Madtexter

United States Postal Suckvice

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 20:39:00 +0000

Stand back! He’s gonna blow!

You know I will always go out of my way to applaud excellent customer service. However, on that same note, I will always point out bad customer service. I’m a firm believer that it is good etiquette to point out bad etiquette.

If you know anything about the United States Postal Service there is ALWAYS a line to wait on. It’s usually 10 people deep at the minimum, and inevitably you’re always the last one in line. AND, after 20 minutes waiting, when you finally get up to the counter, you look back and see there is no one standing in line behind you. What the hell?

Today, I went to the Post Office to mail a package, and when I walked in the door what to my wondering eyes should appear…NO LINE! Woo-hoo! Jackpot! How Queer. Bright lights, Angels and the glorious sound of trumpets descending from the heavens. Ahhh-aaaa!

But I knew it was way too good to be true. There is always some ‘issue’ to be dealt with at the Post Office. I went up to the window and asked for a box to ship my package in. The clerk selected a box, and I paid the $3.49 for the box. Shipping was covered by the company that I was returning the item to so I didn’t have to worry about that.

But then there came the little issue of tape to seal up the box. Instead of just giving me two strips of tape to seal the box, the clerk wanted me to either take the box home and tape it up, then bring it back to the post office (& stand in a line of people that I’m sure would be there when I got back), OR I could buy an entire roll of packing tape for ‘just another $3.49’.

“Wait. Hold up. You mean to tell me that after I purchased a box from you that you now want me to buy an entire roll of packing tape from you to seal the box when I only need two strips of tape?” (Mind you the box was only 12” x 10” – small!)

“I’m sorry Sir, but I can’t let you use the ‘Express Tape’ because your package is not express.”

“No thanks. I don’t appreciate being nickel-and-dimed. I’m sure you have tape back there that I can use without having to purchase an entire role, especially since I just purchased a service from you.”

“I’m sorry, we don’t have any other tape back here.”

“You want to charge me for an entire roll of tape when I only need two pieces? Well, here’s what I want – you can take your box back, give me my money back and I’ll go to the UPS Store.”

She had to find a manager to help her do a refund. I guess postal clerks aren’t familiar with how to do a refund, since they depend so much on people just accepting their bleak customer service, because to an extent their customers are a captive audience.

Are you still reading this?

At the UPS Store the clerk packed up my items in a box, and didn’t charge me for the tape (although I know the tape cost is figured into overhead). Because I had a prepaid US Postal Service shipping label, he said that the mailman would pick it up tomorrow and that I would only have to pay $9 for the box (and the convenience of having the Postal Service swing by the UPS Store to pick up the box and mail it – oh, I forgot to tell you…the Post Office is only two blocks away from the UPS Store. It’s like they know, right?)

“Wait. Stop. I just came from the Post Office and I don’t trust them to get this package delivered. Not after the bad customer service I just received from them.”

I said I wanted to ship it via UPS and have it tracked. All total this transaction cost me $20.40. A cost that was 3x what it would have cost me to buy that dang box at the Post Office, and buy that entire roll of tape, and use my free shipping label.

But the moral of the story kids is that paying more for great customer service and given the assurance that your package can be tracked and arrive as scheduled, is worth a lot more than taking a $6.98 risk.

(And don’t tell me the Post Office provides a tracking service. Please, yeah they offer it, but you get the tracking delivery notice 3 days after the package is delivered – assuming it’s delivered on time.)
_______
Addendum: You're not gonna believe this, but a few minutes after I posted this story, I looked at my UPS Store receipt and realized they double-charged me for packing materials - $10. So, I just walked 10 blocks back to the store get my money back. They were very apologetic, but good grief gargamel, I can't win for trying!

Job well done, UPS. (Now, don’t lose my package or there’ll be hell to pay.)

Merry CHRISTMAS!!!

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 23:19:00 +0000

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

In this overly-politically-correct-world I know saying that is not 'appropriate', but SUCK IT!

I celebrate Christmas.
Happy Hanukkah.
Merry Christmas.
Happy Kwanzaa.
Wonderful Winter Solstice!

I love and adore you all.

Peace be with you this time of year and all throughout the year. *big hugs*

North Koreans Crying Lands Film Deal

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 00:05:00 +0000

Now that the repressive leader of North Korea, Kim Jong Il is dead, North Koreans are now free to express their artistic talents. In what is being called a creative wave unlike anything Hollywood has ever seen, North Koreans are joining mile-long lines of cattle calls to try out for extras in next year's biggest blockbuster ever - "Kim Jong Il Rules the World from the Grave".

Hundreds of A-list Asian-American film stars (okay, only the 3) are already beating down film producers' doors to get a chance at the lead role. However, no matter who gets the lead role, they will be fighting to be seen in this film, as the North Korean people with their convincing cries of mourning will certainly take home the Oscar. I mean, their crying and sobbing is just SO convincing, unlike any acting I've ever seen.

Christmas Shenanigans

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 16:16:00 +0000

Tree transporting.

This weekend we finished part deux of ‘Christmas Operation Decorator Storm’. Last week we put out all the chotchkies; this weekend we put up the Christmas trees. In the aftermath, tinsel, pine needles and tissue paper were everywhere.

I do so love Christmas.

Hubz is in church now as I’m writing this, and I'm listening to Christmas music. As an aside, I’m not much for organized religion, having been brought up the son of a Baptist minister – from day one…Sunday school, Worship Service, Sunday night service, Wednesday prayer meeting, Thursday youth club and every other church event in between. Let’s just say I know enough about religion for two lifetimes. And I don’t believe that I need to show up for church every week to prove my ‘faith’. Aside from that, I’m a homoseckural, and the ‘church’ doesn’t believe that I was born this way.

Enough of that.

Yes, I adore Christmastime. It’s the one time of the year that we can think of others and make others happy by giving them gifts and hugs and sweet compliments. The time of year where we camp out in parking lots at all hours of the early post-Thanksgiving morning waiting for Walmart to open just so we can push, shove and fight each other hoping to knock 10 cents off a $200 Xbox. Really, people? Shoot each other, pepper spray each other and rip out each others hair weaves just to get the last of the $2 waffle irons. (Does anyone actually make waffles anyway?)

Hubz.

Several years ago, I put a small end to all this madness when I suggested that my immediate family just pull names out of a hat and get one gift for one person. And to this day we still do that. Besides, we’re adults now, and we have all we will ever need 3 times over. (That, and if I got another ‘men’s’ gift from the Avon catalog I was going to explode – yeah, like I really need a 20” herringbone gold-plated necklace – do I look like I live on the Jersey Shore?)

AnyWhoville, I hope you are getting ready for the grand high poobah of holly-daze. You know the pagan holiday (BTW pagan means ‘villager’ – not what the ‘church’ would have you believe as a ‘heathen’ before they hijacked the real meaning.) Christmas is actually the church’s version of merging a pagan holiday – ‘winter solstice’ – a celebration of nature and life that was more popular than the church at the time, and combined it with the birth of Jesus – the date of his birth not actually known. This was a fantastic public relations campaign launched in the hopes of converting those ‘pagans’ to the one ‘true church’ – whatever that is.

Do I sound bitter? I hope not. I say this with love…

…I adore Christmas and everything it stands for, but we really need to get back to its fundamental meaning…love for all, caring for all, no war and believing in something greater than ourselves.

A belief in just being kind to our fellow human beings.

Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to go shopping at Neiman Marcus and fight some random beeyotch for the last of the Lladró angel ornaments.

Ta-ta for now, my little hookers.

God's Love We Deliver

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 23:50:00 +0000

That's me in the back on the right. You know the one in the Prada hair net.

Today I spent the afternoon with my colleagues from work preparing and packaging nutritious meals for those in need at God's Love We Deliver. For anyone who has never heard of GLWD (because you've been living under a rock), please click the link above to find out just how incredible they are and how they are helping improve the health and wellbeing of people suffering life-threatening disease such as cancer, diabetes & HIV/AIDS to name a few.

To give you an idea of how dedicated the organization is to their clients, last year alone they prepared and delivered over 1,000,000 meals. And let me tell you, those ain't junk food meals; the meals I prepared today made me salivate, roasted chicken, mixed veggies and there was this white bean puree something-or-other that you would see in a 5-star restaurant.

I have always told myself, Corey, you need to actually volunteer at an organization such as this, instead of just making a monthly donation (which I am definitely upping after today). Now, that I have actually put hand to heart, I can truly say there is no better way to understand humility and experience inspiration at the same time.

When I got home this evening, the first thing I did was fire up the Mac, go online and do my annual round of donations to organizations that I know are making a difference in the world. The organizations that I continually support are listed to the right of this post. Please take a moment to read more about their incredible work that includes human rights, feeding those in need and educating children. I believe that if you can educate a child (especially girls), feed people when they need it most and protect their basic human rights, you can really make the world a better place.

Peace to you all as we draw closer to the holidays.

At the Crossroads with Candy

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Tue, 08 Nov 2011 01:08:00 +0000

Me and Candy-licious

This past weekend I got to meet one of my fave blog buddies in person for the first time. You may know her, Candy from Candy's Daily Dandy. We’ve been blog pals for about three years now. Actually, she’s been secretly stalking me all up and down the eastern seaboard through my move to Atlanta, then back to NYC. Although I have three restraining orders against her, I finally gave in and agreed to let her worship me in person face to face.

If you ever get to know her well, be warned she knows everything and anything about cosmetics. As we planned to meet up in NYC, we texted back and forth trying to narrow down a time and location to meet. I knew when she wanted me to meet her in Times Square (aka the crossroads of the world), it was going to be at the grande high poobah muthaship Sephora.

But then she goes and flips the switch on me and asked me to meet her at Forever 21. She was there shopping with her daughter, Frick, for an outfit to wear at her audition the next day. Oooh! Lawwd Jaysus, I thought she had tricked me into crossing over into a parallel universe. I had never been in F21 before – the moment I walked into the store it was like Teen Spirit and a glitter bomb just exploded all over the place. Woo, child.

I’m no fashion maven, but they actually had some cool, funky clothes – and I found out they have a men’s section (or rather a ‘boy’s’ section). The problem with shopping in a store geared toward a younger demographic is that if you buy a trendy shirt that really stands out, my 40-something arse runs the risk of passing some 15-year-old kid on the street who’s wearing the same shirt. The difference is, he should be wearing it, not me! I did buy a great scarf at F21 (shhhh! Don’t tell anyone!) for only $12 that was probably made by some 3-year-old Chinese kid working in a sweatshop for 15 cents a month. Hey, don’t judge, I’m doing my part for the economy!

Anyhoo, after a blitz through Sephora and extensive make-up counseling by Candy, she persuaded me to purchase some lemon sugar roll on perfume (a-hem! I mean cologne, manly man cologne, yeah…that’s it). Great, now I’ll smell like a box of Lemonheads.

Next, Candy introduced me to liquid sex in cup – a Starbuck’s Chai tea latte with skim milk. It’s my new fave thing! Move over Oprah, I’m choosing the gifts for the Favorite Things list this year, beeyotch.

Oh, did I mention that Candy’s daughter is a younger Sarah Jessica Parker look-alike? She’s got a great personality, smart and I’m sure she’ll be up on one of those Times Square billboards someday – and yes, I can say I knew her way back when.

Here’s to more meet ups with you Candy, Chai tea and smelling like fresh-squeezed lemon-aid.

At Forever 21 (and feeling every bit of forever 41)

Empire State Pride Agenda Gala

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 14:59:00 +0000

That's me, the geek on the far left.

You know, sometimes you just never know what the day may bring. I woke up yesterday on a rainy, windy, just crap-nasty weather day and I ended up later that evening attending the Empire State Pride Agenda Gala Dinner surrounded by the most wonderful people for the most incredible cause. The event celebrated ESPA’s 20th Anniversary, and was hosted by Laura Linney and Allen Cumming.

The highlight of the event was when New York State Governor, Andrew Cuomo, gave a speech. You know, the political powerhouse who championed same-sex marriage through the New York State Senate in his first year as Governor! Finally, a politician who stands behind his words. Now, THAT is taking a stand for the greater good of society - For equal rights.

Scarf-face

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Sat, 22 Oct 2011 22:56:00 +0000

It’s been an interesting couple of weeks…let me tell you.

I got stuck in an elevator, became a walking information booth, traveled to Atlanta and Dallas for work, and suddenly realized I’m an amateur social psychologist and didn’t know it all the while.

Elevator:

9:15am leaving for work. Ding! Elevator arrives. (The same elevator that I saw the doorman put out of service a few days before. At the time, I saw him reach up and remove a somewhat large broken mechanical device from above the door of the elevator. I thought nothing of it and went about my business.) The elevator stopped on the 5^th floor. Nothing. Then moved up a little bit. Then moved down a little bit. Panic sets in. I begin thinking, ‘I need to make a Will. Life insurance goes to... How long am I going to be stuck in here? I have a meeting at 10:00am. Crap!

I ring the alarm…and feel bad because the sound might be waking up some late sleeper in the building. Screw it! RRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNG!!!!! Then I press the Call Button.

“Hello?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“I’m stuck in the elevator!”

“Where are you?”

“In the elevator!”

“Address”

(I give them the address, and I’m almost sure my call has been patched through to an Indian call center just outside New Deli.)

“What’s your name?”

“Corey”

“Harry?”

“No, COREY!”

“Harley?”

“COREY! Let me spell it for you. ‘C’, you know the 3^rd letter of the alphabet? ‘O’, as in the letter that comes after ‘N’. ‘R’, as in are you gonna get someone to get me outta here?! ‘E’, as in expeditiously, and ‘Y’ as in Why are you asking me all these damn questions?!

“What apartment do you live in?”

“WTF does that matter? I’m stuck in the elevator!!!”

I start kicking the door and hear someone on the other side – probably the doorman. The door finally opens, and it’s the doorman standing there with a coat hanger – apparently using it to open the door. Ah, high technology. MacGyver would be proud.

Traveling

My career just upped its game this month. For the first time became a recruiter on a big scale. I traveled to Atlanta for the National Black MBA Conference, and then to Dallas for the Reaching Out Conference (LGBT). It was a lot of work, and it was the first time I actually had to interview MBA students for positions in the company I work for. At first, I was a bit nervous, but then I realized, hey, I’m the one interviewing someone else for a change! The Reaching Out Conference was fun (of course), but let me tell you something, those young queens never change – even at a professional networking and recruiting event.

At times, it was like a Mean Girls convention. My colleagues and I went to dinner one night and when we mozied up to the bar, some queen near us said, “Oh, Gaawd! We’re being invaded by that ad agency again.” PFffffft!

We didn’t know who he was or why he had a row with our company. At the career fair part of the convention, we set up a beautiful booth with company logos, and had stunning Cala Lilly flowers and a bowl of chocolates. The other exhibitors were jeaolous and were asking us about styling their booths for next year’s convention.

Back to the chocolates and bitchy-ness. We had a ton of chocolates left over from our exhibitor booth (you know, queens don’t eat in front of queens they don’t know), I decided to put the bowl of chocolates on the table next to the elevator bank on the floor of the hotel I was staying on so people could just take them. I didn’t want to just throw them away, and I wan't carrying them in my luggage. When I woke up on Sunday to get ready to check out of the hotel, I opened the door to my suite, and someone had taken the entire bowl of chocolates and threw them on the floor in front of the door.

Apparently, some bitchy queen had done it. It was clear that either I, or my agency were the target of this angst. I knew it could not have been me personally, because I was not in the least nasty to anyone, nor would I. My first thought was ‘how immature’, and ‘I wish I had seen who did it – I would have notified the company the perpetrator represented’.

Jealousy is not a good color on anyone.

Information Booth

I don’t know what it is about me, but people always stop me and ask me for directions, the time of day, what’s a great restaurant to eat at, what’s their horoscope (just kidding on that one). And today was no exception. Three separate groups of people stopped me on the subway platform within 5 minutes of each other to ask me for directions. I was happy to help, but seriously, does it say ‘information booth’ on my forehead? I dunnaknow, maybe people see the safe-looking gay guy and think, ‘we should ask him; you know gay guys have all the right directions and fabulous places to go!’

iPhone

I updated my iPhone with the new operating system. It took well over 2 hours to do so, added 200 new features, of which I will never have a reason to use most of them. Had to re-sync several times to get my music and videos restored. Having an iPhone is great, but dang it, it’s a lot of work sometimes. Did Steve Jobs die recently? Just asking, because I saw a bunch of earth-shoe-wearing, granola eating people dressed in hemp shirts, smoking weed and holding a candlelight vigil outside a Starbucks. Each of them were on their knees wailing over their iPhones placed on the sidewalk in front of them, and chanting "Hare, Hare, Hare, Krishna!"

Walkabout

Today, I spent time walking about the city, wandering through street fairs and farmers markets. I love that about NYC. The deal of the day was when I bought 5 cashmere scarves from a street vendor for $20. 5/$20!! Can you stand it?! They were labeled ‘Made in Scotland’, but I suspect that may be Scotland, China. Is there a Scotland, China? Probably made in Scotland, by way of China. Yeah, that’s it! And probably made buy some 3-year-old kid in a sweatshop who makes a Nickel a week for salary. I should probably have the scarves tested for lead content.

Now, I’m writing this blog post and trying to sound interesting and relevant. Mostly, because I haven’t written anything in a while. My cat Luis is sitting next to me, the dogs are off somewhere sleeping, and I’ve got to jump in the shower, then pull my wig tight, because Hubz is taking me to dinner tonight!!

Have a great weekend, y’all!

Mindless Stream

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Sun, 25 Sep 2011 19:24:00 +0000

My writing has not been so prolific as of late, so I thought I would just force myself to write something today…anything. A complete stream of consciousness. Whatever I’m thinking at the very moment my fingers hit the keyboard is what I’m going to say. And if you’re offended, well, I’ve done my job...because I made you interested in reading this crap tome.

There’s an apartment building across the way, shiny and silvery modern, and there is always this one apartment that has a balcony where the owner leaves the balcony door open all day. Even in 101-degree temps the door is always open. Well, bully for you as long as I don’t have to pay your electricity bill or spin in purgatory because you are contributing to the entire global warming phenom. Hey that’s YOUR karma, not mine.

I live in an up and coming neighborhood called Long Island City (within NYC). It’s one stop on the 7 train from Grand Central for all you hookers that categorize people you know based on whatever bourgeois neighborhood they live in. There are absolutely no chain stores in the hood, except for the Duane Reade. It’s all mom and pop bodegas and authentic Italian, Cuban, Mexican, restaurants, etc. Until this past week, when a Subway shop and Dunkin’ Donuts shop opened. Oooh! I bet the bougie intelligencia are all a-twitter with disdain. Suck it! You poo-poo whores are gonna be standing in line like the rest of us on the way to the train station, getting your coffee freaklattas (or whatever they’re called) and your Subway BMTs on the way home. Poseurs!

Don’t underestimate the power of a frozen margarita (and I’m not talking about a Latina standing in the cold). I went to a Mexican dinner with the in-laws last night, and let’s just say I’m paying for it today. My mind is in a fog, and I just found out that I dropped the ‘F’ bomb on my mother-in-law (well ‘in-law’ if I were actually married…you know I’m living in sin…and according to the freaking Church, in more ways than one). But that’s okay, she doesn’t remember me saying F&##! Nor do I. So we are even-Steven.

The Indian couple in the apartment next door just got married, and Hubz thinks the husband is GAY! I haven’t had much interaction with them except for polite chat riding up and down the elevator, but if great shoes are any indication of a man's sexual orientation, her husband sure has FABULOUS taste!

I’m staring at a curio cabinet in our living room full of porcelain curiosities. It’s kind of a metaphor for life…we spend our entire lives collecting things and then leave this world with nothing…and for what? The older I get, the more I realize that it’s not about the ego, it’s not about the ‘stuff’…it’s about how you interact with people face-to-face and how we care for each other that really makes an impact. That is the only thing or energy that really matters, because energy is the only thing that keeps on going long after we are simply………dust.

Well, Hubz is taking a nap. The dogs are taking a nap. The cat is somewhere…taking a nap, I’m sure. And I’m sitting here writing a last few words while staring at a ceramic Tom turkey and candles shaped like an Indian corn falace.

And you think you got it bad?

A Decade of Living

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 21:12:00 +0000

I'm not one to dwell on the past, nor worry about the future, or have a perpetual woe-as-me attitude, but a decade has passed (and we do like our round numbers), however, I feel compelled to share this story with some of you who have not read it as of yet.

That being said...

Please keep in mind that although September 11, 2001 was a tragic day in American history, let us not forget the ultimate price that was paid by all those who lost their lives as a result of this fateful act of a few militant people - those innocent lives lost in the US, as well as in the wars that followed - Iraq and Afghanistan wars.

In the US, we tend to have an extreme ethnocentric view of ourselves. I fear that belief is and shall always be to our detriment.

________________

September 11, 2009

I’m not one to put on Sade records and wallow in sadness; I never have been.

On this day, 8 years ago, I was living in New York City, and on my way to work at Sony. At 8:46am, I was sitting on the N train in Astoria, Queens, and I remember it so vividly, because as soon as I walked out of my apartment building, the perfection in the weather and absolutely clear, turquoise sky seemed surreal. Little did I know just how surreal would become unreal – reminded me of the day we buried my grandmother several years before – the weather was just as perfect.

When I got to the office, everyone was huddled around a TV watching the events unfold. When I asked what everyone was looking at, they said an airplane hit one of the World Trade Center towers. The cynic that I am thought, how dumb could a pilot be to hit the WTC, with all that airspace around, and plenty of options to ditch if they had to. Then I realized the severity of the situation...

I then went into stare mode and shock, when I just realized that a co-worker of ours, my friend, Rosalynne, had just left Sony to go work for AIG at the WTC not two weeks before. I imagined the worst, but it wasn’t until a week later that we had heard from her. As it turned out, she was in the tower that got hit first. Later, she told me that she and her manager had ignored the announcements to stay in the building and that it was not necessary to evacuate. Following her instincts she walked down about 50 flights of stairs to exit. About an hour later, her building collapsed. Since then, I’ve never ignored my instincts.

While watching the first tower burn on TV, around 9:15 (I don’t remember exactly – everything seemed to stand still) the news showed a second plane hit the other tower. I was in a huddle with about eight other people watching the events unfold, and I whispered under my breath, but just loud enough for the woman next to me to hear, “A plane just hit the other tower.” She replied, “No, that’s just the replay. They keep playing it over and over.” Still no one quite got it. Then I replied, “If that’s a replay, then why is the other tower burning already?” GASP! Everyone was so stunned that they completely missed seeing the second plane hit.

I thought this has to be some kind of network/cable television Orwellian hoax. I was still waiting to wake up from some awful dream. But I never did.

It’s no secret that we are so intertwined with technology that we take it so much for granted. Just yesterday, I left the house for no more than an hour to run an errand, and when I was a block away I realized I left my cell phone at home. I actually contemplated turning the car around to go get it. I didn’t, but I came really close.

On that fateful day, cell phones and the Internet had crashed because so many people were trying to get information about what was happening in real time, and if their loved one’s were okay.

There was nothing left to do, but leave the office and go home (if you could get there). Manhattan was on lock down – no traffic in or out. The only real option was to walk around the city until they let everyone out. Luckily, I ran into a friend of mine who was friends with a doorman who worked in a building on Park Avenue a block over from my office. Since I had my gym gear with me, I asked if I could use their locker room to change my clothes.

After that, my friend and I walked to Central Park and sat in Sheep Meadow along with thousands of others who had nowhere else to go. The city was eerily quiet – not even a taxicab horn honking. The only noise that reminded you of the severity of the situation were the Air Force jets roaring above the city on patrol. It was reassuring that our bravest on the ground, the sea and in the sky were watching over us in our time of need.

From Central Park, we walked over to the West Side and the piers. On the way, we passed a line that must have been wrapped completely around the block full of people waiting in line to donate blood, food, clothing, etc. The tragedy hadn’t even been into its third hour and New Yorkers were right there, front and center to give of their belongings and time to save lives. Humanity still exists, y’all!

At the West Side piers, we looked down along the Hudson and saw Wall Street on fire. Still, I didn’t quite know what to make of it all.

Later that afternoon, the bridges were finally opened to pedestrian traffic, so I headed across the Queensboro Bridge back to my apartment in Astoria – about four miles from Manhattan. When I got home, I went up on the roof of my building and could see what was left of the Towers – the smoke and ash – burning in the distance, the sun setting, with a burnt smell of soot wafting all over the place. Complete devastation.

To this day, and it may sound ridiculous for me to say, but September 11, 2001 still has not quite hit me yet. Maybe my resolve was hardened by living in NYC for so many years, maybe it was because I had become desensitized by the constant showing of violence in the media, or maybe it’s a survival technique. Whatever it is, it helped me get through that day, and still does.

I know someday eventually all that pain will hit me, but for now, the best I can hope for is that I’m in a safe place when that happens.

One Day at a Time...Sweet Jesus.

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Sat, 03 Sep 2011 21:57:00 +0000

Subway guitar guy.

Well, let me tell you what kind of day I’ve had.

As I’m writing this, I’m shoving McDonald’s french fries in my face. But, that’s another part of the story…and we’ll get to that later.

My entire day was structured around me getting new t-shirts at The Gap. I had my 20% off coupon in hand and ready to exercise my options (Or is that exorcise? Whatever.) I took the train to Manhattan and got off at the Chelsea Gap location on 23^rd & 8^th Avenue. Why did I have to go to THAT Gap? Why did I get off the train there without consciously thinking where I was?

Oh, wait. Chelsea. 8^th Avenue. The gay mecca of NYC. My old stomping grounds. I guess old habits really do die hard.

I’m focused. I want t-shirts. That’s all. I couldn’t find medium crew neck T’s so I went to the cash register. Flitted. Looked around the store looking for the help. Nowhere to be found. Finally, Miss Thang comes to the register and I ask him if they have any medium T’s in the back storeroom. “No, all we have are what’s out, but we do have these t-shirts” (those fancy wear-a-t-shirt-t-shirts that are supposed to substitute for a real shirt, and at $16.99 each, no thank you very much!).”

I left the store.

A block away I stopped on a street corner and sent an email to a former colleague of mine (who just happens to be the Chief Marketing Officer of The Gap – and explain to him that the Chelsea Gap location needs a little help).

While I’m standing there texting, an obviously tourist guy from Europe asks me how to get to Penn Station. I give him directions, then check friends’ status’ on Facebook, pondering where I will go next to find t-shirts. A few moments later, a woman stops in front of me, and very flirtatiously I might add, “Do you live around here?” (flipping her hair and smiling)

I reply, “No, but I used to and I’m familiar with the area.” She says, “I’m looking for a pet store, and I think there’s one around here, but I’m not sure.”

“It’s one block over, halfway down the block,” I say.

“Thanks! You’re a doll.”

(Thanks, Chicky-poo!)

I immediately think, ‘oh good grief, it’s gonna be another day like that day several years ago when three separate people stopped me to ask me what time it was…and one of them had a watch on!’ What-tha-what?!

I jumped back on the train and headed for SoHo. Gotta be a Gap there somewhere. Sorry, I just like Gap t-shirts. They shrink up nice and are form-fitting. And you know what’s gonna happen soon. It’s like when you finally find a product that is perfect, then the manufacturer decides to change it and they fu$&k it all up.

But I digress.

Oh! A Banana Republic. I walk all over that store and can’t find a plain, basic white run-of-the-mill t-shirt anywhere. I walk out.

Oh! Top Shop. I pop in.

Nothing.

Of course! Daffy’s – the clothing store for Millionaires! Actually it’s not; it’s just brand names, but without the brand name $. I find them! T-SHIRTS!! A package of 3 Calvin Klein t-shirts for $16.99! Okay, they’re not Gap, but Calvin is my second choice. And you can call me cheap all you want; I ain’t throwin’ cold, hard cash at something I’m gonna wear under ANOTHER shirt.

ARE YOU STILL READING?

I make my way back uptown.

Stop in at Hollywood Tans to get a fake bake.

After that, I popped into the Goodwill Store in Chelsea. Hey, don’t mock me. That store is in the heart of gay central, and the shirts they have in there are from Thomas Pink, Faconnable, etc. You know those rich queens in the hood be dumpin’ all their fine shit up in there. I ain’t no fool!

Then I begin my trek home. That’s where McDonald’s comes into play. You see, we live in an up and coming neighborhood in Long Island City, Queens (on the 7 train, one stop from Grand Central), and there are NO fast food joints or chain stores within a 3-mile radius…except for the Subway shop and Drunkin’ Donuts that are opening soon. And let me tell you, the bougie wannabe demographic in the hood are all a-twitter about that mess, but you know those hookers are gonna be standing in line for their BMT hoagies and Coolattas just like everyone else. Fake asses.

Back to Micky D’s. I’m standing in line to get my #2 combo. There are two people in front of me, so I’m thinking this will be quick. Lawdy, lawdy, was I mistaken. The kid in the front of the line ordered everything on the menu…and to go. Ugh!

Then, in true New York form, the lady directly in front of me starts talking. At first, I thought she was talking to the kid in front of her, but he was paying her no mind. I thought they were there together, but I guessed wrong. She was talking at random to whomever could hear her.

I don’t know if you know anything about New Yorkers, but there’s a class of NYrs that try their best to drag you into their hot mess drama at any cost, making you part of their boo-boo nonsense.

This lady starts talking to me about how her apartment building is being renovated, and she has no plumbing, no electricity, no this, no that…blah, blah, blah. She’s trying to contact NY1, ABC, NBC, CBS….etc.

“I have pictures. Do you think I should send them to the news?”, she says.

“Sure, they like stuff like that. They like to report on the ‘little guy’ being taken advantage of”, I reply.

“Well, then I have to get to Duane Reade and have my photos developed quick!”

WAIT! HOLD UP! She has photos that need to be DEVELOPED?!

That was my second indication that I was dealing with a watch that wasn’t too tightly wound. Let’s just say, she seemed a few ants short of a picnic.

Anyway, she got her coffee. WHAT?! She was standing in line just for coffee – at McDonalds!? The cashier told her the price, then the lady puts down her OVERSIZED messenger bag and start riffling through it. OMG! WTF!

That bag is STUFFED to the hilt with those USPS express envelopes – like everything is filed or something. She pulls out her wallet, and a Ziploc baggie FULL of receipts. We’re talking what looks like a year’s worth of cash register receipts, y’all. She pays for her coffee, then puts the receipt in her Ziploc baggie. Imagine a baggie that’s so stuffed, it has expanded to about six inches.

I finally get to place my order (after moseying over to another register) – thank you Jesus!

As I’m paying, she comes over to me and starts to cry, and asks me for my email address.

Sweet Jesus. Are you testing me?

I give it to her…and yes, a real email address. The woman has issues, but I can’t just leave her hanging.

Then she says, “Do you live in the neighborhood?”

“No, I live in Long Island City” (Again, thank you Bajeeesus! A way out.)

“Thank you for being so kind to me,” she says as I leave.

FEET, DON’T FAIL ME NOW!

I high-tail it outta there and head home to eat my delicious and nutritious meal of decadance.

On the elevator ride up to my apartment, a neighbor spies my bag o’McDonalds and says, “Where’d you get that in THIS neighborhood?”

“Manhattan”

And just like that, we understood each other.

Did I tell you I had a DAY today?

Somewhere in SoHo.

My home subway stop - Vernon-Jackson.

Look, Paw! We gots a Home Depot raat here in New Yorwk Citeee!

Manhattan architecture...hmm?

Hurricane Irene

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 19:16:00 +0000

Well, I know it seems like eons since I’ve written anything. Truth is I’ve been very busy with work, and partly just being a lazy writer. Alternatively, I’ve started jotting quick thoughts down in a tiny Moleskine notebook to capture those moments in life that you say you never want to forget, but usually do. My moments are usually laced with humor – why not? What else is there?

Here’s a few of my entries from over the past several weeks, with the back-story attached to some for clarification. If not, you would have just had to be there!

At the office:

Alice came back from a meeting and sat down at her desk, exhausted and said, “God please give me the patience to get through the rest of this day.” To which I promptly added, “Or a baseball bat, whichever is easier for you…Amen.”

I’m addicted to the chicken soup in the company cafeteria. I swear they must put crack in the chicken broth.

To my boss: “Sorry I scheduled a 4:30pm meeting on a Friday. I didn’t know you wanted to leave early. Besides, I can’t read your mind and my crystal ball is in the shop!” (Thank Gaawd she laughed.)

A guy in the men’s room was tapping away on his Blackberry with both hands…while standing at the urinal. Really?!? If you really think about it, I guess that’s kind of impressive.

Paola talking to her daughter on the phone about the impending hurricane about to hit NYC this weekend:

Paola: “You need to go outside and help your father bring in the patio furniture so it doesn’t blow away.” Daughter: “I ain’t playing with those muthafu#&$ers…2012 is around the corner! Shooooot. Let that shit blow away.“ (Referring to 12/20/2012)

A colleague of mine called a Harvard student on the phone to offer her an internship. At the end of the conversation the student asks my colleague, “Do you have a phone number?” (Let’s just let that simmer for a moment, shall we?)

Generation Y (Kids graduated from college between 2008 – 2011 (from an article I read)

Y should I get a job?
Y should I leave home?
Y should I get a car when I can borrow yours?
Y should I wash my own clothes?
Y should I buy my own food?

(So true!)

She blew her nose and it sounded like an elephant. “Whoa!”

My thoughts exactly:

I just found out it’s possible to cook corn-on-the cob in a microwave. Why didn’t someone tell me this before?

A male friend of a friend of mine on Facebook lists ‘baton twirling’ in his online profile as one of his interests. (Okaaaaaaay…too much information)

Guy cuts me off at the elevator: Who does that queen think he is? The Wicked Bitch of the West?!

A friend of a friend on Facebook: “I have to return my butt to the store, because it has a crack in it.”

Remembering a quote from my favorite Aunt Bertha: “His teeth were so bucked, he could eat corn-on-the-cob through a white picket fence.”

_______________

Sophia Petrillo: “There’s a hurricane a-comin’!

Have a great weekend, y’all!

Where Did The Pride Go?

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Thu, 30 Jun 2011 18:22:00 +0000

As Gay Pride month comes to a close I feel compelled to write about something that has pissed me off for years. Every year, the month of June is celebrated as Gay Pride Month, and every year I am a horribly miffed about how some people in our community continually perpetuate devastating stereotypes about myself and the rest of the gay community.

Sure, let’s celebrate diversity of all people, the fact that we are proud of who are, and enjoy the progress we have made in the civil rights of LGBT’s everywhere. BUT! Can we reign in the jock-strap-wearing go-go slut boys and sloppy naked lesbos with tig ‘ol bitties walking down the street during the Pride Parade? We don't need to see their nasty bits.

It repulses me, and I hope it repulses you, too. It’s no wonder people are flummoxed that there is still a debate as to whether or not homosexuality is a mental illness. It is not a mental illness, but some in our community certainly aren’t helping the cause.

I love a great party and parade as much as the next person, but one of the reasons I haven’t been to a Pride Parade in nearly a decade is because of the skanks that walk in the parade. No body wants to see your hairy arse hanging out of your assless leather chaps or your pierced lady parts flapping around threatening to smack people in their eye.

Is this how you want bigots to view the gay community as a whole? Acting a fool in public is certainly not how I live, nor do these ne'er-do-wells represent the gay community as a whole. Unfortunately, what is lost on these idiots is the fact that images of 'Theodore Thong' is what the news media shows to those narrow-minded bumbles living in Podunkville, USA.

They see a picture or video of a man dipped in body glitter while walking down the street in nothing but a jock strap and hooker pumps, and they think that that is a true representation of what being gay is all about. This detracts from the fact that most gay people are beacons of light in their neighborhoods and they are well-educated business professionals and leaders. They are in committed relationships, they are parents and they are well-respected amongst their friends and colleagues alike.

It's Time for Dialogue

It’s time we talk to our gay sisters and brethren about maintaining a high sense of decorum, especially at events where all the judging eyes are watching us. We’ve gotten this far. Let’s not set our cause back 30 years by acting like amoral nincompoops gallivanting around in pasties and butt plugs.

And while we’re at it, can we PLEASE drop the use of the word ‘queer’ to describe ourselves. I am NOT queer. ‘Queer’ by definition means ‘unusual’ or ‘deviating from the expected norm’. I am not unusual, nor a deviant.

Let’s get it out of the gutter, shall we?

New York State Marriage Equality Senate Hearings Livestream: Watch

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Fri, 24 Jun 2011 18:42:00 +0000

Watch live streaming video from nysenate at livestream.com

We're still waiting NY State Senators...let's just
DO THIS ALREADY!!

(6-24-11) Addendum: It PASSED!

AskCorey.bomb

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 20:56:00 +0000

I found a bit of time to peruse the Internet today to satiate my intellectual curiosity a bit, and I came across the website Answers.com. What a pip!

It’s a site where people can post their questions about things they don’t know about, and await answers from other people on the site. I have to admit the site did pique my interest for further inspection. However, it wasn’t the answers to the questions that I found funny. It was the questions that people were asking that had me stupefied and chuckling.

Many of the latest questions were still unanswered at the time I wrote this, so I thought I’d give my answers to these thought provoking questions that were posted on the site. Remember, these are ACTUAL questions!

Enjoy…

Is a hairweave horses hair?
A: No, but after a while it smells like a horse’s ass

What is the best diet?
A: Put your fork down.

What is the 3 letter word that is missing in this word 'bend'?
A: ova

What is the name of the movie where this lady dies than try to escape her death?
A: Pick a movie, any movie.

What are the 6 main rules of electricity?
A: Don’t touch it, don’t touch it, don’t touch it, don’t touch it, don’t touch it, and don’t go near it.

How many times do you have to be good to go to heaven?
A: Just once (oh, and be sure to click your heels 3 times)

What is the main role of connective tissue?
A: The main role of connective tissue (aka as snot or boogers) is to hold together a series of used Kleenex.

How many people have been eaten in the nile river by a crocodile?
A: You is so dumb.

How do jamaicans welcome people?
A: “Smoke, mon?”

How to install a blower motor resistor?
A: Search Google under "vibrator"

How do you do the clairevoyant trick from Jacob Two Two's First Spy Case?
A: Pay her.

Where did the greek civilization begin?
A: It hasn’t begun yet.

Where did the phrase get my goat come from?
A: See also: ‘Donkey Show’

What does "hella decale" mean?
A: It's Latin for ‘online language translator’.

What is the next big thing in air traffiic controlling?
A: Cocaine. They need something to keep them awake.

What is hurricanes caused by?
A: Bad grammar.

What is the size of the tuberus denarius?
A: Read Congressman Anthony Weiner’s tweets

Who was the first female rectum?
A: You mean ‘rector’?

Is alicia keys biosexual?
A: Yes, she is very concerned about the sexuality of living things.

What is the accumulator on 97 dodge 2500?
A: It’s the onboard fart collector attached to the seat cushions.

How old was muhammad he died?
A: Could you narrow that name down a bit?

How much sperm does it take for a woman to get pregnant?
A: None. Just brushing against her boobie can make her pregnant.

What team does chien ming wang play for?
A: Most Good Double Dragons

How many piercings should you have if you are 14?
A: It depends which trailer park you live in.

Is poop a verb?
A: Yup!

Thelma.

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Mon, 30 May 2011 14:42:00 +0000

The past few days have not been kind to my cat, Thelma. When I woke up Thursday morning, my beloved cat was not feeling so well. She was diagnosed several years ago with diabetes, and she’s had her ups and downs, but this time it was serious.

I don’t even know how to write this blog post. So please forgive me if it seems like a blubbering stream of consciousness.

This morning I held my baby as she went limp and died in my arms.

Before she died I whispered in her ear: “Thelma, you are loved. When I adopted you from your foster mother (a lady who managed a dance studio in SoHo), I went there with the intention of adopting only one kitten. After spending a while with all of the kitties, I chose your brother, Luis – the pride of the litter. But then your foster mother said I should probably adopt two kitties since I wasn’t home most of the day, because then you and your brother could keep each other company while I was away.

So, as I played with Luis and all of your siblings, I noticed you sitting off by yourself. You looked weak, dejected and unloved. So, I said to your foster mother, “I’ll take her, too.”

And as soon as I could get that sentence out, your foster mother said, “Oh, but she’s the runt of the litter, and she has a cold in her eye. She won’t be very healthy.”

I didn’t care. I knew you needed a home, and if no one else was going to give you one, I would. It was a little while later that I realized it wasn’t me that was adopting you; you adopted ME.”

I have never regretted that decision. Even when Thelma was diagnosed with diabetes in 2005, I knew there was a reason she was my ward. And I can’t imagine how her life would have become if she wasn’t with me.

Our home feels empty without her, and my heart feels like a spirit has been ripped from it. While I know her nine physical lives are gone, she’s already embodied the being of another. When I walk down the street and see another animal (or human), and I look in their eyes, I’ll know when Thelma is looking back at me.

I love you, Thelma. My sweet, baby girl (aka The Lady T).

Where the Boys Are

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Fri, 27 May 2011 20:13:00 +0000

If anyone knows anything about New York City, they know that Fleet Week occurs every year during the week leading up to Memorial Day. The US Navy sails a 'parade of ships' up the Hudson River for all to see. And as it turns out this year, I'm not only back in NYC, but my office overlooks the Intrepid Air, Sea and Space Museum - ground zero for Fleet Week happenings.

Here's a few pix I took on Wednesday when the ships and their valuable inhabitants came to town. (And yes, I did write myself a note to take a camera with me to work that day - I'm not stupid!)

The USS New York - This ship was commissioned in 2009, and its structure was forged with the steel that remained after the World Trade Center collapse of 9/11.

The Intrepid Air, Sea and Space Museum - a tourista haven.

Classic fighter planes.

I don't know what this ship is called, but it's a doozy...and look a little closer...

...the Navy onboard at full attention and waiting to debark in NYC!

Welcome to Fleet Week '11, y'all!

12 on the 13th

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Sun, 15 May 2011 16:32:00 +0000

So, it's time for 12 pix on the 12th day of the month series...here's mine from this past Friday the 13th...eeek! My lucky day! (Okay, so I didn't strictly adhere to the 12th day...I was a little busy this week.)

My friends, Emily and Diana (aka the 'Fashion Fanatics' on Tumblr) featured my socks in one of their recent posts. I am a firm believer in not matching socks to shoes or matching socks to pants. Get crazy with color, y'all.

On a walkabout during lunch in Hell's Kitchen, NYC...tourista busses EVERYWHERE!

A building I once used to work in (Worldwide Plaza). My goodness, that's a mighty big p....

The garage of one of the Fire Departments who lost the most fire fighters on 9/11. Whenever I see an NYC fire fighter or police officer, I applaud them by smiling. They are truly our city's finest and bravest.

Someone has taken up spray painting cats all around Hell's Kitchen. I don't know why, but I like looking at them...reminds me of my own cats - Thelma & Luis (aka 'Theluis')

It's official! Spanx has hit the male market. Gonna get me some! Hell's Kitchen is a gay-friendly neighborhood, so whatever ad agency posted this ad certainly knows the neighborhood demographic.

I've never seen a bright red ice cream truck. Aren't they usually white? I remember when I lived in Astoria, NY back in the day, and whenever I saw the ice cream truck go down the street, I never saw any kids running after it. I usually just saw adults at the truck buying ice cream. Or were they really buying ice cream? After a while I dubbed it the 'drug truck', because I'm almost positive that's how they made their profit margins.

Hell's Kitchen...small town feel with the ginormous skyscrapers in the background.

This is why adore NYC. Around every corner of this bustling metropolis you can find this...quaint buildings with a cozy charm.

Ohh! It's Spring! Let the color reign. (And please, don't let Spot pee on them.)

A dive tavern near where I work. Everything you've heard about taverns/pubs is true, and this one is no exception. You don't go there for vegan fare or to eat bean sprouts. You go there for a big ol' greasy burger and fries!!

Maximus looking debonaire. (Um, excuse me? Why are you on that chair? Oh, because you're just SO cute...but a little dumb.)

I hope all of you have a fantabulous Sunday. Now, get out of the house my little chickens, and snap something (other than your fingers).

The Point of No Return

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Sat, 14 May 2011 02:15:00 +0000

A series of pix I took that show what appear to be two airplanes headed for collision above New York City. It was just one of those moments where you had better have a camera at the ready, and an artistic view in mind.

Never to meet again...one airplane headed north toward Canada - the other in the direction of Europe.

Invitation Only

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Fri, 13 May 2011 18:49:00 +0000

Yesterday, I overheard my friend, Paola, whom I work with, mention something to another colleague about ‘don’t make me get machete on you!’

So of course, I had to ask her what she was referring to, because I just knew there was a juicy story there. She said, “You never heard my machete story? Listen, boo, let me tell you about it.

Keep in mind Paola is a fiery Latina and the dominant mother of two daughters – one of which was a teenager at the time of the story.

And here goes the story (writen in Paola’s voice):

“When my daughter Alexandra (Alex) turned 16-years-old she wanted a good old fashioned house party. You know the kind of party back in the day where you invited the entire neighborhood, cleared out the furniture in your house, blasted the music and everyone ate BBQ until they passed out.

So, I agreed to let Alex have the party for her Sweet Sixteen. I told her she could only invite so many people and that I wanted to see the list of people that she was inviting. I agreed with the list and told her I’d set up everything.

On the day of the party, I moved all the furniture out of the living room, prepared and set up the food and punch. We have a dry household, so there was not going to be any liquor served, even to any adults that were there.

Then I sat down with Alex and gave her the rules for the party. There was to be no alcohol, no drugs, and there had better not be any babies arriving nine months later! She agreed. I put the fear of God in her, you know.

At around 11 o’clock three strangers showed up at my door. Alex came to get me and brought me to the door to meet them. Alex wasn’t about to let anyone in the house if I didn’t know them. She introduced one of them as a friend of hers, but the other two guys she didn’t know. One of them looked about 20-years-old and the other one looked like he was nearly 30-years-old, scruffy and gangsta-looking. They said they lost their invitation and almost forgot about the party. I told them ‘no you didn’t, I approved the invite list and you weren’t on it!’

I looked them up and down, and told them to stay there and that I would be right back.

A couple minutes later, I returned to the front door where they were still standing. By this time, Alex had gone back to her party, because she knew what I was about to do.

As I walked toward the front door, I was holding the machete that I keep next to my bed, and tapping the silver, slightly rusted, but freshly sharpened blade against my hip.

I stood in front of them and said (with a firm grip on my machete and holding it in front of me), ‘You are welcome to join the party, but there are some ground rules – there will be no alcohol, no drugs and there will not be any pregnancies here tonight. And if you cross me, I WILL CUT YOU and hide the bodies where no one will ever find you!’

*Their eyes widened*

Now, would you like to come in and join the party?”

[At this point in the story, Paola had me laughing hysterically]

Corey: “Well, did they come in, Paola?”

Paola: “Yes, they came in. And a few days later Alex told me her friends thought I was crazy. Sheeiiiit, boo, you got that right!”

You were OWNed!

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Fri, 13 May 2011 17:06:00 +0000

Now, that we are down to about 10 remaining Oprah Shows, what is the world to do?

Whom will we look to for weekday spiritual guidance?

Who will tell us what charities should receive our hard-earned money?

Who will introduce the next celebrity doctor, financial guru, head shrink, home decorator or keeper of the ‘Secret’?

Who will give us free cars?

Who will tell us what ‘favorite things’ we should buy for Christmas presents, putting us further into debt?

Who is the beef industry gonna sue now?

Who is going to guide us through yet another yo-yo diet?

More importantly, will Gayle still have a high paying job as Oprah’s besty?

Will OWN actually become the Oprah Show on adrenaline?

Will every celebrity who has ever been on the Oprah Show get their own show on OWN? (Most likely)

The Book Club will be gone. Boo-hoo.

The lights will go off.

The curtain will close.

The studio audience shall disappear into the oblivion of jewel-toned clothes.

Green will no longer be everyone’s favorite color.

And red-soled shoes shall become passé.

But this I know for sure…YOU GET YOUR LIFE BACK…..YOU GET YOUR LIFE BACK….YOU GET YOUR LIFE BACK! EVERYBODY GETS THEIR LIFE BACK!

Now, if you will turn to page 56 in your hymnal, we shall sing “I Surrender All”.

Bussed-Out

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Tue, 10 May 2011 14:35:00 +0000

You know sometimes I share with you some of my wack-a-doo dreams. We’ll, let me tell you about a little diddy I had last night.

On a beautiful spring day, I was riding on a school bus that was picking up kids and taking them to school. In the dream I was some kind of teacher or counselor for children. Over the course of three days in the dream (I took the bus ride three days in a row), I observed that whenever the bus stopped at this one particular kid’s home, one of the other students on the bus (an insecure bully, no less) would make homophobic comments about the kid waiting for the bus.

He would say things like, “I’ll bust a cap in his ass.” Or “Yeah, right there beside the garage would be a good place to waste him…take that faggot out!”

So, after the third day of my observations, I got up from my seat on the bus, picked up that bully by the collar and dragged him off the bus into a field with tall grass. All of the other kids were hanging out the windows of the bus watching what was about to transpire. As the bully stood in front of me, I began to explain to him why it was wrong to make fun of other people just because they are gay…or even perceived to be gay. And how would he feel if someone chose something about him to pick on about?

He grumbled a bit, and tried to justify his actions by saying that he had every right to call whomever whatever he wanted to call them. To which I replied, “Well, then you keep your bitch-ass off my bus, and you walk to school from now on. And besides, pull up those pants that are hanging off your butt. No one wants to see your crusty, dusty underwear. Do you honestly think girls are attracted to that style mess? And if anyone’s advertising that they may be gay, it quite possibly is you. Don’t you know that those baggy pants off the butt thing started in men’s prisons as a way of subtly letting other inmates know they are ‘available’ for sex?

As he stood there in silence trying to comprehend his grievous fashion faux pas, the wind rustled a bit, and the sunshine seemed to get blindingly brighter…. then I heard someone clapping their hands behind me.

It was Oprah. She had been observing my lesson to this little punk the entire time. “Good job!” she said.

Then I woke up.

(I really need to stop watching the Oprah Show before I go to bed.)

Say Hello, Bazzitch!

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Thu, 05 May 2011 19:22:00 +0000

I need your help deciding something.

I work in an advertising agency that is filled with 20-somethings…you know, “Millennials” as they are referred to, much like Gen-X or Gen-Y has their own nickname.

Whenever I’m out and about the building doing whatever, and I pass someone in the hallway I always try to make eye contact with him or her and say “hello”. Whether I know them by name or not, I always say “hello”.

Over the past few days I have conducted a little experiment. I observed why people do or don’t say hello when I pass them in the hall (unless I say hello first). I discovered that about 90% of the time it was the Millennials that always lowered their heads and rarely made eye contact.

To follow up what I observed I asked a colleague of mine (who is 22-years-old, and definitely a Millennial) what she thought of this. Her response was that they are just in their own world, and possibly have this ‘better than thou’ complex. She went on to explain (she doesn’t relate to her own peer group, mind you, and proud of it) that that’s how they were raised. She went on to explain that her generation had parents who did everything for them (‘helicopter parents’ – named so because they hover over their children all the time), and got rewarded for everything, even when they lose at something. And, in the process have ended up with this sense of entitlement, and expect to be the CEO of the company by the time they are 25-years-old (a la Mark Zuckerberg). I already knew that was probably the case, but I wanted to hear it from her 20-something lips.

After the discussion with my young colleague, I then asked a colleague who is maybe 15 years older than myself (I’m 41-years-old, thank you very much) what she thought about all this. Her reply, “Because they’re RUDE! Millennials have no manners, they don’t understand proper etiquette and are oblivious to the obvious, and their common sense and social skills are severely lacking. Unless they are tethered to a piece of technology – computer, phone…whatever, they can’t function.”

I quite agree with both opinions.

Which leads me to my greater observation: Is there any general existence of proper manners anymore? Are kids not being taught proper social skills anymore? Is it the parents’ fault, society in general or what?

Obama Got Osama

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Mon, 02 May 2011 17:24:00 +0000

I am offended, and if I offend you with this post, then so be it.

Osama Bin Laden is dead.

Yay! And the markets are up because of it (that I don’t get).

So let’s all act a fool, get drunk and take to the streets waving the US flag and desecrating it by wrapping it around our necks, our waists. Or better yet, let’s watch members of our military climb lampposts waving the flag like it’s a dirty old rag for all to see.

Just how does this serve the greater purpose?

Most of the faces I see acting a fool on TV are early 20-somethings. How old were they when 9/11 happened? 10 years old? Do they even understand the true impact of how 9/11 was a game changer for the US? Or are they just going with the herd mentality and doing what all the other crazy people are doing?

Pull back, baby. Pull back!

Let’s try and comprehend how Bin Laden’s death may spur even more terrorism. Let’s not give credence to and offer a case for OBL to become an esteemed martyr for terrorism.

Shut it down, my fellow Americans. Let’s maintain a sense of decorum. Let’s not yet again project the image that Americans are giving the world the middle finger, by screaming “USA…USA…USA!!”

Because it ain’t all about US!

Wake up and smell the coffee!

Birthday Wishes

noreply@blogger.com (madtexter (corey james)) — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 19:02:00 +0000

This past week I celebrated (or rather tolerated) my 41st birthday. And as much as I am not big on bringing attention to my own birthdays (although last year was a biggie), I am always thrilled when someone takes the time to really go out of their way to celebrate me.

It's quite humbling.

As many of you know, I recently relocated back to New York City from Atlanta last November. And, you know how in some places you work, they usually circulate a birthday card for your colleagues to sign for you. It seems mechanical, like it's an obligation...just what is proper for you to do to buildcamaraderie amongst co-workers.

However, a couple of days ago I received a birthday card from my former co-workers in Atlanta. Who does that? I mean, it's from colleagues that I worked with at a former company, and they went out of their way to commemorate my birthday! How outstanding is that?!

As Sally Field would say, "You like me. You REALLY like me!"

Typically, when you leave a company (and leave the state), people sort of just let by-gones be by-gones. But my former colleagues made a notion to show me just how much they appreciate and miss me. That really makes me feel like I made a huge impact.

I don't know what it is that I did to move them in such a way, but I hope I can keep doing it in this present moment.

It's nice to be appreciated...long after the fact.