Thankful...But Paranoid

I was going to write a lame post on Thursday, enumerating the things for which I am thankful, and inviting y'all to do the same. Instead, I got out of work early, cooked a turkey, had some friends over, and went out. I'm going express some gratitude anyway, and it may still be lame, but at least it's now part of a racier post.

I am, of course, most thankful for my family and friends, notably the two who joined me for dinner at my house Thursday. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday (I like it even better than Christmas), so I was distraught at the idea of spending it by myself. As we all know, I am also thankful for my car, and thankful that no one broke into it Thursday night. I am going to stop the gratuitous use of "thankful" now, because it's getting annoying. I'll just get to the story.

After dinner, one of my friends and I took our extra pumpkin pie to The Mix. While waiting for our names to come up on the pool list and our songs to come up on the jukebox, we tried to get first place on as many video games as possible. Another friend joined us, and later convinced me (it wasn't hard) to go over to Badlands. A few drinks and a couple of walk-arounds later, I met an absolutely gorgeous guy -- cute accent, model's face, athlete's body. All of which joined me in a cab home a little later.

It was a little weird at first -- he asked me to shave when we got back to my place. I hadn't been planning to go out, so I didn't get all gussied-up, and apparently my face was a little abrasive. Then he wanted to eat, so I heated up Thanksgiving leftovers (and Mexi-Minis) for him. Then he became the hottest male to ever share my bed. (Well, actually the second hottest; however, Number One crawled in to get warm and make sure I didn't aspirate. Thanks, hon.) For better or worse, he left later that night in a cab, about which I always feel a little bad.

For those wondering about the title of this post, here's where the paranoia starts. I woke up late Friday, and said to myself:

"Self, what was a guy that gorgeous doing coming home with you?"

Like most rhetorical questions, this one should have gone unanswered. But nooooo, I actually thought about it. At the top of the list was the possibility that he wanted to steal something, since I had probably mentioned my occupation at some point. This led to a frantic search for my wallet, keys, phones, and computers. All of which were there. In fact, in checking my wallet and recollection, I'm pretty sure he didn't even take the cash I had offered for the cab home (North Beach/Russian Hill is a bit of a haul for most Castro-goers). Then I felt bad for thinking that way about him. So am I:

a) normal
b) a freak, but appropriately suspicious for this part of the gay life
c) paranoid and in need of an SSRI
d) just plain hopeless
e) all of the above

(You'll notice "a consumer of too much alcohol" is not an option. I don't need the blogosphere for that answer -- that's why God created sisters-in-law, and I'm thankful she cares, even if she drives me nuts.)

Feel free to log your vote, or leave any post-Thanksgiving shout-outs.

I'll wrap up the gratitude with these. I'm thankful that there are so many decent guys (and a few ladies) hanging out in the Castro, and I'm thankful to one gorgeous guy in particular for a great night.

Overheard in Erie

Two of my favorite quick reads are Top Ten lists from David Letterman and the Perspectives page in Newsweek. As the button in the last entry suggested, Erie is a weird place. Combine that with my family members, who tend to talk before they think, and you get some interesting statements. Here are the Top Ten things I overheard while at home in Erie, with pictures and/or stories where they seemed amusing or appropriate.

10. "The nun warmed up when we wanted the liquor."
This one is from my parents' trip to Germany, during which they went to an historic convent. What's even worse is that my ears (and foul mind) heard "wanted to lick 'er" before my brain fully processed the sentence.

9. "Johnson and Flick"
This is actually the name of a tire service center in Erie. My father swears people periodically spray paint between the l and i so it spells, well, you know. (These same people took the l out of the Public Dock sign so often they changed the name to Dobbin's Landing.) Only in Erie would people cum to Johnson and Flick for a rotation, oil change, or lube job.

8. "It sucked. It really sucked."
This one is actually sad, but is included for the sheer oddness. It's from an interview with an Erie-ite whose family member was a crime victim.

7. "People Pizza and Doggie Pizza"
This was actually the name on a business. It was abandoned. Apparently dogs can't order pizza for themselves. Or, perhaps, they prefer Chinese.

6. "That was made by the same glass maker we watched blow the thing on the mantle that looks like a penis."
I love my Dad. That refers to a Cartesian diver in a soda bottle. If you squeeze the bottle, the pressure changes, the glass figure takes on water, and the figure sinks. The thing that "looks like a penis" is below.

5. "Actually, we didn't watch him blow the one on the mantle. He was blowing something else."
Apparently, our glass maker is a bit promiscuous.

4. ????????
There was something really funny I saw with my Dad on Bravo. Or something we made funny. When I jotted it down on my list, I just wrote "Bravo TV". I was sure I'd remember why. If I think of it, I'll add it later. Now if only I could remember why I have this string on my finger.

3.1416... "My back still hurts."
My 7-year-old niece, in reference to the picture above, taken some years ago. This is to make up for #4, and because I like to include pi (It's my pat answer when asked for a number between 1 and 10). She is also well known for telling her teacher, who wanted to punish her, that "Jesus already died for my sins". At age 5. I'm almost as proud as her Daddy, the priest.

3. Me: "What's that thing on your table?"
Dad: "That's EneMan!"
The pharmaceutical companies (at least Fleet) have gone too far this time. The pictures say it all. If I can get my Dad to part with him, I have a special recipient in mind.
2. "It's an old farm house. There is a cute little bridge over a creek. [The nuns] live there and service the people."
Mom meant to say minister to, but the only word that came to mind was service. Amazing how one word can make a wholesome community institution sound like a brothel.

1. "That's the most convoluted way of delivering the bone I've ever heard."
Dad again, at his favorite steak restaurant. It was actually part of a seemingly normal conversation about someone who had saved a steak bone for a friend's sister's dog (or something like that). It didn't stay in context long, and a discussion of possibly more convulted ways commenced, starting with the Kama Sutra.

'Ta for now.

I'm Sorry, Did I Just Out You?

Sorry I've been away for a bit. I was working, and then went home to Erie, PA, for a week with my family. In addition to a little relaxation, I found fodder for at least two blog entries, so here comes number one.

As usual, it begins with decreased inhibitions thanks to our old friend alcohol. As Sofia Patrillo might say, "Picture it, Erie, 2005"... (The picture is my parents' house with the first snow of the year.)

The first event scheduled for my week home by Mom, my cruise director, was a party at my cousin's house for her son's second birthday. It got good when her husband invited me to play Texas Hold'em with his friends. I was rolling along, having won my second game and $60, when a gorgeous guy (hereafter to be known as "Hottie") came in with an equally beautiful woman on his arm. He had slightly dark skin (probably Italian) with short, impeccably groomed black hair, a nice bod, and a great smile. He was wearing jeans that showed off his ass nicely, and a long sleeve black pullover top that showed some nice definition in the pecs. My 'dar was pinging away, but this is Erie (not a hotbed of homos) and he had come with a woman. So I more or less resigned myself to nothing more that nice scenery for the evening, provided I didn't get caught looking too much.

Hottie won the last poker game, and it was time to go out. Since I was the big winner (and the big salary), I bought the first round. After ordering an assortment of beer for others, I asked Hottie what he wanted.

"Jack and Diet Coke," he replied.

I hate to promote stereotypes, but I can count on one hand the straight men who order Jack with Diet Coke. I think even most gay men out for the evening get regular Coke. I did a terrible job of hiding a smile, but he didn't seem to mind. Needless to say, I kept him in Jack and DIET Coke for the evening, and changed to the same myself. At our first stop, I also learned that his escort was his sister, that he was living in Cleveland, and that while there was a lot of reciprocal nipple grabbing in this crowd, Hottie seemed to start most of it.

Fast forward through a number of drinks to the next bar. I was hanging a bit extra with Hottie, who didn't seem to mind, but he might have just been being nice to the visitor. The booze haze sets in about now, but I told him about my place, my view, and my Baby (the Mustang). He thought it might be fun to visit and took my digits. I can't tell you for sure whether that happened before of after the following exchange.

My cousin's husband (CH), "Joel, what about her?"
"She's not my type."
"How about her?"
"Not my type."
"What are you, gay?" I wish to God I was sure whether CH or Hottie asked this.
I responded with something to the effect of "Yeah, pretty much."

This led to the usual discussion of how, why, and what's it like. At some point Hottie set me off with some comment about how he did or didn't expect it based on my appearance/attitude (I think. The haze had gotten thicker by this time). So I let loose with:

"Fine, but I'm not the one with the impeccable hair and the groomed eyebrows, wearing a tight black shirt and 'check-my-ass' jeans, and grabbing men's nipples while smoking and drinking Jack and DIET COKE."

Silence.

After a few minutes, we came around to agreeing that he was a metrosexual who tried to look good and stay thin. (Though given that this was Western PA, the mere fact that he didn't slug me says something.) After a little needless (but typical of Western PA) rough-housing, he and CH drove me home. The story would end there, had not my cousin called me later in the week. I had never told her about my orientation, but I think she'd had some inklings.

"You're not mad at my husband are you?"
"No. Is he mad at me for coming out to him and upsetting his friend in one drunken night?", I asked.
"No - he doesn't care. His roommate was gay, and the only problem was that after he came out, he stopped talking to [CH], even though he was OK with it. But he ended up walking home the other night with a big cut on his forehead, so I wanted to make sure you were OK."
"I'm fine. He and [Hottie] dropped me off. They had horse around a little, but I thought they were OK."

Apparently after they dropped me off at my folks place, CH asked Hottie if he was gay, and said he was OK with it, but he wanted to know. It turns out that I was not the first person to think Hottie might be less than entirely straight. His sister had even noted that he flirted with women in Erie, rarely got them, and in Cleveland always hung out with a bunch of men. Hottie said he was NOT GAY. It didn't end there -- here's my favorite part.

"If you're not gay, then give me Joel's phone number back, because you won't need it", CH said.

Hottie refused to give back or tear up my digits. Then the brawl ensued and CH walked most of the way home, calling my cousin from a pay phone when he had sobered up a little.

The word from my cousin is that if Hottie is gay and keeping it quiet, it's because his Mom won't be able to handle it. As for everyone, I hope that whatever his orientation and situation, he's happy. And he's not pissed at me. And that he calls me one way or the other. As Blondie would say, I'll be "hangin' on the telephone".

Y'all probably want to see a picture of him. I have one, but it's just for me, for now. I think I've stirred up his life enough. Instead, here's a nice young Erie-ite, who let me take her picture to get the "Keep Erie Weird" button. I think I did my part. Someday, I promise, I will learn how to rotate these photos.

Aggressive twit that I am, I have considered getting Hottie's info to attempt to smooth over or advance the situation. Opinions on this course of action are welcome.

Thank you for being a friend. Stay tuned for my favorite lines from my trip home.

Do you believe in...science?

I finished work early today, and knew I would have some time to blog. As I waited for the muse to strike, I read the News section of the Sunday Chronicle. It's rare to see news from my home state (Pennsylvania. Go Lions. We are...Penn State!!);

however, a story concerning "Intelligent Design" in Dover, PA, was above the fold on the front page. Interestingly, an article about the Dalai Lama visiting Stanford was hanging from a peg beneath it.

Here's the long and short of it as I understand it. The school board of a small community in PA decided that a statement endorsing the limitations of the theory of evolution and discussing the idea of Intelligent Design would be read to every science class. (Intelligent design, if you've been under a rock, suggests that there are holes in Darwin's theory of natural selection that can be better explained by a supreme being who planned it all.) Interestingly, the science teachers of the community refused to read the statement, so an administrator had to do it. Some parents sued, and now it is a heavily scrutinized court case -- given similar inroads of Intelligent Design in other states.

As an MD/PhD, you might guess where I come down on this. As a debater, I found that you can often win merely by defining the terms, so let's start with this (from www.m-w.com):
sci-ence -- 3a : knowledge or a system of knowledge covering general truths or the operation of general laws especially as obtained and tested through scientific method (I'll spare you the definition of the scientific method.)

Do I think that the theory of evolution through natural selection is true? Yes.
Are there things it doesn't explain well? Yes.
Can I prove to you that a supreme being didn't lay down an impressive fossil record and manipulate DNA to test our faith? No.
Can you prove to me that S/he did? No.
Here's the kicker. Can we test it? No.
Does that make it an article of FAITH that belongs in CCD and not science class (based on the definition above)? YES.

Boy, that was pretty easy. Seems like a number of state courts could save money by reading my blog. As an immunologist, I have to add that one of the alleged short-comings of the theory of evolution is the development of the immune system. This is an interesting question; but, for the record, there are groups testing it with research rather than rhetoric. One thought is that the origin of the immune system lies in the need for uni/pauci-cellular organisms not to merge if their cell membranes got too close.

This is not to say that science cannot learn from other disciplines. The article on the Dalai Lama was, I thought, a nice example of how "Western" science can learn from other traditions that have stood the test of time. I was disappointed to hear that some neuroscientists did not want him at their conference. They have a right to their opinion, but I think it would be a great opportunity.

Lest you think that I am a complete science nerd, I was reading all this while watching Family Guy. Stuey defeats the Taliban, a spoof of The Jeffersons, the "side-boob" hour, and a song about the FCC -- I was howling. Somehow, I don't see an "Intelligent Designer" bringing us Family Guy. This had to be evolution and market forces at the lowest common denominator.

I may have more to say tomorrow, if I'm not too busy drooling after Prison Break. Unlike Stuey, Wentworth Miller may be evidence of a benign, and possible loving, deity. Now if only he were a "family" guy.