I got some shit to say. And I'm lazy.

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Fence Swingin'

Indeed. It's been one hell of a crazy week, and it's my duty to let you in on the sheer insanity of it all.
In one eight day period, I have: been accused of ageism and had my job security threatened, in a seperate incident, been accused of sexual harassment by someone at work that under review didn't hold weight at all, got cast in a bit part in a brilliant ABC pilot, got cast in a terrific new play, went out on a date, and made the best mix CD ever. Who has time for blogging with all that?

This old fart, who for the purposes of my blog we will call Dickie Chiggums, was
holding up the line last Friday night at the museum, which is when all the crazies show up and want to get their art on for free. As I tried to usher him in and out of harm's way, I motioned to Carlos, one of our guards and said "Come on, Papi." We're tight like that. Old Mr. Chiggums didn't take kindly to me and Carlos' bro-mance and said 'What did you call me, young man?' To which I said, "Huh?" To which he said 'I heard you, and that's wildly innapropriate.' And I was like "Huh?" And he was like 'I'm going to teach you a valuable lesson.' and I was like "I hope it's about money because you sure look like you got a lot of it" and he was like 'What's your name?' and I was like "t-dawg, motherfucka' back the fuck up for I pop a cap in your shrivelled up Brooks Brothers suit wearing ass, ya' dig?" and then I gave him my name and then he went inside and complained about me and then came back out and was like 'I'm going to teach you another lesson about respecting your elders. I have a very powerful friend who is a trustee of the museum and I will see to it that you are reprimanded. I'm 85 and I didn't get this far by being a pussycat.' And then he turned dramtically and walked off.

My job is impossible.

That night, as I succesfully made it to day 10 of the no-drinking cruise of '06, I sweated this out as I watched TV and passed out stone cold sober.

The next day at work I was pulled aside by my union rep (a position I held until recently; thank god I quit) and was told that a co-worker had accused me of sexual harassment. Dude, I'm batting a thousand.

Needless to say, I flipped my shit.

I want to make something explicitly fucking clear here, dear readers:
I may be a wild man, prone to complete silliness and an big ole' flirt to boot, but I would never NEVER never FUCKING EVER NEVER EVER FUCKING EVER commit sexual harassment. I was raised correctly and have been taught time and again to respect women. I may be a broken down sloppy drunk sweetheart, but I ain't lascivious or lewd. I am a gentleman, and I know this. This is why I feel I can talk openly about this here.

Apparently that same Friday night, I was standing too close for comfort to a female co-worker as I was attempting to exit the museum. I don't know if any of you have been to museum on a Friday night when it's packed, but personal space is at a premium. I was trapped with said co-worker up against a glass door as a massive line of people were ushered in to the lobby. I couldn't move and had no choice but to stand next to this person and wait out the crowd. I also had on my usual get up which consists of a big black winter coat, metrosexual messenger bag, and fancy pants gym bag birthday present courtesy of someone special. It's a huge bag and it often creates space issues on the subway. I get looks from people. I don't give a fuck. I gots to get my work-out on, you fat Polish fuck, so back the fuck up.

Anyhow, I have no doubt that as female co-worker and I withered the free loader storm, my bag probably inadvertently brushed against her backside. Show of hands here of people that this happens to on the E train every morning?

That's what I thought. How bad a perv would I have to be to grab some poor woman's ass and just keep standing there, awaiting her response?

"Yes madam, it was I, The Toosh Bandit, who placed his hands upon your supple hindquarters. What say you and I find a nice quiet bar in which to drink lychee martinis and discuss the matter further?"

Needless to say I spent the whole day fuming until I was called into the back office to have a meeting with my boss, the 'victim', and my union reps. I sat there and listened to the allegations, and then I lost it when it was my turn to defend myself. I said the word 'befuddled' at least six times, had to stop myself from crying, and then had to stop myself from yelling. Afterwards, I was exonarated of all alleagations and the matter was put to bed.

SEXUAL HARRASMENT is not something to be taken lightly. To be accused of it makes you feel like the lowest piece of scum bucket fuck shit that ever slithered across the street. And that's not to say that it doesn't happen everyday in offices and factories all over the world, and as women do something as simple as walk down the street. It's one shitty fact of life. But we hurt people unknowingly every day with daggers of inattention, disinterest, and ignorance, so why should we bother trying to do it intentionally? I certainly don't try to.
I cannot stress enough how upset this made me, enough so that

I got
blind stinking drunk
and longed
like I never have
harder and worser
for a specific someone to be here
and tell me
i was a good guy.

but i knew better than to make that call.

I then tried to watch Elizabethtown, which I found out is impossible.

Was this movie an excuse for Cameron Crowe to flex his mix tape making muscle?

The whole idea of a big important road trip I was super into, and you know how I love my Louisville, but seriously, I will give eleven dollars and eleven cents to ANYONE out there who can tell me:


Upwards and onwards, tdawgbloggers.

Sunday was spent spending way too much for the perfect shirt and jeans for a trip I myself am taking soon. And then watching a documentary on Eugene O'Neill which proved to me once and for all that:

a)Watching actors in documentaries read from a script apropos of nothing is not only tedious but painful, and

b)Al Pacino now lives in galaxy far, far away.

The Monday night wing tradition was maintained after a awesome reading of my buddy's new play, which was funny as hell, and featured the always charming Bog Face, who can eat wings with the best of them. I had two auditions Tuesday, one for the aforementioned pilot and one for another one of Adam's great scripts.


Incidentally, I asked a woman out and she said yes, so as far as Tuesday March 14th 2006 went, I was king of the world.

I met said woman for a night out Wed. and had a great time. We went to the Biennial at the Whitney the next day and chatted over Indian food. I also realized I'm completely and totally not ready to date anyone. And that's okay.

Which brings us to my awesome 13 for 16 showing in Day 1 of the NCAA tournament and a respectable 11 for 16 Friday. I am tied for 8th place in my pool but none of my losses seem to have the firepower to advance on to the Sweet 16, so I think I still got a shot. Last year Justin ROCKEFELLER won our office pool. That's like Dick Cheney shooting a guy in the face and getting away with it.

Friday night I saw a great play at Soho Rep featuring many of my favorite Austinites.
It's called NOT CLOWN and runs through next weekend. Please catch it.
It kicks so much ass.

Steve Moore and Carlos Trevino are theatricl magic makers. And my boy Robert 'Nipsay' Pierson does some great work and the always amazing Lee Eddy might just be my favorite actress that I know not named Bog Face. Watching her is like getting a mix tape with self made artwork and fancy literary quotes on it from that girl in your English class with the hoop earrings and black hair you had a crush on all semester but could never talk to. Pure unadulterated joy and wonder.

Today I had to get up at six o'clock to get a car to go to my shoot!!!!
I play a rival driver to this guy who is one of the main characters in a new pilot for ABC called 'Six Degrees.' The script is really heartfelt, funny and honest, and I hope it gets picked up. What's awesome is that Dorian and I did a play together two years ago, and since then his career has shot through the roof. He's a great actor, a total good guy, and treated me the same as he did Bridget Moynahan, the make up lady, and the executive producers, Stu and Raven. Those two were whip smart, cool guys who told me how much they liked my audition. I hope they liked my performance. I think I should be an actor for a living, you know? I tell you what man, TV is mindblowing and those people run one tight ship, although you're never sure what's going on exactly or who you should be listening to. Turns out the director of the episode directed the movie 'Nine Lives' which came out last fall and he also happens to be Gabriel Garcia-Marquez's son. How fucking cool is that?

I learned alot about film vs. theatre today and it was very,very overwhelming and educational. I also was done by 12 P.M., which was great.

It was a beautiful day out, and as we shot down on Hudson Street in the West Village, I took a quick stroll down memory lane and stopped into the much malgined Magnolia bakery for a treat and a nod to days gone by.

We all deserve a little sweetness now and then, you know?

I then went home and built an awesome mix CD that shares the same title as this posting.
It's for my favorite cowgirl.
May I see you in Nashville someday.


Blogger nominickel said...

Oh T

8:19 PM


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