January 21, 2008

Just around the riverbend

It's fun when you return after a lengthy absence, and this is one of the first comments in response:

Wow -- I hate to be a jack ass, but I have checked your blog every day for nearly a month, and this is the best you have to offer? Where is the biting satire, the sharp political commentary -- hell, what happened with the wax-on-your-coat guy? I must confess, FAF, I do not blog myself so I know not the pressures and strain of writer's block but, babe, really -- this post was NOT what your legion of followers was waiting for... Sorry to be such an unappreciative bitch...

Oh no, wait -- it's not any fun at all.

Thankfully, others of you are more appreciative.

Still, I fear my reappearance makes a promise I cannot keep.

When I first launched this blog, it was a fun side project -- great for those years I was a student who needed a creative outlet. It was a blast to entertain, to spark discussions, to get on my high horse about politics, pop culture, queer issues and dating.

Oh, and American Idol. There was always plenty of American Idol.

Now, however, it's difficult.

Difficult because I have to work -- and I don't write about work. My social life consists of American Gladiators, and that has yet to reveal itself as a gold mine of material. And I have a huge new project brewing, but it's not yet at the state for a big reveal.

So I decided that unless I say something, I feel I've made a promise I can't keep.

Here goes:

I don't know when, or if, I'll write here again. There's just too much else to concentrate on, and most days I don't have any great ideas about what to post here. It's sad, but that's where I'm at.

Now about that other project: I hope to be ready to announce it soon, and I hope you'll follow me to that new destination. I can assure you I'll be doing plenty of writing there.

In the meantime -- thanks for tuning in, be well, and be sure to check back here in the next few weeks to find out the F-AF's next step.

I hope you'll like what's coming.


posted by F-AF @ 11:15 PM : comment(29) : view >>
January 16, 2008

Idol whispers

Where does the time go?

Blogging is funny business. You're in the zone -- or you have a job that requires 0.4 percent of your brain function -- and you're churning out copy at a Stephen King pace. But then you miss a day, or a week, or a month, and boy it's hard to get back in the mood.

You know it's bad when your mother e-mails you, wondering just when the hell you're going to post something new.

My problem, I fear, is that after three years of blogging, I just can't write silly crap any more. Once upon a time, I posted a few paragraphs about building Ikea furniture and figured I was genius. I superimposed Twinkies over a close-up of my red eye and waited for the Pulitzer. I wrote about mismatched socks, which I think makes me Dave Berry.

But when you've been off the horse for more than a month, you just have to get back on that stallion.

And just like my last hiatus, American Idol brings me back to you.

Evidence A: Unfortunate contestant's pre-interview:


Evidence B: Unfortunate contestant's audition:


Evidence C: Unfortunate contestant's post-interview:


Now, I know that reality TV is about as real as any emotion I've shown since 1998, but c'mon.

Could it be that some auditions require multiple takes to make for better television?

This Deep Throat whispers, "Follow the earrings."


posted by F-AF @ 06:03 PM : comment(8) : view >>
December 17, 2007

House of wax

The table was a sort-of black lacquer, with a 6-inch-tall glass pillar candle -- the kind that looks best with an image of Jesus mass-printed on the side.

I sat down -- he was already there -- and we began the usual first-date conversation flirtations.

After a half-hour or more, I noticed I had just bumped the candle with my elbow.

"Oops," I thought to myself. "Better move that back to the center of the table. You don't want to make one of your wild gestures and send a candle flying.

We kept chatting, laughing, eating. It was a good time. More time passed.

Suddenly, I noticed the candle brushing my hand.

"Didn't you move that to the center of the table?" I asked myself. "Odd."

I pushed it back to the center.

We finished eating. Dessert. More stories. More flirting.

A thump.

Darkness.

We both looked around the table, then at each other.

"I knew it!" I cried out, leaping up. "That candle was moving!"

And there it was, rolling back and forth on the floor, having slowly, imperceptibly slid across the table over the course of a two-hour date.

I patted down my arm, my pants. No wax.

Shrugging, I sat back down. We finished our date in darkness.

A walk to the car, a kiss.

As I drove away, I glanced down.

And discovered the front of my coat was covered in wax.

What a gentleman not to have said anything.

Or what a man not to have noticed.

And that's how my coat ended up in the freezer.


posted by F-AF @ 03:22 PM : comment(25) : view >>
December 13, 2007

Brr. It's cold in here.

You have to wonder just what the hell went on when you wake up the morning after a very nice date with a handsome man, stumble into the kitchen to find something to eat, and discover ...

Your coat in the freezer.

Any guesses?

Hint: Martha would approve.


posted by F-AF @ 01:20 PM : comment(11) : view >>
December 10, 2007

The big O

Somewhere tonight there is a Saturday Night Live cast member -- one Ms. Maya Rudolph -- making a frowny face.

She's :-( because the Hollywood writers' strike just robbed her of her skit of the year: five minutes of Oprah's My Favorite Things, with Ms. O proclaiming as only she can, "Here's my favorite person to change America: Barack Obamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! And there's one for you. And there's one for you. And there's one for you. There's one for everyone!"

And then 300 suburban ladies in sharp sweater sets lose their effing cool and someone literally dies of an aneurysm.

It is, apparently, a Big Deal that the world's most powerful woman has publicly endorsed a candidate for the first time.

Having seen celebrity stumpers in action before, I'm not so sure.

In 2004, I spent a day with a friend carting the actors who played Ted and Melanie from Queer as Folk around town for the HRC's election efforts. Of course, I would have to actually visit IMDB.com to look up their non-character names, so I suppose they don't really count.

A couple of weeks later, I found myself on a gay-bar stage with Chad Lowe, Hilary Swank and a whole mess of very petite people who are probably so pampered they don't know how to order pizza anymore. Julianna Margulies liked my anti-W T-shirt. She asked if she could have it, but she had left ER and was doing cable. So I turned her down.

They wanted us to vote Democrat. We did.

We lost.

Celebrity endorsements aren't all they're cracked up to be.

Of course, Oprah Winfrey is a whole other beast. She picks a book and the publisher needs advanced warning to get enough copies printed. She gets together groups of incomprehensibly wealthy women, gives them millions of dollars in jewelry as gifts, and her audience is fascinated rather than outraged.

Hell, she somehow made Dr. Phil acceptable.

The other candidates should probably be worried.

But since she's not supporting my gal, I believe the appropriate level of bitterness requires me to remind any Oprah fans who are swayed to support Obama because of her endorsement of these following facts:

1. She used to date Roger Ebert.

2. She believes in The Secret.

3. And while she is now worth far more than $1 billion, her original training is as a TV journalist.

And we all know the average intelligence of one of those:


posted by F-AF @ 02:23 AM : comment(11) : view >>
December 04, 2007

Freudening

Earlier today, I was IMing with a friend, and instead of typing "me," I wrote "mean."

Yeah, that's about right.


posted by F-AF @ 10:15 AM : comment(2) : view >>
December 01, 2007

Dinner, a movie and a paycheck

It ain't easy being a single guy on the dating, er, job-hunting scene.

I'm employed, thankfully, but with no guarantees past February. And even though I've been assured numerous times how valuable I am, I have the growing feeling there just won't be any money when the end of my contract arrives.

So I'm on the prowl -- not for some useless man, but for gainful employment.

And after more than two months of ad-scouring, resume-sending and interview-going, I realize the two emotional roller coasters are one and the same.

The sense of depression/dread/futility/giving up is very familiar:

Why hasn't he/they noticed my profile/resume posted on Facebook/JournalismJobs.com?

Why didn't he/they call after I gave my number/mailed in my resume? I'm perfect for him/the job!

Why hasn't/haven't he/they called after our first date/interview? Oh my God, what did I say that soured him/them on me for a relationship/job?

Well, screw him/them. I didn't want to date him/work for them anyway.

I'm going to be single/unemployed forever.

I'm going to die alone/end up on the street.

It doesn't take a therapist to diagnose that it all comes down to one thing for me: fear of rejection. I need a man to want me. I need an employer to want me.

And right now, I feel very unwanted.

So if you're a company in Northeast Ohio looking for a journalist/writer/editor/marketer/communications specialist, send me an e-mail!

Because I suck as a boyfriend.

But I'm a freaking awesome employee.


posted by F-AF @ 02:57 PM : comment(9) : view >>