"You Hate Everything"

How would you feel if a friend told you that they thought you hated everything? I was surprised when a friend told me that. She continued to explain (without a breath) you hate driving, you hate eating dinner before eight, you hate bright lights in restaurants, you hate bugs and wildlife, you hate the early to bed early to rise mentality, you just hate Suburbia. Okay, okay, I know you love NYC. Everyone knows you love NYC, but you hate it when anyone confuses NYC with New York, because as you've said way too many times, the two are not the same.

Phew, first of all, I was glad that she actually heard a few things I've said in the past and remembered them! Kudos for that in itself because I really thought this girl lived in her own little spoon fed Suburban bubble. I may dislike many things, but hate ain't in my vocabulary.

I dislike holiday ads that start in August. I dislike not hearing "please" or "thank you". I dislike that most companies have automated phones and a lack of human connection. I dislike being seated in an empty restaurant next to the only other occupied table. I dislike the automatic response "fine" or the overused words "amazing" and "awesome". Really are there that many things that are amazingly awesomely fine? I think not! I dislike when families gather around the TV watching sports during a family get together, what's the point? Once again a lack of human connection, not everyone likes sports. Is the only connection thru the TV? I cannot understand the concept of being PC. We now have to watch everything that we say because it may not be "acceptable". I could go on but I feel better already just by letting it out.

Now back to my friends comment about me "hating" everything. I had to wait and think, before I responded to her (a rarity for me). It took me a moment as I explained to her, that although I may dislike many things, I don't hate anything. Wait a minute, let me rephrase that... the only thing I "hate" if the word has to be used is stupidity. Yeah, that's right, I hate stupidity. I really get pissed when people don't question things and just take things for granted. Just doing what's always been done because that's how it's always been done! WTF? I hate that, but then again... I hate everything.

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Boo... Scary in Suburbia

Trick or treat? It's that time of year again. It's Halloween and for me it's scary in Suburbia.

Living in the country (okay Suburbia for me is the country) being surrounded by nature may sound and look beautiful to many people. I think it is too, for a day or for a weekend visit, but living there is another story. The birds, the squirrels, the lizards, the crickets, the deer drive me to drink... well any excuse for a cocktail. I'm a city guy and even the quiet can be deafening to me.

I have tried many times to embrace the moment and remind myself that this is not forever. I try to use my Yoga training and tell myself to be mindful. Listen to my breath. Smell the eucalyptus trees. Feel the earth supporting me. Who am I kidding... that only lasts for ten minutes!

The other day before breakfast I walked out to the front garden and looked at the flowers and enjoyed the beauty surrounding me. Boo! Suddenly a family of squirrels jumped from the tree in my garden and circled around me as I screamed and ran back into the house. Deep breaths, this is my garden not theirs. I was determined not to let these pesky rodents get the best of me. I headed back outside with an attitude and a water spray bottle! I'll show them, besides I had to get the newspaper still laying in the driveway. As I opened the garden gate, I looked up and saw the oak tree full of crows. I'm thinking Hitchcock... deep breath again. I can do this, I still have my "ammunition". Boo! Just as I picked up the paper a big crow swooped right down over my head and I almost fell on my face. What the hell is going on here? This is not relaxing, this is not beautiful, this is not my world.

I know all these so called "lovely" creatures have a plan to get this city guy out of their neck of the woods. They want my ruby red sneakers and they want my annoying ass out of here quicker than I'm able to click my heels. I don't need a house to drop on me, I can tell where I'm not wanted... for me it's scary in Suburbia. There may not be lions or tigers or bears, but it feels like the Witch's Haunted Forest. Like the sign says "I'd turn back if I were you." Boo!

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Aloha from Suburbia

I was out having dinner and it was rather early (for me) and the restaurant was already full. But then again it was Friday night in Suburbia. This is usually "happy hour", but to each his own as I enjoyed my first glass of wine.

As I looked around the restaurant I noticed something very odd. All of the tables had at least one person wearing a Hawaiian shirt. WTF? So many oversized shirts in predictable patterns and bland colors. It looked like the employees from TraderJoes were having a company party. I started craving Joe Joe's candy cane cookies and wanted to ask one of them why they weren't available year round. 

Dressing up in Suburban California means wearing a Hawaiin shirt. It's a whole different mindset than NYC where a vintage Hawaiian shirt would be retro and fun... but not taken seriously. Aloha from Suburbia! Glad to see that a SF Giants or 49ers tee is nowhere in sight, and I applaud that. I wanted to take a photo of the restaurant because I couldn't believe it. It felt like being at a luau, after all it was the entire restaurant wearing Hawaiian shirts - not just a few tables. Was this The Twilight Zone?

After a few glasses of wine, I realized my fashion sense may not be appreciated in these parts as all the floral patterns faded to the background like a camouflage backdrop. I decided then and there that I gotta find myself an attractive, hip Hawaiian shirt. It's gotta be out there... somewhere. Maybe I should go to Kohl's or Tommy Bahama's so I could join the ranks of the Suburban Hawaiian Shirt Militia? Well there's a great sale at H&M and there's always Kenneth Cole. What am I talking about?  I forgot. I bought a fun, fitted retro Hawaiian shirt in NYC at Forever 21 (see photo) during my last trip. Now if I can only find my fanny pack...

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What Do You Do... When Your Therapist Moves?

Is this the Universe telling me to get outta town, or in my case - Suburbia? My therapist is moving! She's leaving! WTF? Who do I talk to now? Guess I gotta go back to talking to myself again.

My first thought (when she told me she was going) was that she didn't want me as a patient anymore. Maybe she was using the "I'm moving" as an excuse. What am I saying? That sounds really pathetic. She wouldn't do that... or would she? My neurosis is starting to get out of control. It's hard to focus with all these voices in my head.

Have I become one of those people who say "I gotta talk to my therapist" or always make references about therapy? Oh crap, that is me. Well I'm proud of the fact that I'm able to acknowledge I have problems and want to work on them. But now, with who? My therapist is deserting me and I'm being abandoned! WTF? Here's the zinger though, not only is she leaving... she's moving to NYC. That was like a knife through my heart. How could she move to NYC before me? How dare she! She knows how much I need to move back to NYC. She must know I can't maintain my style, sense or sanity (or what's left of it) in Suburbia without her. But like the song says "I Will Survive".

So what do you do when your therapist moves? I don't know about you, but for me this was the last straw. Maybe she relocated to light a fire under my ass and get me moving. Yeah, that's it! Thank you doctor. I took out my luggage and got the New York Times Real Estate section. The answer for me is clear... "Gotta Move".

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Fear of Flying

I've always loved to travel, but I've always had a fear of flying. I had to learn to deal with my fear and it's gotten better over the last few years. My phobia subsided since I frequently fly to NYC from Suburbia as often as my reward miles allow me. It helps me to keep my sanity (no comments) of life in Suburbia. I thought I had my fear of flying under control... until my last flight. It started out like any other, but slowly evolved into my worst nightmare.

After boarding and sitting in my seat for what seemed liked an eternity, the captain made an announcement. He sounded like a twelve year old - I kid you not. I started to worry and began to sweat. Is this kid flying the plane? He said there's going to be a delay and a detour to avoid the extreme bad weather ahead. Are you kidding me? This is too much information from this "kid pilot". Is this a Woody Allen movie? My tranquilizers are not kicking in and nothing is gonna calm me down now. I became even more of a neurotic mess... on the edge. Okay, maybe this is a Woody Allen movie after all.

The plane finally took off and the "kid pilot" made another announcement. He said that we'll have to stay in our seats and keep our seat belts fastened for the entire flight. WTF? This only happens in disaster movies or in my wildest nightmare. Who the hell is this kid? He continued to say that there would be a lot of turbulence and we'll be arriving even later than the already delayed time. A lot of turbulence! What the hell does that mean? I could handle a little bump every once in awhile, but major turbulence? I do not need to hear this crap from a geek of a kid who probably hijacked the plane to live out his fantasy of playing captain. He was terrorizing this very sweaty anxious flyer. Okay, breathe. Maybe he's just the pilots son and it's "bring your kid to work day".

I started to hyperventilate. I prayed, I chanted, I tried to think happy positive thoughts. Screw it! Oh shit this is it and we're gonna die. I took another pill and tried to remain calm and not worry. That lasted for ten minutes before the plane continued to buck like a bronco. Damn! I tried my hardest to distract myself as the turbulence took over my entire being including my bladder! I had to pee, so the hell with it, I was getting out of my seat to go to the bathroom. Occupied! Naturally one was out of order and the other was occupied. The turbulence continued to increase as I got in the bathroom and I held on for dear life as this could be my farewell pee. I could hardly aim with no hands and in a shaky plane, so I totally missed the bowl and made a mess.

When I finished (after trying to clean up with one hand as the other held onto the safety handle) I spoke to the flight attendants near the bathroom. As I rubbed my hands frantically with hand sanitizer, they tried to calm me down, but it didn't work.... they were both quite anxious too. One told me this was some of the worst turbulence he ever felt, while the other one said she was nauseous from it all. Thanks for the reassurance. I managed to stumble on my way back to my seat hardly able to walk. I plopped down in my seat continuing my deep breathing, trying to refocus and concentrate on something else... my favorite things like "raindrops on roses" Oy! But really, WTF? I was on my way back "home" to Suburbia, I didn't even wanna go back there! So I gave in and thought if this is it and I'm gonna die, I had a pretty interesting life. After all I met Barbra, Liza and Cher! I closed my eyes and listened to show tunes on my head phones.

OMG! Was I dreaming? Did I doze off? We actually started the descent for our landing! We didn't even crash... oh, shit, I spoke too soon. The plane picked up speed and hit the runway shockingly hard. What a horrible landing but very appropriate for this flight and at least we were on the ground. I swear I got some gray hairs on the flight and had to check if I had an "accident". Luckily I always carry fresh undies in my carry on... just in case. This time I needed them. Fear of flying? You bet your damp panties!

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STR8 Marriage + Gay Marriage = Equality?

I am not a PC person and I am proud of this. I speak my mind and I always have. Maybe a little too much for some people, but "Some People" ain't me. And yes, that's a musical theatre reference. You don't have to agree with me, but I tell you how I feel. I express my feelings and will continue to do so... that's just who I am. 

I honestly think most people are happy when two people plan to get married. Making a commitment and sharing a life together is a very powerful thing. Gradually we will all be able to have this very basic right of Equality. How great is that? We'll all be treated equally... whatta concept! But I feel that most people seem to have a double standard when it comes to Gay Marriage and I've been guilty of it too.

Although congratulatory text messages, eMails or Facebook posts may flourish, the wedding cards, gifts or attendance don't seem to be mandatory. Gay marriage doesn't seem to be taken seriously, it's brushed off as a trend. After all... aren't all Gays trendy? How nice for those two boys or those two girls. Note the reference to the couple as "boys" and "girls" and not men and women. Hmmm.

As a Gay person, if you don't attend a straight wedding, all hell may break loose. You can alienate yourself even more. OMG, as if that's possible! In my head all I hear is: How dare you don't come to my happily ever after fairytale dream wedding that I've been planning my entire life that will finally validate me. As if the dream is exclusively just for "them".

Bride2Be: Why can't you be there?
Gay Boy: I'm getting married.
Bride2Be: Oh you're getting married too... how nice. Can you hold a second?

And God forbid you don't send a card or (hold your breath) a gift! She continues obliviously on her fairytale high.

Bride2Be: Oh and we're registered at blah, blah and blah. They have the best everything. And you know how great those will be at the holiday get togethers.
Gay Boy: I've never been invited to any of them and did you even hear me? We're getting married too?

I'm put on hold again, big surprise. Bitter or just a bite of reality? Maybe a little of both. Dismissed, disappointed, disillusioned and dissed... all around.

I believe in Equality. I believe in reciprocity. But I certainly don't believe in obligation. I don't do anything out of obligation, that's me. I believe we've come along way baby, but in my opinion... we still ain't equal.

I do. We did. They didn't. Still waiting. STR8 Marriage + Gay Marriage = Equality? A basic concept whose time has come.

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Suburbia Gave Me Syphillis?

Okay thought the title "Suburbia Gave Me Syphillis" would get your attention... it got mine too. You see I've been having ongoing lower leg pain and went to the doctor to see what the hell was wrong. Syphillis was one of the possible diagnosis I got from one of the many doctors I saw. You may have Syphillis, you may have Lyme disease, you may have MS, you may have a severe muscle spasm or your nerves may be shot. You lack certain vitamins and you may not eat right, so you need a nutritionist. You don't walk right, so you need a podiatrist. You have bad genetics, so you need a holistic doctor. You have poor circulation, so you need a cardiologist. You have a family history of crazy, so you need a neurologist and  definitely... a psychiatrist. 

Overall consensus... Ummm, we're really not sure what's wrong, but we need more tests. WTF? What I need is an answer or at least a big martini or two! Then another doctor told me perhaps I'd be happier if I moved the f*ck outta Suburbia! No shit Dr. Sherlock, I didn't need all these doctors to tell me that all I really need is a good real estate agent!

I don't have Syphillis after all... big surprise! And I'm still looking for an apartment in NYC as I sip my martinis going thru the real estate section with a large side of ice... on my legs! So much for the doctors.

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Boxed In Suburbia

I could live in an apartment the size of a box in Manhattan. I've done it before and can do it again, I don't need much space. I am always amazed at the suburban mentality of needing all the unnecessary space. Why would a couple complain that three thousand square feet is just not enough? Really, I don't get it. How much space do you really need? Gimme a studio the size of a box and I'd be happy.

Continuing my quest for happiness, I did find a box I liked in Suburbia. What kind of box you may ask, I'll tell ya... a box of wine! I finally bought and drank my first boxed wine. Okay, I'm outing myself I think I've become a Suburbanite! WTF? Like it or not, I am Out in Suburbia... at least for now. I gotta tell ya the wine was really good! A nice light tasty Pinot Noir which really paired quite well with a veggie salad and a caramelized onion, red pepper and mushroom blue cheese burger. Oh, Jesus... now I'm starting to sound like a Californian.

It was a perfect night to be sitting outside in the garden working on our play while drinking some boxed wine. OMG, who am I? I need a NYC fix! Hello United Airlines, whaddya mean there aren't any reward flights from SFO to NYC. I need the city NOW!

Pheww. Okay, I'm a little better after two glasses of wine and ten mosquito bites. What was I saying before I interrupted myself... oh that's right boxed wine. A great reason to drink wine in a box is that you never know how much wine you drink! And of course you can't break the bottle. Where am I going with this?

Here's our "How To" video of how to open your wine in a box. Who knew it was this easy? If you're unable to view the above video, please click on this link: Boxed In Suburbia 

This has to be my final initiation into Suburbia, because as you all know by now "these vagabond shoes are longing to stray". I gotta get back to NYC ASAP. I'd happily live in a studio the size of a box and the hell with the wine in a box. Manhattan box apartment vs Suburban box wine? Hmmm, hello New York? I need a box! Yes, I'll hold... for a New York minute.

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Displaced New Yorker? nyc2suburbia Commuter? 

If U love NYC, Suburbia OR both, our products are for you! 

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