Not that he's MY man or even THE man...I just thought I should preface that. But I am waiting for a man. And that man is coming over to the place I'm dogsitting at.
I've prepared a dinner of pork tamales, black beans and salad. I've lit candles. I have a "Sophisticated Party Mix." I'm prepping to have a man come over to "my" house.
I've kept the dress casual. A Number Lab grey cardigan, Splendid Mills grey and navy striped polo (a Christmas gift from my friends) and a pair of Levis (514s). Not sure why I thought it was important to give you the fashion breakdown, but there it is. I spruced up the hair a bit with some molding clay.
He's supposed to be here at 7ish. It's 7:15. I'm kind of watching the clock. Oh, jesus.
Everything's ready. Tamales in the oven. Black beans resting and thickening. The only thing to do is the salad dressing and adding the avocado to the salad (last minute to it doesn't oxidize and get brown). And maybe a little Feta.
Wine glasses laid out on the coffee table. Actual glasses, which is how I like to drink wine. Not stemmed bulbous WINE GLASSES. But little cylinder wine glasses. Like the Spanish. I've got a wine from the Willamette Valley that my brother and sister in law brought for me from Oregon. A Pinot Noir. You know that Oregon is known for their Pinots. It's now 7:18. Hopefully, he's not reading this from his iPHone in the car and crashing somewhere.
Diana Ross, "Remember Me" from her 1971 album Surrender is playing. I'm using that song in the Medea adaptation I've written. Still waiting to hear back from a few theatres to see if they're going to develop it in the Spring.
The Candles look good. I'm typing at the computer...it's all very adult. Working to the last minute. Productive. Focused. Driven.
Should I have a drink? While I"m waiting? No. Probably not. Don't want him to get here and see me all drunk. Smelling of Jack and Ginger (I already thought about the pre-drink I would have, but never had time).
Now it's Ray Charles, "Look at what they done to my song, Ma." He sang this on the 1973 CBS TV special "Barbra Streisand and Other Musical Instruments." That reminds me, "The Kennedy Center Honors" is on Tuesday. I have to make sure I'm somewhere I can watch it. There's no TV here at the house. And I'm not sure they're going to replay that on the CBS website. It's a bit of a tradition, since I was a kid, to watch the Kennedy Center Honors on TV. I love watching how many random performers they decide to perform musical tributes. And I love the musical tributes to people like Oprah. She's being honored this year and I know they're performing at least one song from "The Color Purple", which she produced (and also she was in the film). But it's weird. Does Sondheim have to write a special number for someone like the Big O, who has no association to music? What would that song be called? "The Changing Face?" "Miss Television?" "Oprah/Harpo?"
It's 7:26. He's not late. We said 7ish. I thought we said 7:30 on the phone, but then he said "see you at 7ish" on the text message he sent.
Kelly Clarkson. "Don't Waste Your Time" from My December, the album that everyone hated. I love this song. I totally think it's pop. He's missing some good selections.
I think he might be getting the hot sauce I asked him to bring if he had it but told him he didn't need to bring. No need to go out of his way, right? But he's the kind of gentleman that would do that. I need to go check the tamales.
They're fine. Warming up in the oven. Just turned it down a bit. Beans look good. I'm getting HUNGRY. Went to the gym this afternoon to get a good workout in since I haven't gone since the 23rd. But I have gone on some runs. But really I went so I would look good in this new polo shirt, which has a flattering way of hugging my body. There's no fronting. I totally worked out so I would look hot for this date.
You should have seen me at the gym. I was doing some of the core exercises I learned from watching "Insanity", from the makers of Beach Body who are the people who do P90X. I am such a walking infomercial. I went to the exercise studio at the gym, listening to my iPod, rocking out to the Glee version of "Telephone" by Gaga and Beyonce. Just doing the stink face, which is supposed to look like I"m into it and kind of "Thug Life." It just looks like a gay guy with a dancer's background doing knee ups. Then I did my Shoulders and Arms workout. The bicep curls, the Chair Dips, the Concentration Curls, all of it. Twelve exercises. Then a break. Then the same 12 exercises all over again. Dirty hot stink face all over the gym. And I tend to act like no one else is around me (aka like I"m dancing in my bedroom by myself). So I'm doing my tricep stretches and mouthing "5...6...7...8." I'm doing shoulder roles to "Come On Over" by Aguliera. I'm curling to "She's a Bitch" by Missy Elliot. I'm doing a street strut to "Empire State of Mind" while I'm in-between exercises to give my muscles a break. I am an hour-long musical comedy live in the LA Fitness in Pasadena. I'm rocking out and I'm sure I'm getting some looks. Whatever, breeders!
Gosh, I really am kind of hungry. It's 7:38. I hope I don't either fall asleep or get wasted after that first sip of red wine. Dogs are barking. He might be here.
Okay. SO he is. Details to follow.
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