If This Is The Best I Can Do With Cats, Thank God We Never Had Children! – Don’t Get Me Started!

 I’m the first one to admit that when we took in two stray cats almost ten years ago now, I had no idea what I was doing but through the years I’ve prided myself on knowing at least what my cats are all about and what’s best for them. That was until recent events when I discovered that if this is the best I can do with cats, thank God we never had children! – Don’t Get Me Started!

I guess I need to explain that we only had one pet when I was growing up, a small dog that acted more like a human than a dog. He sat at the table, took his place on his side of the monopoly board when we played, you get the idea. My spouse however is like Dr. Freaking Doolittle and had several pets growing up. So while I’ll admit I didn’t bring a lot of practical experience to the table, I’ve got common sense for days and an ability to look things up online so fast that Mr. Google no doubt envies me.

You can read my original tale of the cats here on my very old blogspot accounthttp://dontstartscott.blogspot.com/2006/05/it-has-happened-ive-become-one-of.html

Through the years, my spouse and I have fallen into our roles when it comes to the cats. While he does all the brushing and feeding, I’m responsible for mani/pedis and cleaning the cat litter box. Now I guess I should tell you that our cats are more than a little spoiled. At the risk of being the greatest gay cliché in the world, we named them after musical theatre characters and the minute that we took them in they were equipped not only with fabulous collars but two (what we considered) cat essentials. The electric water fountain and the Litter Maid cat litter box that automatically scoops everything into a neat container for you.

While the fountain has had to be replaced several times through the years, the Litter Maid box has remained doing its job since we got it…until recently. (And yes, I’m using the name of Litter Maid in hopes that they’ll want to put us in a commercial and/or send us free product– come on Litter Maid, if you’re not appealing to the gays with your product, someone in marketing needs to be fired!) Much to my chagrin, the Litter Maid has taken over one of our walk-in closets in the bedroom due to the cat litter dust (which I’m sure is fatal), it’s become more of a storage closet and my clothes must reside in the guest bedroom.

When I walked in to find the Litter Maid cord caught in the raking mechanism that scoops the poop, I did my best to fix it. I had no idea it was supposed to be retracting until it didn’t and then the next time it went on, I watched the rake snap the cord and I just knew it was all over. While I found sites that show you how to fix it, I am man enough to admit that I’m not a handy man. (While my brother made a Mazda engine model that ran when we were kids, I couldn’t get a Snap-tite model together to save my life.)

At first I thought, “Hey, with this economy they can just tough it out like less fortunate cats.” I figured I would just scoop like the rest of the world and it would all be fine. Now, while our larger male cat seems to have poop that is manageable in the smell department, his little sister has crap that is absolutely toxic. That said I figured that they would cover their poop like any other cat so the smell wouldn’t be that bad. But then I smelled it. I didn’t need to be a Hardy Boy to realize that Elphaba had taken a crap and thanks to the broken cat litter box, I decided to investigate. That’s when I saw it, turds almost as big as she was just laying there on the top of the cat litter. And then it dawned on me, they’ve never had to cover their crap in their lives and thanks to my “catenting” (“cat” and “parenting” put together) they were not about to start now.

I thought about “teaching” her how to cover her crap but then I realized just how insane that was (he said chuckling to himself realizing that this whole thing is insane) and so I went to the store and bought the only Litter Maid box I could find in four stores. It’s smaller than the other one and although they seem more interested in the box it came in, I have high hopes that there’ll be crap in the bucket by tomorrow morning and the smell won’t be horrible. I’m a big believer in knowing who you are and this was just another lesson to me that if this is the best I can do with cats; thank God we never had children! – Don’t Get Me Started!

Long have I tried to stay out of talking politics with anyone and for all the reasons that they say (plus a few of my own). Just like no Jehovah’s Witness or Mormon is going to convert me at my door, I feel the same way about politics. And if by chance you are someone susceptible to changing your mind about things because someone you’ve never met tells you that you should then please stop reading this and start donating to the Church of Scott, we worship things like witty people with great bodies and a really good bloody Mary (both the cocktail and the character from the musical, South Pacific) on Sundays and we need your support to do both so give generously and we’ll make sure when you die something spectacular happens to you! Every time I try to stay out of politics they pull me back in! – Don’t Get Me Started!

They have used you for years, making you believe you weren’t thin or pretty enough when the fact is that you’re smarter and should know better. What about this whole concept is so difficult for you to understand? It’s time for you to all go Amazon on these scared, white straightee boys, become the power in this country and fix things. Don’t worry ladies, us gays and every other minority that the white men who want to focus more on seeing Janet Jackson’s tit for a split second on television than balancing the budget will help you. We’re not afraid of compromise as much as the white men are because we’ve been compromised by them for so long we know their days need to be numbered. You already outnumber them, all you gotta do is organize yourselves and if you can’t do it, you must know a gay who can help you. Okay, okay, I’m ready to help, geez! Every time I try to stay out of politics they pull me back in! – Don’t Get Me Started!

Yes, It’s Summer And Here’s 5 Things You Should Know About What You’re Wearing! – Don’t Get Me Started!

I don’t know where you live but I live in Vegas and it hit 108 degrees today, summer is here. Although here in Vegas we do get colder weather in the winter (though you wouldn’t know it from the morons who think shorts and flip flops are a year round adventure here) now that summer has really hit I’m more than ever grossed out by what I see out there. Yes, it’s summer and here’s 5 things you should know about what you’re wearing – Don’t Get Me Started!

1. Those clothes you stored all winter when you were burrowing in, eating every burrito you could get your hands on may not fit anymore. Do not try to wear them. This goes for you, girl I saw running on the street the other day with jeans that were way too tight and as she ran and her crop top revealed not only her ample stomach jutting out the front but her tramp stamp tattoo on her lower back I thought that she must have gotten really mad and pulled “An Incredible Hulk” or just didn’t get that these clothes don’t fit her anymore and she shouldn’t oughta be wearing them!
2. There is no such thing as a “summer scarf” – I saw this advertised on a website recently and wanted to choke the person who came up with this idea. It’s 108 degrees here people. The only scarf you should be wearing is one that goes over your head to protect you from the Sahara Desert which unbeknownst to any of us has been transplanted to Las Vegas. If you wear a scarf around your neck when it’s this hot, you’re just seen as someone who is trying way too hard and has been sold a bill of goods by the fashion industry. Save the scarves for winter.
3. Although the old Nair commercials from the 70’s would have you thinking otherwise, not every girl needs to wear short shorts. This goes for you girls who are now painting them on making the world your gynecologist and you girls with so much cottage cheese on your thighs. We don’t all have nice legs, those of us who are nice know if we do or not and know what to hide and what to accentuate. Figure it out.
4. Now that summer is here, apparently the fashion gays have decided that “boys” need to wear cut off jeans again. Oh but not jeans cutoffs like we all knew back in the day. No, now it’s take those skinny jeans you’ve been wearing all winter, cut them off just at the knee or lower and you’re supposedly in fashion. Or you’ve just created a look that makes you look like a Tim Burton character, congratulations! Shorts are called, “shorts” for a reason. And I don’t care how straight “acting” or you actually are boys, no one, hear my plea; no one can pull off Capri length pants without an ascot and a Charles Nelson Riley snarky laugh.
5. Finally, so you want to have your “crusty dusties” out (your feet) with your sandals and flip flops. Do us all a favor (especially when taking those naked bad boys into grocery stores and where people eat) go ahead and loofah those cracked heels that look like the desert floor, use some moisturizer and whatever you do, for God Sakes people, trim those toenails. What are you growing talons for your protection? I’m convinced that some people only wear flip flops because they can’t get their long toenails into socks and /or regular shoes. 

The Front Row – A Lesson In Loss

My father has a large family. Every summer my brother and I would be shipped off to our grandparents in a small town in what we called, “lower, slower Delaware.” My father’s family lived on a farm when he was small. My mother was the city girl from Philadelphia. (My parents are the living, breathing version of the Green Acres couple.) As a child, spending the summers in Delaware were never something I looked forward to and as I now realize what a complete pain in the ass I was as a child I’m sure they weren’t too thrilled about getting me there every summer either. One of my father’s uncles said to me during one of those summer visits, “Your brother is your father’s son and you are your mother’s.” As a child I took that to mean that I wasn’t of them and my brother was that I didn’t belong in Delaware or part of their family. As Sondheim wrote, “careful the things you say, children will listen.”

At the synagogue that my father’s family attended, in the “front row” were my Dad’s parents, aunts and uncles when he was small however the recent first death of his generation (my Dad’s first cousin who was six months younger than him, my father being the oldest of his generation of his family) made us all too aware that our parents have now become the “front row.” The generation of my father’s parents, aunts and uncles are almost all gone with the exception of a couple of aunts in their nineties. My father’s generation is now the “front row” and the recent loss has stirred emotions that were expected and at the same time stirred emotions I didn’t expect at all.

Not so oddly I suppose, I’ve found myself revisiting my youth experiences in that small town during the summers of my childhood in my mind since the passing. I remember the cousin who passed. He was a gentle giant to me as a child. He would imitate Donald Duck and was always the one who would put his arm around me when I was crying or what have you and say, “Son, it’s going to be all right.” The story he loved to tell about me was when my cousins and I were all young and he was driving us somewhere. He said, “Do you kids want to drive over the water?” We all screamed that we indeed wanted to go over the water. He said, “Okay, here we go, pick up your feet so that they don’t get wet.” I was the only one who picked his feet up as he drove us over the bridge that indeed was “over” the water. My parents were fortunate to have seen him about a month ago and he told my father to remind me of that story. He loved that story, I loved him, I still love him.

So as my cousins and I prepare ourselves for the inevitability that our parents are now the “front row” I find myself reaching out to them all with my heart. For those summers in our youth created a bond that time and space just don’t break. We will all be the children of the children who sat behind their parents in the “front row” and someday we will become the “front row” and until that time comes I send this out to all the children, nieces and nephews, cousins who feel the cycle of life and death. And when you find yourself faced with loss, I hope you will be grateful as I am to have had someone so extraordinary in my life who I can continue to carry in my heart. Sure, there is grief i my heart but there is also gratitude.

I don’t want to go back to the days of my youth. I’ve always been someone who was focused on the future (sometimes so much so that  I made it impossible for myself to enjoy what was happening at the moment for me) but for right now I’m going to instead focus on right now. And right now, I’m so thankful to have had this man in my life. There is no doubt that my father has been the strongest influence in my life on what I think a man can and should be but his uncles and cousins over those summers shaped me too, none more so than Terry. And although I’ll never see his face again, I see it when I close my eyes. I feel him in my heart. I feel his arm around me saying, “Son, it’s going to be all right.” And I finally believe him, something I never did as a child.

Seriously People, Look Behind You Every Once In Awhile For All Our Sakes! – Don’t Get Me Started!

I know we’re all supposed to not dwell on the past. We’re supposed to learn from the past but always look forward to the horizon, to our future. And while I’m currently in therapy trying to actually deal with the here and now, being “present” I began to think about all of the things that happen behind us that no one seems to consider and so as always I’ve decided to consider and make you aware of what I think y’all should all ready know but apparently you don’t know or know that you should care about. Seriously people, look behind you every once in awhile for all our sakes! – Don’t Get Me Started!

When driving a car people, take some time to use that freaking rear view mirror will you? As you meander from lane to lane looking for your exit or street (usually with no turn signal) remember that you are not the only one on the road. There are others who actually know where the hell they’re going usually stuck behind you and would like to get there if you weren’t in the way. Look behind you.

All of you people who feel the need to wear flip flops everywhere, sandals, clogs or the dreaded Crocs; loofah and moisturize your heels people. The first thing is that I don’t want to have to look at your naked feet to begin with but if you’re insisting on all of us looking at your “crusty dustys” for Chrissakes scrub off the rough spots and moisturize, moisturize, moisturize (and while we’re at it, men would it kill you to clip those talons that have taken the place of your toenails?). Also, if for any reason you actually have a fungus, yellow toe nails or just nasty ass feet, put those potatoes in their sack – in other words, there’s a reason God invented socks…get some. But the heels, the heels seem to be the place no one pays attention. Again, look behind you.

Your ass should be something to be admired but if you’re one of those people who have the dreaded long, flat ass you’re all ready working at a disadvantage so don’t make matters worse. To everyone else, take a brief moment to look in a mirror and see how your ass looks in the pants you have on. For women who wear yoga pants everywhere you seem to have no clue that your ass has eaten most of the fabric that makes up the pants to the point where they look like you’re wearing Capri length pants to the straight boys who walk around with their pants so low that it sort of frames their ass in their underwear attracting gay men more than I’m sure they’d like, how your ass looks is important to all of us. Look behind you.

So while the world is full of things to look at in front of us, I encourage all of you to take a few moments each day to look behind you because those of us who are behind you are getting quite the view. A view frankly that sometimes makes a little queasy. Sure there are times that we’re loving what we’re seeing but take a few minutes to see what we’re seeing and decide if it makes you queasy (then fix it) or if you love it! Look behind you!

Sloppy Americans May Have Taken The Glamour Out Of It And Terrorists May Have Made It A Hassle But I Still Love An Airport! – Don’t Get Me Started!

Long have I bemoaned the fact that there is no longer any glamour when traveling via aircraft. I recall being a youth in a tie and sports jacket as my parents boarded us onto a plane to visit relatives in what seemed far off lands (Delaware). We were well versed in such things as how to behave on a plane (believe it or not, people used to teach their kids to shut up and that they weren’t the only beings on the planet) to ask for playing cards and maybe if we were lucky a pair of plastic wings were coming our way if we behaved appropriately. But as I began traveling almost weekly for business I had lost any excitement or happiness when it came to dealing with airports. However that was awhile ago and much to my amazement I haven’t been in an airport for over a year until this past weekend. Sloppy Americans may have taken the glamour out of it and terrorists may have made it a hassle but I still love an airport! – Don’t Get Me Started!

It was hardly a trip to another continent I was making (in reality it was less than an hour in the air) but as I prepared for my weekend getaway I was flush with the excitement of possibilities. The most exciting thing was that I was a gay man who was going to be traveling for a weekend (and going to a brunch on Sunday) and managed to fit everything I needed into one smart leather duffle-type bag. I had my three ounce versions of all of my liquids neatly tucked into their quart sized Ziplock bag and I was more than good to go.

Much to my surprise there were no long lines at security coming or going. (I’m sure this had something to do with my general happy demeanor regarding the trip.) And as I looked around at my fellow travelers I reveled in the fact that airports are still one of the greatest locations in the world to people watch. To see and be seen as it were. I love the business men on their phones trying to seem much more important than they are, I love the girls dressed to the nines who don’t realize they look more like working girls than Kardashians and I love the families with the harried parents trying to hold it all together when what they really want to do is just scream at the top of their lungs.

These people who were put together by random circumstances become a sort of ballet to me. As I plug my ears with my ear buds and change the soundtrack with the touch of my finger, the “dancers” move through their activities never knowing how much enjoyment they’re giving me. The girls with too much makeup on, hair extensions and plumped up lips throw their hair back while my iPod blares in my head, “Toot toot, hey…beep, beep…bad girls, talking bout the sad girls…” then the man with the wedding ring eyeing up the college boy with lust dripping from every pore, “Young man, there’s no need to feel down, I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground…” Yes, it’s all true, sloppy Americans may have taken the glamour out of it and terrorists may have made it a hassle but I still love an airport! – Don’t Get Me Started!

Do Me A Favor, Go Ahead And See That I’m Gay And That My Spouse Is Black! – Don’t Get Me Started!

I can’t listen to one more person say, “I don’t see color.” Unless you’re looking at life on your old black and white television from the 1950’s, you see color and even to infer that you don’t as some big medal of honor makes me sick. Do me a favor, go ahead and see that I’m gay and that my spouse is black! – Don’t Get Me Started!

Yes, we can all agree that racism in America is better than it was in the 1950’s but it’s not gone. Nor for that matter is homophobia, anti-Semitism, and so on and so on. I am a Jewish gay man who has a spouse who was a former altar boy and is black. I like to say, “Yes, we’re the poster children for hate crimes.” But what I really want to say is that as a forty-something gay who grew up knowing few black people, I had no idea what their struggles were, only my own. My own as a young boy being told by a neighbor boy that had played with us for so long knocking on our door saying, “I can’t play with you anymore because my Dad says you’re dirty Jews.” My own experience of being bullied and beat up being called names like, “fag” everyday at school. And when my spouse and I found one another and fell in love, it wasn’t because of these experiences but as we go through our 23^rd year together I am more and more aware just how much most people want those of us who have been discriminated against to “get over it” or feel that we should just go silent. But what they don’t realize is that inequality should never be “tolerated” and should always be shown the light of day for what it is. So as long as I can, I will continue to tell people that yes, things have changed but we still have a long way to go.

I’ve always said that I much prefer the people who have a “problem” with me being Jewish or gay or whatever to come out and say it. I take great pride in leaving most of the “you’re going to hell” comments on my blog so that people can see just how much further we all need to go when it comes to equality and fair treatment of all. But the ones that really piss me off are the politically correct people who are so gracious as to “tolerate” gays or “hate the sin but not the sinner.” Those people who think they’re being so nice and loving but really are just white washing their hate with a cheap coat of paint that is going to wear through very quickly.

So do me a favor. Don’t say, “I don’t even see color” go ahead and see the color of someone’s skin. For it’s not in the seeing that makes you a racist, it’s the belief in saying that you don’t see it that diminishes what and who the person is in front of you. By saying you don’t see their color or them being Jewish or gay or whatever you are not seeing the full person that stands in front of you. And I want to be seen…fully. I want you to see all of me, not just some stereotype and certainly not what you think is the politically polite thing to see. I’m not saying that you have to like me, I’m just saying that you have to see me. 

Who Creates Corporate Buzzwords? It’s Certainly Not In My Wheelhouse! – Don’t Get Me Started!

It never ceases to amaze me how people can take a bunch of words that you know (or sort of know) and turn them into some magical word or phrase that within minutes everyone seems to be using. This is especially true in the corporate world. Now I’m not talking about “going postal” or taking a noun and making it a verb, I’m talking about the mystical magical corporate buzzwords that as clever as they may seem to an outsider are really just a way of saying nothing at all. Who creates corporate buzzwords? It’s certainly not in my wheelhouse! – Don’t Get Me Started!

I remember years ago, everyone in the corporate culture wanted to take everything “offline.” In a big meeting with a bunch of people when confronted with actually having to “show your work” or knowledge of something and have no idea, just say loudly in front of everyone, “I think that’s a discussion we should take offline. Have your assistant set up a meeting for us, will ya?” This serves its purpose on many levels. It’s sort of a corporate “get out of jail free” card for the moment and in one swoop you’ve made the other executive look subservient by having their assistant set up the meeting instead of yours. What you have to do after an encounter like this is either get your shit together so that you’re ready for the meeting or keep avoiding the “offline” conversation by being so busy “online” with other meetings and talking to other people that you can basically forget about the topic being brought up until the next big meeting at which point you’ll have to look for another buzzword that is more current to get you out of talking about it again. Exhausting, right? And people wonder why there aren’t more successful companies in the United States.

The corporate buzzword of the moment seems to be, “wheelhouse.” Now again, I have no idea how it got started, what it really says and so like most people working in the corporate culture, you have to sort of listen to the context clues of the other words in the sentence to make sense of it. The way that I’ve heard it used is like, “We should give that to Tom, it’s in his wheelhouse.” So I think it means an area of expertise or at the very least, the guy that you’re going to shove the work off on. But to me, the whole wheelhouse thing sounds like something that would be in an Amish village or something. I mean, they drive buggies to and fro so wouldn’t it make sense that someone has to make, maintain and put the wheels on the buggies? And wouldn’t they do it in a wheelhouse? When I looked it up online it says something about it being the shelter for the person driving the boat. Hmmm, so it still doesn’t make sense to me that they’d be using it as a corporate buzzword. Maybe because the wheelhouse only shelters the captain and it’s the one guy that they’re going to shove the work off on?

Growing up my parents didn’t spend a lot of time washing our mouths out with soap for saying so-called, “bad” words. To my parents it was more important that we express ourselves, that we be heard. They wanted us to choose our words carefully but if an occasional swear word slipped out, it wasn’t the end of the world and no beatings ensued. I love a good “curse word.” I love how it feels in my mouth, the reaction that it gets and so I am not afraid to let one fly. But at least with curse words, people know what in the hell you’re talking about. These buzzwords always leave you wondering what the person is saying and what you’ve just committed yourself to. So whoever it is that creates the corporate buzzwords, please stop. And you people who call yourselves executives, just say what you mean and you’ll get a lot more respect than if you stay in your wheelhouse. (Was that the right way to use that? Who the hell knows, geez!) Who creates corporate buzzwords? It’s certainly not in my wheelhouse! – Don’t Get Me Started!

Some People Are Lactose Intolerant; I’m Lazy Ass Loser Intolerant! – Don’t Get Me Started!

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if you really want good guest service you need a gay. Not a gay who is sucking in their cheeks thinking they’re better than the people they’re waiting on (are you listening Neiman Marcus gays) but a gay who enjoys waiting on people and who is usually very good at their job. But recently it’s not only the people giving service but the people receiving service that have taken my blood pressure and caused it to get so high that I’m sure there are vampires getting very turned on at the moment with my blood at such a boiling point! Some people are lactose intolerant; I’m lazy ass loser intolerant! – Don’t Get Me Started!

You’re right, I write a lot about Starbucks. It could be because I’m there every morning. They know me and I know them now. Most of them know what my drink is how to make it and all goes just fine. But recently as I’ve been waiting for my drink (which involves no added fixing or mixing at the guest bar area) I’ve noticed that apparently complete slobs frequent my particular Starbucks. Now I’ve always been known to throw a used sugar packet away that was left behind or even take a napkin and wipe up the spilled remnants of half and half that made it half in the cup and half out but lately it just seems as though I’m Florida (Esther Rolle) who started off as Maude’s maid and then got her own sitcom spin off, Good Times! Really people? Are you that lazy? Are you so important and in such a hurry that you can’t clean up after yourself? And what, dear God, must your homes look like? Frankly I don’t even want to imagine.

I guess the thing that gets me is the whole seeming lack of understanding that there are other people in the world. Call me old fashioned but it just seems disrespectful or rude to others when you wander through life as if you’re the only one that matters or that your mother (who obviously had no idea how to raise children) is going to go through life and clean up after you. She’s not. She didn’t teach you how to do it and the rest of us are now forced to deal with you and your lack of manners.  My question is who the hell would want to be with you? Are people so desperate that they’re willing to be in relationships with complete slobs and lazy ass losers just to be in a relationship? (Don’t answer that, I’ve seen Jerry Springer.)

If I’m paying for a service, I demand service. If I make a mess (whether it’s physical or emotional) I clean it up and I expect others to do the same. I know what you’re saying, “Your standards are too high, come on down to the slack jawed lazy loser level, you’ll love it.” I won’t love it. I don’t love it. I can’t stand people that shuffle along and can’t be bothered to pick up their feet and walk with purpose so I’m certainly not going to stand by silently as someone throws an entire Big Gulp out of their car window and hauls ass out of a parking lot expecting someone else to clean it up and think it’s just fine behavior.

I don’t care how much money you make or who you think you are, I’m just here to tell you that everyone deserves (to quote Lily Tomlin from Nine To Five), “A little dignity and a little respect.” So while you may think that it’s okay to litter or talk on your cell phone instead of wait on me even though I’m at the counter glaring an imaginary hole through your skull (which is obviously mostly vacant) allow me to enlighten you. Wake the fuck up! The world may not suddenly change for the better because you pick up after yourself or are nice to your waiter but it sure has a better chance of changing for the better if you show some human kindness. So walk with purpose, clean up after yourself and for God sake, remember that having a little dignity and class never hurt anyone! Some people are lactose intolerant; I’m lazy ass loser intolerant! – Don’t Get Me Started!