For the past number of hours, I've been listening to old church choir songs, gospel piano recital pieces and old sermons. Why you might ask? My mother, bless her heart, asked me if there was a way to copy all her old tapes dating back to 1976, and convert them to CD. I told her there was a way and proceeded to buy a CD recorder for my stereo.
After spending probably 8 hours yesterday trying to get the damn thing hooked up right to copy correctly, I needed a 'come to Jesus' meeting at that point. After spewing forth every cuss word and profanity that I knew, I finally got the damn thing to work. Since then, I've been listening to old sermons and choir numbers that my mother had recorded, many including vocal numbers from cousins or aunts and uncles. Then I came across something that blew me away when I saw it. I had started piano lessons at the early age of 4. She has tapes of me practicing the piano when I was probably 12 years old all the way up until I was 22. They were various pieces for church, school, choir or just me fooling around on the piano trying out jazz or gospel. Not sure if I've mentioned this or not, but I was our church pianist starting at the age of 12 until 22. I'm 38 now, so you do the math. I never knew that she kept copies of these services and recitals and has been listening to them ever since. She was wearing them out and that is when she decided to ask me about copying them to CD.
It's bringing back a lot of strange memories for me, growing up in a Pentecostal home and being in church at least 3-4 times a week. It consumed our lives. Every aspect of it.
You would never know it, seeing me now.
After watching one of the last few remaining episodes of Friends, I decided to head down to the strip for a couple cocktails. I had to get out of the house. While I'm sitting there talking to my bartender discussing and watching the finale of My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance', in walks this guy that I've seen in Dallas since the first day I moved here. He's built like The Incredible Hulk. Almost TOO big, if there is such a thing. Extremely handsome man, but always very quiet, mysterious and very unapproachable. Always had one of those scowling looks on his face. Kind of like a bulldog. He never hung out or talked with anyone that I could ever tell. Very much a loner.
He walks right up to a friend that was sitting with me and strikes up a conversation. It seems that they know each other pretty well. Within a few moments he's talking my ear off. He's originally from Montreal and has the cutest French accent. I'm a sucker for an accent. Makes me moist as a cupcake down there. While he's blabbing away, he mentions how old he is. He's 52. Fucking hell, I hope I look that good at his age. He didn't look a day over 42. I couldn't get a word in edgewise. He was talking about relationships, men, Dallas, penises, work or whatever topic he could find. Then he blurts out something that almost made my drink squirt vodka out my nose.
He said he's always wanted to talk to me for the past 7-8 years, but I always seemed unapproachable and had a pissed off look on my face. I had to tell him that I had the same misconceptions about him. Always looking like a rabid pitbull. We had a great laugh.
We both realized how funny it is that we make so many assumptions about people based upon initial impressions as we pass them on the street or in a bar. Yet we have always prided ourselves on not caring what someone drives, what kind of job they have, how much money they make, how much schooling they have or how much Prada they have in their closets. This tends to be a typical Dallas problem. Not everyone of course, but a large portion of people. I'm sure it's no different anywhere else though. Yet we ourselves still made assumptions about the other without really trying to get to know one another.
He gave me his card, asked for mine and told me to call him sometime to hang out. Maybe I've made a friend. Who knows.
Sad thing is that we could have done this 8 years ago. Is it bad that I still want to see him nekkid?
I'm not a person to discuss politics. I never have. I have my views and opinions and I tend to keep them to myself. I've been reading other bloggers opinions about our infamous President and his attempts to change the Constitution. I'm not eloquent when it comes to voicing my opinion about such matters. I leave that up to others. It's not that I'm not passionate about the issue, I am. I just can't express how I feel about the matter in a way that doesn't sound like the incoherent ramblings of a 12 year old. Instead, I'll read Terrance, Eric or Sam. If I want to hear a passionate view with a touch of humor (since we all need to laugh), I check out what Homer or Jimbo has to say about the matter.
I see the world changing in so many ways. Some good, some bad. We live with the constant fear of wars, terrorist attacks, disease or whatever the human race is capable of doing to each other at any given moment. It's times like this that I become a daydreamer, remembering times when life was so much simpler. A time when we didn't live in constant fear. A time when we only worried about whether or not the Aquanet wouldn't hold up our Flock of Seagulls hair or who in the hell shot JR Ewing.
I'm talking about the 80's of course. I graduated highschool in 1983 and college in 1987. You can't be more a child of the 80's then that. It was a time before I became positive. Time before I had to get a real corporate job. Time before relationships made me jaded.
I want to back to a time when I was hearing Madonna, Cindi Lauper, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Duran Duran, Eurythmics or Blondie for the very first time. I watched Michael Jackson's Thriller video and could not believe my eyes. I changed my clothing styles like I changed my underwear such as my Preppie, Goth, Punk, Thrift Store or just a Jeans and T-shirt clothing phases. A time when I never missing an episode of Dynasty, Falcon Crest, Dallas or Knots Landing. Watching the first day MTV aired. Seeing groups like The Thompson Twins, Wham, The Reflex, The Romantics, Depeche Mode or Erasure in concert. Wearing some of the most horrific clothing styles that ever existed. Wearing feathered hairstyles, floppy bangs, bobs, mullets (All pics have been destroyed so don't even ask). Or even a time when I bought my first pair of Vans, parachute pants, Member's Only jackets, OP corduroy shorts, Polo Shirts and thinking I was just the shit.
My time was spent in the school, art studio, choir practice, piano lessons, hanging with friends, traveling, or just driving everywhere in my 1968 Red Mustang Convertible. I didn't have a care in the world. Only thing I worried about was getting straight A's and getting through college.
I look around now and I just want to turn back the clock. I hope things change soon or I'm moving to Canada with Homer.
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My Girl Scout Cookie order has arrived. As I sit here eating Do-Si-Dos (peanut butter cream) cookies and milk for breakfast, why do we have a fascination for these things? I can remember these little girls in those horrible brown polyesther outfits, that obviously a homosexual did not design, going door to door selling cookies (UPS drivers are the only ones that look good in that much brown). I was young, but remember how excited the family got over this teensy box of cookies that you paid way too much money for what you get. Don't get me wrong, they were good cookies. But my mother could bake circles around these things.
Yet every year in January, we'd stock up on Thin Mints, Trefoils (shortbread), Do-si-dos and those disgusting coconut carmel things. It would take us all of a week to devour them all, then bitch, moan and complain that we had to wait another year to have them again. Knowing that there are better cookies out there, a month ago I ordered 6 boxes at 4 bucks a pop. These will last me quite a while, since I'm not much into eating sweets.
Has anyone actually seen a girl scout lately? I've only bought them from people 35 years and over for the past 15 years. These so-called "girl scouts" are probably working in sweatshops for 14 hours a day, working their fingers to the bone, to making these little cookies just for us.
I'm really not sure why I buy them. Maybe I'm hoping that in some small way I'm contributing to those poor little girls getting a more fashionable outfit someday.
Since my roomie's actual Birthday was yesterday, we headed out to PF Changs for dinner. I had heard that Dillard's was having a 75% off sale and like moths to a flame we both headed down there immediately after a dose of Crab Wontons and Kung Pao Chicken.
It's my mothers fault I love to shop as much as I do. When I was little, I went with her everywhere. I got to stand there like a good little boy, holding her purse while she rummaged through racks and racks of clothes. The older I got, the more embarrassing it was to be carrying a purse around the store. Mom always bought me some clothes, so I didn't complain too much. I didn't want to get that evil mom look from her if I did. I was on my way to becoming a clothes horse at a young age of 14 years old.
Last night I was going through the racks like a pro. You learn not to miss one single item or rack. After gathering 20 or more shirts I headed to the dressing room. With other guys and their wives in the dressing room area, Roomie and I are commenting on how CUTE that shirt was, or how that was JUST not the right color for his skin tone, or how that shirt is DEFINATLY not very slimming. I even shrieked once saying, "That was WAY cuuuute, you HAVE to buy that." Done in a very masculine tone of voice mind you. I'm sure the men were tight cheeking it and changing clothes as fast as possible. No eye contact was ever made.
The shitty thing, is I found ONE item I liked. I hated everything on me. Either made me look to skinny, or it was not the right size, or made my skin look like the color of banana pudding. I was destined not to spend a damn dime last night. I had to call my mother. She's the only person who could understand the pain and suffering I was going through. After soothing words of comfort from mommy, we headed down to Mickey's for a couple Birthday cocktails to end the night.
But dammit, I'm heading down there this weekend and I'm finding some bargins that look good on me whether it kills me or not.
Please tell me I'm not the only person like this......?
Momma just called and told me I'm a great uncle again for the 6th time. My niece had a baby boy that measured 22 inches long. People, thats almost TWO FEET LONG! I could just imagine this baby coming out of the mothers womb.....everyone looking on saying, is there still more to come? She was told she gave birth to the longest baby in the hospitals history. Said the boy has the biggest feet they had ever measured also. You know what they say about big feet. Nothing. He'll just have big shoes.
Way to pop out an amazon baby!
Just more gifts for me to buy when I go home. I have to spoil each and everyone one of them you know.
If you're a friend of mine and have a Birthday within the next few weeks, your card is in the mail. I, on the other hand, will not be attending any birthday festivities for the next month. I've had enough. Friday's party for my roommate was a blast. Saturday's party for my duplex mate started out great, but ended in total disaster. We started off at his friends condo for drinks, appetizers and cake. He received his first Tiffany box. I said he needed to have his gay card revoked for not receiving one until he turned 37. Nothing like some Tiffany Bling Bling to get you in the mood. An Ex-boyfriend of mine was there for a while. We're having dinner next weekend. I know where that usually leads. After a few hours, we headed to Mickey's to continue the party. This is when all hell started to break loose.
1. 30 seconds after I arrive, some guy walks up to a friend of ours and says, "Your husbands an asshole", then heads out the door. Her husband comes plowing through ready to kick his ass. This wouldn't be a problem in most circumstances, but this guy is a licensed fighter. He'd put him in the hospital with a couple punches. She yells at me to go stop him. *blank stare* I'm a lover not a fighter.
2. The B-day boy's nephew shows up with a few friends. The guy and girl are engaged. Cute as can be. Not one hour later, she's in the bathroom heaving up her guts. Guess I shouldn't have bought her that last shot. They had to leave.
3. Friend of ours (girl) has a crush on one of the bartenders (straight boy). I'm asked to go see if he likes her. Ok, I felt like I should have wrote on a card, "Do you like me? Check Yes or No." This continued until closing time. I found out I'm not good at matchmaking.
4. Another guest of the party, who's a member of Mothers Against Drunk Driving, decided to get trashed and drive home. We look up and she's gone. Guess she's not the poster child for MADD that she thinks.
5. Same guest as mentioned in #4 also spent the evening trashing the birthday boy. Even after telling her numerous times that he's my best friend and I probably wasn't the person to be telling all this.
6. Finally arrive at home, have one more drink with friends, then I'm off to bed. I'm waking up and hour later to someone trying to break into my bedroom. Friend of the birthday boy who's staying next door, has always wanted in my pants. You're thinking...this is a problem? But I just.....well...he's not my type at all. There's just nothing there for me. During the course of him trying to get into my room, with me telling him to get the hell out, he drops and breaks something in the bathroom, knocks on my roommates door as well, crashes in my OTHER roommates bedroom for an hour and finally heads back next door and breaks 3 candle holders in the foyer on his way out and trips over the doggy gate. Broken glass everywhere.
I did nothing yesterday, but lock myself in my room and watch movies all day. Occasionally going downstairs to grab a bite to eat. Finished off the evening by watching the season finale of Sex and the City. Nothing like a good crying fest to end your weekend.
Next birthdays are not until May I think. I have time to recover.
Anyone have time for a quickie? Entry that is. Ok, that still sounds bad doesn't it?
Fact: Rum and coke, Beer, Zima, Champagne and Brandy do not mix well if drank in the course of 5 hours. My liver has been screaming obscenities at me all day.
Fact #2: The craziest shit comes out of your mouth when comsuming the above mentioned alcoholic beverages.
Fact #3: Consuming the amount of alcohol listed above, turns me into a DJ.
Fact #4: Inviting someone to the party that you have a crush on and let him see you in rare form....just not a smart idea. Might as well stamped the word "dumbass" on my forehead.
Fact #5: Drinking as much alcohol as i did, 6 glasses of water this morning still will not make me pee.
I have another party to go to in 3 hours.
I need a nap.
It seems that I'm 57% (Dixie). Barely into the Dixie category.
What a rollercoaster this past week has been. After reading other blogs and listening to what friends have had to deal with recently, the month of February hasn't been the best month so far. But I guess is makes you learn a lot about yourself, toughens you up and makes you realize who are your true friends. With that being said, I'm so ready for tonight and tomorrow nights Birthday Parties. I know come Sunday, I'll be rolling around my bed in a fetal position, swearing I'll never do that again. Good times people, good times.
I received an email yesterday back from the glass studio in Grapevine. They are highly interested in speaking with me. They're moving into a new studio/gallery space and told me to be patient during this time, but someone would be contacting me soon. Anyone who knows me, knows I'm not the most patient person in the world. Step #1 is admitting my problem, right? Hey, we all have our faults.
My Ex is getting out of the hospital tomorrow. Yup, you heard me right. Seems they have no idea what caused the seizure. Brain scan showed nothing. He didn't seem to like my teasing on that one. They're giving him a buttload of painkillers. So he's happy and feels good. Hell, I would too. I'm not crazy about VA Hospitals, but at least he sounds better.
So now I sit here trying to make this day go by as fast as possible. Anybody have big plans for the weekend?
(p.s. Got a surprise phone call from her yesterday. She's such a sweetheart)
After some researching (since I just did NOT want to work yesterday), I found a glassblowing studio in Grapevine Texas. The studio offers demonstrations, workshops and various courses from stained glass, cold-working glass to glassblowing. As I was browsing through their site, I came across an application for an Assistant Program they have. People that have certain levels of skill will assist them in their work, studio upkeep and even teach an entry level class or two all for blowing time in the studio. Ok, I'm ready for the jokes to come pouring in on that last line. Bring it on.
I filled out the information and sent a very long email telling my story about my 15 years of blowing glass, skill level I had, galleries and shows, etc. I even attached a few pictures of my work. I'm totally not getting my hopes up, but I wanted to try and see what happens. Life is too short not to give it a shot. Who knows, 'Good Lord willin', creek don't rise', I might be blowing glass again. Even if it's just for a small amount of time.
Side Note: Somebody needed to tell me how great the America's Top Model show is! Watched it for the first time last night, since it was a horrible night of TV. I'm hooked and I hate reality TV. Except for American Idol of course.
Another Side Note: We had snow last week. Today's high is going to be 80 degrees and Sunny. *blank stare*
While suturing a laceration on the hand of a 70-year-old Texas rancher(whose hand had caught in a gate while working cattle), a doctor and the old man were talking about George W. Bush being in the White House. The old Texan said, "Well, ya know, Bush is a 'post turtle'."
Not knowing what the old man meant, the doctor asked him what a post turtle was. The old man said, "When you're driving down a country road and you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's a post turtle."
The old man saw a puzzled look on the doctor's face, so he continued to explain, "You know he didn't get there by himself, he doesn't belong there, he can't get anything done while he's up there, and you just want to help the poor stupid bastard get down."
Thanks for everyones kind words yesterday. To be perfectly honest, I didn't feel triumphant, strong, tough or special. Last night as I was reading the outpouring of support from everyone, the personal emails that were sent asking advice and talking with my Ex trying to understand what he was saying to me while being high on morphine, I completely lost it. I feel vunerable, scared, sad, angry and not very tough or strong at all. It took a pep talk from someone's email this morning to realize we all go through tough experiences yet have to keep pressing on. Big hugs to him.
Like he said, it just takes baby steps.
I don't like showing this side of myself. I do have a need to come across as the strong one. I have a need to take care of people and make them feel better. I guess it's the mothering aspect of my personality. When I feel like I'm not accomplishing this for someone, I tend to break down.
How do Moms do it?
My Ex is now having seizures. They've done a cat scan to see about any tumors on the brain. What I find out, you'll find out.
On a lighter note (which I know I need and I'm sure you do too), we have a lot of friends coming into town to visit to keep us all busy. The duplex will be filled to capacity. My roomies Birthday is coming up, so we're celebrating that at our place this coming Friday. Then we get to turn around and have another B-day party for another duplex mate on Saturday at his friends condo.
Should you not hear from me, I'll be in detox come Sunday.
(Borrowed her from a good friend for a little while)
After yesterday's conversation with my mother, I get a phone call from an ex of mine who's also still one of my best friends. Well, in many ways he's more then that to me. I've been mulling over talking about how I became positive around 11 years ago. Since I've always been pretty upfront about it, I've had numerous people ask me to tell my story. It's not some incredible, mind blowing story that belongs on the cover of TIME or anything. I'm sure my story is a lot like many other HIV+ men. It wasn't until my phone call from him and my conversation written yesterday about my mother, that I'll go ahead and tell you what I can and what I want you to know.
I met him about 12 years ago at a club in Kansas City. Cute boy, very country and very sweet. I was enamored with him immediately. I wasn't long and we were dating, spending every waking moment together. But as many things happen in our life, that came to an abrupt halt 6 months later. We just weren't right for each other and we both knew it. We never stopped loving each other. He became more of a little brother after that, I wanted so much to take him under my wing and take care of him. You have to know him to understand what he is like. You have to understand the relationship that the two of us have.
We never stopped having sex after we "broke up". I put that in quotation marks, because it was always like we never did stop dating. To put it bluntly, I was a bottom for him for the first and only time in our relationship one evening 11 years ago. Being still stupidly in love and niave, the thoughts of him being positive never entered my mind. We were unsafe. He loved me, so he would never let anything happen to me. Right? I was wrong. What I let him do to me that night was the first and the last time for the next few years with anyone. I tested positive 6 months after that night. He went in right after me and tested positive also. Doctor said he had been positive for quite a while. Am I sure it was him? I think so and I'll leave it at that.
I never was angry at him. I was just as much to blame as he was. It was early 1990's and we were all scared, uneducated and just plain stupid. Or at least, we were. It took two people to do what we did, and therefore two people are to blame. He stayed a part of my life and never left until a couple years ago, when failing health caused him to move back to home after me practically forcing him to go. He never did take care of himself. He was always on and off the meds and partied all the time. He would get sick, go into the hospital, get his health back, but only for a while. Before you knew it, he was back being the same ol' boy I knew. This vicious circle never stopped. After a while, his poor body started shutting down and he is now currently in the hospital as we speak for the 8th time in at least as many months.
He called me to tell me that he's been diagnosed with Colitis, Crohns, Pancreatitis and CMV (cytomegalovirus). He called to tell me he loved me, misses me and that he wants to get better. He said he just hopes it's not too late. I've seen him time after time, go into the hospital and recover. Every time I think he might not.
He ended the conversation by saying he was sorry and started to cry. He didn't say specifically what he was apologizing for. It was nice to hear still.
When it comes to his future plans, I hope he has his pencil and eraser too.
Quote from mother today: "I'm just not feeling well today darlin'. You know God only promises you so much time on this earth and anything past that is just a gift. At my age honey you can't plan too far in the future. When you do, you need to use a pencil."
My mother is 76 years old. She brings up the subject about her age, what's wrong with her, her will, her insurance policies, her funeral plans all the time. It's difficult for a child to hear their parent talk about such things, but for her its a natural thing and needs to be discussed, especially at her age.
The last few visits home, I've noticed her drastically aging. She's still a woman of 76 that honestly doesn't look a day over 60. Some have even guessed her to be younger. Every man she went out with after my father passed away over 10 years ago, was always 15-20 years younger. Go Mom! But lately, she's constantly coming down with colds, coughs, bronchitis, or just has a feeling of being tired or run down quite often.
She's getting older and as her child, you hate seeing that happen. We're selfish and want them here with us forever. But we know that's not the going to happen. After loosing a father to cancer and heart problems and seeing him fail in health, your outlook on death changes. It's not always a bad thing.
My mother has always said the only way she would be able to get through this life, if she was able to die before any one of her children. That's always been a fear of mine living with HIV. She's never been told after discussing this with my family. We agreed that in time, when it felt right, we would tell her. But you know a mother's intuition. I'm sure after 12 years, she's got some sort of clue. This is something I've decided not to tell her along with my family. This was my decision in the end. Right or wrong, its no ones right to tell me otherwise.
Talk about a burden to carry.
I don't know. Her little quote today just hit home.
Not just about her life but also my own.
Now, where's my pencil and eraser?
As you can tell already, I have moved. I will now be hanging out at www.zeitzeuge.org. Please make all necessary updates.
I first want to thank Spyke. Since I'm not very good with all this stuff, he took it upon himself to basically do it all for me. He's such a huge sweetheart. Go over and see him and say Hi.
I also want to thank Redact for getting me started blogging in the first place. It was nice of him to let me tag along on The Royal Court for a while.
Huge thanks to both of you.
It is official. The rath of God is upon us and Armageddon has thus begun. Try to look busy people, Jesus is coming.
I woke up around 6am this morning and peeked out the window and what did I see? A winter wonderland that hasn't happened in Dallas since Jesus was a child.
Late last night while I laid in bed watching the news, it was hilarious to hear Tony, a rookie field reporter, out on assignment giving us a play by play of the current weather. He would point to the darkening clouds, comment about the chill in the air and even would show us how slick the ground was getting due to the sleet and provide us with a small demonstration of himself walking in it. This was on every news channel. They would even treat us to "breaking news" of how snow flurries have been spotted and would immediately go to Tony for an emergency update. All this was followed up by what to do if caught in a snowstorm and tips on driving in treacherous weather.
All this did for me, was put a huge smile on my face. I'm ready to get showered, dressed and go enjoy something I haven't experienced lately, even on my trips back home during Christmas. It's beautiful out there people. Nothing treacherous about it.
I'm off to have a snowball fight with myself.
I've never been a superstitious person by nature. I'm surprised that I'm not though. My mother, even being the good upstanding Pentecostal Christian woman that she is, could never walk under a ladder, throw a hat on the bed, open an umbrella in the house, let a black cat walk in front of her or let someone sweep your feet with a broom. Parents are known to pass on their fears to their children. I'm sure it's because of the way she was raised herself. Her mother was probably one of the most superstitious people I've ever met. There were many other superstitions then the ones I just mentioned that she constantly worried about on a daily basis. Must have been horrible to live with that slight amount of fear all the time.
I just wished when my palm itches, that I really did get a lot of money.
One another note, we're predicted to get up to 2 inches of snow tonight. That's sa 70% chance people! Then again, in Texas all you need is a 20% chance and it's sure to happen. Plus, give it a few hours and the weather here will change. Why couldn't this have happened during the week? Dallas shuts down with a dusting of snow on the ground. I could have gotten out of a day or two from work. Oh but no, it waits until Friday night.
You'll find me under a blankie, eating fast food and watching movies most of the weekend.
(ps: Just called mother and reminded her that its Friday the 13th. She wasn't happy with me)
I wanted to thank Him for sending me these for Valentines Day. He's a real sweetie.
Seems to be quite a number of "green" dots. I'm just sayin'.
Last night I headed out for a quick bite of dinner. As I was sitting there, I heard a father say to his 6 year old daughter that she would have to drink lemonade since that was all that was available to her. She was practically begging him to let her to have a pop. Ok, lets not turn this into a debate about soda vs pop vs coke vs soft drink. We all know that the correct description of the so-called drink is Pop, hands down. But I digress. The father kept saying that she absolutely could NOT have any pop. The little girl kept on and on so much, I felt like giving it to her myself in the form of one of those beer bongs from my college days and tell the father to go sit in the car. I probably wouldn't have been so upset hearing this poor girl want a pop so bad in her life if I had not read Bob's story a couple days ago. All the sudden (thanks Bob) I'm feeling sorry for kids these days. So Bob, I hope you don't mind, but you forced me to talk about this too.
Probably one of the many reasons wouldn't make a good parent. I see weepy or puppy dog eyes and that's all she wrote. My great nieces or nephews (5 now and 2 on the way) call me Unka Mawk (could that BE any cuter?) and I'm taking them straight to the mall to buy them something. I'm the biggest sap. They walk down the mall, holding onto my index finger while looking up at me with big ol' eyes filled with anticipation of what this stranger from another city who has a bald head, goatee and impeccable fashion sense is going to buy them. I give them candy, pop and I buy them toys. They LOVE me. Their parents don't. They have to deal with a hyper child that won't take a nap due to an overdose of candy necklaces and mountain dew, but that's not my problem. I'm only there a few times a year, so my nieces and nephews can just deal with Unka Mawk giving their children everything they deem as unexceptable.
Ah, the memories. I remember when I was a kid playing games called "Doctor" and "You show me yours" with the neigbor boy Bobby. I'd hear the sound of bells and new the ice cream truck was coming. I'd run and trip (I was a klutz) up the stairs trying to get to my mother so I could have a quarter to buy a Fudgesicle. Every day after school, she would give me 50 cents to go to the local Dime Store down the street to buy Penny Candy. Do you know how much you could buy back in 1974 for 50 cents? A huge bag full. Enough to persuade Bobby to play Doctor one more time, that's for sure. What about pop? My mother never said no. Hell, she even let me have my first cup of coffee when I was 13 when I begged for a cup. I've never stopped drinking it since.
Somehow I grew up and never developed a sweet tooth. I like sweets, but it's not something I crave very often. Caffeine? Anyone who knows me, knows I'll rip out your liver, make pate', and serve you on toast if I don't have it regularly. So fine, my parents giving me caffeine as a child caused me to have a teensy weensy little addiction. Hey, it's not like I'm smoking crack or anything.
Just give your children pop and candy once in a while. It's one of the many joys of childhood isn't it?
Well slap my ass, I feel like a new born baby! No, not what you're thinking. Those grown men scare the living shit out of me. But hey, whatever floats your boat.
During the past week my appetite has been voracious. Something that has been steadily growing during the past 6 months. This is fantastic for a slender man like me who wishes he was 30 pounds heavier. I've gained 15 pounds recently because my new routine. Trust me this all ties in to me feeling like a new born, minus the diapers and breast feeding.
My day actually started at 12:00am. Two hours after I fell asleep. I woke up to a grumbling tummy at midnight and had to eat something. I woke up a couple hours later and had to piddle (my mothers term). I woke up to another grumbling tummy around 4am and ate again. I woke up once again around 5:30 to tinkle (say piss around my mother and you get your face popped). These tummy grumblings couldn't be ignored. They were more like hunger pains. Once I got to work at 8am, the hunger pains were back and I ate a huge breakfast. Needless to say, someone clicked on the repeat button and I was the same way all day. This has been going on for the past few weeks.
Between my midnight and 4am feedings and my 2am and 5:30am potty breaks, I'm getting NO sleep at all. It's taking me a while to fall asleep inbetween each early morning feeding. When I get very little sleep, I'm extremely grumpy in the mornings.
Honestly, I don't know how babies do it.
I'm exhausted.
Where's my blankie and my oddly shaped (yet strangly familiar) pacifier?
WASHINGTON,D.C. -- Hang on to any of the new State of Texas quarters. If you have them, they may be worth much more than 25 cents. The U.S. Treasury announced today that it is recalling all of the Texas quarters that are part of its program featuring quarters from each state.
"We are recalling all the new Texas quarters that were recently issued," Treasury Undersecretary Jack Shackleford said Monday. "This action is being taken after numerous reports that new quarters will not work in parking meters, toll booths, vending machines, pay phones, or other coin-operated devices."
The quarters were issued in the order in which the various states joined the U.S. and have been a tremendous success among coin collectors worldwide.
"The problem lies in the unique design of the Texas quarter, which was created by a Texas A&M graduate," Shackleford said. "Apparently, the duct tape holding the two dimes and the nickel together keeps jamming the coin-operated devices."
For reasons unbeknownst to me, my company actually thinks that I should accomplish something here while I'm at work. I tried to explain that I have my blog entry to do and many of you to chat with throughout the day. The audacity of these people. So today I'm just showing you some more artwork of mine per some of y'alls request.
Self Revelation Series Lithograph 11" x 14"
Unfinished Vamp Portrait 36" x 48"
Royal Feather Handblown Glass Vase 14" high
I received an email from a fellow blogger and he brought up the question to me, of "Why do we have a blog in the first place?". I had to stop and wonder what caused me to start blogging. What do I feel I acomplished by doing so? Am I so vain, I need everyone to know about my life and what I have to say?
I had been reading blogs for quite a long time before my friend Redact had brought up the fact that he reads them also. For a while, we traded different blogs that we found interesting or humorous. It wasn't long before he suggested we start one of our own. A few months later and I put up my first entry on September 17, 2003.
It wasn't until I received this bloggers email yesterday that I had to stop and ask myself why I do this. I don't have the "opportunities" that Geekslut has and the world wants to hear. I'm not as politically motivated and want to share my views as Madlife does. I'm not eloquent with words as Dogpoet can be. Although I can be humorous at times, I don't have the wicked sense of humor as say, Ajax, Upside-down Hippopotamus or Search for Love. I'm sure not the world traveler that Space Waitress is.
So why am I doing this? Part of me has no clue. Why am I addicted to blogging? Again, I have no answer exactly. I do know that I've met so many people through this medium. People I now call friends. I felt I had many silly stories about my life that others might find amusing. Maybe I have some advice from having some interesting life experiences. I've used it at times to blow off steam and vent some thoughts and opinions. Some entries are well planned and others I just plain pulled it out of my ass.
Even after all this, I'm still not clear as to why I do it. Why I can't wait to see what everyone has written every morning. Why I feel this need to pry into your lives and find out everything I can about you.
Do any of you actually know why you blog?
Pretty uneventful weekend. Yesterday and today was spent basically doing nothing but lounging, eating and watching TV. But there was one highlight. A big Latin highlight to boot. After a few hours of hanging at our local haunt Mickey's, a friend of ours asked if we would like to go check out Kaliente. A Latino Gay bar here in Dallas. There's a reason this bar is called HOT.
I took one step inside and knew I was in a small slice of heaven. Y'all know my affinity for hispanics. They're one of my few types of men that I like. I walk in and what do I see, but a bar full of beautiful Hispanic men dancing to some of the best music I've heard in ages. I was like Whitney with a brand new Crack-pipe. I was thinking I might be the only white boy in there, but to my surprise there were quite a few of us. Seems there are a lot of us out there wet their pants at the site of a handsome latino. Damn. Somehow I have to figure out a way to kill off the competition.
This is now my bar and I will rule.
If you can't find me, you know where I'll be.
(You need to come visit)
I was thinking one night, as I often do, about weblogs. I've always wondered who was the first person to take the words Web Log and first called them a Blog. This person was a trendsetter. Eventually I stopped thinking about this because of my ADHD.
But it got me Blinking (aka, bloggers who think) about bloggers and blogging. Over the course of 6 Blonths (aka blogger months), I've made a lot of Froggers (aka, friends that are bloggers, aka Blends depending on if your Spyke or not). What a variety of us that are out there. Many blogs are very Blerious (aka, blogs that are serious) and some are just down right Blunny as hell (aka, blogs that are funny).
During the past few months, I've gotten to know some of you on a more personal level while blatting (aka, blogger chatting) online. It's great to get to know someone a little better and start building some incredible Blendships (aka, blogger friendships).
It was pointed out by a fellow Blend, that I might sound too much like a Blut or Blore (aka, blogger slut or whore). At one point yesterday I had 6 BM's (aka, blogger IM's) from different bloggers. But it was great! Hell, I need someplace to stay for free when I come visit, right?
Maybe I am a big ol' Blore. But you know what? I'm having a lot of Blun (aka, blogger fun). I just consider myself to just be more Blopular (aka, blogger that is popular) then a Blore.
But I'll admit, I've had a few Blushes (aka, blogger crushes) along the way. Hey, they're harmless. Usually passes within a certain length of Blime (aka, blogger time). I'm a firm believer that you never know what might happen with the relationships that you develop with your fellow Bloggers. It could lead to a Blate (aka, blogger date) and possibly, if your lucky, lead to a Bledding! (aka, blogger wedding).
Then again, you might just end up having Blex (aka, sex between two bloggers) and never Bleak (aka, blogger speak) again to each other.
Which isn't a bad thing I guess.
At least you got Blaid.
(I want to thank Cole, Spyke and Betsy for all their help, and to mention that no Bloggers were hurt in the making of this entry. Thank you)
After riviting conversations with Him and Him about the 100th episode of Angel, I started having a little daytime fantasy about my other future husband David Boreanaz.
It got me thinking about the Friends episode where they each had a list of 5 different Celebrities that were OK to sleep when they were in a relationship with someone. You know, just incase that small, slim chance that your paths crossed with this Celebrity and they couldn't help but pick you up, throw you over their shoulder and take you back to their hotel suite for mad passionate love.
This is a list of the top 5 men, that if ever given the opportunity, my lover would have to step aside and let the man have his way with me.
1. David Beckham
2. Antonio Sabato, Jr.
3. Vin Diesel
4. Orlando Bloom
5. Mark Wahlberg
6. (oh come on, can't have just 5) See David Boreanaz above. I can't leave him out.
7. Hugh Jackman
8. Stone Cold Steve Austin
9. Jason Kidd Some basketball player for some team....thats all I know.
10. V-Hold Hey, hey never reads me, so I'm safe. Yes, I thought about listing all the cute bloggers out there and which one I'd like to play hide-the-sausage with, but feel it's best not to go there.
Of course, these are in no particular order. I'll take any one of them at any time. I'm sure I'm going to add this list throughout the day.
Who would be on your list?
Is romance dead?
I was talking with Cole yesterday (go check this cute, sweet guy out and say Howdy), and the conversation started gearing towards talking about relationships and the lack of romance. Sometimes I feel that romantics are a dying breed.
Especially with the right guy, you'll find me sending flowers for no special occasion, leaving a card on their windshield just to say I love you, bringing them a picnic lunch to work, going out for romantic candle lit dinners or holding hands while walking in the park. Hell, wearing a little french maids uniform when they come home for lunch. Kidding about that one. I know friends of mine are rolling their eyes right now. Maybe I sound old fashioned or as Cole said, born 50 years too late. But these are things that I want to do in a relationship, not something I feel like I have to do in the beginning to win someone over. I know that romance will dwindle sometimes after 6 months or often not until years into the relationship. But what makes matters worse, is when you're dating someone who actually despises having any romantic thing done for them, such as sending them flowers. There are men out there that are like this. I've dated a few.
You don't know how many times I've felt like saying, "You're going to LOVE these fucking flowers dammit or I'm going to shove them up your ass! Just say Thank you!".
But no.....I keep right on trying. Trying to bring the romantic part of that person out that we know resides in everyone.
I'm not going into detail (and you can't make me), but I was with one of the best kissers last night. This mans mouth was absolutely amazing. I have not been kissed like that in years. Oh, I've been with some great kissers, don't get me wrong. Hell, I can actually say I've not been with a bad kisser even in years. But after we started kissing, I didn't ever want to stop. Luckily, he felt the same way. It's obvious he's been perfecting his craft and enjoys it as much as I do. I felt like an amateur compared to him, and I've been told I'm a pretty damn good kisser.
Maybe I put too much emphasis on kissing. I feel that if a man can't kiss, he's usually bad in bed. If a man can't kiss, there's no passion or intimacy. If a man can't kiss, he can just get the hell out of my bed. Ok, maybe that was harsh. But if a man can't kiss, it ruins the entire experience for me. I'm tired of having to put on my training wheels and teach someone. Eventhough I heard Vin Diesel is a bad kisser, I would be willing and able to endure months of training the poor son-of-a-bitch. Hey, we all make sacrifices.
Do I put to much emphasis on whether or not a man can kiss? Do you?
Due to the fact that my family went on many road trips when I was growing up and that I was a Compliance Auditor for 3 years (We had a branch in every major city in the U.S.) it seems I've visited quite a large portion of the States. I'm not putting up the map showing where I've been all over the world. It would be embarrassing.
create your own visited states map
Can't believe I sat through and watched half of the Super Bowl just so I can see the commercials. Luckily, both teams had quarterbacks that were hot as hell, so at least there was eye candy. It was a night of cute men, hilarious commercials and Janets boobie. I bet you Justin got his ass chewed out by Janet after that little performance. (update: Now that I think about it, yes it was definately planned. Why oh God, WHY couldn't Justin have been wearing a codpiece for Janet to rip off)
Too bad that damn game where they throw that funny shaped ball around kept interrupting things.
I'm off to cough up a lung.
