Who Says You Can't Go Home?

Certainly not me! On my way back to Jersey for the last weekend of summer!! Yahoo! BBQs, beach and beer! :-)

Can't wait to see y'all!

love,
G

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I spent 20 years trying to get out of this place
I was looking for something I couldn't replace
I was running away from the only thing I've ever known
Like a blind dog without a bone
I was a gypsy lost in the twilight zone
I hijacked a rainbow and crashed into a pot of gold
I been there, done thatand I ain't lookin' back on the seeds I've sown,
Saving dimes, spending too much time on the telephone
Who says you can't go home

Who says you can't go home
There's only one place they call me one of their own
Just a hometown boy, born a rolling stone, who says you can't go home
Who says you can't go back, been all around the world and as a matter of fact
There's only one place left I want to go, who says you can't go home
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, its alright

I went as far as I could, I tried to find a new face
There isn't one of these lines that I would erase
I lived a million miles of memories on that road
With every step I take I know that I'm not alone
You take the home from the boy, but not the boy from his home
These are my streets, the only life I've ever known,
who says you can't go home

I been there, done thatand I ain't looking that
It's been a long long road
Feels like I never left, that's how the story goes

It doesn't matter where you are, it doesn't matter where you go
If it's a million miles aways or just a mile up the road
Take it in, take it with you when you go,
who says you can't go home

It's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, its alright
Who says you can't go home

Why Cooking and Boys Don't Mix...

This could be my funniest story ever. I get home late from work and I decide I'm going to cook for once. I decide to make myself some lemon pepper chicken. (Side note - although I chose NOT to cook, doesn't mean I can't. I make some darn good, finger lickin' chicken.)

But I digress, so, I just get the chicken in the oven, when lo and behold I get a phone call from Mr. February. Yes - the same Mr. Feb that I said was finito.(Dating advisors: You're right, you're right, I know you're right).

Mr. February wants to stop by for a bit, just to hang out. I'm a sucker, so of course I say ok. Now - a few people have advised that the way to 'hook' Mr. February is took cook him a meal. I find this completely archaic and ridiculous, but nonetheless I consider the yummy smell of lemon pepper chicken coming from the oven a good way to test their theory.

In walks Mr. February. Ok - I'd be lying if I didn't say that he looked particularly cute tonight. Not the point, but had to share.

Before you start playing the "bow chicka wow wow" music, I have to disappoint and reveal that this was a very PG hang out.

Mr. February and I were chatting about the weekend, when I go to pull the chicken out of the oven. "Smells good", he says... and now I start to become a believer in this cooking theory.

That was until I went to pull the chicken out of the oven.

In a special G moment, as I'm pulling the tray out, I manage to knock the shelf down, causing the tray of chicken to fall onto the burning part of the oven. The whole oven basically collapsed like a bad domino game, resulting in bread crumbs and chicken covering the bottom of the oven.

Although lacking in grace, I at least have the common sense to realize that I'm about a minute away from a complete burning fire.

Mr. February comes in and sees the destruction.

All I could do was blame him for being here. I've never screwed up chicken in my whole life! Nor have I ever caused a near fatal oven fire.

I pull what parts of the chicken I can out of the hot oven and leave it on the counter. Nothing looks cuter than a gal sweating while pulling her head in and out of a hot stove.

When Mr. February finally stops laughing - there is a long dingin' noise.

"Oh - your chicken is done."

Moral of the story: Some people should not attempt to woo men by cooking. Stick to other things, like sitting and looking pretty.

Yep. That's just another night in my life. Seems like a sitcom, but sadly it's my reality show.

Smooch -
G

The American Dream

Let me start by saying I am well aware of the fact that I am way behind on blog entries. It's been over a month since San Fran, for one and I have another awesome entry that needs to be drafted regarding this past weekend.

But - this is what you're getting tonight - my American Dream.

Somewhere around 25, I had my quarter life crisis. For those of you who don't know what that is or never had yours, let me tell you about mine. I realized at around 25, that no matter how hard I tried - I was never going to make millions or be famous. Actually - not entirely correct - I realized that I didn't want to do what it takes to make millions or be famous. Fame is really not what it is cracked up to be. People want a part of you, and they want to be the next you... it's really sad to watch, actually. Compounded by this lesson was learning first hand the dark side of big business. I watched a business collapse before my very eyes. It broke my heart - because the person who created that business was truly passionate about it. But to go big, you have to bring in some people - who in turn, all want a piece of the pie. Then, people get greedy - they want the whole pie and start cutting corners. Then, boom - a simple dream gets crushed.

Well - having lived through that, I guess it wasn't so surprising when I wound up in my next big business buyout. But - I did really start thinking. I don't want this life. Could I work my tail off and become part of the machine? Of course... but who am I really pleasing? Who's pockets get bigger off my ass busting? The man. And to quote one of my favorite movies of all time, "Damn the man. Save the Empire".

Sure - that's the short and sweet of it, I guess. We all live for a dream.

I've been searching for mine for a very long time now. Every day, it grows a bit clearer.

We should all know by now that the first part of my dream involves my getting a dog of my own. I love Lucky, the WonderDog - and I would definitely adopt or steal her from my parents - but I'm pretty sure, despite my father's complaining that she can be a pain, that would make them cry.

Secondly - I want a washer and dryer in my home. Yep - pretty easy, but I've lived on my own for almost 10 years now and still have failed to accomplish this goal.

Third - I want to get paid for doing something I really and truly like, if not love. Don't get me wrong, I've been lucky enough to be truly passionate about most of my work, because at the end of the day I knew I was actually helping people. I'm not entirely sure that's the case where I am now - but I have to believe it's true, so I'll keep showing up every day. But, if I was to be true to myself - I'd either get paid to write (and keep y'all constantly amused) or I would be on the water. This desire grows more and more each day - and I'm really at a breaking point with trying to make this possible. I mean - you know you're at another turning point in your life, when you tell your father that you're ready to retire and his only reaction is to tell you to take a year off to see what happens - freelance to get by and live your life.

Finally - I need to live on or by water. It's something I don't want to live without. As I took the train back and forth to the Jersey Shore this weekend - I watched all the water I passed... watched the sun hit the water, people boating. Definitely something I want to be doing. Nothing calms me more, then being on the water. Truly puts me at peace.

Ultimately, the question is - if I've figured out all these things (and trust me, this didn't happen overnight, this is years of work), why am I doing none of them?

For that, I have no answer. All I can say, is change is imminent and needs to happen sooner rather than later.

And that kids - is my American Dream.

Smooches to all -
G

Two Important Lessons

First lesson is that I can't take sleeping pills... had to take a half day yesterday after a bad reaction to Advil PM. EEK. Don't do drugs, kids.

Second lesson is much more fun. I finally figured out the best way to kill someone with kindness. Death by cliche.

That's right, I decided to respond to Baghdad Boy after he sent me this generic pro-McCain email. I am a Democrat, but for the most part, I stick to my theory that all politicians are crooks, but started in office with the best of intentions to change the world for the better. And while I do have this horrible feeling that McCain will win this election, I still support the fact that we need a change here in DC.

But I digress... I promised I would post this email exchange, so without further delay:

Me: Interesting film… I wouldn't be worried about Obama – my guess is McCain is going to take it. Hope you're well?

BB: GOD HELP US IF HE DOESNT!!! I'm doing great......I'm in my "element". (Note: this means he's overseas somewhere getting shot at and stuff)

Me: Well I don't know about that, but you're the expert. And by Element I assume you don't mean those ugly cars. You take care, mister man. Stay safe, keep on keepin on and all that good stuff. Catch ya on the flipside.

Keep on keepin on? Did I really email someone that. Oh yea, I did. I am no longer f***in around, friends. Ultimately it's a shame that he's probably not able to appreciate my super sarcastic retort. But, still makes for a good book.

Off to work!

Smooch -
G

P.S. Totally loved all the nautical comments yesterday. They cracked me up.

Ghosts of Dating Past

When it rains, my friends, it pours. So, I just got off a call with two of my chief dating advisors, both of who demanded a conference call intervention regarding Mr. February and his reappearances. And no, I still don't know what to do about him because according to my advisors, I need to have "the talk". Ok, maybe not THE talk, but A talk - something that I am physically incapable of doing.

If that's not enough - out of the clear blue I get not one, but TWO random emails from Ghosts of Dating Past. Baghdad Boy, yes, the same date that I never told the full story about but mentioned that it involved weaponry and The Washingtonian, the older guy who serenaded me on the way home to the City Guys theme song and had a thing for Saved by the Bell.

WTF people? Granted, I'm sure surplus is better than sparseness, but really is it that hard to just have ONE, somewhat normal man in my life - and not a trio of wackos?

Oy. It's bad enough I'm boytarded, but trying to navigate through these waters... it's exhausting.

Off to bed for some desperately needed sleep.

-G

Did I Say Finito?

Ok, ok... I'm a liar. Mr. February was back this week... actually four days in a row, not here for four days... but anyway, he has since disappeared. Again. Yes, in the words of When Harry Met Sally - "you're right, you're right, I know you're right". It's not my fault he's super cute and strongly resembles Rivers Cuomo.

Boys. Argh.

Say Hello To My New Friend...

That's right, I went to the darkside and bought a Crackberry. His name is Simon - as in "Simon says... you got mail!" After two trips to the Verizon Wireless store, an online chat and about seven calls to their customer service, my research came down to this.

G: "I'd like the SMT 5800 please."
Store clerk: "You don't want that phone."
G: "Seriously, I've been at this for months now, if I don't get a phone today your company will ban me from using its services."
Store clerk: "Ok, but that phone sucks."
G: "Ok - I'll take the Palm Centro."
Store clerk: "You don't want that either."
G: "Please, PLEASE, tell me what I do want, because you're the only person I've asked that will help me."
Store clerk: "You want a Blackberry."
G: "You sure?"
Store clerk: "Yes."
G: "Bless you for being the only person who provided clear direction."

And just like that Simon was born. I was tempted to call him Silverado, but that's my computer's name... and Barry just sounds too whiny... and this Blackberry's primary purpose isn't for work.

So there you have it. Simon the Crackberry. He's already given me a massive headache because I can't take my eyes off him.

Beware people - I have the ability to text, call, email or BLOG at anytime now.

Smooch -
G

Travel Log via Text Message - An Ode to Amtrak

July was nuts. In order to recount one of many tales of my trippy month, I give you all of my sent text messages from my train trip on July 2 to Philadelphia while en route to the Jersey Shore. Where my text messages leave off, there is audio somewhere out there that begins... if it makes it to my blog, we're all in for a treat. I'll throw in a teaser from the audio of the road trip - at one point I tell my sister that she drives worse than Helen Keller (and I challenge anyone that has ever driven with her to say otherwise).

WARNING: In order to maintain journalistic credibility, I did not edit the profanity from these messages. My texts are not suitable for children or those easily offended. I'd apologize for the crude language, but, it's not my fault, I'm from Jersey where vulgarity is classy vernacular.

July 4th Travel Text Messages
 Train is on time.
 My vag says she can suck it
 Need a drink. Advil wore off.
 Everyone is eating ice cream around me. ARgh!
 U can’t even spell walmart. Lol.
 Yes. And ice cream and fried food.
 Oh great a screaming, child. It is my lucky fucking day.
 Fine. Then we need to get food.
 40 mins delay. Should be 6:40.
 Loud mouth workaholic behind me taking turns w the screaming kid. I think we’re on time.
 Ya. In b’more now.
 I may be deaf bc this dumb bitch is louder than my ipod.
 She’s like defying the principles of sound, she is SO loud.
 I feel for the poor schmuck on the line. Who wants to talk work at 6pm on a holiday?
 Tell doofus that there is no traffic on train tracks. Therefore, it is faster than a car. I am in Delaware.
 Jesus dislikes me greatly. This screaming child may have fractured my ear drum.
 The loud mouth just said she doesn’t understand how people lose their voice and I said loudly bc they don’t shut up. Time to leave train.
 If we don’t survive the car ride, I liked you best. Love your car sick daughter.

Finito with February.

That's Mr. February... Almost ready to be done with boys in general. I think the nunnery may have a good deal... and hey, free wine. Can't argue with that.

I can't make this stuff up...

Ok, I try to not blog about work... but sometimes it's just too much. As part of the office 'culture', we started a Free Starbucks day. This has nothing to do with my former obsession with cinnamon dolce lattes. Truth be told, I'm no longer a big fan of the 'Bucks, but free coffee is free coffee. You would think that Starbucks is a global brand and that most people who work in PR would have a good sense of what it is, what they sell, etc. Today, I had this conversation with our poor new intern after overhearing a conversation from a very eccletic employee.

Me: So - I have to know... did he really ask you what Starbucks served?
Intern: Haha, yes, yes he did
Me: I'm trying so hard not to crack up right now. You're well established in PR... to actually get through that conversation (I'm sorry, but it's true. She's already graduated from the University of PR in my book)
Intern: I thought it was universally known as a coffee house, but I guess not (that's the best diplomatic, PC retort I've seen in awhile)
Me: Um, perhaps not to the community of people who live under rocks
Intern: Hahaha, I guess not...

Ok, yes, my intern is way more professional than me. That's good, because she has a lot longer to live in this business than I do. Before someone accuses me of being insensitive, the ecclectic employee, has lived in this major metropolitan area almost all his life and drinks coffee on a daily basis. No excuses.

Fact is funnier than fiction, friends.

Smooch -
G

What Do Birthday Gifts Really Say About You?

Just back from the Jersey weekend of my delayed birthday celebration... should I be concerned that my gifts from my family included: 1) a new cocktail shaker, 2) a blender 3) a pilsner glass and 4) a book entitled "50 Proven Ways to Be Happy"?

Oh - and four purses... which seems to be the most logical gifts. I guess that makes me an accessory-appropriate drunk with a sad side? Odd, that just may be accurate. :-)

Again - NO quacking slippers, cow/sailboat wall clocks or someone else's make-up by mistake, so I'm counting my blessings this year... plus I got my ice cream cake, which is a birthday staple. A summer birthday is just not complete without Carvel.

Now, it's off to work. Yay. (Not a hint of sarcasm)

Smooch -
G