, thanks Matt. Anyway, my mom started cracking up. Then they both proceeded to make fun of me for not knowing a Soulja Boy song. Whatever, I got a little drunk off a glass of cabernet and a coffee with Bailey's and Frangelico, sooooooooo... jokes on them.

Ben just described me as a pomegranate. Stating that I am sweet like most fruits, but I have many rare and uncommon traits. And I mix well with energy drinks.

I think I'll try to sleep now.

So long...

Ain't Gonna Get Grey Over It

So this is Stella. Stella is my step-father's mother, and she came to live with us 7 or 8 years ago. Stella is 85 years old. I have seen pictures of her when she was younger, and amazingly, she has always looked old. I think she may have been born old, and that's why she's managed to live so long. Anyway, I'm back home, and it was just Stella and I in the house today, so we went out into the sunroom and chatted. She can't remember much, but what she can remember she tells you at least 5 times in a row. She told me about how she welded ships in the Boston shipyard during the World War... the second one, and how she and her younger sister Georgia are the only 2 surviving siblings from her family, and how she, Stella, is the oldest and Georgia is the youngest. I heard these tales about 5 times. It was as if her mind was set to repeat, or maybe she felt that if she didn't hear herself tell these stories about her life, maybe they'd be erased from her memory. Now, 4 years ago, when I was still living here, this would've driven me insane, but now, I just sat and listened to her recall the past. It was nice actually. I mean, eventually I cut her off, and went to do laundry, but she still has things to talk about, even if they may be the same 5 stories over and over and over and over... and over. She drives my mother up a wall. Don't ever move in with your in-laws. AAAHHAHAHAHA, she just knocked on my door to tell me she's going for a walk. That's another thing! She walks when it's nice out, and she frigon moves, like she practically jogs.

It's also nice being home because I get to see my grandparents. I grew up living next door to them, so they were a huge part of my childhood, and lately I find myself talking about them a lot. We call them Nana and Papa... my whole family. So if Patty and I move to Central Square with all the youngins, we're gonna be, Nana and Papa. If that happens, I want a recliner. And I want Patty to make dinner for me each night. And like my grandparents, we won't have sex.

One bad thing about being home...pollen! My nostrils are engorged with something, and I can't breathe. Whatever, I'm going to Italy on Saturday! ! !

so-yeah...

The Adventures of Patwicia and Nickowis

So I am trying to live with Patwicia Mahgwet Bawett, formally known as Patty Barrett, next year. We finally looked at apartments the other day, really liked one, and it was taken that same day, by someone else, who was probably less appreciative of its charm. Just goes to show how cut-throat searching for an apartment can be. Also, since I last looked at apartments, $1600.00 doesn't really get you a lot of options these days. Our realtor only had 2 units to show that were in our price range.

That realtor, however, was rather attractive! Blond, blue-eyed, angular, HARVARD boy. I would say, not really my type, but I don't really have a type yet... I don't think. Patty was such a goon! We walk into the office, and there was Adam The Realtor, and he walks to the back of the office to get keys, I look at Patty, and she has this MASSIVE grin on her widdle face. It was cute, but embarrassing. So I hit her. Hard. In the face.

Anyway, he was attractive, very articulate, I mean hello! HARVARD! You can't be anything but. I think he thought I was at Suffolk for law, because he started talking to me with law jargon and I didn't get it, but I went along with it cuz he was pretty (read pretty with a high pitched squeal). So after we parted ways with my future sugar daddy, I needed a plan on how to ask him out. My plan backfired, and I probably would have chickened out anyway. Plus he was too ambiguous for me to ask him out with extreme confidence. In the end, the apartment we liked was taken, and I didn't get the nerve to ask him out. So it was lose-lose. BUT, it was yet another fun and pleasant adventure for Nick and Patty.

Take Care!

Really?

Is it just me, or is imitating the Nazi march in public just never comical? As I strolled down Hanover Street on this warm, beautiful, May day, I passed by a group of young wipper snappers, all with haircuts similar to this:


As I passed, one decided to extend his right arm and march in a Nazi fashion. Now, I'm not Jewish, nor do I have any ties to the Holocaust, however, I just find that gesture to be unseemly, especially when made in jest on a very public street. Not that condone doing it seriously in public, or at all for that matter.


In other news, I was approved for my travel visa this morning for my trip to Italy! I was wildly nervous because:
A. The study abroad woman didn't like to answer all of my questions
B. I didn't really have all of the proper documentation
C. The 2 students ahead of me were both rejected

Of course when the Italian visa man saw that I was applying for just a 2 week stay, he chuckled a bit, and then was lenient with my mistakes. So, I was approved, I pick up the visa Friday morning! I leave on the 17th, and I cannot be more excited. Patty and I were looking at travel books the other day at Borders, and she mentioned this in her blog, but it bares repeating: I saw in one book that the legal age of consent is 16, and that made me laugh and I made an inappropriate joke about nailin' 16 year old I-talian.

I also don't know anything about where we're staying, or what shuttle I'm taking to the campus in Florence when I arrive in Rome, so basically my plan is to get to the Rome airport and just shout SUFFOLK SUFFOLK SUFFOLK SUFFOLK really really loudly until finally someone says, "yes, ok, come with me."

Oh, and I apologized for picking on my dad this afternoon.

Ciao!