A Rant on Traveling Breeders

Let me begin this post with a excerpt from the cover article of last week's New York Magazine. It is the recounting of a conversation between Mike Gelband, director of commercial and residential real estate for Lehman Bros. and Dick Fuld, the CEO of Lehman:

“The world is changing,” Gelband told Fuld during his 2006 bonus review, according to a person familiar with Gelband’s thinking. “We have to rethink our business model.” But given the importance of real estate to Lehman’s bottom line, that wasn’t what Fuld wanted to hear. Fuld had seen his share of cyclical downturns. “We’ve been through this before and always come out stronger,” was his attitude. “You’re too conservative,” Fuld told Gelband. “We’ve been lifted by the rising tide,” Gelband insisted.

Fuld, though, wondered if the problem was with Gelband, not the market. “You don’t want to take risk,” he said—a deep insult in the trader’s vernacular.

If I may repeat for emphasis, "you don't want to take risk" is "a deep insult in the trader's vernacular."

You, my risk-friendly, cor-pirate straight men, are hypocrites. You will knock an intramural soccer player into a coma to win a game. You will eat your co-workers alive to gain a promotion. You will bankrupt the Kingdom of Norway with your bullshit CDOs but you will not take risks in fashion. As a gay well-dressed man who spends every week traveling for business, I see CONSTANT fashion insults such as...

The pleated pant. Sold as a "separate" at Joseph A. Bank. AKA Jos. A. Bank. AKA Jose Bank. These pants come in an array of horrendous colors, such as "putty" and "olive green". That's what I wanna look like, putty and olives. It's corporate camouflage.

Where have your balls gone? The crotch dips down to the inner thigh, completely masking any notes of masculinity. The leg is way too wide and, worst of all, most people just pull them off the shelf without getting them hemmed OR, even worse, GASP! ...adding a cuff.

Pleats? Is this 1987? "But the 80's are back! Look at American Apparel!" you may cry. NO! Headbands + Gold Lamme tights= cool 80's reserved for people under 30 to wear ironically. Pleated pants = The 1987 that we're all trying to forget along with the Reagan Era and trickle-down economics.

Second gripe: The Dumpass Suit

Thank you Brooks Brothers for mass-producing a suit that makes every American man look like he weighs 450 pounds and eats 42 oz. steaks for breakfast. "You're my broker?! I thought you were a water buffalo." You can't tell where the torso ends and the hips begin. You can't see if the arms are detached from the body. 95% of men I see on business travel are wearing this suit. I want to stab myself in the eye with a stiletto every time I see this ill-fitting shape on a man. It's almost enough to turn me into a lesbian.

And what's going on down south?

Vomit. Vomit. Vomit. Vomit. NO BUCKLES ALLOWED UNTIL ARCHDIOCESE TOM FORD GIVES US THE OK. Take these pilgrim pies back to Plymouth rock and trade them in for some beaded nubuck moccasins. Seriously, they would suit you better.

***

Now that you have emptied your closet and are crying tears into your gin gimlet in a dark corner, I have some advice for you bitches. My advice is quite simple actually: Buy clothes that fit your hot, straight ass. I don't mean tight, I mean fitted. Check out these D&G suits:

See how you can see space between their legs and see space between their arms and torso? See how they don't look like fundamentalist Muslims wrapped from neck to toe in ill-fitting black wool crepe? You don't have to spend a lot of money, H&M and Zara have gorgeous knock-offs in this style that will run you about $250. OR, you can shop at the Barney's or Hugo Boss outlets at the outlet strip mall nearest you. FYI, this kind of fashion is the norm and expected across the pond in Europe.

"Flat front pants! But I don't want people to look at my package." Why the fuck not!?! First of all, unless you walk around with a 24hour boner, most people are not going to get all up in your crotch. If you're really packin', then you should embrace the attention. I'm sure most chicks don't want dudes staring at their tits but they deal with it, and many of them make the best of their situation, wouldn't you say? Quit with the double standard, most of us won't notice anyway.

Everytime a straight man wears a skinny suit, a gay angel gets its wings.

And footwear? Check it:

The wide square is over. Go pointy but not too pointy. It makes you look taller and skinnier. Don't you want that? Don't you want to look taller and skinnier? Chicks don't want to blow a rifrigerator, they want to blow a hot dude. You will look hot in these shoes and a skinny suit. Trust me. I'm gay. We are always right about fashion. We brought you aviators, boot-cut jeans, pink dress shirts, and hoodies with blazers.

***

So. Straight dudes, it's time for you to take a risk and show us what your mama gave you. You will tag more tail and I will be able to sleep at night.

Whew! I'm exhausted. It's time for an absolut and vodka.

are you there god? it's me, chateauneuf du pape.

in my unrealistic attempt to continue the momentum of my career/life, i've been "interning" at a world famous gourmet market/importer. seriously, they are mentioned in gourmet magazine almost monthly. i've always felt the need to temper my corporate ambition with the pipe dream of something food related. since the job market sucks and i can't realistically leave my current position anyway, i figured it wouldn't be horrible to learn the ropes at this shop, polish up my dusty business plan, and do some good ole fashioned work on saturdays.

specifically, this shop carries sustainably grown, organic, and/or biodynamic wines which is what i really want to learn about (niche market, huge markup, cha-ching). while the wines are prominently displayed, cheese is really the focal point of the store.

cheese is great. i like it. i like it a lot.

not nearly enough as these people.

i am amazed at the amount of cheese snobbery that exists in the world. i thought that i was sophisticated because i knew my mozzarella, pecorino, robiola, manchego.... oh no my friend, there are dozens of chevre that i have never heard of that people in certain parts of the east coast wet their panties over.

seriously? you can't even get wasted off cheese.

in any case, it turns out that i spend saturdays patting the mold down on stilton instead of learning how dolcetto is produced in piedmont. frustrating.

one of the individuals who has been "mentoring" me answers my questions in 2 word answers and is quick to ask me to take out the trash/windex the case/sweep the floors. don't get me wrong, i am HAPPY to help with the day to day running of the shop, but gimme some tit for tat, motherfucker. i'm getting fed up, real fast.

there was a winery owner who came in to conduct a tasting last saturday and in my 15 minute conversation with him, i learned more about winemaking than i had in the previous 6 weeks. also, no one at the shop made sure that he had water/coffee/a sangwich. i totally took care of this guy and had genuine interest in his product.

my "mentor" was visibly irritated that i knew so much about biodynamic wine production and this winemaker's processes that he almost literally cock-blocked me from asking more questions. "there's more comte that needs to be wrapped!" fuck comte. ...and fuck fontal while we're at it. it's a mild italian cheese with no personality and suited better for the pedestrian tuna noodle casserole of the masses. suck a dick.

but i digress. although my experience at this shop has been less than ideal, my dream is still alive and well. i learned about the pricing of catering and imports. i learned that i don't want my customers or employees to be cheese assholes. i learned that winemakers are environmentalists as well as bon vivants. i learned that i make better playlists than most people even if i have to hijack the stereo when cheese mongers are wrapping gruyere. i learned that a "world class" shop with no inventory management can still be profitable. i know i can run a tighter ship with a better POS, friendlier customer service, with a more organized distribution channel, while having more fun than my competitors. i still need to learn more about wine (reading diligently) but i can do that on my own, just like how i do everything else. you know how i roll.

"lose the attitude, you only work in a shop" -eddie monsoon, absolutely fabulous

i don't need no one to hold me//i can hold my own

i got highways for strechmarks//see where i've grown?

i've been a jojo refugee for about 6 years or so now. the last 5 years in the church i toggled between leading a double life and compromising my identity. it worked really well, for i am 100% gemini and a superb liar. i just sort of faded out of church without going through the formality of being excommunicated and sitting through hours of meetings with middle-aged men, detailing every handjob, blowjob, and ass-slap i'd given since 1998. no thanks. i'll just sneak out the back door and hope no one notices.

i've stayed in touch with almost no jojos and next to no ex-jojos with a couple of exceptions. even though many of my peers have given the church the finger, i don't necessarily want to be their bff; hate-mongering with them, proving each doctrine illegitimate. a friend of mine recently invited me to a more "intellectual" jojo meetup group and i was instantly curious. i've considered going to support groups in the past but they always creeped me out because there seemed to be overtones of revenge and angst built up behind their meeting agendas. i was assured that this new group was just an intellectual discussion on jojo's version of theology.

i still passed on the invitation. i can't get with sitting around some one's living room, justifying my decision and exclaiming to the world just how wronged i was throughout my adolescence, no matter how intellectual the discussion. yes, the mind fuckery is tremendous, but i refuse to waste my time harping on it. believe me, i'm still dealing with the repercussions of leaving the church: the alienation, the nightmares, the inability to trust parental-esque figures, the abandonment, the guilt, the anger, not knowing how to decorate the christmas tree, and on and on. point is: it's a waste of my energy to bash an organization, most of whose members' minds' i'll never change, when instead i can focus that energy on my relationship with an awesome dude, build my career, fight for gay marriage, and still have time to bake a bourbon pumpkin cheesecake for thanksgiving dinner. maybe other people need the camaraderie, but i've got way too much shit to do on my own before my measly life ends.

with all of this church-y feeling getting stirred up recently, i started thinking about how i hadn't officially been taken off the books. in an attempt to have more integrity in my life i wrote a letter and sent it to the church about a week ago:

"To the Elders of the F****** Congregation
To the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society

It is with purpose and soundness of mind that I write this letter of expediency. Please respect my wishes to be disassociated from the Congregation of Jehovah’s Witnesses. I no longer subscribe to the doctrines of the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society. Furthermore, I have not attended a Kingdom Hall meeting in over 5 years and have been “inactive” for the same period.

I have considered the consequences of my actions and believe that my identity and ideologies do not coincide with the organization’s interpretations of Biblical text. I do not find it necessary to go through judicial meetings but please inform me of any additional steps that need to be taken to remove me from the congregation permanently. I may be reached at 617-***-****.

I appreciate your attention to this matter. "

to date: no response. curious. i'm tempering a potential confrontation with the "thanks for trying but i'm just never going to stop sucking dick" genre of response.