KAndre

KAndre slow-dances with Clay's Mandy...and sticks her tongue out at couchie... He loves me so fuckin' much. Heh!

CNN? Yeah, it's sort of sponsored by the CH and you can get on their mailing list - I remember when we used to pass out "business cards" with the weblink at concerts...

Yes, I can't emphasize enough - GO TO THE POLICE! He is counting on fear to keep him safe...and he is going to continue to hurt your sister.

I wanna me some cute, giggly guys! I need to work on that cougar thing some more...

jamar! You stole all my ideas! The only people I expect stuff from on a regular basis are my cats ("Feed me!" arrives daily, come hell or high water). There is not an non-television star I expect to see something about every week. And frankly, people with money get to do all sorts of things people without money can't. Hell, now that I have less money than I used to, you're not gonna see my happy ass traipsing quite as far as I used to - I'll still go, but frankly Paris Hilton is gonna travel more than me - one of the joys of a capitalistic society. Dear Lord, I want to go to GFI with my homies...but I've got taxes to pay and my mother to take care of on a little less money. C'est la vie - somehow I don't think I'll be mentally damaged when merrieeee comes back and tells me Clay took his last hetero blowout with the eHP and I coulda been the one to tip the scales to bi....oh, I'll rant and rave, but I always rant and rave.

I guess I sympathize with Clay on the blogging thing because I kept seeing people saying how easy it would be - and I know I couldn't do it. Hell, I have a hard enough time writing when I do have something to say, and I tend to wait until I'm in the mood to at least try to enjoy the actual writing a little (which is a little explanation on the sporadic nature of my recaps - I really don't like writing. Really. Too easy to sit on my ass and not write.) Blogging every day or every week or even every months simply sounds like torture to me...especially when I know a large number of people would bitch about what I would write.

KAndre looks up at the current title and keeps on whistling... On the dinner thing, I personally don't think Clay was being a little shit for saying, "Let's not discuss this" - I think Clay has gotten a serious education in the problems of hearsay in this fandom. And what someone said is right, no matter what Clay says or does, somebody will get into a hissy fit.

If the grammar wasn't in Schoolhouse Rock (Conjunction Junction, what's your fuuuuunction?), I'm just guessin'. And if Schoolhouse Rock ever turns out to be wrong, a whole lot of us are screwed! Noodles, huh? No chicken in every pot? I don't want noodles, I want sun-ripened juicy peaches! Yeah, that's the ticket!

I like Downtown better - more specific. muski... my bolding above means I totally agree with this statement! When I think of what it must have done to him to have to hide himself all these years for fear of rejection, I am just as happy as a clam (why is a clam happy???, by the way) with who he is now... free! I can agree with muski's statement because she modified it with "some" - which as liney23 has shown is true - but I don't think jaycee implied in any way that the happier fans were wrong in any way, no matter why they are "happier" - my thing is, the old closeted Clay didn't seem to be totally miserable either. I'm sure he had some miserable times, but those first few years we knew him? He seemed to be free to be silly and campy and whatnot simply because those things seem to be innately Clay. And I guarantee you there are things that for 30 years he's not sharing either. (Of course, I'm totally projecting here because there are many, many things I'm planning on taking to my grave.) Some fans simply do "like" him better - some "like" the old him better - and those aren't bad things either. To me, it's sort of like when people have children - their friend profile changes. Some of the childless friends simply don't have as much in common any more, some semi-adopt the friend's children, new friends show up because they have children too. All relationships are a evolving thing... jamar, I'm lazier than you - I haven't even managed to get dressed yet. Good thing I live alone!

KAndre sleepily opens one eye....looks around...sees a couple of new things and prepares to toss her considerably biased opinion in the mix. Because she can... Hey Jaycee! I do see where you're coming from (and BTW, you've been doing it in a nice way). I have to agree with you - I think the public persona of Clay has changed/evolved since 2003...away from a sweet, almost-too-good-to-be-true kid to a more "regular guy"...and I do think that most of the fans currently posting do like the changes. I liked the early Clay a lot...but seem to have more in common with "regular guy" Clay (because sweet and almost-too-good-to-be true definitely ain't me) - but there's nothing wrong with missing early Clay. Stereotyping, Asians, education and statistics? Oh man. A discussion of various cultural attitudes might be interesting though fraught with peril...I will say that applying statistics to personal anecdotes and extrapolating them to an extremely non-homogeneous group like "Asians" (which in the States includes everything from the Japanese Ainu to the Brahmins of India to the Mongols to the Filipinos) is really iffy. Did anyone actually explain the RCA brouhaha? Shall I do it in my own special (and not particularly accurate but potentially entertaining) way? Oh, why the hell not! At the end of Season 2, Clay who was still partially represented by Satan's spawn on earth 19-whatever-the-hell-letter-was-active-this-week, was signed to Old Nick himself, otherwise known as Clive Davis, who assigned Clay a part-time hell-hound with a really bad perm Roger something-Polish-looking. Roger hated Clay because the orgasm shampoo clearly worked to control Clay's glorious locks, but for a while Roger was willing to talk to some of Clay's fans before he found out how crazy they were. When the Clay fans couldn't hide the crazy anymore, Roger fled for his life or at least stopped talking to them, which gave the boards room to speculate like the untamed wenches they were. At some point, the speculation included that Clay somehow bitch-slapped Clive Davis and didn't go his party and then Clive made a pact with Beelzebub to destroy Clay after Clay finished 5 albums for RCA. And then RCA tried to make Claymates buy other people's records using some sort of bait-and-switch. And then some noisy wenches declared that they had inside info that Clay was all done with RCA, and people believed them - or at least until another album cam out under the RCA label. All I know is when I told Clay I asked one of his people if Clive Davis was evil incarnate, he just laughed his ass off. And that was back in '06 and he's been with RCA ever since. This post is full of grammar and spelling and stuff. In case you didn't know.

Ahhhhh. See, that's why I just stick with the imperial "we". So, I should say: Clay, Reed and I plan to participate in a ménage à trois strictly for prurient purposes. I can live with that. Though I have to admit, any sentence involving me, Clay and coming, seeing that Clay is a real Southern gentleman, I would expect to come first. And I mean that in the perviest way possible.

See, I know that day I missed in 4th grade would come back to bite me in the butt! (I blame all insufficient knowledge of grammar on that day. They apparently covered a lot.) Why "Clay and me" instead of "me and Clay"? I'll be hornswaggled! Apparently the eHP are the forerunners of a trend, Hot Chicks! Who knew? Well, apparently we did - hell, why didn't we write a book about what we do? Oh yeah, 'cause we're doing it. Oh well.

Poor Ruben! I'm not an English major, but I think he actually should have said "me and Clay" in that sentence!

(((((Couchie and couchiemama)))))

Looks around with faint interest... Nothing really interesting (including the new judge). Only comment on the crying rock 'n roll wannabe...dude, just like in baseball, there's no crying in rock!

Well, dang they showed more Clay than anyone else on the American Idol start - audition, finale, season 5! My boy is still MY MAN of AI!

Darlin', I've watched AI TITN more than a couple of hundred times. The song I've probably listened to the most is I Survived You...that my JAM! Second? To Love Somebody. It's easier to list things I don't listen to: Here, There, Everywhere; that damn mouse song; Solitaire; Mack the Knife; his solo Open Arms; Lover All Alone.; most of his demos except for Blood - I love Blood with a perverted love.

My rider is short and sweet: a fully charged Segway to be at my disposal 24/7.

FCA band? I'll be the groupie!

justclay, thank you, THANK YOU for your willingness to sacrifice! But I insist on being a martyr to the cause! No, no, no, no...I keep all keys! And I'm willing to do Buenos Aires in the summer there - I just have to go somewhere new and good (and probably cheap) for my birthday!

I think the eHP is in the midst of Titanic battles between Buenos Aires (I wanna tango!) and Hawaii...

Bill sounds like my kind of dude! djs, even beyond Narita being waaaaaaaaaay out there, we had to go through Tokyo throught the other side waaaaaaaay out there for freakin' Hachioji! to continue: Well, having recovered a little with my bus nap (and I am absolutively positive the bottle of champagne, port with the cheese, and a couple of glasses of a nice pinot blanc on the plane had nothing to do with my nap), Paul and I head out for Christmas dinner. This is definitely not the States - there was no Christmas references anywhere, but a number of stores had pretty light displays. Paul is trying to herd me toward familiar sights such as Denny's or KFC or TGIF because he "warned" me that it's hard to tell what you're eating. I roll my eyes at my child, and start looking for something interesting that isn't a pachinko parlor, which were EVERYWHERE and NEON was their middle name. I was a little confused at first, because you would see columns outside the building listing all these restaurants but I didn't see any of them until I realized the numbers following the name indicated the floor. Apparently somebody has a deep aversion to putting restaurants (as opposed to snack shops) on the first floor (today is the first day back my knees aren't calling me evil names). I was also thrilled to note the high quality plastic food outside that made restaurant selection and menu ordering really simple. I finally chose La Chat Noir because they had spaghetti that Paul was willing to eat and cafe mocha. Me and my child seriously bond over cafe mocha. I had a toasted egg sandwich that was freakishly good and my child order two plates of the spaghetti, a sandwich and two dessert. I wait patiently for the day that the metabolism gods rain on his frickin' parade. Ahem. Since I said I would pay for all food, I began to wonder if paying for the hotels would be cheaper. We sat by a window and people watched; I thought to myself, "I thought Tokyo would be much more crowded, like New York" But there were what I would call an average number of people walking around at around 9 or 10 pm - it wasn't until later that I found out we were in some sort of suburb. My original plan went something like this (Couchie will recognize typical eHP planning): Thurs - 25th: Land, see Paul's ship, having Xmas dinner Fri - 26th: Explore Toyko, maybe see imperial palace Sat - 27th: Go to Kyoto, wave at Mt. Fuji as we pass because I'm certainly not going to walk my ass up there, explore Sun - 28th: Explore Kyoto Mon - 29th: Back to Toyko, wave at the Emperor if he's in the Palace and say "Howdy" Tue - 30th: Wander aimlessly around Tokyo Wed - 31th: More aimlessly wandering, get to airport on time My child was to get a hotel in Tokyo for Thur and Fri; the Tourism hotel thing for Kyoto for Sat & Sunday; and finish out in Tokyo the rest of the week. Paul got us the Hachioji Plaza for Thursday and Friday (which was very nice); I assumed he got the Hikari Super-Express Early Rise like we agreed (silly, silly me!) for Saturday and Sunday; the b ochanomizu for Monday and the Shinjuku Washington for Tuesday. I assume there was some cost saving in running from hotel to hotel - and since his manly pride was tied up in his paying for the hotel, I didn't quibble. Now, after our nosh, we headed back to the hotel. Paul specifically made sure to get room with high speed access - but oddly enough there was no WiFi and it didn't seem to be common anywhere - even the Starbucks didn't have it. Nevertheless I pulled out my little notebook and plugged it in and waited patiently for my child's mocking laughter to die down (he is of the opinion that my portable comuter is just a giant cell phone). He went to plug in his monstrosity of a desktop replancement behemoth and lo and behold, he didn't have the appropriate adapter. And yes, two years he's been here. I think I sprained something to keep from laughing at him, told him he could use my notebook and went to sleep (except of course I woke up at 3 am and couldn't go back to sleep and went to play with the toilet.) At 7 am, I go downstairs for a desk clerk to show me where the hell I am on my handy dandy Tokyo map, because after looking for 2 hours, I couldn't find it. After looking at the map (which mainly showed the 23 wards), the clerk turned the map over and said, "Ah!" and pointed out a big green woody looking area outside of Tokyo. "Ah." I said. "Not close to the Imperial Palace, huh?" and got a delightfully blank look. But he let me know it was only like 45 minutes to an hour get to Tokyo Station. Double sigh. Finally, by 10 am I couldn't take watching the boy sleep (snore) any more and was mentally transported to 7 years ago: Get up...get up...baby, don't you want to get up. Get up...[poke]...get up...[poke poke]...get up get up GET UP...and the only response was grumbling, rolling over and more snoring. Finally, a single synapse fires in response to the word, "breakfast" and up he gets. Before he disappears into the shower (he's the only person I know who spends more time in a shower than a certain member of the eHP), I casually ask, "When do you think Japanican is going to deliver the packages for Kyoto?" He tosses back, "Oh I cancelled that! You didn't really want to stay in a (here I'm exchanging the casual words he used "rinky-dink little hotel? I got us one with big ol' beds!" with the words my brain used) an exquisite, uniquely Japanese experience that I have no earthly idea when I'll get to do again because you know they had the hot springs and tatami mats and the slippers and rice paper instead of a couple of Serta mattresses I can get at any Days Inn back home? But no, I didn't say that out loud. But I did say, "Sweetums, you DO know the package with the nice traditional Japanese inn included the Shinkansen tickets? Right? Right?" He said, and I quote, "Uh". Those of you with children, and those of you who were a child at some point could recognize the sound. "I'll just get us the tickets now". I close my eyes slowly and open them slowly again, "Sugar sweetums, I'll gladly pay for the tickets - but you do know this is the last weekend before New Year's? A really big holiday here, right?" "Moooooo-ooom, I can handle this! I'm a MAN (donkey) now!" I go take my shower while he desperately searches the train site for tickets - any tickets. Any tickets at all. Writing off Kyoto (hell, I'll be back someday), I suggested to my child cancel the hotel in Kyoto and look for something "in Tokyo". "What do you mean," he asks. I show him the map. He says a bad words that I apparently wasn't supposed to know he knew. It turns out all he actually knows about Tokyo is in Roppongi (at this point, djs and others familiar with Tokyo should be laughing their ass off). It turns out he prepaid for the hotel (because it was cheaper) and was horrified to find out that the refund could take up to 45 days. A conversation ensues, in which he uses "unfair" a lot and I watch him get a life lesson. I tell him to go take his shower, look up the hotels he's picked (which are actually in Tokyo proper) and notice that the b ochanomizu is actually cheaper than the Shinjuku Washington on Tuesday night, by a significant amount. I ask him why are we switching hotels? He says another bad word that I am not supposed to know he knows, and he goes on line to look at his reservation at the Washington, and while looking, sees he can cancel it on line - and does before I can stop him. I sigh. I suggest that it may be wise to check their cancellation policy first - and of course it's another 45 day wait. By this time he is up to his credit limit. I make the remainder of the hotel reservations, though he says he would prefer to spend the night back at the base (I believe to use more of the knows I'm not supposed to know he knows). I recognize the signs of a snit. Sure, a mature snit, but a snit nonetheless. We go off to have lunch and to see his base and his ship. I agree to go to Denny's to make him feel better. I have no idea what the hell it was they served me. It was tasty though. On to Paul's ship!

Heh. I was just PM'ing someone that I would see people start getting the Clay withdrawal shakes and then post my Japan recap...that'll teach me to go off a spend a night doing naughty things! I read just about everything on this thread - so no one gets to be ignored. Occasionally eyes rolled at, and very rarely stomped upon with really high heels, but never actually ignored. And yes, if I had been online, there would have been some heel grinding and frankly the ones who deserve it know who they are. PM me if you have any doubts. Pats the thread title fondly... For the newbies on the board: I was a Science major. Things like punctuation, white space, noun/verb coordination, or even the consistant presence of predicates are therefore optional. My Trip to Japan (or Not Taking the eHP so My Son Could Prove He's Not a Baby Anymore. Sigh.) My only child will be all of 22 on Jan. 18. He will explain to you, with no prompting whatsoever (and no way to shut him up) how mature and grown up that makes him and how he can take care of everything if I just give him a chance and I am not allowed to do or plan anything and it will be PERFECT just TRUST me. Of course, this is the same child who for one year I replaced 5 cell phones in 4 months, had difficultly waking up every morning without a physical assault and thinks camping outside in the WILD with BUGS and LIZARDS and DIRT and sleeping on the GROUND is a good thing...well, apparently one of those parenting rules they don't tell you about when you're gettin' busy 23 years ago is that smiling and sucking it up and saying things like "Of course, you're mature and grown up and it will be perfect and I trust you! No, I don't have my fingers crossed behind my back! But let me take care of everything else like the food and transportation." So I get my ticket in September, use miles to upgrade to 1st class, and by October, I'm watching the economy crashing around me. Ooookay. My child is sporadically emailing me details - a hotel here, a hotel there. I mention that I really would like to see Kyoto and ride the bullet train and look! The official Japan tourism site has a GREAT deal! Hotel and train! For less than the train alone! Not that I'm trying to PLAN anything, mind you! Just a suggestion! But Paul agrees. I send him my flight details. He sends me some of the hotel details (which I admit I should have looked at more closely). Finally, it's the 22nd and since I'm leaving on the 24th, I email him to see if he wants to meet me at the airport (which is a frickin' long way from Tokyo) or at Tokyo City Center. Oddly enough, he doesn't respond. (Acutally, he does but to my work email, which I don't look at when I'm home. Which he knows.) I'm taken to the airport, while the driver keeps asking me about the "little one". Scarlett, no poaching of my drivers! I only have one suitcase and a roller bag, and I'm not checking anything. I get to the airport in plenty of time, hang around the airline lounge, and try and call my son again to find out where he plans for us to meet. No answer. I get to the gate in plenty of time, head down the little blue carpet (lord, I love airline status), find my seat, and notice that the steward has a bottle of champagne. Oh yes, I'm planning on enjoying this flight. The guy sitting next to me is quiet, the meals (all 6 or 7 of them) are lovely, and the champagne is good. It is a totally uneventful flight, as long as I don't think about how I don't actually know where the hell my son will be. We land with no problems. I meet the one and only Japanese person who is even faintly impatient - and it was only faintly impatient - because she said something that I think she thought was English and I didn't have a clue and I kept given here random responses until one of them satisfied her and she let me go. Though Customs I go, into the arrival area - and I don't see a cute 6'2" 200 muscly lbs of baby boy ANYWHERE! And he sort of would stand out in a crowd in Japan. I wander in small circles for about 15 minutes - and then spy a bank of phones that look like refugees from a 50's movie . The instructions above them look they were originally written in Sanskrit, then Babelfished to Japanese and then Babelfished to English. It took me 10 minutes to figure out it didn't take credit cards and I had to use the incomprehensable machine to the left to get a calling card, which didn't take credit cards either, so I had to get some yen. The paperwork lady made me fill out paperwork, bowed to me, took my stuff, bowed to the money dude, handed him my stuff in a tray...did a whole lot of stuff, handed my new yen back to the paperwork lady, who bowed and handed it back to me. I did think I could have walked the whole 5 steps to the window, but who am I to say? I stick a 1000¥ note in the calling card machine and it spits out what looks like a Stayfree box covered in Japanese. In the box is a credit card sized calling card and the rest of the box is filled with instructions. I swear, they had folded up the equivalent of 7 letter sized pages of instructions and stuck them in the box. I look around desperately for Paul, who is still no where to be seen. After another 10 minutes of following what I think are the instructions (periodically being interrupted by people who think I know what I am doing) I call Paul's cell and get him. Hallelujah! He, oddly enough, is still not at the airport because he apparently took the wrong train from Yokosuka, and then got off at the wrong terminal. As soon as he says this, the phone starts beeping because I am apparently out of time because APPARENTLY I should have dialed the number first and got a connection before putting in the calling card number - or the damn phone knew I didn't know what the hell I was doing and was just tormenting me. I purchase another calling call, get Paul back on the line, and do an airport form of "Marco Polo" - Here, here, here, behind the Starbucks, no, not the one by Au Bon, the one by the Money Exchange, no, there's no giant pink flamingo by the Exchange, it's a giant blue flamingo...Finally, after landing at 3:45 and being in the waiting area by 4:00, I meet up with my child at approximately 6:30. I hug him, partly because I'm so glad to see him and partly because jet lag is now totally kicking my ass and I need someone to hold me up. This is when I find my child and Scarlett are apparently long lost twins - he didn't actually have a copy of the hotel reservation either, and the bus service rep certainly didn't recognize the hotel he was telling here. I pulled out my copy and pointed. Pointing works wonders. The rep smiled brightly and said that bus would be here at 7. If I had been more conscious, I would have wondered at that, as the buses for Tokyo Central leave constantly. Paul eats about 5 lbs of junk food waiting for the bus. The bus shows, we hop on, and I fall asleep. Apparently we pass things like the Rainbow Bridge and the Tokyo Tower after dark, and I just miss it all. The bus stops, and I wake up at Hachioji Station - which is to Tokyo what the Woodlands is to Houston - in other words, a long fucking way out. But I don't know this yet (and neither does my child. And yes, he has been stationed in Japan no more than a local train ride from Tokyo for two years.). My child then realizes he doesn't know how to get to the hotel from the station. I pull out the map I printed out. He is very good at following maps, and the hotel was literally four blocks away on the main road. We check in with no problem, I write off going to see his ship today and we look for Christmas dinner. Thus ends the evening and the morning of the first day.

KAndre wakes up long enough to say... Heidi, the guys at my office have found out the hard way that the new BB Storm is a complete and total power hog compared to the old BBs...and they are having some serious buyer's remorse.

I'm home and ALIVE! I'll tell y'all all about my trip tomorrow as I need to soak my poor abused feet and thighs...if you don't wanna walk, Tokyo is not for you! Happy New Year, y'all! Scarlett, send me your freaking new number.