R.B. Winters's Blog: Rent (minus) Control, page 12
August 4, 2014
All Shoes Are Not Created Equal
All Shoes Are Not Created Equal
I love to run. Every day I hit the East River Park and the treadmill at the gym around the corner. When picking shoes it was generally those that didn’t pinch the hell out of my toes and looked half decent the drew my attention. Until now.
Yesterday, I took home a pair of the Nike Lunarfly 306. The look is simple, which is a selling point for me. Black mesh, gray straps and a solid sole. It was too late to try them by the time I got home so this morning I was itching to get to the gym.
Here’s what I can say about these shoes – post use. I love them! The sole is thick enough to cushion my feet and save my knees from the strain of bouncing along on the treadmill. The mesh upper portion is breathable so it doesn’t feel like a tiny foot sauna. The straps adjust without squeezing your feet and applying unpleasant pressure points.
The overall lightness of the shoes allows for there to be no drag.
Meaning you can push yourself a little harder and run a little faster without even noticing.
On a shoe scale of one to five, one being awful and five being amazing, I have to give the Lunarfly 306 a FIVE.
Not only do I love them, but never will I look at my running shoes the same again. Good job Nike.
This post is featured on www.thestartinglinenyc.com.
August 2, 2014
Then Comes Good?
Between my friends and I, we are racking up the bad dates. In fact, if we were to all sit down and catalog the dates, we could easily compose a book of dating disasters every New York gay, and probably girl, is going to face at some point.
For every ten to twenty bad dates, you then get one good date. This is a rough estimate as it’s been a while since my last good date…and I’m not entirely sure of when it took place or with whom. So, the date: I met this gentleman on OkCupid, it’s one of the semi-reliable sources for meeting people who are only 60% looking to get into your pants. Those are good odds for a successful first date.
Meeting at Lincoln Center we settled on a bar I’d never noticed. Set on the second floor, the entrance looks like it’s heading into theater seating for an opera. This is one of those times I’m happy to have put my nipples away beforehand and dressed in non-tank top attire. With manners blaring we sat, sipping wine and making polite with the bartender. Though, it did end up with me and the bartender having the most ‘bro’ moment of my life and high-fiving over Irish livers. That’s an alcoholic reference in case you’re unfamiliar with the Irish people.
The conversation was steady, relaxed and pretension free. Everything went well right from the start. Which makes me wonder when it will go terribly wrong. Not the best way to think, but I’m still a pessimist at the end of the day. This date gets extra points for insisting on paying. Splitting the check is so common I have no memory of the last time I didn’t pay all or at least half the check.
A few more drinks and we decided to call it a night. Seeing as we were on the West Side and 65th Street cuts right through the park it was easy to walk home. The date walked me to the entrance of the park. It seemed as though he wanted to come in for a good night kiss, but was too nervous or afraid of the onlookers. I took the initiative to make it happen, unfortunately it was a clumsy miss-kiss as he’s about an inch shorter than me and was standing on a downhill slope. It’s the kind of moment that romantic comedies exploit to make you like the main characters.
Because things went so well I even put the effort in the next day to send the first ‘hi’ text. According to the Russian, “it’s the bottom’s job.” Now we are in that phase of wait and see. Was the date really as good as I believed it to be, or will this guy just be another random nobody that is forgotten three days from now?
July 28, 2014
To Each Their Own Truth
After the family “bonding” crashed and burned I shared the last blog, #WhiteTrashForever. Of course, this sent my sister off a cliff. I removed her comments from Facebook and didn’t approve her comment on the blog post. The reason: It perpetuates the drama.. And, really, what’s the point?
But her last Facebook comment, “The truth hurts, doesn’t it,” got me to thinking. Truth in this situation appears to be something everyone has their own version of and now you can be the judge. To illustrate this point, I am sharing the blog comment my sister made, bad grammar and all.
“I didn’t even care about the cigarettes first of all and secondly you made damn sure that me and Jeremy had nothing to do with the funeral we was calling and texting you asking if you needed help with anything time and time again you denied our assistance and when we did go through her things who got 90% of her things your stepmother father and yourself that’s who the hours we spent on the phone talking you know my reason for the animosity towards our mother or should I say now your mother and knowing all of that your intentions were still to make the trip about her not us siblings mind you the only thing I really wanted was Kevin’s ashes and yes as a big sister I did tell you to lighten up on your destructive ways and yeah I’m hurt that you were so selfish that you couldn’t even let me or Jeremy know when you spread her ashes.”
Let’s go through her statement.
Cigarettes: True, she didn’t make a big deal about losing them. Larrymore and I volunteered to go back into the bar and find them. They are expensive after all.
Funeral: True, I didn’t engage my siblings to help with the funeral. Also true, my sister did text me once and ask if I needed anything. She also asked once if I needed cash. I declined her offer because in reality I have more money and thought her cash would be better spent in other ways. This was a mistake. She recently explained how her seven thousand dollar tax return was spent: Shopping spree. I’d happily be reimbursed for the thousands of dollars spent. False: Our brother never offered to help in any way.
Belongings: My sister took our mother’s laptop out of the apartment without anyone knowing. Because it happened secretively it makes you look guilty. Why not ask to have it? Also, all medications vanished from the bathroom. I assume she took them considering she was “cleaning” out the bathroom where prescriptions sat. I didn’t see it take place, but it’s a safe assumption.
My dad was nice enough to bring his trailer down to clean out the apartment, which we did load with 90% of our mom’s belongings. And that night we dropped it all off at the Goodwill. My sister did become interested in our mother again two weeks ago when she realized a leather jacket was still out there that she likes. Greedy to the end.
Animosity: My sister hates our mother. She always has. Mainly because they are so alike. They both created and drug on years of drama. It was a waste of their time and sadly it sounds like my sister will spend her entire life dwelling on something a dead person did/said to her. Not my problem, nor concern.
Ashes: When cleaning out our mother’s apartment I told my siblings in two days I’d be spreading the ashes on her father’s grave as requested and bringing a small amount to spread in Brooklyn. Neither mentioned any interest in attending. They were also informed of this again at her wake 24 hours before the spreading. I don’t feel any need to consider their feelings – no one has worried about mine.
Trip: A few weeks back I mentioned spreading the ashes under the BK bridge and my sister expressed an interest in seeing the place. So, on the only day of the trip I took she and the kids out to Brooklyn. They complained the entire time about walking and had no interest once we reached the park. A waste of my time and theirs apparently.
Hurt: My sister will probably tell her story to a thousand people for sympathy and now I can take our mother’s place as the villain of her life. I’ll continue to go about my “destructive ways” which will result in new books, great blogs and a fulfilling life free of regrets.
July 26, 2014
#WhiteTrashForever
When our mother passed away my siblings made this big speech on how they’d like to be closer. Having let them fade from my life it seemed like I should at least attempt to reconnect. When it came time to split up the little bit of money left as an inheritance, which I was instructed to split with only my brother, I split three ways and also used my portion to pay for a trip. The goal was to bring my sister, niece and nephew out here to have a good time.
The plane landed, arriving in a ZipCar I scooped them up from JFK and off we went. The day entailed walking the Brooklyn Bridge, visiting the place where I spread our mother’s ashes and then Battery Park. Everyone being sleepy we ended up back at my apartment for naps while I made dinner.
Larrymore and the Russian came by for drinks on the roof before we headed out to show my sister a fun Friday night. Everything was going great, right up until my sister lost her cigarettes and Larrymore and I went back to find them. Ten minutes later she and I are shouting on the street. Her focus had switched to our mother and her hatred of her. Hailing a cab I encouraged my friends to escape…and thank god they did.
I believe people tell you what they really think and feel when they’re drunk. Here’s my sister’s opinion of me: “You’re a drunk, drug addict, piece of shit whore. You live in a shitty little apartment that you pay too much for. You fucked your boss at fifteen. Our mom always controlled you, and she’s a piece of fucking shit and you’re just like her.” Random comment, I didn’t lose my virginity until seventeen, so I have no idea who she thinks I was sleeping with at work. But, ok.
This went on and on, each blow getting lower and more mean. Other than me telling her to shut the fuck up and lower her voice, I held back on the cruel comments biting at my teeth. As she went on and on I finally jumped out of the moving cab. The comments finally pushing me over the edge being that I didn’t allow her to help when our mother died. And I’m sure as hell not about to apologize for everything I did when my useless siblings could only show up to take things. Also, that she didn’t want to come to New York and I made her. We all have limits and there is no reason that I should have to listen to any of this crazy shit.
Getting back to my place, roughly ten blocks of walking, my sister is on the street with some random black guy. I could have just let him take her, but she’s still my responsibility. Heading upstairs I booked three immediate flights for them to leave. Which she decided to refuse. So, I did the only thing she can understand: You can go, or we can call the cops. Cops were called and she still had to go.
We are nearing a decade of me living in New York. This was a fresh reminder of exactly why I left my family two-thousand miles behind. This is how they live their lives and nothing has, nor ever will, change. With this final experience there are no more tries and we will go our separate ways. I’m going back to being an only child.
July 16, 2014
Russian Reboot
Putting OkCupid to work and making sure I could have a glass of wine in my evening, I agreed to a date with the Russian Reboot. There’s my friend the Russian, who is actually not Russian, though I didn’t know that at the time of picking the name, and now there is the Reboot.
This person is actually Russian, having been in NYC for about eighteen years. So, yes, that makes him a tad older than myself. There’s no problem there for me…plus it means he will likely pay for the drinks. #EconomicalDrinking
Dates go one of two ways: Either I am nervous or they are nervous. If I’m nervous it means the conversation will be dull as I can’t align my thoughts enough to make jokes or keep the proper timing. If they are nervous it’s an entirely different game – and it’s a whole lot of fun.
Reboot was definitely nervous, going so far as to admit he’s nervous going on dates and meeting new people. There’s no shame in admitting this, but it puts me even more at ease. I was incredibly comfortable, making my semi-inappropriate jokes, laughing and having fun. Right from the start I was in a mellow mood – to be honest the downpour outside had me soaked, my glasses a mess, really what could be worse than looking like crap? Figuring it didn’t matter and the date was more about wine that the person, I remained at ease.
Reboot did his best to keep up and he did ask for a second date. I’m not sure I have actual interest but I’d likely go on another date. If nothing else, he’s a date I can say anything to and he won’t have a snide comeback, if only because there is still some language barrier. Though it will have to wait a while as I have nonstop travel and visitors the next two weeks, all of which should generate some juicy stories.
July 8, 2014
Pick a Pair
Man makes the under wear – though more and more it is beginning to seem like it’s the other way around.
There are suddenly a dozen different rules for each type of underwear: When to wear them, what style to wear and with whom you wear them.
Remember when underwear were as simple as: Wear black if you are going to, or plan to, get lucky.
Those days are long gone, maybe even more so in the gay community than in others. You now have a selection of classic briefs, boxer briefs, jock straps, thongs, mesh slings and for a few, a very few, actual boxers. [Yes, they still make boxers and some guys are still wearing them.]
So, if you’re like me, and are used to something a little less flashy in your pants, how do you know what to choose?
Mesh: Everything mesh is really a mess. Unless you are one of those stunning models from the almost-porn magazines that probably mortify your postal delivery person, these are a terrible choice. When you drop your drawers in front of someone they’re going to expect you to have a crazy sex dungeon in the closet and be really into unusual nipple play.
Jock Straps: These offer convenience. Particularly for the insatiable bottom who wants to be ready at all times, the jock who just wants to show off his assets or anyone who doesn’t like to sweat to death in the summer heat.
Briefs: These can come off as juvenile – especially if they are covered in cartoon or superhero prints. If you go this route it does tend to say, ‘I’m more innocent than I look,’ and can be incredibly sexy. These are a great fit for the twinks and a few of the leaner daddies. You can even go classic white, but I’d still suggest picking up a pair in black if you’re planning on letting anyone see them.
Boxer Briefs: To be clear, we are talking about the boxer briefs that have the short legs, not those that look like they’re for cycling and almost touch your knees. Save those for the gym, or go ahead and throw them in the trash now. Boxer briefs are easy, generally comfortable and go great with the ‘I want to look like I go to the gym every day’ look. Though, not always sexy, theirs a decent assortment of colors and prints out there that can keep a date, or hook up [assuming you see him/her at least twice], excited about what’s coming.
In making your decision, think about comfort and sexual appeal. Whichever is a priority for you will dictate where you land. Jock straps offer the most sexual appeal as they’re a little more on the scandalous side, where boxer briefs insure comfort for someone who has to sit in an office chair all day and looks forward to happy hour. Do some research, experiment and find your new favorite fit.
This post is featured on www.thestartinglinenyc.com.
Verismo: Efforts in Frugality
At this point Starbucks is an obsession within my and many people’s lives. It’s not even that you want the cup of coffee or the latte that badly, but a habit of going to a coffee shop day after day for more than ten years is a hard habit to break.
That was until I began doing the math on how much money I was drinking each month. A grande skinny vanilla latte in NYC costs $4.83, assuming you’re not adding any extras.
When you get one or two a day, each and every day, that comes out to a minimum of $1,762.95 a year.
Enter: Verismo. I’d seen the machines in Starbucks before and never paid much attention. Deciding that I either had to give up the daily latte or learn to make them at home I decided to purchase one…being realistic, there’s no way I can give up coffee cold turkey. Bed Bath & Beyond was offering Verismo online for $99 and you can use the always popular 20% off coupon they send out on the daily.
The machine arrived, a sleek little black thing that fits nicely within my limited counter space. Now, the instructions looked about as user friendly as what you get from any piece of IKEA furniture. Following the steps I pushed the button, but no water came out as indicated. Several tries later, still no water, I headed for YouTube and a training video. They were doing exactly what I was. One more attempt and eureka!
Now that I have two weeks under my belt I’m a pro at brewing the espresso pods, mixing the drink myself and enjoying a latte without the walk to the store [though it's only two blocks away in case of emergency]. The new daily cost of my latte comes out to around $0.89 when you factor in milk and the sugar free vanilla flavoring.
Overall, the Verismo was worth the investment, even if the initial setup was a little painful. #Cheers
July 6, 2014
4th Full-a-Crazy
Everyone is entitled to go a little crazy now and again. If you don’t you’re either incredibly strong or heavily medicated, most likely the latter of the two. This weekend was my moment of crazy – though it caught me completely off guard.
Having the Fourth of July off, like almost everyone else in the city, I made plans to be at the Russian’s house in Astoria with the rest of my friends. What could be more fun than food, drinks and fireworks? The day started off as typical as any other. Getting up and making my way to the gym, I did a few work things and then off to Queens I headed.
A few people had already arrived when I made my way to the door, soaked from the hurricane weather that rolled in as I stepped off the train. The next few hours were exactly what you would expect. Drinks, jokes and laughing. Heading in for a bathroom break it was like a switch flipped in my head. A whole bunch of irrational emotions decided to make an appearance. Seeing as I hate admitting I even have emotions, the most rational thing at the moment to me was slipping out the door and heading home. Home is as close to a private padded room as I’m getting.
My walk to the train, which I vaguely recall was made more crazy as two people started text messaging me. A friend and my sister. I love my sister, but I’m realizing that when I connect with family they unintentionally increase the insanity. One more reason why we all live so far apart.
What stands as the strangest part of this all – a few hours later, after I was home and took a minute to unwind things were completely fine. Though this leads me again to think whatever went off in my head was emotion fueled crazy-town. So much so that I spent all of the next day locked inside my apartment forcing sleep. It was easier than crawling off the bed and out into the world.
Another thought occurring to me: Could this be the result of suppressing emotions? For a while things would pop out as a random tear, but I quickly learned to control and ignore that issue. Perhaps this is me being dramatic and it was a one time, alcohol, lack of food motivated moment. But damn – either way, what the hell was that?
July 3, 2014
UPS: We Hate You
“The customer is always right” is a slogan stemming from retailers: Harry Gordon Selfridge, John Wanamaker and Marshall Field. What these individuals did not realize was their quest to provide excellent customer service would transform the world of shoppers into demanding, selfish jerks.
I’m no exception. I want what I want, when I want it and it should have arrived yesterday. Online shopping has made the convenience of shopping even better. No annoying salesperson to pester you, browse all you like and then be rewarded with free shipping and discounts.
In a quest to save money I looked at my biggest expenses: Coffee and Wine. Wine is easy to cut out on the weekdays…not so much on the weekends. And coffee is easy to save on when I make it at home. Still wanting my lattes, I ordered the Starbucks Verismo. This is where my troubles began.
Tracking the UPS delivery online it said “delivered”…but no box had come. It turned out the delivery driver had left the box by the building door and someone opened it, took the contents and left behind the box. I have to question the intelligence of anyone that thinks you can leave a box on a NYC sidewalk and it won’t be gone within minutes.
When the store sent me a new one I insisted they have the box signed for and it come from FedEx. The second delivery went off without a hitch and nothing was stolen. My money saving plan was now in progress. But the Verismo only comes with ten espresso pods. This meant I had to buy more at Starbucks or order them. Online had a great deal meaning I’d be stocked until September. Putting the order in I started tracking the package with obsession.
The first day the box said it was out for delivery the driver came while I was at the gym. He left the note on the door, though he marked it as the second attempt. I was home all day the day prior and never did anyone ring my buzzer – there’s no way this was the second attempt. But this meant the next day would be his final attempt before forcing me to fetch the box from the Uptown warehouse. Having an appointment that would surely mean missing the delivery I paid the five dollar fee to move the date to a specific date and time. The day and time came and went without a delivery.
Frustrated, I called UPS to find out what was going on with the package. They admitted a screw up. My box was put on a shelf and the warehouse manager didn’t reprocess, meaning if I didn’t call it would likely sit there forever. Their first suggestion was I come get the box. No. Then they explained why they couldn’t refund the fee I paid even though they admitted fault and hadn’t delivered the package. I was also informed how there is pretty much one driver per street in my neighborhood. This inspired me to share with the manager what had happened with the last box. He acted concerned but I’m sure didn’t care.
I was promised the box would be marked urgent and delivered first thing the next day. When it finally came it was after seven and the guy left it outside the door again. Luckily, I went down to take out my trash and found the box. Either the driver hates me or is just truly bad at his job. He doesn’t ring the bell, doesn’t bring you the package and lies about the delivery attempts.
After all of this I am all about using FedEx – at least they care enough to get you the package. Grrr.
June 28, 2014
Downward Facing What?
I’ve never tried yoga. I was able to say that until yesterday. A friend invited me to go with him to a Gay Pride Yoga, when the person he’d actually purchased the ticket for bailed. My usual response to this would be a big, “No.” But with my other friends all busy and me with no plans there was really no reason not to go. Plus, all yoga is sort of gay themed, so gay pride yoga was sure to be a spectacle.
Let’s begin with the instructors. I’m not sure if they’re enlightened or criminally insane. Once you got past the fact that they were both clad in spandex and you could see their man-el toes [Which was really distracting. Every time one of them walked by I was very aware of exactly where their testicles were in relation to the rest of their junk] they were good at what they do.
Things started off with us all sitting in a circle and the one instructor playing some instrument I’ve never seen but has to be closely related to the accordion. While they talked about yoga being a “safe place” and sharing far too personal stories I watched the group. These people ate up every single word. On one hand I was embarrassed by and for some of these people. They remind me of those people who actually are all alone, have no friends or close family and this is their only outlet. I sympathize as that would suck, but get a pet or a plant and drinking problem. It’s far cheaper and a lot easier. Then came the chant. Everyone knew this weird little song, that I’m not sure was even English. I held back giggles as they sang and we sat in Lotus Pose…I think that’s what it was called.
Some issues for me: I didn’t consider we would be bare foot. I don’t ever go without socks. The feeling of the floor on my feet repulses me. We also had to roll all over a filthy floor covered in glitter. Stranger interaction is another creepy thing to me. When the instructor grabbed my sweaty head I was grossed out – for him. Who the hell wants to touch a sweaty stranger. Then when the other one shook my legs out I wondered if he wanted me to kick at him.
But I played along as my character of the night’s name was Eric and he likes yoga. So I tried my best, did the poses and even stood on my head (with assistance of course). I don’t think I’ll be running back to yoga any time soon as it’s a little too hippy for me, but I’m glad I went because it was definitely something to experience.
Rent (minus) Control
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