A Snapshot Of Ken

SML and I decided on Sunday to take a ferry to Provincetown, an area of Massachusetts that the gays have been raving to us about. SML and I were indecisive this weekend, asking questions with questions like, "I don't know, what do YOU want to do."  By the time we decided on Provincetown the next ferry wasn't until 2:00 p.m.  

I took the above picture as soon as got off the boardwalk.  I really cannot describe how lovely I thought the whole place was, or how beautiful the ocean is on this part of the Cape. SML kept gushing how much he loved the fresh salt air while I was just excited to not be near one of the thousand or so moving trucks that have migrated to Allston with the new school year.

As we were walking into town I kept telling SML how I didn't understand why all the gays are in love with Provincetown. When did it become popular to hang around small towns, no matter how beautiful and scenic, when Boston is only a ninety minute ferry ride?  A friend of SML's called Provincetwon the "Gay Mecca" and although we did see a pirate ship of sorts with a pride flag, I just wasn't ready to get on my knees and face the east.

But then we walked into town. And all of that changed. 

Now. I don't know if they have those flags flying all year long, or if they just strung them up to greet SML and I, but holy cow. The entire city was like a pride festival, except without a parade.  Unless you count that man dressed up as Dorothy riding a bicycle and telling everyone to come to the Crown.

This post verges on crazy, but what the hell.  I joined the Boston Sports Club since arriving here in Allston, and have on several occasions had enough determination to stop eating and walk there.  It's been much easier to get there since SML's Mormon brother-in-law started living with us because the thought of my shirt sticking to the sweat on my back is far more appetizing then it is to pretend that I don't use obscenities to describe how I'm feeling, or how the blood blisters on my toes are screaming for a !#!#$ and a little bit of a @$!%@!%.

On Sunday I made my way through four or five blocks of consumer trash and found myself on the elliptical machine next to who I am almost certain was Joel Derfner.  But I just don't know!  And I can't even believe that I'm writing this, that I'm telling the world that I purchased the book "Swish" to complete a quest on becoming the gayest person ever.  But I swear, that orange hair!  It must have been him; just more fat and less attractive than the picture inside the covers to his books.

And is it really crazy that maybe he just got a teensy bit more ugly and decided to come to Boston from New York to workout?  I told SML this story a day after it happened, feeling paralyzed and giddy that I saw my role model.  He didn't react in the way I wanted him to, by clapping hysterically while jumping up and down.  Instead he gave me that look, that look you give to tell someone they need a stronger anti-depressant, that I'm making up celebrities at the gym.

Well, quasi-celebretiries anyway.  

I took this picture of the Charles River a couple of weeks ago when SML and I decided we could walk home from Cambridge.  Before I came here everyone would say things like, "Everything is so close!" and "Just take the subway!"  Turns out taking the subway isn't nearly as convenient as it sounds.  

 It also might be dangerous taking the subway because there are some people I can't stop staring at, like Asian Person No. 1 who had at least four or five, FIVE INCH hairs sticking out of a mole on his cheek.  I leaned toward SML when I saw this and asked him to take a picture because there is no way anyone was going to believe this.  SML refused, but if he had I would be on the phone with the Guinness Book of World Records.

Our things arrived on Wednesday afternoon with two items missing.  I called SML to see how the move was going and he replied, "Well our stuff is here minus two things, can you guess which ones are missing?"  Once I arrived home we discovered the blatant tampering with our packing list; which I really  cannot stress more, how obvious and incredulous the changes were.  

SML had already been talking to the moving company in my name, but I called anyway because I felt like everyone needed a dose a crazy.  I felt like I needed to make it very clear I wasn't considering our items damaged or missing, but stolen and very much a federal theft issue that wouldn't be going through claims. I did all of this in a tone that might be familiar from such films as The Shining or The Exorcist.  And yes I am proud of that.

The moving company called back several minutes after I had hung up, but called SML's cell phone instead since he had been handling the situation.  When he answered the customer service agent said, "Oh wow, you seem so much more calm now!"  SML answered, "That's because you're talking with Scott."

This story is far from over.  I'm exhausted from all of this, I get way too upset about this kind of thing.  And talking to customer service has got to be the worst thing ever, because I feel like the only thing I can ever say is, "I'LL BE SENDING YOU A STRONGLY WORDED LETTER!"  

SML and I went to the Museum of Science located in the north end of Boston on Saturday. Or was it Sunday? How long have I been here again?  

The Museum was having a butterfly exhibit which we bought tickets to in addition to our city pass that gets us into other places like the Aquarium or Harvard's Museum of Natural History.  We got these tickets to keep busy and our minds off of the fact that we still do not have furniture.  But I'm not complainer.  

When we entered the exhibit a butterfly immediately landed on the back of SML's shirt.  SML is easily creeped out by insects and kept denying that a butterfly was actually on him.  But even from the picture above you can see that these are no common moths, that these are beautifully patterned insects of flight. Who wouldn't want to carry ones of these on their shoulders at all times?  

To give SML a little credit for being squeamish around the butterflies, they did seem to swarm a bit.  There seemed to be a flock of these colorful wings flapping in all directions, all of the time.  I even found myself ducking at times, remembering that time I was pooped on by a rampant bird at the Hogle Zoo.  Do butterflies poop during flight?

I cannot remember exactly when I took this picture, it must have been one of the days we were wondering downtown completely lost and probably starving.  I'm only exaggerating a little.

The Prudential Center in Boston is one of my favorites places because it has an indoor mall, a Cheesecake Factory, and an Apple store nearby. Just last night, when God was punishing us with hours of rainfall, we had all three of those places to seek refuge.  Unfortunately we thought we could make it to the nearest T stop and while we did make it, we arrived looking like we had taken a detour into the Charles River.  

We've been here for about a week now, and it's the first time I've lived next to a large body of water.  The air feels different because of the humidity, but my allergies seem remarkably under control and I find myself only using my inhaler once a day now.  

My less affecting allergies could also be the result of having nothing in my apartment for Charlotte's dander to cling to, not even carpet because we have hardwood floors.  Have you slept on hardwood floor?  It feels like what I imagine lying in an inexpensive coffin would, without padding or pillows, the kind of coffin I could afford after living in this city.

We purchased an air mattress before we left Salt Lake City, predicting that it was very possible we'd never see our furniture again.  Unfortunately the air mattress deflates itself every night around 3:00 a.m., causing SML to exclaim, "This is just SO luxurious."

SML and I spent a large part of our day wondering around the city.  Downtown Boston is considerably different than Allston, the city I'd love to see burn to the ground, because it has clean streets and cafe's without cracking vinyl on the benches.  

While we were in the city it began raining very suddenly, so we sought refuge under a tree at the Boston Commons. When SML looked over his shoulder he noticed this squirrel and motioned for me to check it out.  I must have been the only person alarmed by this sight, that a long-tailed rodent was hovering over the garbage can, because I was the only person staring at it with my mouth open.

When I began to look around the park I noticed that there were several squirrels, all over the place, and people were feeding them!  My God people, look at their claws!  At any moment one of these things could leap onto your face, claw out your eyeballs, and then start burrowing into your skull.  

I'm sure that the National Enquirer has warned us about these kind of things.  That along with the happy gas being let loose around the United States to help us forget about Iraq.