Adventure Time!

Whether it be rollerblading by the con ed building, watching Zebras do it in East Midtown, or haggling the price of chopsticks in China Town, the foundation of our time outdoors has been spent on what we call "adventuring". Usually these adventures constitute nothing more than aimlessly wandering, but sometimes they can be educational, and eye opening.

One evening early in our relationship (before this whole moving in cr.... lovely situation) we wandered around central park. It had just rained so everything was still moist. It was dusk, and while this was before the weather got too cold out, there weren't that many people around. As we ventured deep into the park we heard the sound of a saxophone playing. Initially we thought it was going to be some lowly street urchin seeking our pocket change, so we began work shopping some snide remarks to dispirit the struggling performer. Just as I had formed the perfect zinger "Nice instrument jerk!" he stopped playing and a large crowd seemed to be applauding. Then suddenly we heard a person come on a loudspeaker to introduce musicians. By the time we got in sight of the origin of this music the band had been well into their final song. Curious as all hell we ran up to try and sneak a peak at this late afternoon concert, but by the time we got to the gate they had strung their last chord. Such was the kind of disappointment the rest of our time together was founded on.

The first adventure we ever took was the first time we hung out exclusively. With the absence of people to get offended by our cursing and dead baby jokes we were free to express ourselves fully without inhibition. Our plan was to explore the lower east side, from Union Square to the Brooklyn Bridge. I was placed in charge of acting as tour guide for an area I had never been before. As we descended beneath the numbered streets it was clear that I was no longer tour guide and more in place as a guesstimating compass. We traveled from one place I thought I'd seen before to the next.

When leaving the Bridge we attempted to go down a stairwell that was sure to bring us right back to the street. Instead we wound up in a small park. There was a family of four walking around and a heavy aroma of pee. No direction seemed to lead us in the right direction so we hopped over a barrier and began walking up a ramp. The ramp was connected to the bridge yet seemed to be long out of service due to the large overgrown grass emerging from the pavement. We proceeded past a guard booth at the foot of the ramp and made our way up. With seemingly nothing to do the female cop perked up at the sight of us. "You can't go up there!" She shouted and motioned for us to go the way we came. We made our apologies and tried to figure out which way we should try next. Each avenue seemed to lead us in the wrong direction and we ended up walking in circles in the impromptu public restroom. Seeing our complete hopelessness the guard of the forbidden ramp lent us a hand and pointed out which way to go.

We made our way to the south eastern seaport and made ourselves comfortable on one of the many benches that lined the balcony. We gazed out at Olafur Eliasson's Waterfalls, the artwork that combined the wetness of waterfalls with the allure of scaffolding. It was there that we began sharing all our dirty little family secrets. I knew that if she decided she didn't want to be around me any more I could easily toss her in the East River and be done with her like so many other girls before. But, as it turned out she not only met my quirks but raised me a few skeletons.

From there we went and dined at the finest restaurant in all of Manhattan, Wendy's. Riling from the high of the godlike meal we decided to board the first bus that arrived at the nearby stop. With the promise of possibly finding ourselves in a part of Battery Park we journeyed on. As it turned out the bus was heading back towards Union Square so we neared the end of our journey. Once there we agreed that it was too soon to say goodnight, so we sat on a park bench and talked some more till we got our fill of crazy hobo fights. All in all it was a great day: I found someone I really connected with and Julie thought she finally found her new gay best friend.

If I were stuck on a Pastry Island

Once again it seems I will have to teach Julie the difference between 1 and 3.

If I were stuck on a deserted Island with this one thing I'd need to bring would be: My Therapist.

Though I suppose for the sake of mediocre literature my 3 runner-up choices would be:

1. My two piece bikinis
2. Time Life's Romancing the 70s CD collection.
3. A deck of cards and this useful contraption:

viewers choice award

wow. we got our first comment and i didn't even notice! yayyyyy katelyn.

sidenote: we were asked a while back by an anonymous reader to answer the following question:

"If you and Zane were stranded on a deserted island and had one item you could each bring, what would it be?"

i have come up with a few options, here are my top 3:

1. anti-zane spray.
2. a spoon. wait... ohhhh deSerted.
3. a boat.


...zane?

...

wtf zane.

those were my things.

that's just mean.

it still would have been funny if you just pretended to do it like every other thing you write.

geez.

The End of An Era

Now what I'm about to share with you is in no way connected to the date, despite it seeming like such a coincidence. The reason I haven't posted in a while is all thanks to Julie. Weeks ago she switched my computer with a carefully reconstructed box of Apple Jacks cereal, which I have been trying to get to work for the past few weeks now. I have been in a cripplingly depressed state thinking that my once omnipotent computer had become nothing more than an empty cardboard shell in it's old age. It is because of this slight that I have decided to end things once and for all!

When Julie comes home from work she will find her stuff in the 2' x 5' patch of yard and the locks changed. From this moment I am taking soul ownership of "Hers and His" and after I figure out how, will be renaming it "Mine". I will then be charged with the difficult task of finding a replacement for Julie as my blogging co-author. Bidding will start at $3.75 and I will accept all major credit cards. This is a few in a lifetime chance to be a part of something amazing. So for whomever is reading this, please comment with your bid and you can start your very own post about me. As an added bonus if you bid anywhere over $900 you can actually move in and get the whole A1 experience!

9 truths and 1 lie

In honor of April Fools I am presenting a list of 9 truths and 1 lie about Zane..... enjoy! Happy guessing!

Zane likes to dance like Elaine Bennis.
Zane fathered a child with a former Playboy playmate.
Zane has been the happiest of his life since finding me.
Zane has 2 belly buttons.
Zane likes boys.
Zane rollerblades poorly but talks about it skillfully.
Zane really likes dogs without wrists.
Zane invented a burger and calls it "The Zane Gould."
Zane has sworn to never work with me again on any future projects.
Zane was abandoned as a child by his imaginary friend Macky Sasser.