A seminal moment.

My son and I are watching The Matrix. How did he get old enough for this to happen?

Love to all. Even you, Agent Smith.

Dipshit McGoo.

Stupid, stupid competitor, trying to scope me out like he's a potential client.

DAMN.

Love to all. Even you, "Sal."

Who knew?

The Bill W. Dinner Dance is a huge, black-tie-optional affair at the New York Hilton, and it's the only major fundraising activity of the New York Intergroup of Alcoholics Anonymous. It's hilarious because thousands and thousands of the most hardcore drinkers and drug users on the planet are dressed to the nines (in whatever that means for them: tux, kilt, cross-dressing, elegant-punk, nearly nothing, etc), and...

and...

NOBODY GETS SHITFACED.

That alone is worth the price of admission. To stand up, look across this HUGE room, and see thousands of sober people having an absolute blast just kicks ass.

Maggie and I went for the second year in a row. The highight of the dinner certainly isn't the food, which defines "acceptable," but rather the speakers. There are three, and they've all been chosen from folks who were nominated.

This year's speakers weren't all that great. Nice people, but not nearly as engaging as the folks last year.

But that's not why we left early.

After 11 years of marriage, I found out last night that Maggie gets exceptionally uncomfortable in social circumstances. I don't get this, because Maggie is one of the most capable people I know. I also don't get this because I didn't KNOW this. And WHY I didn't know this is puzzling me at this very moment.

I was watching Maggie a bit during the speakers, and she looked a little pained. I asked "do you want to go?" She did. So inbetween speakers, we left.

It bugs me that I didn't know this about Maggie. How could I not?

Anyway: I'm going to lift weights and run now. A friend of mine made me a CD, so I'm going to listen through it again for deep, encoded meaning (it's like a leftover high-school instinct to do that), and to see if I've gotten so old that I can't recognize a single band on a CD compiled by someone born in the 80's.

Love to all. Even you, the dude who I truly hope to see at the Bill W. Dinner a few years from now.

Late Late Late Late Late Late.

We're supposed to have left for the Bill W. dinner dance five minutes ago.

Where, oh where, is the babysitter?

Love to all.

I agree with George W. Bush

"Whatever your opinion of the outcome, all Americans can take pride in the example our democracy sets for the world by holding elections even in a time of war," he said.

And you know what? He's right.

Love to all. Even you, the boys who walked right onto the soccer field during the final quarter of the girls' game.

Dear Republicans.

Now that my party has won the House and Senate, I think it's important that you know something.

I treasure you. And no matter how much I disagree with you... no matter how wrong I think you are, I will never, EVER, accuse you of being unpatriotic. You have every right to think how you think... and even if I think you are absolutely wrong about something, I will defend your right to express that opinion.

It's the American way.

Shout out to Ms. Britt for reminding me to write this.

Love to all. Even you, Dick.

Aim low.

When using a urinal in an elementary school, it is important to remember that they are designed for tiny people. Else, you might accidentally pee on the wall.

Love to all. Even you, the Fox News spin machine.

Too much, too late, two years.

So, the evening is shaping up to be a good one for American Democrats.

I don't know, though. I worry that the Democrats will take the house, maybe even the senate, and spend two years fighting Bush to a draw... only to lose the House again. I'm worried that the next two years will be just what the Republicans need to regroup. Their President can stalemate the legislative branch just long enough to make the Dems look ineffective... and the Republicans will use that time to position themselves as the more moderate alternative to Bush and the more effective alternative ot the Dems.

After six years of Bush shitting on the environment, the Constitution, human rights, and our own troops... after Bush losing every ounce of goodwill the world felt towards us after 9/11... I just worry that two years of legislative/executive stalemate is exacty what the Republicans want...

...and exactly what this nation doesn't need.

Love to all. Even you, Senator Santorum.

I get no respect.

An IM conversation between me and my assistant/Office Manager. "Omnidazzle" is a computer utility that lets your cursor sprinkle pixie dust. It looks better on a MacBook Pro than on a MacBook. But it looks cool on both. I have a MacBook Pro. She has a MacBook.

I am the person on the right.


I love this kid. And I don't feel guilty about saying "kid" because: 1) she's exactly in between my daughter and me, age-wise, and 2) she constantly tells me I'm old.

Love to all. Even you, the Mom who's letting her kid hang from the luggage racks.

Dear USA: Vote.

Or it's your own damn fault.

Love to all.

Toot.

You know, it occurred to me that maybe I can give up a little of the self doubt.

I mean, I run a pleasant little company that's about to merge with a bigger one. I just ran the NYC marathon. I'm an alcoholic, but I don't drink. My wife likes me. My kids don't think I completely suck. Shit, man. Even if things tank, I've done a fairly decent job.

It might be the post-mararthon endorphines, but I'm feeling pretty good.

So why do I feel guilty saying that?

Anyway.

There's a LOT more I want to write about tonight, but my son is waiting for me.

Love to all. Even you, the dude who drank two Foster's on the train, then drove home.

I'm not dead.

Phew.

Finished the marathon in 3:45.

I'm really happy with the fact that I had negative splits every 5k from start to finish... I ended the race at a pace over a minute-per-mile faster than I started. And I finished at a full-on sprint. Sometimes, I doubt my own sanity.

Rock. Fucking. On.

Going to sleep now. My calves are *killing* me.

Love to all. Even you, the people who STOPPED on the finish mats.

As it is written...

Leaving for NYC in 2 hours. Just wrote out my shirt.

Then, magic hippie lady, bath, nap, pasta.

Have I said "YIKES!" yet?

Love to all.

THIS is new.

My oldest just yelled "Dad, help!"

I went upstairs, and he said: "I just stepped in an enormous puddle of glue."

And so he did. An large, full bottle of Elmer's glue somehow emptied itself under Maggie's desk. And Maggie is asleep.

Cleanup time.

Bleah.

Love to all.

p.s. Maggie and I made up. Phew

Nerves, and the worst play EVER.

Maggie took me to see a play last night. Her friend was in it.

Her friend was okay. He would be pretty good if parts were written for him. The play sucked. I mean SUCKED. I mean: was really bad. Terrible writing, terrible acting, terrible blocking, lighting, sound... the audience was groaning.

...then, on the way home, Maggie and I got into a huge argument.

It was one of those stupid, stupid things involving details about soccer this weekend, and the marathon. I get really annoyed when things are left to the last minute, and when I'm asked to provide information that 1) I've already provided repeatedly or 2) That could easily be discovered in the time it takes to ask me to go and find out.

Clearly, though, the level of my reaction was fear-based. I'm pretty terrified about the marathon tomorrow. I'm scared I won't finish, that I'll miss the bus, etc.

I'm just scared about the whole thing.

Anyway: my back hurts, my chest hurts, and I feel like I'm bordering on the onset of a patent-pending Bronchial Event.

That must mean I'm totally ready to run.

I leave in about 4 hours for Manhattan, then no computer until Sunday afternoon *after* the race. I'll try to say bye before I go.

Love to all. Even you, playwright.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we have an agreement.

It's in the lawyer's hands now. Almost.

Today, I decided to fold my company into a larger firm. We agreed to basic numbers, percentages, etc. Our tentative launch date is January 1. We want to have an agreement in writing within two weeks.

Yikes.

But you know what? I don't care right now. I'm more excited about the marathon. Less than two days until I'm a-runnin'!

I'm totally, completely stoked.

Rock ON.

Love to all. Even you, the "Bid D" cashier with crazy stare.

Another anti-gay crusader is... gay.

How many examples of this do we need to see?

So often, it seems that the most virulently anti-gay people are, well, gay. But they have been trained to think that being gay is bad, so they turn anti-gay to hide the fact that they are gay.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Gay is neutral. It's not good, or bad, or right, or wrong. It's just a way of being.

Damn, folks? Don't we have bigger issues to worry about than which kind of love is the right kind of love? Among consenting adults, love is love is love is love is love.

Sheesh.

Love to all.

New York Marathon: Fully equipped, baby.

I went to the Jacob Javitz center today to get my number. I met my friend Lisa, who is not the Lisa I miss, and is not my blog friend Lisa, but who IS a super-nice person, my former neighbor in Brooklyn, my Marathon companion for the Philadelphia Marathon in 2004, and the person who has run more marathons than anyone else I know. Lisa's awesome because she knows everything there is to know about marathons. From immodium to epsom salts to permanent markers to disposable clothing to the worlds longest urinal... she knows everything, and she's fun to chit-chat with, too.

Weirdly, we only hang out at marathons.

Anyway: the Javitz center was overwhelming. So much stuff. I bought stuff I needed: Gu, disposable gloves and jacket... and stuff I didn't: three different commemerative shirts.

I'm getting REALLY excited.

Oh. And I think I'm going through with the merge. I'll know by 10am tomorrow morning.

Love to all. Even you, the bulldog with the control issues.

Four minutes.

From this post, some well meaning folks gave me advice about my Father. It was very sweet of people to suggest I "just call" my Dad, but I don't think the folks who gave me that advice understand the picture.

My father is a sociopath.

I don't say this lightly. I love the guy. I believe that he's got a good heart, and if he isn't focused on you as the Evil One, then he's nice to be around. But if he turns on you, it's total, overwhelming, and can last for decades. And he never let's up. Shut him out (like we did, after we called the police on him)... but he's still out there seething. He anger does not subside.

An example.

A couple of years after we stopped talking, a relative of mine sent an email to a group of people saying that they'd arrived in their new home safely. My parents were one of the folks on the email list.

Knowing my father's psychology, I decided to take a chance and "accidentally" reply-to-all, with a little note to my relative saying how happy I was they arrived safely, and giving a little update on how the kids were. That way, if my father received the note and wanted to reply, he could. But if he didn't, he could just delete it, since it was clearly an "accident."

I sent the email.

Four minutes later I had an email back, threatening my wife and father-in-law with criminal prosecution (too crazy to explain in this post) if I ever emailed him again. Keep in mind, we hadn't spoken in years at this point.

Four minutes.

Four. Fucking. Minutes.

Love to all.

Work, stress, running, stress.

Three hours with the magic hippie lady. I can't believe she spent that much time trying to fix me up. Then again, she charged me.

I'm riding the 8:22 train back to Westchester, and my mind is reeling.

The deal to merge my company with Bigger Company is at a very weird point. In an offhanded way, the other person (Ms. X) who'd be joining the merged firm mentioned that she would work for me directly, if things didn't work out with the Bigger Company.

Casually, then, she blew my mind.

Here's the order of events.

1. Bigger Company tries to hire Ms. X directly. Fails. She's not interested.
2. After they couldn't hire her, Bigger Company suggests I try to hire Ms. X. I fail. We're a little small, and she doesn't knows us well enough to make the leap.
3. Bigger Company wants to open a new division consisting of my firm and Ms. X. She'll joing the division if I go. I'll join if she goes.
4. During the negotiation process, Ms. X gets to know me, and my kick-ass little staff. She becomes willing to join us directly.

So what the fuck am I supposed to do? There's plusses to both sides, but I don't see the point of joining Bigger Company at a minority ownership level if I can create something bigger, better, stronger, etc., at my own little firm.

So I'm thinking about it. And so is she. I told her that she really had to think over whether she'd come to my company or not, and give me an honest answer, so I can go to Bigger Company and tell them that the deal's off.

And Bigger Company wants to sew this up this week. Ag.

Also, the marathon is in four days. Nerves.

Also, the guy next to me is using a black MacBook, and I thought it was a PC with a sticker. I swear.

Also, I miss my friend Lisa a lot.

Also, I find the group of dudes at this downtown meeting I go to a tad intimidating.


Love to all. Even you, the guy in front of me who was super nice when I sat down, but apparently has some form of Tourette's.

p.s. The house in Vermont fell through because there was serious degradation of the support sills. As in, rot. Gross. Sorry I forgot to mention that, Anonymous Commenter!