Month: May 2006

Totally off topic today.

Dear Alan Greenspan:

You are an asshole. You kept interest rates WAY TOO LOW for WAY TOO LONG, in an effort to keep the housing market going. You manipulated an entire industry to prop up the rest of the U.S. Economy. Thanks a lot. Many people who had NO BUSINESS buying houses are now in homes that they can’t afford. People are filing bankruptcy, consumer debt is at an all time high, the foreclosures are starting, and you’ve retired. Nice job.

Guess what? Where you created “opportunity” you also created leeches. Investors flooded this market and basically ruined it. Never mind that they bought tons of homes that they planned to flip, but they skewed all the marketing data with their demographics, and threw a monkey wrench into the entire system. The housing industry couldn’t keep up with this demand – the abnormally low rates robbed demand from what could have been a steady future. All the homebuilders packed in the bodies, and everyone worked like dogs.

Now guess what? While you’re enjoying your retirement, every single public national homebuilder is freaking out. They are getting contract cancellations left and right. They are refunding deposits based on technicalities and threats of lawsuits. They are whispering about layoffs. And the people on the outside don’t know this, but a large portion of those in the homebuilding industry are about to hit the pavement looking for jobs. Thank you so much, for you’ve done wonders for our economy. Lower rates so that the rich can get richer, put the housing price out of the average man’s reach and all the rich left the market. Now the rest of the average men, working in homebuilding are about to be out of jobs.

I sincerely hope you are enjoying your retirement. I hope that while you are sipping your Pina Colada, you don’t choke on a pineapple or a cocktail umbrella. Because that would be a shame.

Love,
Velvet

I think my last post reached an all time comment high for me. Thanks again to everyone for the warm welcome back.

Ok. Let’s get to it. Tis’ the weekend of drunken debauchery.

Friday night, I met up with Marci, Law-Rah, Ninja and Eternal Freshman to help the celebration of one Diet Coke of Evil’s birthday. We had a conversation about the old hair bands, a topic near and dear to my heart. It seems like yesterday that I wavered on who was hotter – Axl Rose or Sebastian Bach. Heh. The days of either of those men making my heart go pitter patter are very much over. Time has not been kind to either. I would have been better served to invest in a crush on Tommy Lee or Nikki Sixx. Damn those boys certainly held up well. Apparently snorting coke and fucking porn stars really worked out well for them.

Anyway, one of DCOE’s friends was a fine specimen who Eternal Freshman and I were eyeing from across the bar. We exchanged some verbal notes on him, but while we were speculating on his age, I saw something that ruined it completely. He high fived a girl. Um. Again. He HIGH FIVED a girl. Who does that? Ninja and I put our asses in a cab and went home (each to our own home, you dirty minded people…no more hooking up with bloggers for Velvet, remember,) but Eternal Freshman continued onward for dancing with the gang. Sadly, I got a text from her as I was walking the doggies. It said, “You were right. No on high-five. I’m on my way home.” Phew. Glad to see that some of my basic red flags are still trustworthy.

Saturday night I met up with one KassyK, Virgle Kent and Thicky for some drinking and some dancing. Fine, make that a lot of drinking and a lot of dancing. Apparently, I, who barely drinks and lately barely eats, was able to drink a Bombay Tonic, 3 Redheaded Slut shots, half a Long Island, a lemon drop shot, some other shot ordered by VK’s friend D, wash it down with two beers and only realize how drunk I was as I hit the pavement outside and shoved a piece of pizza in my trap. Good thing for me I was drunk because Adam’s Morgan at 3 a.m. is a place I rarely see, and hope I don’t see again soon.

Parts of the night will forever live in obscurity as each of us together cannot seem to reconstruct the evening, beginning to end. I remember Thicky’s arrival. I remember VK dancing with some bridesmaid. The reason I know she was a bridesmaid is because she was wearing a wifebeater that said, “BRIDESMAID.” Heh. And a polka dot bra with the bra straps down at her elbows. (VK, that was easy, she was like half undressed already!) Anyway, I wandered off, found an incredibly hot man, swapped spit and returned with a hickey on my neck. Nice. Don’t get any ideas, I’m still not in the mood to be involved with anyone.

Sunday I parked my ass on the roof and got enough sun and skin cancer for all of us. You don’t have to thank me, someone had to do it. Around 6, the Queen of Quantity and I went to Cafe St. Ex, Local 16 and Chi Cha Lounge. We chatted with some locals. (Locals as in, “We live on U Street” not “We live in Stafford County.”) I finally hit the wall and went home to crash relatively early. I must have been tired because apparently EVERYONE decided to call or text in the middle of the night and I heard exactly none of their calls.

Monday, snooooooooooore. Is this weekend update over yet? Monday the Queen of Quantity (Lord woman, you need a shorter name) and I went to a frat party pool party in Arlington. Actually, it was the usual scene: Girls all bitchy, guys are nice. Hmm. Whatevs. I just wanted to get some sun and tear into the fab watermelon we brought, but none of that happened. Apparently in Arlington, they put swimming pools between two buildings that are 6 stories, so the buildings block the sun for the most part. You get sun in the pool area for what? 3 hours? I wonder what Einstein architect designed that shit. This is why I lay out on my roof where the sun shines all day and I can take my top off.

My plan for Monday was to go to Rolling Thunder. Here’s my thought. I’ve tried to date these metrosexuals in D.C. and it just doesn’t work for me. I had better luck with the beefy Harley riders. I’m thinking that’s the way to go. And what better than Rolling Thunder? It’s like thousands of potential boyfriends all in one place! But sigh, it just didn’t happen for me this year. Maybe next year I’ll go.

Also at some point during the weekend, my brother called me from our parents house and said he walked into the computer room and saw my blog up on my dad’s computer screen. Um….I’ve been through so much in the last month that all I can do is laugh my ass off at this piece of information. I really don’t have anything to hide. I only hide things to prevent the lectures.

So, Mom and Dad. (Or Gloom and Doom…the alter ego’s.) I’m not going to tell you not to read, and I’m not going to block your IP address because I only do that to assholes with mental problems but, you can’t lecture me. Okay? And occasionally, you two do and say shit that is damn fine material for me. So you’ll have to deal with reading it, Velvetized, here on the blog. You will have to remember that I don’t always make the best decisions and I know this. Yes, I do drink. No I won’t go to church to try to meet a “nice Greek boy” because I don’t think they exist and I’m Agnostic anyway. Yes I lay out in the sun. No I don’t want skin cancer but it doesn’t stop me. Yes I date boys. Yes, things happen with these boys you won’t want to know about. And yes, I’m sometimes a complete asshole to these boys, but only when they deserve it. I’ll try to remember to warn you when anything I’m about to write is going to move from PG-13 to rated R. And for everyone else? I’ll try to keep that R Rating. I know you love it.

The last few weeks of my life have been about regrouping and reassessing. There have been many unfortunate casualties during this time away from the blog, but I had no choice. After a lot of consideration, I have decided that blogging will not be of those casualties. Not now, anyway.

Due to a series of truly unbelievable, venomous, vindictive events that transpired, I thought it might be best to close up shop. I gave the idea of quitting Velvet and returning to a life sans blogging, or blogging anonymously, a lot of thought over the past few weeks. The idea of an anonymous blog is incredibly appealing. I could essentially have my life back. But I kept coming back to the fact that I have worked really hard, poured my heart and soul, literally, into this blog, and into writing. I am a fighter, through and through. A fighter to the bitter end. I’ve been places that I hope to never see again – emotionally and physically.

What helped tremendously was the rallying of support I received from so many unlikely sources. Seriously. It always amazes me that the people you expect to count on, master the art of hibernation; Those you wouldn’t imagine would help, end up far exceeding your expectations. I’ve seen friendship redefined for me several times over in the past few weeks.

On the rest of the matters, I’ve taken what I will coin the “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” strategy. In life, we can’t erase people from making their mark, however big or small. But this blog is a different story. I can erase whoever I want. And I have. Delete delete delete. Backspace backspace. Highlight, select all, cut, paste to clipboard, close without saving. I know it’s bad to just obliterate some things off the map, but I’m doing it. You may notice there are a few posts missing. Call it Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Blog. Buh-Bye. Thanks for flying with Velvet. I hope to never see you again on another flight, ever.

While I’m on the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Blog, I’m also no longer tolerating any negativity in my life. So that means if you submit a nasty comment that hits way below the belt, you might be asked to exit the plane while we’re still circling the airport. Definition of “way below the belt?” Don’t worry, it’s nothing that the normal, sane, non-bipolar, 99.9% of readers are guilty of. Devils Advocate? Fine. Downright obnoxious? Deleted. Worse than that? IP Banned. Welcome to my rules. Negativity has no voice here.

I do believe when moving forward in such a final, no-looking-back manner, that it’s important to have learned something. The closest of my friends can and did sniff out trouble long before I can, leading me to one major conclusion: I have got to find a way to become a better judge of character. I overlooked some very obvious red flags. Sigh, I miss the old days of playing ball in elementary school. With those colored jerseys, you always knew who was on which team. In life? Not so much.

I can’t say what will happen from here forward. I’m frankly quite burned out on dating, and I’m very depleted of trust. And since you need enthusiasm and trust to date, well, it ain’t looking so good. Of course, I could and probably will change my mind. The heart is a resilient muscle, and it seems to quickly forget what happened to put it in such a bad way to start with. But right now, my heart is elsewhere.

In addition, with respect to internet dating, I’m also done. I know, so many of you recommended it at one time or another, but it doesn’t work. Not for me, or anyone I’ve spoken to about it. I’m hanging up my CL/Match/Yahoo hat here in Washington D.C. for good. I’ve met nothing but lunatics and sociopaths online, occasional normal man tossed in, but I draw the line at my personal safety being compromised. Even if I have two dates a year with people who I meet in real life, I’m much better off than having 25 or 30 a year from the internet. I know I’ve said that the more dates you have, the better the chance of meeting someone, but not when you are scraping the bottom of the barrel.

The reality is, a dating blog doesn’t have an endless life. Eventually, it comes to a point where you realize, you just can’t tolerate such a high level of emotionally draining experiences over a long period of time. How much more can you readers really be interested in reading about men who I seem to tire of somewhere between two hours and six years? That said, I have a lot of ideas to keep us on topic, but they don’t involve dating deranged mental patients for entertainment.

I don’t know exactly where Velvet is going, but I know this much – I’m too tired to continue going to the places I’ve already been.

Saturday night I went to two parties. There was a sexy little bastard at the second of the parties, and I was trying to figure out who to fish info from. He seemed exceptionally friendly. Me likey friendly. I sent a text to my BestGayFriend-M about it because I couldn’t manage to get him alone. The text said, “Who is this SexyBastard? Meow fucking meow.” So I watch him reach for his pocket and pull out his phone as he’s talking to the husband of the funniest married couple I’ve met, ever. I hear him say, “Oh, it’s from Velvet. Let’s see what she’s saying.” Mind you, I was sitting across the table at this point in time.

Face all shades of red, I scream “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” But it was most likely too late. I think husband saw most of it. At least SexyBastard’s name, and well, that’s really all you need. Anyway, BestGayFriend-M said, “Oh, there’s a story there. I’ll tell you about it.” Later on we’re in the car driving home and this happens:

BestGayFriend-M: I helped him find a place. We did all this looking around and finally we found a place but then I find out he filled out paperwork with another broker.
Velvet: Oh, ok. That’s all I need to know.
BestGayFriend-M: Why? It doesn’t have to be.
Velvet: Yes it does. You just told me at SarcasticGayMan’s party that I need to pay closer attention to warning signs and red flags.
BestGayFriend-M: Yeah, but he’s a nice guy.
Velvet: Yeah, he is. But anyone who would use a broker for 95% of the work, then go with someone else doesn’t have a good character in my book. That doesn’t bode very well to what kind of a person he is. I’m all about people with good character.
BestGayFriend-M: Well, I’m not sure you should not date someone because of that.
Velvet: Mmmm. It’s enough for me. Seriously. I couldn’t do that to someone, switch pitchers at the last minute.
BestGayFriend-M: It’s a good point. Okay. But if you change your mind, he and I are going to be doing some work together this week.
Velvet: No. I always say this: People tell you exactly who they are within five minutes of meeting them. You were right about the last thing and you’re right about this. I shouldn’t have broken my rule.

So many rules. But there is greater loneliness in being in the wrong relationship than none at all.

Three Hilarious Conversations:

I. “I Got Time”
Today. My Great Uncle calls. We exchange the how are you doing pleasantries. Then this:
Uncle M: I made a big mistake.
Velvet: What are you talking about? Picking that home to live in?
Uncle M: Well, and I never got married.
Velvet: I’m not sure how that’s a mistake.
Uncle M: Well, I don’t want to settle down just yet.
Velvet: Oh, ok. But aren’t you going to be 84 next weekend?
Uncle M: Yeah, but you know, I don’t want to be tied down just yet.
Velvet: That’s fair. I know how you feel.
Uncle M: There’s a girl here I’ve got my eye on though.
Velvet (not realizing what’s coming next:) Oh? That’s great.
Uncle M: Yeah. She wants to be a doctor.
Velvet: Um…..did you say wants to be?
Uncle M: Yeah.
Velvet: How old is she?
Uncle M: Probably about 30.
Velvet: Well, good for you!

I have got to get back up there to see him. His 84th birthday next Sunday…must go.

II. “I Just Can’t Look At You In The Same Way Again”
I can’t get into the details of this next story (brother reads and all) but let’s say I entertained my boss this morning with a very X-rated story. (Yes, yes, I know you are going to email me asking for the deets, bad boy.)

Boss is sitting in my office in one of the two visitors chairs. There are signs all over our building to ignore the fire alarms today, and just as I’m telling the story, an alarm goes off. I had to start yelling a little, but it’s not the kind of story you want to yell. And of course, right as I’m at the pivotal point, the alarm stops and I say a couple words just a little too loud that made both of us blush. Damn big mouth on me. Later, he’s walking by my office, looks in and starts laughing, and shakes his head.

Velvet: What now?
Boss: I can’t believe you. I just can’t look at you in the same way again.
Velvet: Is it better or worse?
Boss: Oh it’s definitely better.
Velvet: I got skills and promise and all sorts of stuff going for me.
Boss: After that story, uh, I would say that yes you do.

Later, someone comes in my office when he’s sitting in there, and the other person wants to sit in my other visitors chair. (Who invited these visitors anyway?) But my sweatshirt is on it. My boss leans over and says, “Here. Let me grab that. After the story I just heard you might not want to touch it.” Sigh. It’s days like this that I think I could never move.

III. Guess Who’s Back???
Phone Rings at work. I see something very interesting on the caller ID. The office is a ghost town. I pick it up.

Velvet: Hello, Happy Homebuilders.
Voice on other end: Velvet?
Velvet: Speaking.
Voice on other end: It’s “Hot Broker.”
Velvet: Hey.
HotBroker: That’s all? Hey? I thought you would give me a rash of shit for not calling back sooner.
Velvet: I’ve dished out rashes of shit to everyone who has come my way for the past three weeks, so I’m burned out. You’re off the hook.
HB: (laughing) Well that’s good. Not for them, but for me. So the reason I wasn’t calling back is that I don’t have any more information on the building for sale. There was a stall on the seller’s side and it should be worked out any day now.
Velvet: That’s fine. I was in Arizona last week for a, brace yourself, Active Adult conference.
HB: (laughing harder) Uh, I really don’t see you as the person to be hanging out with a bunch of active adults.
Velvet: Yes, make your jokes, it was me and a thousand 70 year olds.
HB: I don’t even really see you as an adult.
Velvet: I know. I’ve been told I act like a 12 year old.
HB: So where’ve you been? My dog takes me by your house all the time but I never see you.

Needle off the record. Rewind. What? Trying to think on my feet. Think Velvet, THINK!

Velvet: Well I always leave the balcony door open so you have to call the dogs. They’ll come to see you. And we’ll come down.
(Yeah, that doesn’t sound eager at all. Good going Velvet. Nice Rapunzel reference by the way you stupid girl.)
HB: Great. Ok, we’ll do that. Walking through your neighborhood is a pain in the ass cause I get hit on by the gay guys.
Velvet: Well, I guess that answers my question.
(It was out of my mouth before I could stop it.)
HB: What question.
Velvet: Uh……
HB: Damn! Everyone thinks I’m gay. When I wear a suit I get hit on non freaking stop!
Velvet: Well now I know you’re not.

HB launches into stories of my gay gym, gay sex that happens in the showers at my gym, getting hit on by gay men, their gay pickup lines, what the gay hood used to be like. If he didn’t catch me so off guard, I could have tried harder. I’m an expert in all things gay you know.

We hung up with plans to touch base in the next few days. Unless of course his “dog” walks him by my house before that. Fucking meow. Let’s go buddy.

Sammy and Thora: Stand post at the balcony and alert mommy if he comes by! I’ve been stalking lusting for this man for months now. I can’t lose out again. Go, Now!!!