written by the ever-so-loveable Zenchick, with the help of the equally ever-so-loveable and really-bored-at-work Cheap Blue Guitar
I was standing in the lobby of the Empire State Building, waiting for Zenchick. We had already made about 37 cell phone calls that day, my first in the Big Apple. Finally we had found each other, and were going to meet, face to face.
Suddenly I was being hugged...I had seen pictures, so I knew it was her.
She had seen pictures too...but still, she pulled back, looked at me, and said, "you're Mark, right??"
After we had been herded around like cattle for hours, in un-air-conditioned hallways...four people...two fags...two hags...all but the hags had just met that day.... FINALLY, just when we thought we couldn't be cattle-herded any more...we came to an elevator. As the doors closed, we all watched the numbers rush by for the first eighty floors.
We busted out of the elevator, breathless and anticipating the view...only to find that, not only did we have to ride ANOTHER elevator, but first we had to move through the maze of ropes once more. We even got reprimanded for skipping the part of the line where they take the biggest-financial-rip-off-of-the-year picture. But finally, FINALLY...We boarded the final elevator for our destination: the Observation Deck.
It was packed. I was in one corner, Zenchick in the other, us separated by a sea of tourists, all of them silently contemplating the numbers as we rose, floor by floor. Unable to tolerate this stifling silence any longer, I got up on my tippy-tippy toes (being careful not to disturb my man-purse), waved furiously at the other corner diagonal to me, and yelled, "HEY BOO BOO!!"
I'm told it's hard to make Zenchick blush. Well, all you people who say that...you just don't know what her buttons are. I thought she would melt right into the floor!
Today, He decided to honor that moment with a little picture...
Photo orginally taken by MY Brian.
I head back to the flatlands of Nebraska for yet another wedding of one of my Nieces late this afternoon. Thank goodness the next one should be a few years away, unless she gets pregnant or something. It's great seeing the family and all, but the trips are exhausting. After that I shouldn't have to go home for another wedding until one of my great nieces or nephews get married.
There's nothing better then being the token gay uncle who can swoop in at the last moment and help with the floral arrangements, food preparation and decorations. Why, oh God WHY do they automatically assume I'm good at any of these? I am, but that's beside the point. Never assume people! Only gay gene I'm lacking in is the bow making gene. Never been good at that one. I'm not bad with the decorating gene, good with the floral gene, the 'how I dress' gene isn't bad and I'm pretty damn good at the hair cutting gene. Don't get me started on my 'how to decorate a home for Christmas' gene. Is there a drinking gene? I'm sure there are a host of other gay genes we could discuss here.
So I arrive Wednesday night around 1am. Thursday will be preparations for the Rehearsal Dinner and the dinner that evening around 7pm. Friday is the wedding. Obviously they didn't consult me on the proper day to have a wedding. Who in the fuck has a wedding on Friday night? She's already got enough flack about it so I decided to keep my mouth shut. During the day, we'll be setting up for the reception. After the wedding, I'll have a chance to pretty much see every single member of my immediate and extended family in one setting. I'll be able to catch up on their lives, find out all their new grandbabies names, watch them all do the chicken dance. The chicken dance....could we get through a wedding without one? I think not. At least not my family. That coupled with the Macarena and my family becomes the Solid Gold Dancers Reincarnate. Of course, I have to go out eventually and show them all how to dance.
Last years wedding I spent most of the evening keeping this 30 year old drunk Niece of my oldest brothers wife (that was complicated) away from my other brother. It got so bad at one point that my brother was hiding in the mens restroom and he was calling me on his cell phone, asking me to rescue him. She was outside the door stalking waiting. My brothers wife found it hysterical and wouldn't help. She was enjoying watching him squirm more then anything. One by one the family told me to do something about the situation. Why me I have no clue. So I ran to the bathroom, found her and asked if she wanted to dance. I figured that would be the easiest way to draw her attention away from my brother. Her response? "Oh THERE'S that cute sorta-cousin-by-marriage-only that I've always had a crush on! Lets go get it ON baby!" She proceeds to drag me to the dance floor and we bump and grind in front of my entire family as they filmed us and took photographs. None will be forthcoming. If looks could kill, my brother would have died on the spot. He owed me so big at this point. I needed a break, because I'm old like that, and walked over to my sisters table for a drink. She comes up behind me, puts her arms around me and proceeds to violate me. The pained look on my face was priceless. Yes, I was completely taken advantage of. I felt so used and abused. I honestly don't think I'm completely over it. I'm more then just some piece of meat that can used and thrown away like Kleenex. I have feelings you know.
May I have a moment?
I was able to shake her for a short time towards the end of the evening. Then I hear, "HEY BABY!" It's her. She found me. She slithers up to me and plants a kiss. She then asks if I could take her home since she's too drunk to drive. Then she winks at me and says that I can stay if I would like. After I threw up in my mouth a little, I told her that I would honestly prefer to sleep with her brother. Who was quite hot by the way. I figured at that point, the only way out of this situation was to be honest. Withing seconds, she turns on the bitch mode and slaps the living shit out of me.
"Well FUCK. I've just wasted an entire bottle of wine and my ENTIRE evening chasing a Homo! You should go sleep with my brother. He's a fag too." As she stormed out the door.......
Don't worry. Some of that side of the family went and rescued her.
Huh......Now where did I last see her brother?
Hopefully this wedding will be drama free. Please think of me when I'm doing the chicken dance with the rest of the family.
See you next week!
Brian hadn't been out of town two hours and I was asked by my friends to go hang out together, play pool and have a drink. God bless 'em. It really was nice to just sit and talk, be crazy, throw back a few and play a couple mean games of pool. Should have never done that tequila shot. A pool stick even got broke in the process last night. Not saying who. Not saying how. Never a dull moment though. After much needed bonding, talking, hugging and tons of 'I lurv you gurl', I was taken home and crashed not too long after that. Last night was just another reminder of why I don't like to drink on a school night. Two of us made it to work on time. One of us came in just a tad late. The other I think is still in bed, the little bastard. Yes, I was the one who was a tad late. It's not like my manager cares anyway. He has such a 'whatever' attitude about everything. He's the furthest thing from a micromanager I've ever seen.
My blogging is like clockwork. You can almost set your watches by it. I get to work normally at 7:30am and I start to write my entry. It's usually up no later then 9am. I tend to get interrupted a lot here at work from little shits who have nothing better to do then to bother me. Isn't it sad when you're as anal retentive as I am and have to have your post up no later then 9am? I'm an hour late. I shouldn't set rules for myself.
God I need blogger intervention.
*begin The New Me and the Boyfriend Blog*
I've made it a point not to make this blog a "me and the boyfriend" blog. I will never use this space for a place to air our dirty laundry. I will not talk about our fights, our problems, our issues, our this or our that. First off, it's no one's business. It's a part of my life that is private and will remain that way. This will not be a place that I will constantly profess my love for him and post some sort of ooey gooey poem. He knows I love him and I don't need a public forum to cram all that stuff down everyones throat.
I have no choice, but to break that format for today only. Just a tad. Get ready for some cramming.
A Zeitzeuge is a contemporary witness to a specific time, place or era. In other words, a historian of sorts. I can't go on day after day and post here without mentioning what we've done or where we went. He's become such a huge part of my life the past 3 months. Some might think that to be a very short time, but if it feels right...you don't question it. Other then when he's gone to see his parents for a couple days or when I went to New York, we've hardly spent one night apart from each other. We often meet for lunch during the week while I'm at work. We don't get tired of each others company. We want to spend that much time together.
We both know that the first people who are affected or realize a change in us, are the friends. People have been telling me that things aren't the same. That I'm not the same. I'm never around anymore. I'm told that they miss me and wish they could see me more. First off, I know I'm not the same. I'm happier. For the first time in years, I'm making long term goals and plans with someone. I'm talking about the future. I've been a person that's lived the last 10 years or more of my life, living in "the now" and that was it. I'm trying to build a relationship with someone. How could someone not be affected by all this and not show an outward change? We're spending a lot of time alone with each other. I'm spending time getting to know his friends and he's spending time with mine. We're doing the best we can to balance it all out. Who ever said all this was easy?
Lifestyles, attitudes, outlooks....it all changes.
We realized recently that we both need to make sure we spend some quality time with our own close friends without the other. We both need our space apart. We're not attached at the hip as some might think or openly tell us. We do each have our own life but are trying to create one togther in the process.
I just now noticed how much I used the term "we". I wonder how much I use that term when I'm speaking with people around me.
We.
He's leaving for the West coast today. His contract job starts soon and he's going out for 3 days training. I leave for Nebraska the day he gets back into town. They day I get back from Nebraska....you guessed it, is the day he heads back to the West coast for a week. Seems that our wish of making sure we each spend some quality time alone and also with our friends is upon us.
All of this is weighing heavy on my mind and I have no choice but to write about it. I'm going to miss the lil' shit. He means a lot to me and I miss him already.
Counting the days.
*end The New Me and the Boyfriend Blog*
There's nothing better then coming home after a long days work, dealing with rush hour traffic, walk into your home, throw down your stuff, pet the dog, go upstairs to find your boyfriend naked in bed at 5pm.
Ass.....it's what's for dinner.
**
If you haven't seen The Bourne Supremacy, get thee to thy nearest movie theater and do so upon my command.
That's all I'm sayin'.
Three mice are sitting at a bar after the funeral of an Illinois mouse, killed by an 80-year-old lady with a broom, trying to impress each other about how much tougher they are.
The Wisconsin mouse throws down a shot of bourbon, slams the empty glass onto the bar, turns to the Iowa mouse and says, "When I see a mousetrap, I lie on my back and set it off with my foot. When the bar comes down, I catch it in my teeth, bench press it twenty times to work up an appetite, and then make off with the cheese."
The Iowa mouse orders up two shots of tequila, drinks them down one after the other, slams both glasses onto the bar, turns to the Wisconsin mouse and replies, "Oh yeah? When I see rat poison, I collect as much as I can, take it home, grind it up to a powder, and add it to my coffee each morning so I can get a good buzz going or the rest of the day." They both turn to the Texas mouse.
The Texas mouse finishes the beer he has in front of him, lets out a long sigh and says to the two, "I don't have time for this bullshit. Gotta go home and have sex with the cat."
I'm dehydrated. My head is pounding. My tummy is a little pissed off at me this morning. Yes I drank last night. I headed down to the hood to hang out with Brian and his buddies Jim, Gavin, Kelly a few others for the life of me, I'm drawing a blank. When I arrived, they were a few drinks ahead of me so I was practically forced to down my drinks as fast as possible to catch up. I might be a hard core drinker, but this pushed me over the edge pretty damn quick.
After a few hours of 12 ounce curls, touching the Brazilian shot boy, discussing fan club options with Gavin, helping an 85 year old drunk woman passed out on the bar, being asked to be a ring bearer at some lesbian couples wedding and sneaking kisses with the boyfriend, we decided to soak up the alcohol by eating dinner at Black Eyed Pea just a block away.
I don't think the management, the restaurant, the family with two young children right next to us nor the waiter was prepared for this group. Eight boisterous drunk gay men.....and we were hungry. I'm not sure, but I think he brought us a total of 8 baskets of rolls and cornbread. Poor little Kelly kept asking when the waiter was going to be taking our order even up until 2 minutes before the food arrived. Seems he couldn't remember the waiter taking our order but his food somehow showed up none the less. Bless his heart.
We came home around 10pm. I made my two dips for yet another workday pot luck. I swear all someone has to do is fart around here and these people will have a pot luck to celebrate. I kissed Brian good night and left my roommate and him downstairs to watch some Cheerleading Championships on TV. I'm sure they were recreating scenes from Bring It On when I left.
I passed out. Why I drink on a school night is beyond me.
I'm just a glutton for punishment.
Couple housecleaning items first. Added a link to the left that will take you to my Yahoo Photo albums page. I use this as a way to share my photos with my friends. Until I learn how to create my own thumbnail pages on moveable type, I'm going to use this instead. I'm limited to 100MB of space, so I'll leave a few albums there for a while then switch them out later. I've only added last weekends birthday party and the NYC trip for your viewing pleasure. I'll add the infamous Bear Pool Party sometime today. Whenever I decide to blow persuade someone to redesign my site for me (for a fee of course), I'll have them show me how to create photo pages. *hint hint* Also added a new pic of Brian and I to the left under the "Who Am I?" heading.
I've added quite a few new blogs to my blogroll lately. Check some of them out. Hits have shot up the past month and found a few new people to read. Trying to keep up with everyone is nearly impossible. I have my 20+ a day that I read and the rest I try to visit at least twice. This is becoming a part time job. I'm one of those people who if you link me on your site, I'll return the favor.
Good blogging karma (aka Blarma).
Thank GOD someone told me about MT Blacklist. After installing this little program, I've been able to prevent 99% of most spam comments. Getting rid of them was a BITCH. Recently I've been getting anywhere from 30-50 a day from mainly german websites. Somehow those bastards found out about me. If I didn't have MT Blacklist installed I would be screwed. Today alone, there were over 50 spam comments blocked/denied.
Fucking irritating funny little thing happened on the way to work this morning. First off, I'm not a morning person. Secondly, I hate driving in rush hour traffic. Combine these two aspects and I'm a man on the edge. The exit I take to get to work off of I35N, is usually backed up to a quarter of a mile before you even get to the exit. Half of my driving time is usually spent sitting there at a stand still, waiting to get to the stoplight to make my turn. I'm getting to the point where the people who are on the access road are trying to merge with us. Everyone is spacing it apart nicely as they should, allowing the access road people to merge. I did my duty and let one person in front of me. All the sudden, out of nowhwhere this asshole starts crowding me. Forcing me to let another fucking prick driver in. As we inch our way forward, I slowly start to glance over at this douche bag, and it's a buddy of mine who also happens to work in my company. He kept crowding me until I let him in. See if I ever try to get him hired somewhere I work again.
Where's my coffee!!!???
I was reading a story over at Madlife regarding a situation with a friend he was really close to at one time. You would hope that your closest friends would be the people that would accept you no matter what and not try to change you.
I was working out at our local gym back home during my last year of undergrad school. During that time, I had not had any sort of experience with man at all. I was still terrified and thought it was a sin, but it didn't stop me from realizing that I had an attraction. While I was benchpressing a couple hundred pounds (Ok, so I fabricated the amount of weight) a muscular body builder came over and asked if I needed a spot. I said sure. I glanced up and saw this toe headed guy with bright blue eyes smiling down at me. We continued to work out together, shower and head out for a bite of lunch that day. From that day on, we were inseparable. I knew immediately that I was attracted to him. I pushed back those feelings and proceeded to build a wonderful friendship with him. If you ever saw him would would see why I had a crush.
There wasn't a day that went by that we didn't spend the night at each others house. Usually in each others bed even. He was a football player, so I got to know all the other football players as well. I was in an element that I wasn't use to or had ever been around. I got use to the antics of straight boys. I was put in so many homoerotic situations that would make the most incredible porns. They all had girlfriends except for me. My best friend was engaged to his fiancé during this entire time. I never questioned his sexuality and still don't. He looked up to me like an older brother, loved me and cared for me. Waking up the next morning with his arms draped over me was normal. He came from a very affectionate family like myself and if he loved someone, he had no problem showing that affection male or female.
I know some people are sitting here thinking, "You idiot!! He was giving you every sign in the book! You could have gotten you a piece of that if you would have just made the move!" It never once crossed my mind. Until this day, I don't see his affection as anything more then normal brotherly love. We were best friends. Closer then any friend that I've ever had in my life. Even until this day.
We both went away to graduate school. I had come out by this point in full force, yet I kept it a secret from him. During one of my many visits to see him, he introduced me to his best friend. A Nebraska Husker football player. It took all the strength I had not to stare at this boy. We shook hands, exchanged pleasantries and hung out all weekend together. The following weekend as I was standing there at a gay bar in Kansas City, I look over and who do I see, but my buddy's new best friend looking at me smiling. He was gay. One thing lead to another and after much flirtation, I invited him back to my house and we spent the entire weekend together.
My God.... the two closest friends my best friend has ever had were both big ol' Mo's and they were sleeping together.
The following weekend, my best friend came up to visit with his sister. I remember the day I told him I was gay while we drove around campus. He was pissed. He was upset that I hid something as important as this from him. He just put his arms around me, held me and we both cried. He then scolded me for keeping secrets from him. He told me he would always love me no matter what. Then I told him I was sleeping with his best friend. The look was priceless. Luckily for the both of us, he busted out laughing and said he thought there was some sexual tension between us but couldn't understand why. His two best friends were homo's and he was fine with that.
It wasn't long before the emails, letters and phone conversations started, telling me I should go to church, I needed God in my life and quoting me scriptures. By now, he was married and had two children. They had started going to the local Baptist church. No matter how much I loved him, I had to tell him that although I appreciate his concern, I couldn't handle being friends with someone who wouldn't accept me for who I am. We had a long discussion/debate/argument that lasted for hours. Eventually I got up, hugged him, told him I loved him and walked out the door. We didn't speak for 5 years. There wasn't a day that went by when I didn't think about him and the friendship that we had.
Ever have someone pop up in your head and for the love of GOD you can't get the thoughts of them out? I find that as a sign I need to find that person, talk with them and get caught up on each others lives. So that afternoon, I did a little online search and found him. He lived an hour from my hometown and was the towns Physicians Assistant. In other words, the town doctor. We chatted over the phone for hours. We laughed and cried. We reminisced about the past and talked about the future. He also apologized. It was like time had stood still, our differences were put behind us and our friendship had never stopped.
It's difficult when family or friends don't accept us for who we are and the decisions we make.
Hopefully, if they love you enough.....they will.
********************
Just a reminder to join Tribe.net and become a member of our gay blogger tribe/forum. See information on yesterdays post.
The ever-so-loveable Palochi and I were talking today and he asked why no one had yet started a gay blogger tribe at www.tribe.net. It had never crossed my mind, but I found the idea to be one of the best of the century. Ok, well maybe I exaggerate.
You should first go ahead and register as a member then go check out the tribe that was created. I can be a great place to meet new bloggers, exchange ideas, talk about whatever is on our mind, plan and organize other blogger meetings or whatever tickles our fancy. Hell, we can use it as a place to exchange recipes! I'm actually a member of S.H.A.G. (Shaved Heads Are Gorgeous). No, I didn't create it but was asked to join by some hunky bald guy. I even joined a tribe for people who like drawing the human figure.
You name it and you can find a tribe created for it.
Give it a try! Now maybe my friends section won't seem so.....well, small.
There are times when I'm sure after reading many of the post about my family, that people think I come from the ideal 1950's sitcom family like Leave it to Beaver. My mother was the housewife, wearing a string of pearls and her beautifully coifed hair and starched full skirt. She vacuumed in high heels. Dad worked all day and came home to a clean house and a hot meal on the table every single day that he was alive. Our family never fought and argued. We went to church every Sunday. Divorce had never happened between ANY member of my family or my extended family.
Until now.
My mother called to tell me that my nephew and his wife are getting a divorce. She's a girl that we all had a problem with since the beginning, but he loved her, so we supported him in all his decisions.
She told my nephew that she was on the pill in highschool. She obviously was for months in the beginning of the relationship, but when she decided to get pregnant, she stopped taking the pill. Something she later admitted to after he asked her to marry him. They were so young. They both got married right after she graduated from highschool. It was a quick wedding. She didn't want to walk down the isle fat and in a wedding dress. But they honestly seemed to be in love.
A few years after the baby was born she came to the family and made a startling accusation. Her and her mother accused my nephew's father of molesting his own grandchild due to "evidence" that she found. To make a very long and painful story short, it was proven that she would frequently leave the baby in a wet diaper for so long that it caused the baby to have a horrible rash and a urine infection. He took a lie detector test to prove his innocence which was never questioned as far as the family was concerned. Her mother and her didn't like our side of the family and were trying to find a way to separate themselves from us. You could imagine how this tore up my family and of course my nephew.
We thought things had died down and that things were getting better. She would come to our family functions. They had a second child. We forgave her for what she had done, but we sure as hell didn't forget. We gave both of them all the love and support a family could give. It was the Christian thing to do, right?
She told him recently that he wasn't fulfilling her needs. She's taking him for all she can. Hired a lawyer. Removed all money from checking and savings accounts without his knowledge. Demanding 70% of his salary for alimony and child support. He's afraid of never seeing his children again if he doesn't go along with her demands. He literally doesn't know what to do.
My heart aches for this boy. He's been a good husband from what we all could see and gave his family everything that they could possibly ask for. His children love him to death. Our family has never dealt with a situation like this and feel like our hands are tied. Ever just feel completely hopeless?
It doesn't matter how many miles separate you from your family. When one family member is going through something like this, the shit just trickles down to everyone. You want to take this little boy who use to be nicked named Fat Albert as a kid (he was a chubby baby) and hold him to make everything better.
Unfortunately, that's not how the world works.
If anyone else tells me that I have to go to another birthday party, I'm sending them a card. I'm done. Well, until mine comes up in September. *ahem* My friends, along with Brian and I got the entire house ready for the guest. The straight boy (Fiance' of the birthday girl) tried to start decorating and we told him to leave that up to the professionals. It's in our blood. He wouldn't know the first think about putting up crepe paper, bless his heart.
We finished a tad early and decided to sit and relax with a cold alcoholic beverage. Three hours later........did I say three? Yes, three hours later the birthday girl shows up for her own damn party. Needless to say, a few of us had our panties in a wad over that one. Nothing like showing up to a party full of pissy drunk queens. Being fashionably late is one thing but 3 hours is enough for me to snatch you baldheaded.
After airkissing each other for a while and watching her open her gifts, the drinking began in full force. Rumor has it that I showed my penis to two girls. Hey they asked. I knew it was going to be a wild evening when the straight boy from Afghanistan told me he would love for his girlfriend (who was at the party)to use a strap on and just go to town on him. I'm not sure, but the look on my face had to be priceless. I thought the girlfriend would have been horrified, but when I told her she said she was more then willing and thought it sounded hot. She told me to tell him that. I did. (I ran as a go-between for an hour between the two) He's excited. He asked me for tips. Like I'm some kind of a pro at this or something. SHUT UP Y'ALL! I just told him it's going to hurt like hell at first and to strap on a bottle of poppers under his nose to help him fade in and out of consiousness. I told her to be gentle. He's a newbie.
After thanking me for house cleaning tips, he wondered if I had any condoms. I told him of course. He wasn't ready to throw his ankles in the air for her that night, but was horny none the less. He sees that I have Trojan Magnums and he said that wouldn't be big enough. He proceeds to tell me that all boys from Afghanistan are hung like horses. *cricket noises*
Really? Prove it.
He didn't.
Damn.
I tried to warn Brian that I get this type of thing from straight guys a lot. I'm not sure why. They just seem to be way too open and honest with me. It's a curse, but someones got to do it.
It's my duty.
I'm not sure how the evening progressed. I remember there being a Pinata in the back yard and after a few people taking a whack, they handed it over to me. They seem to think I know how to handle a big stick. *ahem* I got the job done.
Brian tucked me in, kissed me good night and that's all this boy remembers.
Good times.
There is a WICKED thunder and lightning storm over the sin city of Amsterdam. Sorry LA folk, but I think the sinning that goes on here is way more productive then Los Angles.
I have not made it to my coffee shop as of yet. It's just too wet outside and I don't want my hair to fall, so I'm in the hotel business centre browsing porn and blog sites while these American tourists look over my shoulder at what I'm writing.
so catch this - the flight over was fucking hilarious. First, it's an all male crew (does THAT tell you something about Amsterdam???) 7 male crew members (I'm the hottest one I swear), all gay, except for the cocks in the pit of course - they're never gay..just metrosexual. Second, one of the spacewaitresses is a drag queen. Ya - I bumped into her at Woody's on Thursday night. (I read that SoBlo was there too but he never said hi, but then again, I did not see him and he might not have seen me...must have been busy with the tourists and porn stars - fluffing - right?)
Anywhoo, as we are about to depart from the gate in toronto, the ticket agent comes running down to the plane to speak with our purser (who looks like Dr. Evil).
"Can you make an announcement for me?"
Dr. Evil - "Sure - what?"
"Someone has left a pink ghetto blaster in the departure lounge."
I'm there and I'm like "WHAT!?! A Pink ghetto blaster?"
Yup. So we make an annoucement "If someone has left a pink ghetto blaster, yes you heard me, a pink ghetto blaster in the departure lounge, please identify yourself to one of the crew." Well, this big burley guy calls me over and tells me it is his. Not too gay looking, not too straight looking. Just big and muscle like. Metrosexual.
So up I go to the departure lounge to get it, wondering why proud mary is travelling with a pink ghetto blaster. Low and behold, when I lay my eyes on it I'm shocked to see that not only is it pink, but it is a HELLO KITTY PINK GHETTO BLASTER.
Now I know that Amsterdam is the sister shuttle to Europe from North America (hello - look at my crew!) but puuuullleeese.
So I walked back on the plane carrying it like it's my new bucci bag for all the passengers to see and gave it to him. I said to him "HELLO KITTY? A bit over the top don't you think? Listen, if there was an extra seat in business I'd move you to it just for admitting that you own a pink hello kitty ghetto blaster." He smiles, face turns red and tell me it's his daughter's sitting in the back of the plane. OOOPS. Might get another letter from Management over this one.
OHHH - my purser (Dr. Evil) just stopped in the business centre...apparently he was at a porno theatre in the red light district doing a Dan Renzi. Right as he is at his breaking point, they wheel in 3 parapalegics(Sp?) and move them to the front of the theatre. Big Screen, Big Sound and Big dicks and three big wheelchairs. So there they were, all three chairs in a row with their helpers whipping out thier cocks. GOOD LORD - I don't think Viagara could inspire wood at that point. All the theatre attendees got up and left. Dr. evil ended up going to one of the gay bars to haunt the dark room. Now he's here with is smelly hands, bad breath and drenched shirt watching me type wondering who I'm telling his story to...
Anyway, this post has gone on long enough and I simply must get to my coffee shop. If I'm inspired later I may post again...maybe not...
If not, well, It's been fun blogging for a few days and I miss ya'all terribly.
And if I was blogging on my own site still...would I have made this list?
Gawd fucking bless...I have soo much to get off my chest right now. With my laptop closed and my mouth duct taped shut since my blog went down I feel so out of the loop....so alone. Oh I have to say it...I could just slit my wrists.
BUT NO MORE. Thanks to Mark I'm here to taint his well written, self analyzing grammatically correct, spell checked blog. So here's the skinny on me - (in case you have no idea who I am. I'm sissy SpaceChik (note the spelling bitch) I'm a 33 year old gay male living in Toronto, Canada. I have two jobs a 9-5 office job and I'm a flight attendant with our national carrier (hence my name and my former blog's name - spacewaitress). I have ADD and dyslexia which my partner of 13 years is now on drugs to help him cope with me - gawd bless him.
So for this weekend I'm here to blog vicariously through www.zeitzeuge.org about all sorts of shit. Like my damn cat.
The little witch had a kidney infection last week and went into full kidney failure. The poor thing almost died. I swear that would have sent my partner over the edge. $3400.00 later she's back at home to annoy me all night as she looks for some love on the bed (not unlike my partner). The main difference between her and my super is that I have to give her anti-biotic pills daily. Have you ever given a cat a pill? Bloody hell - it's like a bad Siegfried and Roy show. The little witch twists and turns, she bats at you, claws you, bites and spits at you. She's worse then a 2 year old eating broccoli. We had to go get a "pill gun" so that we could get her to swallow. (sorry - won't work on your boyfriend). If we miss at shooting it in the back of her throat she spits it out like cheep hooker. When this happens she froths at the mouth and goes crazy batting at her own globs of drool. She bats it around and then there is cat spit from ass hole to breakfast. Not a pretty scene. It's going to be a daily battle for us for the next few weeks. She is also not eating and this is a big problem. We are watching her waste away to nothing. We have another appointment with the vet later today to see what can be done.
BTW - My chicken pox are getting better..just a few spots left and they look like freckles more than anything else. I was proud of my skin before, but now if I take my shirt off in a club I kind of feel like Gollum. Nobody wants to go near me so my shirt stays on. I swear I'm never looking after an unaccompanied minor flying with us again - the little shits gave me the chicken pox.
Most of you that read my blog in the past are probably wondering what happened. Lots of you sent e-mails and well wishes and I never replied. Seriously - there were wayyyyy to many to respond too. I tried with the first few and then just gave up. Tired of writing the same shit over and over again. So here it is...
My office job staff were reading the blog. I found out because one of them mentioned blogger when referring to a certain functionality that we were looking for for one of our websites. The key phrase peeked my interest, wondering why they thought I knew what blogger was so I investigated my stats. Then one of them e-mailed me from their home address and I checked the IP address. There it was. A full time reader. I had said too much and wore my heart on my sleeve a little to proudly and now I'm getting burned by it. Such is life. They may be reading this post but at least now they know that I know that they know that I know that they were reading. I just re-read that and now I need a gin.
SOOOO - in other spacechik news, I leave for Amsterdam tonight on flight 892 and return on Sunday. In Amsterdam, after I visit my most favorite coffee shop "Baba" (in the heart of the Red Light District) to smoke a cigarette, I'll saunter over to an internet cafe to post again tomorrow. There is not that much to do there I find..the gay scene is all leather and fisting and that's not something a good little gal like me is into. So, instead, after enjoying my cigarette, I'll probably end up returning to my hotel room and push the mini bar around my bed to practice my service techniques on the plane. It don't get any more boring then this folks. Seriously, I've been to the museums, looked at poor Anne Franks house 100 times and, frankly, I find it boring. I'm trying to stay out of the dark rooms at the clubs so this is why I don't go out clubbing. BUT BUT BUT..this is a Saturday night layover so who knows..... Don't know if I can post on Sunday because I'm in the atmosphere on my way back to the t-dot, but I'll try.
Last night TorontoBoi and I went to terrorize the tourists at Woody's in ghetto. He was there and he looked MIGHTY fine I tell ya...yummy. I could burry my head in his bush any day. I could be a flufffer - no problem. Hey - Is it better to be the fluffer or the porn star?
Anywhoo, I also ran into one of my crew members on tonight's flight to AMS - and he was in drag (gasp!) . I told him that if we are going to go hang at club Exit in AMS that he best be in drag. We'll see...so if I post on Sunday you know it's because SOMETHING funny happened. Like my drag queen co-worker ends up a s fashion road kill or something....
Wish me luck on my flight tonight - god I miss this shit. Next post from Amsterdam tomorrow.
For the most part, I rarely post much of anything on the weekends unless something traumatic, dramatic, hilarious or shocking happens. So in other words, I don't post much on the weekends.
It's bad enough when some of our favorite bloggers that we've grown to love, up and stop blogging because they're tired, have nothing to say or life became too busy. It's even worse when one of our beloved stops blogging because they are forced due to unfortunate circumstances. When someones been a part of your daily life for so long, things just aren't the same when they leave. So this weekend, Sissy SpaceChik from Spacewaitress fame will be posting. I told him to post as much as he wants, whenever he wants and ABOUT whatever he wants, so be prepared. He has a lot to tell y'all. Hopefully this will work out so well, he can come back and keep us all updated once in a while on his crazy life. One can only hope. Maybe other bloggers who have long since gone might be persuaded to come back for an entry or two.
Wow, this will be strange. I'll be able to come to my own site and comment on anothers entry. How Twilightzone-ish!
Last night Brian and I took my Ex who has been in intensive care for two months, out to dinner. That's right. He's improved so much. There's still a long road ahead of him, but if he plays his cards right, things should improve for him. After dinner at Ojeda's, we headed up to Antare's which is at the top of The Reunion Tower for dessert and drinks. I've lived in Big D for over 10 years and have never once visited. Guess it was about time. Afterwards, we headed over to The Cosmic Cafe' for a cup of Chai to end the night. It's good that the Ex can get out and enjoy things again.
Tomorrow night is yet another damn birthday celebration, this time being hosted at our duplex. These things are wearing me OUT. I'll be sure to include some photo's of the weekends festivities on Monday.
Until then, lets all show our love for The SpaceChik!
People seem to be having guest bloggers lately, so I'm actually jumping on this bandwagon myself.
You will be entertained by a well loved and missed blogger this weekend. I'll post the details tomorrow morning.
Being around a baby or young child always causes my paternal mind to start racing. Happens everytime I go home for a visit also. I get to see all my new great nieces and nephews. Spend time playing with them, buying them toys and giving them lots of candy before handing them back to their parents. Having my latest great niece fall asleep on my chest for hours during my last visit home was pure heaven.
It's times like Tuesdays Birthday party and any other time spent with kids, that causes me to want one of my own. The idea of watching them grow. Teaching them all you know. Hearing their first words. Watching them take their first steps. Taking them to little league. Taking them for their first haircut. Buying them cute little clothes at Gap Kids.
I know I would be a great father. A little stern at times maybe, but overall a caring, nurturing and loving Dad. Having HIV would prevent me from ever having one of my own using my sperm, a turkey baster and a willing female, but adoption would be perfectly fine with me. Many children out there need a good home despite what the Conservative Right might say otherwise.
After I wake up from this dream, splashed some water in my face and come to my senses, I completely and utterly change my mind. Why? I don't have to deal with having my life turned completely upside down. Never have to worry about babysitters. No dealing with getting up every hour on the hour all night long for feedings. Being thrown up on. The neverending crying. Breast feeding? Don't even get me started. The diapers. The forumula. The poop!
And that's just the beginning. Then the little shits start to grow up. The endless barrage questions. First day of school. Helping them with homework. Their first date and all the problems, questions and talks that go along with it. Having the "sex" talk? The thoughts make me sick to my stomach. College? I could barely get myself through college let alone forking out cash for my own child.
Then again, I spend some time with one of those little bundles of poop, pee, gas and puke and I get all mushy again. I hold one in my arms and have them look up into my face, making that cooing noise and I just melt. That baby smell they have when you're holding them close.
Then I have to change a poopy diaper. When did they eat corn?
Awwww! Have you seen them smile and giggle?
Nevermind, that was just gas.
You hear them refer to you as Unka Mawk. They're not good at pronouncing their R's. So cute. *sigh*
Then they throw up enough to make Linda Blair look like a day in the park.
A birthday party wouldn't be complete without flowers, a cake and a birthday girl or three. G and T hosted a little birthday party for three of our friends last night. Lexi of course, was the center of attention. There's nothing more precious then watching a one year old celebrate her birthday with tons of chocolate chip mint icecream. We stuffed ourself with Carne Asada, spanish rice, beans, chips, queso and salad. G is quite the little cook. Everything was homemade. I can't begin to tell you how miserable we were after dinner due to the fact that we couldn't move. We were stuffed.
As I watched little Lexi last night, I couldn't help but think that she's not going to remember a thing about this night. She's only one year old. Shoving cake and icecream in her face, opening presents and lots of laughter. Nothing but flashes of light, clapping and all eyes on the birthday girl.
I can't remember many of my birthday parties growing up. I have vague memory of when I was 4 years old. I remember who was there, the games we played, sitting on the front porch blowing bubbles, eating cake and of course, opening presents. The rest of my childhood memories are drawing a blank. I immediately had to call my mother this morning to ask if she had a birthday party for me every year growing up. You would have thought I awarded her the "Worst Mother Life Achievement Award" or something. I was promptly scolded and told that I received a birthday party every year up until I was 16. I was told how big they were, who was there and what we did. 1981 was the year I told my mother that I was too old for any more parties. At least ones involving Pin the Tale on the Donkey, Duck-duck-goose, party favors and bubbles.
Cake, presents and a stripper this boy would never turn down.
I've figured out the secret to a stress free day. Who would have thought it would have been so simple? Why didn't I think of this years ago? No, I haven't started drinking on the job and drugs, including over the counter and prescription have not become part of my daily routine.
I've mentioned that my commute, albeit only 12 miles or so, can take me anywhere from 20-60 minutes depending on the traffic. It also depends on if some asshole has been pulled over for driving in the HOV lane by himself and everyone who passes them on the highway must slow down to a fucking snails pace to see if anyone had a wreck complete with someone being beheaded or dismembered. Or maybe, someone has drove up someones ass because they weren't paying attention due to the fact they were trying to put on their eyeliner while speeding down the highway at 75 miles an hour. Don't even get me started on the guy talking on his cell phone and the longer the conversation the slower he drives. He probably can't chew gum and walk at the same time. Thank God anyone in Texas can get a permit to carry a gun.
*breathe in an out very slowly*
I told my manager yesterday that I would be starting to come in between 7-7:30am instead of 8am to beat traffic going to and from work. I made it here in record time. In fact, I got to work early. After turning on my computer and dropping off my manpurse, I walked over to get some coffee. I wasn't bombarded with 10 questions the minute I walked in the door or someone calling me with a problem to fix. I found 2 of my new early morning cohorts hanging out in the breakroom. While we stood there waiting for the coffee to brew we talked about our significant others, what we did the night before, the fact that Dillards was having a sale and where would be a great new place to try for lunch.
I was able to sit down and check my email and phone messages in peace while I sip my coffee. All you could hear was the pitterpatter of little fingers running rapidly on a keyboard. No one was talking. No phones were ringing. No one chewing out their other half over the phone. A feeling of peace and contentment came over me.
I started to write this entry with no distractions.
*15 minutes later*
The time is now 8am. Everyone has arrived. The radio's have been turned on and tuned to some gawd-awful country station. Someone has bitched that we double bagged the coffee so it would look and taste like something other then weak tea and proceeded to tell our Vice President. We just received a lecture from the VP saying how some people might not appreciate the fact that the coffee was too strong and we should mark the coffee pot with a warning. She stormed off downstairs to get some "properly made" coffee. The girl behind me is already pissed off at her ex-husband who just called. I've received my first email asking for help on a project.
I was in pure heaven for about 40 minutes. I'm sitting her so relaxed and stress free.
This is better then valium.
I hosted my first and very own GB:DAL Friday night at Mickey's. Ok, so it was only Glenn and I and we didn't plan it until a day or two before, but hey it's a start right? What we lacked in bloggers, we made up in drinking. Glenn couldn't get over the fact that his beers were only going to cost him $1.25 all night. This ain't NYC baby. Drinks don't require you to put down a deposit.
The night included a few of my friends, an old friend from my graduate school days and a few of Glenns friends. The night wouldn't have been complete without gratuitous shots of our bartenders and my favorite drag queen, Ginger Lane.
The rest of the weekend was spent going from two birthdays to a casual dinner party. It's funny how your life changes when you start dating someone. I know my post the past couple months have been filled with "The Life and Times of Mark and Brian". He has consumed so much of my life recently. We spend most all of our free time together. It's natural that most of my entries would involve him in some form.
Our social calendar has doubled recently too. Between his group and my group of friends, we pretty much spend our weekends running from one function to another. I'm still trying to keep all the new names and faces straight. The weekdays tend to be our time to get caught up, relax, do laundry, get naked or even catch a movie.
Sure doesn't leave much time for us to register anywhere now does it?
I'm kidding. No china patterns have been picked out yet, so simmer down.
I was a pessimist, I'll admit that. Always thinking, not in my lifetime. The next generation will see amazing advancements. They'll be the lucky ones. I've learned to be content with how things were and live with it.
Maybe I was wrong.
All that talk about old music caused my obsessive compulsive disorder to kick in high gear again. I've never been one to download music. My anal retentive disorder prevents me from doing so. Owning the actual factory pressed CD, complete with cover art, lyrics and the entire group thanking their significant other, family and Jesus is something I normally have no control over. After sitting at the computer the last two nights for about 5 hours each night, I downloaded the following music and burned my first CD. I know I'm a little behind in the times, so get off my ass. It's all about babysteps people! Now I have a LOT to sing to while putzing around town.
I'm Too Sexy : Right Said Fred
Talking In Your Sleep : The Romantics
Putting On The Ritz : Taco
Vienna : Ultravox
Everybody Have Fun Tonight : Wang Chung
Let's Go : Wang Chung
So Alive : Love and Rockets
Do You Remember : Honeydrippers
Wild Wild West : Escape Club
Send Me An Angel : Real Life
Cult of Personality : Living Colour
I Wanna Be A Cowboy : Boys Don't Cry
It's My Perogative : Bobby Brown
Small Town Boy : Bronski Beat
Rock Me Amadeus : Falco
Relax : Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Shattered Dreams : Johnny Hates Jazz
Pop Musik : M
One Night In Bangkok : Murray Head
If You Leave : OMD
Love Is A Battlefield : Pat Benatar
Rick Astley Megamix
When I left this morning, my computer was just chugging away downloading more and more songs from the 80's and early 90's. I think I have a problem. I don't feel so bad wasting the last two nights away. I was able to continue drawing and below you'll see another progression shot.
I'm hoping to meet up with Glenn tonight somewhere in our Hood and throw back a few drinks. Everyone be good this weekend, or at least be good at it.
Back on June 17th, I posted a small entry regarding David Berkowitz, the Son of Sam killer, who has his own website called Forgiven For Live which is sponsored by an organization called Focus On The Family. I mentioned the problem I had with his website, especially the journal entry he wrote regarding his views on homosexuality. I mentioned how I felt sorry for the families of his victims who have NOT forgiven him and how even though God might have forgiven him, I'm sure that even HE didn't ever want him out of jail.
I opened up my email last night and what should I see, but the comment you'll see below. David doesn't actually have computer access himself, but works through the webmaster of his site. If this really is from him, I'll never know.
IP Address: 24.94.15.103
Name: David
Email Address: webmaster@forgivenforlife.com
URL:
Comments:
It is not what we think, but what God says it right or wrong. I don't believe we were made to be homosexual. It is obvious by looking at the design of the body. We cannot multipy without the other sex and surely the design of our sexual organs show what they are made for. God is good!
I'm all for freedom of speech. The radical Christians can spew forth their filth as much as their hate filled mouths can chuck it out. They have the right to their opinion as much as I have the right to mine. I also know that not all "christians" are the same. Again, I'm not doubting the ability of God or whatever god you believe in to forgive. I'm just sure that many of the victims families have not forgiven him. His views on us 'Mo's? Honestly, I couldn't give a rats ass. He believes no different then many other people out there.
Where am I going with all this? I have no idea. I just find something very disturbing about the whole thing.
It's nice to have new readers though. *rolls eyes*
If he comes looking for me, I hear that the next door neighbor has a radical poodle that speaks in tongues.
It seems that I'm off on an 80's kick again. When I was in highschool and college, I probably purchased 5-10 tapes a week. Sometimes just because the guys on the cover were cute or the band had a really cool name. When tapes cost around 4.99-6.99, it didn't matter back then if I ended up not liking them.
Just a reminder, you probably could find a 2 foot section at Musicland (doesn't exist anymore) that housed those strange looking discs called CD's. Hell, they still sold albums back then. Email me if you're not quite sure what I'm referring to. Tapes never lasted long. Over the years, most have broken, melted while sitting in my car during the summer, worn out from constant play or lost. The thoughts of replacing almost 750 tapes make me sick to my stomach.
I've been putting together a list of my favorite groups and have been searching for CD's at half.com. Recently I've purchased greatest hits collections from Tears for Fears, Eurythmics, Toni Basil, Rick Astley, Berlin and Bros. The great thing is that I haven't paid more then 7 bucks for any CD.
Last night I received the greatest hits collection of Go West. Who knew they had enough hits to even put together a collection. Most probably won't even know who in the hell they are....or were.
I do have a point to this whole post.
I popped the CD in for my 25 minute commute to work this morning. I haven't heard these songs for almost 20 years. Go West never had a lot of airplay from what I can remember. You won't even hear them on those irritating "Greatest hits from the 80's, 90's and TODAY!!!" stations. The first song starts playing and I started belting out each and every word at the top of my lungs. All I needed was a hairbrush to use as a microphone, but that would have made driving difficult. The guy sitting at the stoplight next to me right before I turned into my street I'm sure got a kick out of me this morning.
I remembered every word.
Funny how the human brain works.
After the pool party Saturday, passing out drunk Saturday night, hanging by the pool with Brian on Sunday, another pool party Sunday night, cleaning the house and yard on Monday, lunch with friends and then an impromptu BBQ at my place that night.....I'm just pooped. I've seen enough hair, butts, dicks, fireworks and food to last me a while. I sure as hell didn't get tired of being with the boy I love though. I couldn't have asked for a better weekend and a better person to spend it with.
There, I said it. This boy is on cloud nine guys. The happiness and feeling of contentment is amazing.
Now that y'all are going into diabetic shock.......
We were talking off and on this weekend about our personalities. How we react in crowds compared to one on one or even a small group. How we feed off of each other. How we are different in a group of people we don't know. How a group of people we know will bring out the clown in us. How some people we know always seem "on" and the real personality is hidden somewhere deep. Some people sit there and never say a word yet do not seem out of place or uncomfortable. Others seem so painfully shy in a crowd.
Obviously, I'm a person who feeds off of others. I get in a crowd and feel as if I have to perform. I have to be funny and make people laugh. I come across as outgoing and not a shy bone in my body. I can be comfortable in most situations even if I don't know a soul in the room. There are those rare occurances where I'll become the shy, introverted guy at the party who's leaning up against the wall with his arms folded and a look of "don't talk to me" on my face. A few drinks and that all changes. Sit me down at a table with a few people and I'm calm and relaxed. There's no pressure to be hilarious. No pressure to feel like I have to be the center of attention. I never thought I was like that until it was pointed out to me this weekend. I'm not sure if it's a need to be liked, loved, wanted or noticed. Maybe it's a sign of insecurity. Who knows.
After being thrown in many different social situations this past weekend, I had time to reflect I guess.
Hopefully these pictures of a bunch of hairy men lounging at a pool party will make up for the Pride Picture Fiasco of last week. Brian and I were envited to a Bear Pool Party at some couples house yesterday. I sure as hell hope they had a really good filter in that pool to catch any hair or foreign substances. It was a very frisky crowd I must say.
We brought along Brians friends Gavin and Keith (the one on the left) and met up with his friend Jim.
If the site of mens pee pees and asses causes you to have a coronary, please skip this paragraph. As with any party full of drunken gay men, the sea of butts and pee pee's
were never in short supply. As you can tell, I was having the time of my life.
Warning!!! Hairy image below. What a way to end the afternoon.
I can still smell the fireworks. I remember how excited I got. I can even remember the smell of burnt flesh from being just a tad mentally off when it came to playing with fireworks. Damn we were some stupid ass children.
A few days before, my Father and I would drive outside of town to the local Fireworks Stand. I could barely see what to buy as I stood up on my tippy toes. I remember hearing my father gumble and complain at how damned expensive they were. I just smiled up at him, batted my eyelashes and gave him my biggest "puppy dog look" that I could muster. He continued to grumble and bought me anything I wanted. I would receive my yearly lecture from my father the police officer about the dangers, safety requirements and handling of fireworks. I had the lecture memorized.
"I knoooow Daaaad! Lets just go shoot them off!" I was a whiney little bastard.
Everyone on our city block gathered the night of The Fourth in our front yard. All of us kids were usually sitting sitting on the front port around 8pm, hoping and praying for the sun to go down as fast as possible. We were given sidewalk snakes and smoke bombs to play with until it was time for the big show.
As the sun went down the children became more annoying. "When are we gonna start Dad, huh? Soon Dad? DAAAD!!??? Aw, come ON Dad!" Finally they gave us some sparklers to play with just to shut us the hell up. I remember spelling out our name in the air and seeing the trailers the light left behind.
With 15-20 families from the block and most all of our relatives there, you could just imagine how many bags of fireworks we had to enjoy ourself with. I wasn't allowed to light anything myself. My brothers and father were the designated lighters in our family. They were like a God to me. I could wait until I grew up to be a Lighter myself someday.
The dazzling display of sparks, colors and lights went on for what seemed like hours on end. I would be sitting on my mothers lap watching the display as she gossiped with the other women. I could barely keep my eyes open but I had to stay awake until every last snap, crackle and pop was finished.
As our family grew, so did our July 4th festivies. I was around 16 years old at the time. The days of shooting them off in your front yard were gone. We were forced outside of town to abandoned warehouses, farms or open fields. Seventy or more of us would gather with enough food to feed an army. All cooked by good christian women. Someone would fill up the back end of a pickup with ice and load it up with watermelon. We formed our own makeshift tailgate party. The women hung out in one area and the men in another. The children were running around shooting bottle rockets and roman candles at each other. I can't tell you how many times we injured ourselves or someone else. These are the times I realize I'm lucky we made it through our childhood alive.
You see, I had become a Lighter at the ripe old age of sixteen. I was the envy of all my younger cousins, neices and nephews. I sat them all down and exlained to them the dangers of fireworks and how to handle them properly. I had grown up.
I had become my father.
'Til this day I get bummed out that I'm not at home enjoying the same tradition that has continued ever since I could walk. The anticipation of buying fireworks has subsided, but the thrill of seeing them has never left me.
Everyone please have a safe and happy Forth of July.
Do you ever get to the point where you think you are around your co-workers way to much? I've been feeling that way a lot lately. I work with 12 women and 2 men.
Today, we're having another potluck luncheon. These people don't need an excuse to bring in food. Birthdays, work anniversaries, holidays, change in the weather. It doesn't matter. We're having an old fashioned July 4th BBQ today for lunch. Hamburgers, hotdogs, baked beans, potato salad and fixin's. I'm sure a lot of crop-dusting will be going on around the cubefarm this afternoon.
We've been having these "themed" potlucks about twice a month. The Lunch Bunch has been going out to lunch every Friday for the past year or so. Someone different picks the place to eat each month. They dread it when it's my turn. I try to take them to experience Ethiopian or something non-redneck like that. Our pesky, perky administrative assistant came up with that lovely group name like it's some fucking exclusive club or something. Don't get me started on the emails we receive chocked full of cutsie little icons, animated pics, funky rainbow fonts and LOTS of exclamation points throughout.
Pardon me, I think I threw up a little.
I've recently been invited to join "the girls" from work out for a night of dancing. Some have been recently seen skipping down the street for happy hour once a week also. I honestly don't think this crowd is ready to see me get my drink on. I tend to be just a tad to honest after a couple of cocktails. I've been known to even get a little crazy. Those are strictly rumors. Nothing has been confirmed. I'm also not keen on spending a couple hours with a bunch of catty women hanging out in one of the biggest meat markets in Dallas as their token homosexual. I've already been told how much fun it would be all of us hanging out together. Just us GIRLS. I have been known to be a little girly, but the confirmation on that rumor is still out along with the acting crazy when I drink rumor.
I like my co-workers. I like them quite a bit actually. But at this point, we might as well all go together in a Time Share and spend the weekends with each other sipping drinks and slathering suntan lotion on each others backs.
My boss is already starting to use little words, terms and phrases that I use. The girls are asking numerous questions about my personal life and offering up information about theirs. Brian came in to see me one day and all the girls had to rush to meet him. They bombarded me with questions about us after he left. Damn they get personal. I was hearing things about their personal life that made my butthole tighten up. I've been working with these 12 women long enough that I'm even getting familiar with their cycle. Hell, I think I'm developing a cycle that coinsides with theirs. Soon I'll be asking them to borrow a tampon.
I even had a dream about a couple of them. They've invaded my subconscious now. That's where I draw the line. My dreams are reserved for hot, hunky, naked men. Not Dallas urban housewives.
I feel bad for turning them down for nights of frolicking around town after work. I already have a large group of friends. Gay, straight, bi-sexual, confused, men, women, not sure, young, old, close to dead. It's hard enough to schedule time with them the way it is. I just think that our little luncheons, potlucks and breakroom gossip sessions is enough.
Do y'all hang out with your co-workers?
