Choral update

So I’m freaking out a wee bit.

As I’ve probably mentioned, I’m a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to music. I need to be perfect in my performance– which makes me work really really hard. But it can also paralyze me if I fuck up.

Anyway, part of the deal with being in the gay choir means you have to memorize all the music. This normally wouldn’t faze me much; I tend to memorize music quickly.

But this is like 2 hours of music. And all quite different. And not very repetitive. And some of it is quite hard. And quite… wordy.

And while I have most of the music fully memorized at this point, there are two pieces that I just don’t have yet from a text standpoint. And there is one mixed meter piece that is just a royal bitch to count and to find your entrances in.

Hence the nerves.

We do have an all day rehearsal this Saturday, which should help solidify some of the pieces a bit more.

I just hope we don’t suck in our big concert.

P.S. I was asked to sing in a small chamber choir preview/fundraiser concert in two weeks time. So I must be doing something right.

Happy Ass Wednesday!

What?? Oh, it’s ASH Wednesday??

My bad.

But it comes with a free Frogurt.

So there’s this guy at my gym.

(Yeah yeah, I know. There’s always some guy at my gym. But at least it’s good blog fodder.)

I’ve had a crush on him for like 3 years and lined away from afar. (That’s bad)

But he and I have finally started talking. (That’s good)

He is just now going through a tough break up (that’s… Bad?)

Yet he seems sorta-kinda interested (that’s… Good?)

He’s 28. (That’s very bad)

He seems 38 (That’s very good)

Between work, travel, and renovating a 4-plex thst he owns he is incredibly busy (that’s bad)

But he will be traveling less and at the gym more– and at my gym time (that’s good)

But he’s a big, beefy weight lifter (that’s bad)

But he’s a big, beefy, bearded, weight lifter! (That’s good)

He does not seem to be musically inclined at all (that’s bad)

But he has an engineering degree and a good job, is well travelled, well read, and smart (that’s good)

He can be a bit quiet and difficult to read (that’s bad)

He has a bawdy side and is sexy as hell (that’s good)

He has this blonde hair and these pale blue eyes and a reddish beard and thighs like a line backer and a rough, deep voice that makes my heart pound like a nail…..

(That’s bad. That’s very very very bad.)

I’m cursed.

This.

This makes me wish I could
Twerk better.

Especially since it just makes me shake my ass like an etch-a-sketch.

Funeral: part 2

Wow.

Y’all are (for the most part) much more caring and considerate people than I am. All this talk about going to the funeral to give my condolences to the family, that funerals are for the living, etc. Not to mention the chance to network and rub elbows with other management.

Clearly, y’all have much more experiences with funerals and find them to be of great significance and importance. All of which is pretty much what I figured.

Here are some additional tidbits though:

I don’t really know and have not met most of the family either. Not the spouses, kids, grandkids, etc. And the few family members with whom I have the pleasure of working are gun-toting, uber right wing, Christian, Palin-Bachmann supporting, homophobic, sexist bigots.

This goes for about 90% of the rest of the management team too, as they’re just as homophobic, sexist and bigoted.

And as much as it might be nice for me to express my condolences or network and be a company man, the thing is… I don’t want to. I have a hard enough time putting in a day’s work with these people, let alone spend time with them at something like a funeral.

There will be plenty of people paying their respects and plenty of management there all putting in “face time” to look good.

I am not planning to be one of them.

And yeah, this makes me a heartless asshole. Or a fool for not being a team player. Or probably both.

I’m not sure how I feel about this. I think I’m bothered that I don’t care more.

You can’t spell “funeral” without “fun”

Or “dysfunction”.

The chairman/CEO/Owner of our company died recently. It was not unexpected as he was in failing health and pretty old. The wake is today and the funeral is tomorrow.

I am going to neither.

I find this is a bit of a tricky situation (as funerals often are) which I do not have the skills to properly navigate. I was not invited to the wake or funeral (are their invitations to such things?), but a couple people at work have asked me if I was going.

Since this is a privately held, family owned company in which I am newly minted “management”, there seems to be this underlying expectation that maybe I should go and pay my respects.

It’s kind of like “Are you going? You don’t have to go… But you are welcome to go. Other people are going….”. Classic Minnesota passive-aggressive.

The thing is– I have never met the man.

Yes, he was still the chairman of our company, but he wasn’t ever here. He was basically retired, but liked to keep a hand in the operations to some extent. Six or eight months out of the year he lived in Florida. The rest of the time he was “around”. Maybe.

At least he had an office and a parking space (that other family members always parked in).

I think I had seen him a couple times leaving the parking lot from afar. And maybe exchanged a hallway nod once or twice. But I had never been introduced to him– not even when I started work here.

My rule with funerals is: if I’ve never come to your home, why would I come to your funeral?

I think this is a pretty good rule. If I’ve been to your home, that means we are more than just casual acquaintances in my book. It still may not mean I think attending your funeral is appropriate, but at least we have some sort of connection.

Funerals, to me, are a time for friends and family of the deceased to gather. I was neither. I am just one of the semi-anonymous worker bees at a company he owned. And welcome or not, I would feel completely out of place at the funeral of some guy I didn’t know, never spoken with or even formally met.

Just because he signed my paycheck does this make be obligated to attend his funeral?

What say you all?

Elegant Thievery

Normally I am against deception, lying, and thievery of any sort. It is such a personal violation– wallet rape if you will.

But on occasion I will find theft to be fascinating. Even sexy. But only when it is a con so well crafted and so layered and so detailed as to be nearly perfect. It’s the elegance that draws me like a moth to a flame.

Like the one Wolfgang Beltracchi perpetrated.

You probably haven’t heard of him, but he’s probably the greatest art forger of all time. He can paint in virtually any artist’s style, and he has fooled countless art historians.

And made millions doing it.

And he got away with it for 40 years!

What he did was absolutely brilliant. He wouldn’t create copies of famous works. Oh no. He created brand new works in the styles of famous artists. Works that could have been lost in wars or looted or unearthed in someone’s hidden collection.

He would use pigments and paints that were specially vetted to be available at the time the artist painted. He would find old canvases in flea markets and clean them and reuse them. He (and his accomplice wife) created fake labels and back stories and created fake old photos on old paper showing the works.

No detail was overlooked. It was only by an oversight in labeling from a pigment company that tripped him up.

He was so successful that his forgeries hang in museums and are in art books and have been bought by collectors. Each and every one of his paintings is a masterpiece worthy of collecting. The only hiccup being he lied with his signatures.

It’s an utterly fantastic and fascinating story. You can read more here.

I guess I’m okay with his crimes because of the creative aspect. Not only was the con creative, but he created brilliant works of art.

And the victims were basically the uber rich. People who can afford multi million dollar paintings. Sure museums and galleries and historians were involved– which then trickles down eventually to the general populace. And of course there’s the deception over four decades which needs to be undone.

But I guess I don’t care.

He was so perfect and so precise that he fooled countless authenticators. For years. And anyone that good deserves kudos.

Besides, there are all sorts of tales in the art world about masterpieces that may or may not have actually been painted by students of the masters. Or unsigned works that may be masterpieces.

And again I say, “Who cares?” If the art is brilliant, and is beautiful then what does it matter who really painted it?

When you look at the Sistine Chapel, are you standing in awe or are you hunting for a signature??

Jon and Beth.

Those are the names of my fucking neighbors.

And I don’t mean “fucking neighbors” disparagingly. I mean that these are the neighbors whom I constantly hear doin’ the nastaaaay. Like last Thursday when I woke to them climaxing at 6:20 am.

How do I know their names you say? Well, it’s all very interesting! Saturday evening was our annual Lofts Party which is open to all residents. Iwas going to pass on it this year, but hey. Free food and beer. So I attended.

As did they.

And, as luck would have it, we ended up in the same “chat circle”! Squeeee!!!

It was interesting as we were all introducing ourselves I was the one that pointed out that we were neighbors but that we had never met. They either didn’t remember seeing me before or were good at pretending they didn’t remember.

But now we’ve met. Officially. No take backsies!

They are both younger — late 20′s? Early 30′s? Trim. Athletic. Attractive. He is a “talker” and she was more quiet (except in bed! Ooooo snap!)

He grew up in Sturgis. Ex military– as in roadside IED detonation in Iraq. (Um yeah. Sploosh.). But has a degree in some sort of retail geographical planning and now works for Macy’s corporate. She is from Ohio and works in some sort of government I really didn’t pay attention to because I don’t really care about her. And they’re outdoorsy folks, Subaru drivers etc.

Both were nice enough and we talked about the shitty winter weather, and jobs, and biking, and how we don’t know anyone in the building, and Cedar Point roller coasters, etc. It was all very pleasant.

But let’s focus on Jon, shall we?

Maybe 6’2″. Blondish/brownish slightly thinning hair that was styled decently. Chunky, “geek glasses” that work well on him since you can tell under those clothes he has a body going on. Handsome, and knows it. And comes across as mostly friendly but also a little bit “douchey”.

Like just cocky/douchey enough that you can totally imagine him buried inside you and saying “you like that big dick, don’t ya?” And then agreeing with him.

I first noticed it when he gave me the history of Cannondale and all their mountain bike innovations. But it was when he launched into his protracted explanation of the history of Sturgis and how the Sturgis “Scoopers” got their name that the pompous, douchey straight swagger really came out.

(Don’t ask about the Scoopers. Really.)

And yes, I did try to scope his package out in his dark wash denim, but it was too hard to tell what he was packing. Especially without being too obvious. My guess is that it’s more than decent though, given her sound effects when he’s knockin’ the bottom out of it.

It is also nice that I can finally put a face and a personality behind his “Ohhhhhh FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!” orgasm.

Good times.

And now they can picture me when they hear the occasional “Oh fuuuuuck yeah, stud! Tear up my mudpussy with that cuntwrecker!! Harder!! Deeper!! I ain’t gonna break, man– GIVE IT TO ME!! NAIL THAT FUCKHOLE!!!!!!”

Or some such.

Li’l B*Hole Comix

Jambo!

Welcome to another installment on this shittacular winter’s day. It’s sort of a disappointing US Olympics edition, and I leave one for you to caption this week, so…

Now for your turn. Be snarky– go for the bronze!!

Minny’s Chocolate Pie