FHC’s resurrected blog

In which FHC acknowledges he is going through yet another midlife crisis

You know your life is off balance when it all starts with an elegant picnic by the Potomac River and then you end up butt naked spaced out at a Toga party at 2.m. to finally wake up at 12:25 the following day in a total fog with inexplicable bruises on your forearm. We could clearly blame it on Kevin W’s terrible influence and most probably we will if necessary. But I also have to admit that having drowned in alcohol two valiums (3 for Kevin I believe) and a xanax earlier in the evening might have played a role as well as triggered some kind of a minor manic episode.

One could legitimately wonder what a toga party is besides a lame excuse for an orgy (Btw I dug out some tips to plan a successful orgy). I can’t believe that this seems to be a pillar of the American college life. Boy did I miss out wasting my youth between dance and bridge classes! I don’t even want to talk about it. The host, a youthful Ashton G. had managed to gather a handful of 19 years old in Togas and I might have drooled a little. A nice girl had kindly lent me her toga probably understanding that she would not get laid in such an environment (note to self: buy my own toga or ask LL for it at Christmas time) and I did not feel my 28 years old and 148.5 pounds for at least 15 minutes. As a consequence my behavior might have been a bit too Roman-like, and I have clearly already f**ed upmy reputation with the younger generation forever but I had a lot of fun.

Of course as usual, the problem is the morning after: memories and a hangover. I am actually on my way to a power nap and am going to cut the anxiety medicine for a while.

Does Anyone Know if FedEx Comes on Saturdays?

During our phone conversation last night, FHC said he was going to implement a number of rules for this summer to make sure the two of us get along as “roommates.” Here are some of the rules I’m goin g to have to follow:

1. There will be a lot of you shutting up
2. There will be a lot of me telling you what to do
3. There will be a lot of you not seeing your friends if I don’t want you to

In other words, someone call Ari S. immediately and have him do a story called Modern Slavery: Immigrants and the Prisoners They Keep. What’s nice is that FHC is giving me some practice early by making me a prisoner in my own apartment in NYC. I’ve been told FedEx is coming today with a package from what we suspect might be Ralph Lauren, but no one, not even FedEx, has any idea when today the package is actually arriving. They attempted delivery at 11.36 “PM” yesterday; the only delivery men I know who come by close to midnight are either prostitutes, drug dealers, or from Grand Sichuan. I can’t even leave to get a coffee. First FHC pretended he had no idea what the package was coming or who it was from – “So, LL, what do you think your parents sent in that package? Another cashmere sweater?” I told him they’d sent their gift regular mail. FHC then had to switch stories, and tried to be accommodating, telling me “You shouldn’t wait it’s probably just nothing and besides, you have a lot of studying to do.” Finally, FHC suggested I sign for the package in advance and let FedEx just leave it on the street. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing that guarantees is me coming home to an opened, empty box and several days later seeing a random hoodlum on the subway wearing a bright pink polo monogrammed “FHC.”

The truth is I couldn't be more excited for my package and feel like a little boy on Christmas.  Besides, I really need a break.  In any case, I’m also glad FHC has set the ground rules for this summer before I arrive. After all, as he explained, our relationship has thrived from NOT seeing each other, so who knows what will happen when FHC is forced to live with my untidiness for three months.  I'm not even sure he remembers what I look like.  Ok, that’s all I have for today – I’m off to continue waiting for this package.

In which FHC claims his right to be a f**ck face

Dearest cashmere sweater wearing Alex, who has a tendency to be patronizing on casual Fridays, told me today that he thought “[I] should write about [my] impressions on America in [my] blog: [my] encounters with clerks are much funnier than [my] binge drinking” to which he added that my readership must suffer. If we are going to start telling the truth around here… First of all, the only thing my resilient (yet completely unsophisticated and shallow) readership (as well as actually most of human beings I think) cares about are pictures of Ian Somerhalder half naked and I already provided that a while ago. We could summarize FHC's ambitious plan for its online future (AND his future period) to a mix of Ian Somerhalder naked and updates on his weight gain (148.5 pounds at Results yesterday evening). That will be the message we bear and our business plan if the expatriate lusophone community does not mind: male nudity and weight obsession. This being said if you want something a little raunchier I could publish some details of my impressions on Alex A.’s private life which is both murky and unclear at that point. Altogether I recommend to that refined part of my lusophone readership to try the latest book of BHL in the footstep of Tocqueville bullshit or more realistically my buddy Frenchbenj who is modern, gay, lively and full of insights. I claim my right to be uninteresting, superficial, inconsequent and self-centered. Damn you: put me on your payroll !

Oh and if you really want to know my impressions on American is that they are f****ing dolphin killers and I’ll prove it.

Also don’t forget that tomorrow it’s our buddy LL’s birthday, as Frif would say: “What is this 25th Birthday SH%^.  We all know you are really in your mid-30's .  You look great and have nothing to be ashamed of...”

In which FHC obtains Psychotropic Substances at a Pharmacy Party

Yesterday’s mandatory Wednesday turned quickly into a prescription drug giveaway extravaganza [between us the host was once said to have unintentionally tried to smuggle Rohypnol “ruffies” in the US – a real pusher]. For starters, he operated an intramuscular injection of some Vitamin B12 at dessert time in my leg (as per Baroness Thatcher’s recommendation) which went totally unnoticed [Richard R. H’s response:  Well hopefully the B12 helped with your hangover]. Then I obtained miscellaneous anti-anxiety medication coming directly from South-East Asia which I wasn’t allowed to pop at the dinner table (we have principles) because I had to keep them for when I am “really anxious”(what the f*ck does that mean? My life is traumatizing 24/7 for Chrissake). Today I brought to work a tablet of Alzolam 0.25 (the Indian version of Xanax) as it was “bring your daughter to work” day. I kept the rest of my new stash at home ready for a quick break-up, a victory of the Communist party or maybe my first zipcar DUI. Someone also said at one point “who did not hook up in the Concorde?” and went on talking about some tranny called Nexis or something.

I then announced pretty loudly that I would bring some E to the next Wednesday dinner party in complete denial over the fact that my drug dealer is now waiting in a Federal prison for up to 50 years (and not for mail fraud) which is really inconvenient for everybody involved [please send me your contact information]. The guy was very sociable, entrepreneurial and did not even propose crack among his product lines: so unfair... Not everybody is lucky enough to be able to snatch Vicodins from their roommate’s medicine cabinet (mine only has beta blockers which happens to also be welcome from time to time).

Also I think you should visit Cyberagatha, Vivdlblurry’s femalish roommate who is quite impertinent about French ladies. All that led me to think that I really need a myspace profile or I’ll die.

Finally, apparently tonight is Joel’s birthday at Hush starting at 11 p.m.: I would really be astonished if I am making it without a B12 injection (am I the only one who has a professional activity around here?) moreover because this evening I'll go on an abs mission to Results-la-Gym.

In which FHC gets smashed and stuff

FHC got slightly…seriously… wasted yesterday night starting at 7:30 p.m. celebrating James B.’s visit to DC with stops to JR and Cobalt [two local bars targeting desperate gays – a rising segment of the gay market] and our office smelled like alcohol until 2 p.m. or so today. Moreover I had completely forgotten about some kind of an early meeting and arrived pretty late looking like your average alcoholic [my excuse was “Sorry I mixed alcohol with GHB, anabolic steroids and sedatives last night”]. This of course did not help our little jetlag issue or our ri”no-far”in-ji´tis and we have been completely out of it all day. The brief lightness of drunkenness always comes with a heavy price tag in my case. As another alcoholic friend of mine I had lunch with two days ago, and who will remain anonymous, once told me: “I preferred when I was on Wellbutrin, at least I would pass out in hallways after three drinks and not remember anything the day after. It’s blatantly f**ed up”.

This would usually be enough mock social life to last me for the next ten years but actually I have to get smashed once again tonight for the mandatory Wednesday night dinner which will take place at Rick H…. at least I am not cooking this evening either.

In others news, via Caroline V., nothing like French Hip-Hop to vcheer you up: you click on "akh", you click on "clip", you choose "votez".

In which FHC really wonders how history will judge him

Today was the “old friends surfacing” day. Anders V., visiting from Norway, walked by my office [if you read this MegaDCFag, you're the man], Daniel P., my nerdish American U roommate called masking his number, Sam (why do gay men like to post pictures of themselves squeezing half good looking girls?) alerted me he was back in the city, and Australian James is visiting Kevin D. and we will be dining at Hamburger’s Mary tonight. Do they serve fresh asparagus salad there? I didn’t think so! I also inadvertently found a mine of [poetic] gay marines for Kevin D.’s deep dark primeval urges. I also may or may have not visited the profiles of my ex-boyfriend on friendster which led me to notice that Scott E. does not have one anymore [I wish to all of them the best]. Also Gabriel A. is being cooler than his dad.

It took me a good hour to find a Zipcar for Saturday. Can you believe that ? UNBELIEVABLE. I manage to book a Mini like last time but could not get a convertible. I was planning to go to the National Arboretum …maybe with the Watsonater …while LL will be “innocently and sweetly trying to learn about the law” or “in the library taking a practice Administrative Law examine” [Wh*re] in NYC. But I ended up thinking that it was maybe too close to Anacostia and instead we will go on the Billy Goat Trail ! This might be a blessing in disguise.

As usual thank YOU for your patronage.

In which FHC returns to work albeit briefly

I had lunch with my dearest (actually one of the few, the proud if not the only - and certainly the only one who call me “buddy boy”) friend, Kevin W. Like usual our conversation turned around the amazing topics of our personal fulfillment at work, our Bourgeois lifestyle, my weight gain and our conclusion was that the only way to escape our partially work-related despair was to start a family and get babies (the kind which does not fall on table corners all the time)….oh…wait. Kevin W. mentioned once or twice his intention of moving out of Washington, DC and I acted as if I believed he could do it the same way I acted as if Rodolphe B. was able to move to London for years. Later on dearest Kevin W. sent me the solution by e-mail. Download ft_agony_aunt.pdf

Overall a pretty nice first day if you ignore the fact that the sassy secretary of my ophthalmologist interrupted me with a very rude: “can you hold one minute, I have one call ahead of you ?” and the fact that renting an automatic car in France for our summer Brittany trip is not only difficult but costly (particularly outside standard opening hours..a.k.a 10 a.m. to 2:30 p.m.). I also thought briefly that after all fishwatch is just a tanner and funnier LL.

In which FHC says all the truth about his pathetic Sunday

I was really going to blog something clever today but I woke up quite horny this morning. Usually in similar situations, I ended up snacking a little more than usual but as I am on a very strict diet since late yesterday, I had to find some alternative. I hesitated very briefly to surf Craig’s list “casual encounters” but instead, as being unfaithful is frowned upon particularly when you live in a really small place, I decided to go on a long bike ride by myself along the Potomac River. It was charming and very sundayish.

I also tried to dig out some pictures of Dominique de Villepin’s son, Arthur(now 19), as I was told by someone (maybe my cousins who obviously are Lubeck rats) quite recently that the kid is charming (the sister is pretty too). I admit that was very gay of me. I apologize. This was impossible mostly because the wireless connection of my neighbors is really becoming unreliable (selfish bastards) and I suspect that the French secret service cleaned up internet. I ended up finding only pictures of his father in swim trunks and had to conclude that sadly the French Prime Minister has a much nicer body than FHC (we only have 25 years of age difference). I also found two French blogs I enjoyed.

That is how I wasted another beautiful Sunday.

This is just a test of the emergency blogging system or FHC, we hardly knew ye

FHC's plane landed right on schedule at 7.04pm.  While some of us were studying away and updating the Air France arrival website to make sure he landed safely, we might have forgotten that today is a Saturday, which means it actually is my job to blog. 

I have a question for the readers about karma.  Because I have exams coming up in the next few weeks, I've been actively trying to make sure I behave nicely and don't screw anyone over, or, pretty much I've been trying to avoid any sort of stain on my karma whatsoever.  But I've also actively sought out situations to improve my karma.  Yesterday I offered my cell phone to someone standed in the subway trying to make a call from a pay phone but having no success.  This morning I put all my change from my coffee order in the "tip jar."  So here's the question - if I'm doing these things selfishly hoping to gain "good karma" points, do they count?  Or, even worse, do they count negatively because there's very little selflessness inv olved?

In other news, it was really amazing to hear FHC's voice on his way home from the airport after 10 days of phone silence.  I'd almost forgot what his broken-English accent sounded like.   I missed my little FHC and I'm glad to have him back, or at least 200 miles away instead of 2000.

In which FHC notices that his niece is a helpless and unpleasant little creature

Don’t blame me for not blogging in time today. I had a pretty busy day struggling with a terrible sore throat and dealing with some guilt over the fact that I gave a black eye to my one year old niece. What-have-I-done??!?!?!?!?! The baby fell, while under my supervision, on the corner of a table. It cried for hours after that and seemed quite traumatized. I really have no talent with children; my family must have thought for the first time “Thank god the kid is a sterile fag”. It was embarrassing for everybody involved, of course, but particularly for me. I am now praying that she does not wake up half blind tomorrow as I am sure my brother will sue me. Gosh I hate babies. On the bright side, I feel my throat is doing better tonight.

The rest of my day was just very Parisian, I walked my elegant shoes all around Paris with my mother, had lunch in the Luxembourg with half a dozen French stars, gossiped with her while touring Saint Sulpice and acted all son-like in clothing stores all around the boulevard Saint Germain. I did not even buy any macaron as I am planning to look good next week as I have another opportunity to share a bed with Fagat.

I am scheduled to get back to DC tomorrow evening.