I was thinking again this morning. And dammit I hate that. The minute I hit the highway, traffic was backed up worse then ever before. I immediately get frustrated, throw a mini hissy fit and finally just accept the fact that it's going to take me a while to get to work.
Instead I just sit there listening to the dribble on dumbass morning shows, watching people around me pick their nose with a passion like I've never seen. Why do they think that sitting in stand-still traffic is the appropriate time to pick their nose? Well...at least their nasal passages will be clean as a whistle by the time they hit the office.
Bless their hearts.
After a half an hour, most of us realized that up ahead was a massive car pile-up involving a chemical tanker and a small sports car rammed up it's ass. Other cars couldn't stop in time. People were obviously hurt. Cars demolished. Care-flight had just left the scene. Cars were being towed away.
I immediately felt horrible for getting pissed off at someone up ahead causing me to be a half an hour late for work. They had more things to worry about then my piddly ass work schedule. God forbid I was a few minutes late. I'll still get to work. I can take a shorter lunch hour. I could also stay a tad bit late to make up some time.
The experience made me think of the movie, "What the *bleep* do we know". Here's a quick synopsis. Much of the movies philosophy is a bunch of hooey in my opinion. But some of the philosophy about science, religion had some merit. Yet I still left with a few ideas that made me think for quite some time afterwards. Take the movie for what it's worth. It's worth seeing. More then once.
The movie has a lot to do with Quantum Physics. Hearing that alone would cause most people to start to snooze. It has to do with the idea that particles can have more then one simultaneous state or position, called superposition and even have an infinite possible number of positions. Are your eyes fogging over yet?
Observing a particle causes this superposition to collapse down into one position, which is the one we perceive. If you apply this theory to us as humans, it would give you the idea that the world that we live in is not fixed in form and/or space, but in a constant state of flux and change.
Are you asleep yet? Stick with me.
Quantum Physics further implies that there are parallel existences. Each one overlapping the other.
How in the hell does all this shit have to do with my commute to work? Glad you asked.
-One small change in my daily morning routine.
-Taking five extra minutes that morning to make a cup of coffee for the road.
-Taking a moment to answer that last minute phone call before heading out the door.
-Forgetting your keys and having to go back upstairs to your apartment.
-Having someone stop you on your way to your car to ask you a question.
I was no more then five minutes behind the time that the massive wreck on the highway happened. Could have been me.
Stop being in a hurry. Stop getting angry and upset for something or someone making me late. I'm sure there's a reason.
Everything we do, all the people that cross our path, anything that hinders or slows us down, continues our path down a specific existence.
Anything and everything can cause this path to drastically change within a heartbeat.
*sigh*
Maybe I just think too much.
Anyone else tired of the news? I'm tired. Sick and tired. I don't turn on the TV and watch the news anymore. I don't pick up a news paper and read it either. I have my 20 minutes of NPR in the morning, but luckily it's mixed with a little bit of everything for everyone. If you want extreem biased conservative news, we all know where to go.
Every morning, I do take a peek over at CNN. Luckily I can pick and choose and not have to sit and listen to a bunch of repetitive bullshit.
You want my two cents worth regarding a few of the top stories? Well you're going to get it anyway.
If it wasn't for Terry Schiavo and her feeding tube, we would be bombarded with Michael, The Gloved One. I just wish Terry's parents would just let it go. How many more times can this poor woman have her feeding tube removed, starved for a couple weeks and then finally have it reinserted? What a way to die. Don't get me wrong, I'm siding with her husband. He knew about her wishes. He should have them carried out. I think that after 15 years, she should not be kept alive with a feeding tube. But starving her to death? Even if she is in a vegatative state, that's a pretty shitty way to go. Just wish there was another way to let her go. People on a respirator have a switch turned off, and they last hours, but usually not more then minutes. Not 2 fucking weeks. I just wish her parents would stop.
Micheael Jackson. Now here's a piece of work. Without a doubt, I think that he did it. More then likely, on more then one occasion. God knows how many times. Will he see jail or prison time? I highly doubt it. The son of a bitch will some how get out of it. But I have to side with Sam on this matter. If you're a parent that's stupid enough to allow your boy to sleep with a grown man, even knowing what he's been charged with in the past (he's a 40 something year old man!!), then you're a fucking idiot and should be tried in a court of law as well. Enjoying your millions of dollars at your childs expense?
The Pope. It seems he's being fed through a feeding tube now. Modern Medicine has the capabilities of keeping people alive for years. They really need to find a way to let him step down from his duties and replace him one of the other Cardinals. Maybe replace him with the one who thinks that The Divinci Code is a pack of lies and is urging people NOT to read it. Uh, it's called Fiction for a reason, dumbass.
Jerry Falwell. He's now in intensive care for the 2nd time in the last 5 weeks due to some sort of viral pneumonia. Man, I'm torn here. I don't wish ill health on anyone. I really had a tough time not smirking just ever so slightly. Karma's a bitch asshole.
Any other news items y'all would like to discuss? Get something off your chest? Something you're tired of hearing about?
What happened to mixing good news stories with the bad? Do they not exist anymore?
Not only is this Meme taken from him, but he even put it together. Now if get one blogger who whines, "But you didn't put ME in your list, ANYWHERE!!", I'll personally drive to where you are and kick your ass.
But remember, these have NOTHING to do with the Zeity Awards.
Who is the funniest blogger?
Other then MOI? (Shut up!) I would have to say the man who can make me cry one day and laugh my ass off the next. Joe.My.God. Patrick will put me into a fit of giggles at the drop of a hat also.
The smartest?
I would have to go with Jeff, God of Biscuits. I'm constantly having to grab my dictionary to see what the fuck that damn word was every other sentence. He must have that word-of-the-day toiletpaper.
The most thought-provoking?
The amazing talents of Michael over at Dogpoet, my blogger daddy (aka, bladdy) although he probably doesn't know it, can cause me to remember his writings throughout the day.
The most attractive?
I know he's probably getting tired of me saying this since I started blogging back in September of 2003, but Victor over at V-Hold is just....well, dreamy.
The best writer?
Shit. I knew I was going to have to mention people more then once, therefore kick some people out of the running. Michael and Joe have to be my top two choices. Although Patrick, when he DOES post an entry, has such a beautiful way with words.
The most similar to you?
Yikes. Would ANYONE want this honor curse? *sigh* Ok, without trying to offend him I would have to say Matt over at 'Til the Cows Come Home. Only because we both have a sarcastic sense of humor and take a more relaxed look on life, minus the cow obsession.
The most different from you?
I don't have enough space on this list. Where do I start? Tunagirl only because well, she's a girl, married, has two kids and oh yeah, a vagina.
Which blogger inspired you to blog?
Michael and Victor again, were the two who I read daily until I decided to grace y'all with my presense.
Which blogger would you most like to meet?
Huh. I've met so damn many. Most during a drunken haze while in NYC last year. Few during a drunken haze when they came to visit Dallas. I would have to say Sam. He's a boy I would just love to spend a weekend, hanging out and throwing back a couple beers.
With which blogger would you most like to have a relationship?
Ok, now these next three are just going to get me into trouble. That's all I have to say. Remember, these are all done tongue in cheek, ok? Ok. Ok? OK! I'm in the most wonderful relationship now, BUT back "in the day", I would have chased Jimbo if given the chance.
With which blogger would you like to go on a date?
Ok, I'm in the most fanTASTIC relationship a man could ever have, BUT again, back in the day it would have been fun to go on a date with Homer. Although we would have fought over which restaurant to go to. Me being the carnivore and all.
With which blogger would you most like to have sex?
My GOD, would this GET any tougher? You might not know this, but I'm in an incredible relationship with the man I love and we have the most AMAZING sex, but oh....back in the day I would have loved to romp in the sack with Victor. Please, you think I was going to say someone else? Wait...does Vin Diesel have a blog?
Whom do you visit most frequently?
Being that I don't hang with any Dallas bloggers, uh...no one.
Who leaves the best comments?
I would have to say that Alan and all his wit are always a welcome funny laugh as far as comments go.
Blogger with the best eye-candy?
Uh...hands down, Corin.
Who should update more often?
Honestly, if someone hardly ever updates their blog, I usually remove them from my blogroll. I have them on my list because I want something to read, not just a pretty link on the left hand column that never gets used.
Who updates the most consistently?
That's a toss up. Either Ryan over at Dunner's Stunners or Andy from Andymatic. Although I think Andy has him beat.
From whom do you learn the most?
Is this list done yet? I get more from reading Terrence then I do checking out CNN every day.
Who should more people read?
Although he probably gets more hits then Jebus himself, I would have to say Drub.
Who is your guilty pleasure; the blogger you secretly love to read?
Dooce. Please don't tell anyone.
Blogger you want to catch up on?
I pretty much keep up with all my favorites.
Most welcome return to blogging?
I think Billy from Wet Dreaming would have quite a bit of interesting blogger fodder to write about now that he has a new career.
Who would you most like to emulate?
I wish I had the commitment to my art that he does to his. Aaron's an inspiration.
Who do you recommend to your non-blogging friends?
Mine.
Who do you most admire?
She's a mother of two children with her husband away on duty. Enough said.
Favorite blog tagline, entry or excerpt?
Uh, can't think of any.
Who would you most like to guest on your blog?
I've never had a guest blogger. Not to say I never will. Margaret Cho. Hey if your're going to go big, GO BIG!
Whose blog has your favorite design?
Uh...
Put together a blogger all-star team; which five bloggers do you think should form the group blog to end all group blogs?
Is anyone else fucking THROUGH with this list? I'm so done. You tell ME who the five should be.
What's the best way to celebrate Easter weekend? Friday, we went to a place called Ad-Libs. Funny as hell improvisation club. It's funny how anything about being gay or being a redneck would bring down the house. The beginning of the show was one ugly guy wearing a hooters outfit, with a huge dildo in his pants, sitting on every guy he could find. Two other guys were acting like they were construction workers, measuring different areas where we sat. Every time they bent over, their hairy ass butt crack would be just inches from your face.
Good times. Definately a place to go back on a regular basis.
Sunday was with a bunch of bears at The Hidden Door for 50 cent beers and dollar jello shots. Nothing like seeing a bear with bunny ears. Oh, we have good intentions of only going to an hour or so. Good intentions of only having a few drinks. Good intentions of not spending an ungodly amount of money.
What are good intentions?
A load of donkey poo is what they are.
How was the afternoon?
...Tons of gropes,
...lots of kisses,
...vague memories of feeling someone up to check out their dick size,
...pissing off someones boyfriend,
...letting people rub your hairy chest and bald head,
...holding up the boyfriend due to me feeding him jello shots,
...watching a tweaked out ex-porn star who couldn't keep his jaw and lips from moving a hundred miles an hour,
...realizing that when you tell a group of guys in the bathroom that if they don't hurry up I'm going to pee ON them doesn't always make them pee faster but makes them actually want you to pee on them,
...making fun of the two guys wearing pastel shirts with pink, yes PINK cowboy hats,
...making fun of the burly man who had a french manicure...on his TOES,
...turning my front pockets inside out and asking people if they wanted to kiss a bunny between the ears,
...realizing that joke never gets old and people laugh every time, then finally leaving to get us something to eat.....
...we hit the bed like a ton of bricks....at 9:00pm.
No wonder we were bright eyed and bushy tailed at 4:00am this morning.
Hope your Easter was as festive as ours.
I created the gayest superhero EVER.
Don't make fun of his "not-so-creative" name.
Taken from His site, create your own.
What the hell is the obsession some people have for popping zits? Not just their own, but someone ELSES??!!
I was a blessed teenager. You know that time in your life where all the sudden your body decides to stop and say, "I will make you as UGLY as humanly possible!" I never had to deal with acne like many teens hitting puberty had to. Oh sure, I'd have the occasional pulsating zit that was big enough to have it's own zip code. Hell, the fucking thing arrived everywhere ten minutes before I did.
I remember as prepubescent child, my sister having this obsession with using her dagger like nails and popping blackheads out of my nose. Always deciding to do it at the most improper times. Like while we were having lunch somewhere. She would be sitting next to me and all the sudden get that look in her eye as if she's spotted gold. The jackpot. Ka-Ching! I was at her mercy by that point. In came those daggers. Despite my screams of pain and wiggling, she would hold me down firm until she finished.
Mission accomplished.
She scared me as a child.
It seems I have another zit popping stalker. Yes, I live with the son of a bitch. I don't get zits much anymore. But occasionally, you'll get one of those little bastards one your neck or back. The ones on the ass really annoy the shit out of me. Brian and I both tend to walk around half or completely naked around the house. I felt one of those buggers on my lower back yesterday and you would have thought it was a giant penis or something, the way he was acting. Every chance he got he was trying to get hold of it and free it's contents.
He even would try and be a sneaky little shit and say, "Come here and let me give you a hug. I love you...." Then bam, his hand is RIGHT there trying to get at it again.
What is UP with people like this? It literally drove him crazy.
He scares me.
And he's not the only person that I've met in my lifetime that has this quirky, nasty little obsession.
Freaks.
Fast Food Chains. The Evil Empires. The reason for Fat America. But fucking hell, they have the best 'comfort' food around.
There's a reason I've gained more then 30 pounds in over a year and a half. It's called a Big Mac. Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun. I hear they have a sugar/salt mixture for their fries. Bring it on. Fried apple pies? I'll pop them in my mouth like xanax. Is their meat even real? Who cares. It taste good.
Maybe there is a reason that my cholesterol tends to be around 500 and my triglycerides hover at 1500. I'd eat Ronald MacDonalds ass if I could. I'll die with fries in one hand, Chicken McNuggest in the other and a Big Mac crammed in my throat. I'll be just like Mama Cass from The Mama's and the Papa's. Minus a few pounds. (yeah I know, the whole dying with a chicken sandwich in her mouth was an urban myth, so sue me)
I am trying to eat healthier. I'm working out. Needing to start back to Yoga. Even trying my hand at some cardio. I joke about dying, being surrounded with a slew of MacDonalds wrappers around me, but I want to stick around this shithole for a while longer. I have much to accomplish in this here world. And actually, as of last week my cholesterol is now 250 and my triglycerides are sitting around 450.
Brian would have to be bound and gagged, kicking and screaming before he would eat at a fast food chain. Except Taco Bueno of course. He does have his weaknesses.
This causes problems when we both want to go grab a quick bite to eat. He throws a hissy fit and I pout. So we compromise (I cave in) and we go to somewhere else. I get my fill of quick comfort food during my lunch hour instead.
You know I only eat there for the food. It's not for the service or the pretty people. I think our country would change drastically if they passed out condoms and Jenny Craig pamplets in front of the store (stolen from him).
This is what happened a couple days ago, while going through the drive thru for some artery clogging goodness:
Spoken in overly perky broken Spanglish through a crackling speaker of course:
Her: Welcome to blahevilempireblah! How may I help you?
Me: I would like..
Her: Go ahead sir!
Me: ..a number 5 with
Her: Would you like to Super
Me: no onion
Her: ...size your order today?
Me: no lettuce
He: Will that be all?
Me: What?
Her: Hello?
Me: Did you get..
Her: So you would like a number 5?
Me: (calmly) Yes, I would, with NO oni-
Her: Would you like to Super size your order to-
Me: YES SUPERSIZED! Did you get the no onions or lett-
Her: $5.45, please pull around! (chipper as fuck)
Me: I don't want onions or lett-
Her: Yes, please pull around!
Me: I would like a coke to go with-
Her: Would you like an apple pie today?
Me in my best Cartman from Southpark voice: GodDAMMIT Woman! Let me finish!!!! I want a number 5, no onions, no lettuce, super sized with a coke!!!!
***cricket noizes***
Her: So you want a number 5, no onions, no lettuce, super sized with a coke??
Me: ....yes
Her: OK, your total comes to-
Me: Yes I know! $5.45, please come around!
The look she gave me when I pulled around was classic. I'm sure they spit in my food.
There was onions and lettuce on my burger.
It's good to have friends all over the United States. Recent events have made that even more clearer then before.
Most of my friends in highschool never left my home town. The only few that did, moved to a farm in east central Nebraska. After Graduate School, most of the friends I had made parted ways. I moved to Kansas City and proceeded to make a large group of friends there. Over the years, well all tried to keep in touch.
Many friends got married and we all know what happens once that little event occurs. Some of my gay friends jumped into co-habitation with their other half. Hell, you might as well lock them up in a closet. Thank God Brian lets me out of mine on occasion. We both make it a point to spend time with our friends and never let the friendships die.
Lives change, priorities change. People drift apart. It's not that you stop loving that person or anything. Things just happen.
People change.
I've been fortunate to have made what I consider many "best" friends in my life. My best friend T still lives on a farm with her husband in Nebraska. My best friend A lives in a town outside of Seattle with her husband. My best friend A #2 lives in a lakeside home in Missouri with her son and latest husband. My best friend M lives in Omaha as a stay at home dad with his wife and 6 children.
Scores of college buddies are scattered throughout the country. Many co-workers from my past as well. I've made numerous "online" buddies, some that I've kept in contact with for more then ten years. He currently lives in Portland.
Now that I blog and have made many friends through this medium, I have Froggers (friends of bloggers) everywhere. Can't swing a dead cat without hitting one. Don't make me name you all. You know who you are.
Needless to say, I know if I ever traveled to the fair city of old highschool, college, work, online or blogger friend, I have a place to crash. Someone to hang out with. My very own Julie the Cruise Director to show me the town. Someone to get into trouble with.
Mr. Glenn, in all his "liciousness", offered his home to Brian and I for when we come to New York for GB:NYC2 from May 5th to the 9th (email me for details). It means a lot to have someone open up their home to you and let you mess up their sheets. Come home sloppy drunk. Eat their food and drink their coffee. Ask them how to get somewhere over and over. Make a pass at them when you're trashed.
True friends indeed.
What happens when you get into a relationship? You double that friend pool.
One week after Glenn's offer, Brian's buddy (and now mine also) told us he was moving to NYC. He offered us his apartment in Chelsea to us since he will be out of town during our visit. This offer puts us closer to everything then Glenn's. I wanted to publically thank him for his generosity. Another sweet cutie patootie in my book.
So let me get this straight:
a) Our flights only cost us $5 each since we used our frequent flyer miles.
b) Free place to stay in Chelsea for 4 nights, 5 days.
c) Once you hear Brian's accent, I'm sure he'll convince a couple bloggers buy him a drink. I'm sure we both will be buying some other bloggers drinks, so that will be a wash. Brian's a lightweight, so he's a cheap date.
d) Neither of us care much about fancy dining experiences except for that Saturday. Our one year anniversary.
e) The only tickets we've purchased so far are Avenue Q and The MoMA.
f) Sightseeing around Manhattan doesn't really cost anything but deoderant, foot massages and bottled water.
This is the cheapest trip I've ever taken. Just as long as I don't lose my cellphone again. Let's not go down that road, shall we?
Our trip to NYC is going to be one of the best experiences yet. I can just feel it.
We're both excited as pigs in mud.
And we owe a lot of it to our friends.
I've sat here for 40 minutes and every single time I think about something I want to write today either a) I've talked about it before, b) It will make me sound like a whiney little turd or c) I've talked about it before. Oh wait....
So while I waddle through blogger sludge I'll give y'all some information about myself. Let's pretend I'm new to this whole blogging explosion or that you've just visited my site for the first time, mm'kay?
I took this from this cutie patootie. Simmer down boys, he's straight.
THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Mark
2. Marcus
3. Marky (What you think they were going to be original?)
THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1. hairydalguy
2. furrydalguy
3. dalguywithhair (I'm kidding on the last one)
THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. My artistic abilities
2. My sense of style regarding clothing
3. My sparkling personality (Wait, was this a serious Meme?)
THREE THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. My body
2. My temper
3. My ability to fart on command
THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
1. German
2. Russian
3. American Indian (Someone was fucking around somewhere)
THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. Clowns
2. Any cold blooded amphibian
3. Most bugs (can't I list 20 things?)
THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. Coffee
2. HIV meds
3. Kiss from the boyfriend (What? You think I wouldn't put something sappy in here?)
THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1. Underwear (hate going commando)
2. Cologne
3. Pants (work frowns upon us if we don't)
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE ARTISTS:
1. Auguste Rodin (you know, the sculpture)
2. Dale Chihuly (Seattle glass artist
3. George Michael (hey didn't say what KIND of artist, so I mixed them)
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS AT PRESENT:
1. Heaven - Los Lonely Boys
2. Lonely No More - Rob Thomas
3. Daughters - John Mayer
THREE THINGS THAT PISS YOU OFF:
1. Our President
2. Ignorance
3. Blog Trolls
THREE NEW THINGS YOU WANT TO TRY IN THE NEXT 12 MONTHS
1. Swimming with the dophins when we go on our Cruise
2. Learning sign language
3. Learning to two-step
THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP (Love is obvious so don't even try):
1. Good times
2. Trust
3. Laughter
TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE (you figure out which is which)
1. I was church pianist from the ages of 14-25 years old.
2. I've never tasted alcohol
3. I've seen what I believe to be an Angel
THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE SAME SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1. Beautiful Eyes
2. Nice thighs
3. Facial Hair
THREE THINGS YOU JUST CAN'T DO:
1. Walk through a haunted house during Halloween
2. Math (ok, I'm just slow at it. I'm mathtarded)
3. Touch a snake
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. Drawing
2. Reading
3. Playing the Piano
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1. Jack off (What? Think I wouldn't put anything sexual in here?)
2. Pretend to be sick so I can go out and enjoy the beautiful day
3. Pick my nose because I have one up in there that's just aching to get out
THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING OR ALWAYS WANTED HAVE:
1. Glassblower
2. Gallery Owner
3. The next American Idol
THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
1. Australia
2. Germany
3. Hawaii
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO OR SEE HAPPEN, BEFORE YOU DIE:
1. Own a home
2. Exchange rings with the one I love
3. Find a cure to AIDS
Hmmmm, I'm wondering if I should pass this on to 3 other bloggers so I won't have bad luck for the next ten years or something. Naw, I'm not that mean.
Any takers?
Another weekend on the go. Hours spent cleaning our vehicles, detailing, vacuuming, washing. Going away party for a good friend of ours who's moving to New York. He'll be handling the recruitment for The Container Store in Manhattan. The rest of the weekend was spent looking at beautiful creatures such as these, caught flapping it's wings furiously:
Or another I one caught sunbathing:
The Fort Worth Botanical Gardens every year sponsors an exhibit housing 12,000 butterflies from Asia, Central and Northern America. Brian had one butterfly taking a break on his bald head, but dammit I wasn't able to capture the moment on camera. It was a beautiful place filled with tropical plants and flowers. Only draw back was that it was hot as Hades, filled with rude people pushing and shoving. Damn, they're only butterflies people.
Ever so often the winged beauties would actually stop fluttering around constantly and rest. Boy, and when you saw one a flood of people came rushing in with there cameras, snapping away as if they had just seen a movie star.
My favorite thing all afternoon? Some weird tropical tree with pink little fuzzy things hanging from it. Don't ask me the names of anything. I just walked all afternoon around ooo'ing and ahhh'ing.
We spent the end of our visit checking out the Japanese Garden area out on the grounds. You can see pictures if you like seeing pretty flowers and gardens, by clicking here
The adventure wouldn't have been complete with my boyfriend trying to do an impression of a Southern Belle when we stumbled upon Purple Magnolia's.
Mark: I sent you our NYC Itinerary. What I have so far at least.
Brian: got it
Brian: You are Julie the Cruise Director
Mark: Yes I am
Mark: Don’t forget it
Brian: I love my Julie
Mark: And I love my Captain Stubbing
Mark: Or are you Gopher?
Brian: I’m just the BOOB
Brian: I mean The BOMB
Mark: LMAO!
Brian: Heehee
Mark: I think you got it right the first time
Check out The Village Voice.
Scroll down until you get to "Blog Appeal"
Look who it is!
Yup, it's ME!
UPDATE: Dammit all to hell. When they talk about someone's 15 minutes of fame, they really mean it don't they?
I've been replaced already. *sigh*
Hmmm, how to spend your Thursday night. What to do? OH, I know! Let's go over to a friends friend's condo, sip on glasses of red wine, eat cheese, crackers and other sort of nibbly bits and listen to Candy Marcum, who's running for City Council for District 14, which happens to be our district.
I'll be the first to admit that I've never gotten into politics either at the Federal, State or City level. I find out what's on the ballot, who's running, what are the issues and find out which candidate fits best for myself, my partner, my city and of course our country. Then I vote.
I've never been someone who goes to political rally's or demonstrations. I don't discuss politics with anyone. You'll hardly ever even see me mention anything close to the topic here on my blog. I believe there are people out there better suited at that sort of thing and I'm glad we have them around. I guess I'm more of a follower then a leader in this aspect.
I do have to say that I was highly impressed with Candy as I sat there amongst other District 14 residents. Doctors, people from HRC and the Federal Club, neighbors and friends. She's warm, friendly, intelligent and wants to see drastic changes happen to the city of Dallas and it's communities. It doesn't hurt matters that the's a licensed Psycho Therapist. You should see some of the people on our city council. She could be a huge asset.
So anyone who reads me that lives in District 14 of Dallas, vote Candy Marcum for City Council, District 14. Because I said so.
Tonight, a friend of ours is wanting to come over and cook Brian and I dinner. I hope he goes grocery shopping, because all we have in our fridgidaire is bottled water, beer and vanilla coke. The only food we have in our food pantry are things that would make anyone who just smoked a joint, giggle with glee.
Only thing that bothers me, is that I haven't cooked in our kitchen(obviously) since we moved in. It's untouched. Clean. Spotless. Virginal. Grease free. I'm going to be hovering over him with a bottle of 409 in one hand and a handy wipe in the other.
And don't tell me you weren't thinking of another type of "cleaning my kitchen".
We're hoping to visit the Ft. Worth Botanic Garden and see all the pretty butterflies. I hear you're suppose to wear yellow. They're attracted to that color. These are the only bugs on the planet that don't cause me to throw my arms up in the air and run screaming like a banshee.
Well, them and ladybugs.
Y'all have a good, safe and fun weekend.
I'm a tad bit sore.
Don't touch me.
Come near my boobies and I'll have to kill you.
After many, many months of not working out, Brian and I hit our little gym located within our apartment complex last night. It isn't much, but it has what we need. We got to hang out with a couple girls who were glued to the TV watching Wheel of Fortune as they pretended to jog without messing up their makeup. Unfriendly bitches they were.
It felt good to work out my chest, arms and legs. Luckily, I didn't over do it like I normally do and I end up not being able to walk or lift my arms above my head the next day. Which causes me not to be able to work out for the next 3 days usually. Then of course, I just say fuck it and stop working out all together. It's a vicious cycle. It doesn't take much for me to lose motivation.
I'm not one of those people who gets some sort of high from working out. Those people scare me. You know the types. They make so many animal grunting noises, yell a lot and tend to spit too much while working out. They live for the gym and usually have the body to show for it. I'm envious of their bodies and their determination. I just wish I could take a magical pill and **poof**, instand Adonis!
I need to do it to keep in shape, hopefully gain some muscle mass, give my heart a run for it's money and to help prevent me from passing out everytime I try to run more then 20 paces.
Luckily I've quit smoking. *crosses fingers*
Next step after consistently working out is getting back in to my Power Yoga routine. Nothing better then a centered, balanced and FLEXIBLE gay man, right? *ahem*
When I'm so huge and ripped that I split the arms and legs of my clothing every time I move, I promise to post pictures of me naked.
And if you believe that....
I just miss the days of working out with my buddy back home in Nebraska. A highschool classmate of mine had a gym built for him, courtesy of his parents. It was the place for all local muscleheads to gather and grunt. My buddy was a professional bodybuilder, so he was my trainer and master. I could only take so much of his, "Push that weight up you damn pussy!!!!!" remarks, but he did have a knack for motivating me. One morning just to fuck me up, he actually laid his dick on my forehead while I was bench pressing. Yes, his dick was that big. If he only knew what I wanted to DO with that dick.
The gym was a place for me to check out all the local boys in the shower. Oh, come on! I was a closeted homo who had never yet had sex with a man. This was the only time I got to see huge cornfed dick!
Something about those Nebraska boys.
They were motivation enough.
When were you the happiest? Is it now or back when you were growing up as a child? Was it your highschool or college years? Or is it possible that you've never been completely happy and content?
My daily commute reminds me of when I use to drive from Lawrence Kansas to Kansas City every day for work. A 45 minute drive. It might not be a long amount of time, but it was time to think and reflect. I find myself doing that now that I don't live within walking distance or a 5 minute drive to work. NPR will be playing on in the background, but I find myself not listening, but thinking instead. Thinking about now. Thinking about then. Am I happy now? Was I truly happy then? When was I at my happiest?
I only started this blog as a tool to write down moments in my past that I found to be humorous. To write about my experiences growing up with my family. The times I spent in Highschool and College. My leaving home and going to Grad School. My current life is never dull, or at least it seems to me, and I often write about my escapades in the gayborhood, hanging with friends or road trips.
I constantly think about the past. I'm not exactly sure if it's a good thing or not. I just find parts of my past to be some of the most enjoyable, happiest and content times of my life. Life is so full of struggles, heart aches, problems and even loss. Thinking about the past takes me away to a time where I had no worries or no problems. I know I didn't necessarily think so then, but I do now.
I'm a daydreamer.
I was thinking during that short drive this morning, am I happy? Yes, I am. Happiest I think I've been in the last 10 or more years. I'm more content now. Nothings perfect. Job often sucks. I often lack motivation. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a rut and need change. I'm the happiest I've been in ages, and I'm sure you and I both know the reason why.
But I asked myself, when was I the happiest? My days in highschool were absolute hell. Getting good grades was easy. I was becoming an artist and I was learning something new every day. But I was battling my sexuality. Beating it back in the ground, stomping on it and telling it to get the hell away. I was called fag in the hallways and getting beat up at school. I was made fun of for how I dressed and how I acted. Kids can be cruel. Very cruel. I became a recluse. I hid in the art department as much as I could, drawing and painting. I got to school early and left late just to avoid people. I never went to dances, football games or pep rallys.
College was my time to shine I told myself. Kids don't seem to change much from highschool to college, but I didn't care by this point. I was drawing, printing and blowing glass. Taking every art class that I could cram into my schedule. Sculpture, pottery, photography, watercolor, oil/acrylic painting. I took 18 hours a semester. I got to school at 5am to blow glass. Studied my ass off in between classes and worked in the studio sometimes until 2am. Yet again, I never went to any college functions, dances or athletic events.
I distanced myself from people.
Graduate school helped me come out of my shell, so to speak. It was my first time away from living in my hometown. I was away from my family, whom I love dearly. Yet I felt free for the first time, just to be ME. I didn't have to be my parents golden child. Getting straight A's, being the chuch's head pianist, dating the one of the church decon's daughter, never drinking, never smoking, never partying.
I wouldn't change my life back then for anything, but growing up was exhausting.
I came out at the age of 24. Experienced the hell of Grad School. Went to my first gay bar. Met a group of friends to many of which I'm still friends with until today. I moved to a new city. I contracted HIV. I became very sick. I honestly thought life was going to be over soon until I decided to move to Dallas for a new doctor. Life started looking up.
Dallas brought nothing but fears and anxiety in the beginning. Job was horrible. Medication was making me so sick I threw up constantly and I lost so much weight. Most of my friends moved or we just lost contact. Then came new medications, new job, new friends and with it, a new sense of happiness.
With that happiness came drinking, partying and drugs. After a while, you start to see a rollercoaster pattern in your life. Thank God my life is changing. Things are still a struggle from time to time. Along with the good, there's going to be bad.
Was I happy during all these times? Yes, absolutely. Many moments in my past were some of the most amazing times of my life and I'll never forget them. I'll also never be able to relive them either.
But it doesn't hurt to reminisce.
Happiness.
Are you happy?
Don't get me wrong, I love living in our new place. It's never been lived in. It's a swank, hip, urban living type of place. Brian and I are extremely happy. We can't wait to lay by poolside, throw a party, or sit with friends chatting by the huge outdoor fireplaces.
It's close to Downtown, Deel Ellum (grunge bands, tattoo & piercing places, bars, lots of mohawks), Greenville Avenue (lots of hunky SMU students, bars, restaurants, antique stores), West Village (fu fu chic clothing and furniture stores, Vodka Bar, wine & cheese bar, pretentiousness at it's best. Men with highlights, tight shirts and Mr. T starter sets and women with big hair and fake boobs) and Oaklawn (can't swing a dead cat without hitting a homo).
It's a twenty minute drive to work when there's no traffic. Thirty to forty five minutes when there's a wreck due to gawkers hoping to see blood and body parts strewn across the highway. Our drive could be better, but it's something we deal with. Pop a xanax before getting on the road and I'm set.
My biggest issue with our wonderful new digs? The fucking Jersey Cow that lives upstairs right above us. She has to be a Cow. That, or Big Foot has finally been found. I swear we're living under a girl who's 500 pounds and likes to spend her time jumping rope or trying to bounce bowling balls around the apartment for exercise. She doesn't just do this for a fleeting moment here or there. Oh no. The stomping will start and not stop for hours on end. She's probably some cracked out whore with cha cha heels, practicing ballroom dancing with her tricks.
Don't even get me started on the day she started hammering at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon, and didn't stop until we were leaving at 9:30pm to go out for a cocktail. Fuck, I NEEDED a fricken' drink at that point. What the hell was she building???!!! This morning? I swear she fell out of bed. I was ready to call 911 and have them send a crane to pick her up off the floor. It was THAT loud! Then I hear "bam bam bam" and she turns on her hair dryer. What the fuck??!! She even stomps from the sink to the tub. It's a 4 foot walk!
I've pounded on the ceiling a few times. Nothing. I had enough one afternoon, threw a hissyfit and yelled at her at the top of my lungs. Nothing. I pounded on the ceiling again. Nothing. I'm going to finally put a very nice note on her door, letting her know that we feel she's not being very respectful of the fact that people live below her and ask her if she could try to keep the stomping to a minimum.
Doing laundry at 2am, stomping back and forth, smoking and laughing with her friends out on the balcony which is 5 feet from our bedroom window just isn't acceptable.
I've never actually seen her. Just heard her laughing hysterically on her patio.
You just wait and see. Our Upstairs Cow will end up being some 98 pound soaking wet, petite little girl.
Just my luck.
Ok, ok...no sappy, sugary, make you want to slit your wrist post about love and relationships today. How about some mindless dribble instead? It's Monday morning around 7:30am. I feel it's appropriate.
I was finally able to convince the other half to stay home and do nothing Friday night. Living with someone who can't sit still for more then 5 minutes, this was a treat. The evening included a night of beauty. Brian's never enjoyed the fine art of mud pack facials, apricot scrubs, toners and moisturizers. He does now.
I was able to give him another sort of facial later on, if you catch my drift.
Mindless enough yet? I digress. Our new furniture arrived earlier then we imagined on Saturday. Here's a pic of what it looked like before, and here's what it looked like after. For those wondering, here's another, and another, and one more for shits and grins.
I will be working on some paintings and other art projects this week to fit nicely with the new furniture. I'm even trying to design a project that we both can work on together. More pics of the bedrooms and bathrooms once I feel they're complete. One room at a time.
Unfortunately, no more afternoon romps on the couch. Hell, I freaked when I caught him eating potato chips on the couch. Luckily we were able to get one more monkey lovin' session in before we sold the old furniture to my ex-boyfriend and his niece.
Crossing my fingers he doesn't do a black light test on the couch.
We both headed for happy hour to have a couple cocktails with friends. Me with my Black Martini and Brian with his Betty Fords (aka Sea Breeze). It was great for both of us to have the chance to hang with friends, be silly, make fun of each other and laugh. We definatly can liven up our own little corner of the bar.
Afterwards, we headed next door to the Black Eyed Pea for dinner. Six obnoxious queens being louder then life, irritating everyone within a 10 foot perameter. Good food, friends and laughter. What could be better? Brian was even gracious enough to take care of the entire bill. He's a keeper I tell you.
The evening didn't end up so great. I know I paint a picture of our relationship as being perfect. Nothing but tons of love and kisses and ooey gooeyness. So sweet it makes your teeth ache. Our relationship isn't always strewn with rose petals, rainbows, butterflies and kittens. Damn, the thoughts of that make ME sick to my stomach. No wonder so many people get irritated with us sometimes.
As always though, we worked things out. We never go to bed angry.
We're both realizing how much we're alike. We're both stubborn as hell. We both like having our own way. We're both spoiled mama's boys. This causes us to butt heads at times.
We're also realizing how different we are. He's the dreamer, who thinks big. I'm the realist who brings things down a few notches. He's spontaneous. I'm a planner. He's the optimist. I'm often the pessimist. He makes goals. I live day to day. This also causes us to butt heads at times.
Relationships are hard work. They require effort, time, love and tenderness. They require both parties to give and take. Relationships need planning, goals and a directions.
They need to have their hand held and be helped along the way like you would a small child.
Our relationship is like that small child. It's growing and learning every single day.
It's learning how to walk.
But luckily children have a big ol' padded diaper to protect them when they fall.
What protects us is called love.
Yeah yeah........I know. Sappy as hell.
Jesus is coming.
Look busy.
Or as the other half says all the time, "Jesus is coming, grab a towel!"
I swear the Apocalypse is just around the corner. The sky is falling. The world's coming to an end. How would I know? The signs are there people. You just have to know where to look. I didn't spend 25 years sitting in Sunday School, Bible Studies, Church Services and Youth Group meetings for nothing you know.
Odd things have been happening during the past 24 hours.
1st sign: Brian started his job in Dallas yesterday. Not Califuckingfornia, but DALfuckingLAS! That alone would cause Jesus to come back this very minute.
2nd sign: My commute home yesterday was a breeze. Not a wreck or stalled vehicle in sight. I made it home in 20 minutes, not 45. Enough time to have a quick nap before the hubby came home from his long hard day at work making money for me to spend.
3rd sign: After an amazing dinner of Chipotle Chicken Enchiladas at Pepe & Mito's, we headed over to CVS Pharmacy to get my acid reflux medication. For the first time in 8 months, they didn't lose it, fuck it up, fill the wrong prescription or throw me attitude. Normally time is spent arguing, explaining and waiting. They had it sitting there waiting for me to pick up. If I could have jumped over the counter and kissed that ugly old man, I would have.
4th sign: After we had a night of beauty (mud pack, facial scrub, toner, moisturizer) I passed out around 10:00pm and didn't wake up until some fucktards car alarm went off at 5:00am which continued for 45 minutes until the police showed up. Considering recent events, I'm hoping that the signs of His return will continue and the asshat was ticketed heavily or his butt was thrown in jail due to delinquent child support payments. Better yet, kicked out of the complex. One can only dream.
5th sign: My commute to work this morning only took 20 minutes, not the normal 30-45. I hit the highway going 85 and never once tapped my breaks. Normally I sit in traffic due to wrecks caused by women putting on makeup while driving or because some dickwad likes to talk on his cellphone and have his head up his ass while driving. People don't kill people. People on CELL PHONES kill people.
6th sign: There was a steaming hot pot of coffee ready for me when I got into work this morning. Not just any coffee, but some sort of foo foo vanilla flavored stuff. Good thing there wasn't a Kolache, bagel or donut waiting for me also. My heart can only take so much you know.
7th sign: A co-worker just asked me as I'm writing this entry, why my face looked so vibrant and glowing this morning. Could it be I found the secret to younger, more beautiful skin for only 20 dollars worth of cheap ass product from a pharmacy?
That's it guys. The 7th and final sign.
Lettuce Spray.
How long can the body go without sleep? Or should I say, good sleep? I'm just curious. Because I think I might be trying to achieve some sort of record. Since Sunday, I probably have been averaging 3-4 hours a night. That's cummulative hours. Fall asleep for an hour, up for an hour. Fall asleep for 30 minutes, up for 45. Last night? Fell asleep around 11pm and completely bright eyed and bushy tailed at 3:30am.
I'm not sure what's wrong. Brian was thinking it was because of him. I've never had trouble sleeping with him before and I'm sure I don't now. He doesn't snore. He doesn't toss and turn. The occasional attempt to completely push me out of the bed, roll over on top of me or talk in his sleep, yes. Nothing that should cause this.
Growing up, I never had trouble sleeping. Could sleep for 10 hours or more with no problem. Handle averaging 4-5 hours a night during college, due to the late nights in the art studio. Hell, I could handle staying up all night drinking coffee, blowing glass, painting, printing or drawing, shower at the gym next door then go to class at 8am.
When I was but a wee lad I didn't have a problem either. I slept so well, that my mother often found me sleeping on the front porch, in the car, under a bush or on the front lawn. It could be 30 degrees outside and it didn't even phase me. I had problems with sleepwalking as a child. See? I could walk and SLEEP at the same time!
I'll often wake up for a middle of the night feeding then go back to bed. I'll get up and go pee pee a few times. That's just due to age. I must have pissed off bladder syndrome or something. But despite that, I'll still fall right back to sleep afterwards. At my age I need at least 8 hours to be able to function properly the next day.
Three to four hours a night just isn't cutting it.
I'm going to have to resort to taking Tylenol PM or blow my doctor into prescribing me Ambien.
Then I can be all floofy-headed the next day.
The Good: Brian starts his new job here in Dallas tomorrow. The other contract company told him he didn't have to finish out his two weeks in California. I get to have him here for good. Finally. We had an amazing weekend. Even bought new furniture for the entire livingroom. It will be delivered next week. THEN, will you all get to see pictures of our new place. I've been holding off for that reason. Last but not least, I finally got to wash my car. It started raining the day I bought it. I swear I have the power to make it rain now.
The Bad: I developed a sinus infection Sunday during the middle of the night some time. How this petite little nose could produce so much snot is just beyond me. Laying around the house not feeling well when it's 75 and sunny outside, makes Mark an unhappy boy. Grumpy one, too. Bless Brian's little heart for putting up with me.
The Ugly: I get ready to leave for work this morning and Brian tells me he's not feeling so well. It seems he's got the same stuff that I have. I'm thinking that maybe we shouldn't have had sex Sunday night. I accidently came up his nose. Don't ask.
I'm finally over my tantrum from yesterday. Luckily the boyfriend really liked this weeks attempt at maintaining my gaycard membership. If he didn't like it? I'm sure he would look pretty damn funny with bamboo shoots coming out of his ass.
He knows the appropriate time and place to say "Yes, Dear", or "Looks great honey!" and go on his merry way. He's such a good boyfriend.
What's that? Brian's home already? Yeah, he flew back Tuesday, had meetings for two days and then got to fly back home last night. He's staying here for four whole days. I haven't mentioned this yet, but he actually got a contract job here in Dallas starting March 21st. They're still deciding whether or not he has to go back for two more weeks. If that's the case, I'll have a new roommate here shortly!
We'll actually find out what it's like to LIVE together.
Speaking of jobs, another thing that I've kept quiet. I applied for another position at a Law Firm last year. I finally heard back from them a few weeks ago and went in for an interview. My work environment now, is loud, busy, hectic, tons of talking, laughing, joking.
Not at this place. It's the 24th floor (top) of an all glass highrise downtown. Thousand dollar artwork all over the place. Expensive cherry wood furniture and desks. Everyone has their own office overlooking downtown. Classical music playing ever so lightly overhead. No one walking around, chatting, laughing, eating a donut in the breakroom. Nothing. It's like a morgue, except without the dead bodies. Although if you seen some of the people who work there.....
Quite a bit different then what I'm used to. They really liked me. Really, really liked me. They told me the position was created with ME in mind, blah blah blah. Then I hear they're interviewing 5 other people. THEN, the job they told me I would be doing, is now a combination of 3 other departments. Basically the tedious, time consuming, labor intensive bullshit that they don't have time for. The pay would be better. But if I take the position, the pay better be a HELL of a lot better. I'm not sure. Actually I am sure. I don't think the new job is something for me.
I hate the thoughts of leaving a company I've been with for 8 years. We're going to be reorganizing around here and I possibly see good things in my future. More then likely, I'll just ride the wave and see where it takes me.
Ever get bored with your job? Doing the same things day in and day out? I need to be motivated. I need a change. More responsibility and more challenges.
Hopefully, they'll come through for me.
One can dream.
You've never seen a grown man struggle with grass, weeds, twigs and sticks in your entire life as I was last night. I'm totally lacking that gay gene that gives men some super human power that enables them to grab a handful of flowers and literally throw them into a vase from ten feet away and then magically look as if you bought it at some fancy schmancy floral boutique.
You know the types. The ones who see you struggling with it, they walk over, make one or two adjustments, turn on their heels and say "Voila!" and go on their merry ass way. Makes me want to shove that shit right up their uppity ass is what I want to do honestly.
Being the token gay man in my family and at work, I can't tell you the number of times I'm approached with someone asking me to 'create something fabulous' out of nothing. What? Do you want me to pull this out my butt? They expect ME to be the one who can miraculously take a vase, a leaf, a half dead flower and a piece of string and create some floral centerpiece, complete with beautiful bow in a matter of minutes.
I can't!
I decided to put a crystal vase in each bathroom and thought it would be really nice to do a simple bamboo, curly willow, tall grassy thing or something to add some character to the place.
Ever seen a grown man cry?
After two hours of going back and forth, wiping the sweat off my brow, moving things around, cussing like a sailor, shifting a twig here, screaming at the top of my lungs, another there, tweak a tad bit over here, fake crying worthy of and Oscar nod, completely start over........I finally got it presentable.
Fuck all that shit. Never again. I'm either hiring it done, buying it pre-arranged, becoming best friends with a florist or going down to the gayborhood and blowing a florist into doing it for me. In this town, you can't swing a deat cat without hitting one.
Why oh God, WHY did I get passed up with it came to the passing out of the floral decorating gay gene?
I'm just glad that I don't have anymore Nieces that have to be married off here for a while. I got so damn tired of making a complete ass out of myself when my family asks me to, "go make the table look purdy!"
Go do it yourself, before I shove a calilily up your ass.
Anyhoo, *coughshamelessplugcough*
On a less floral note, People are starting to send me funny items to post over at Itchycoo Park. Check out what Miss Scheherazade submitted. Pretty damn funny.
My mother's got a dirty mind for a woman her age.
I now know where I get it from. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
I'm telling her about our weekend last night and how much we got accomplished, especially regarding all the clothing we donated.
She said, "That probably didn't leave you with much left, did it?"
"Oh no need to worry Mom. Brian and I both have a 10 foot rod, completely packed full, so we're set." I stated without missing a beat. Honestly not thinking about what I had just said.
"Well, I think someones bragging just a bit much don't you think?" as she giggles uncontrollably.
I'm normally not at a loss for words.
She totally got me on this one.
I'm still mortified as she continues to tell me a true story my brother-in-law told her regarding something that happened at my old highschool yesterday. He works in maintenance.
"He said that one of the students was smoking outside and they threw their cigarette into the bushes next to the building. It's been very dry here lately and the bush actually caught on fire. The woman working in the principals office, looks out her window, sees the fire, panics, picks up the intercom and yells to the entire school, My bush is on fire! My bush is on fire!"
"Sounds like a personal problem to me!" as she continued to giggle herself into almost a peeing her pants fit.
"Well, Ok. Huh. I've.....uh, I've got to go Mom. Time for lunch."
"Oh, OK Punkin! *giggle* Have a *giggle* good *giggle* lunch darlin'!"
Bless her heart.
You wouldn't believe the power I have in my little finger. No seriously, it's amazing. Many have witnessed its awesome power. Can it pick a nose faster then Boy George gains weight? Better. Can it pop a zit quicker then Whitney snorts a line? Not even close Mary.
My finger has the power to stop traffic.
I swear to you, when I'm driving down the road, trying to protect my new car, many evil doers are coming at me from all sides trying to take a swipe at Sheila. Yes, I named my car.
When I see them edge towards me from all sides, all I have to do is point with my mighty index finger and they miraculously stop and freeze dead in their tracks. I see someone trying to run that red light, blast through that stop sign or cut me off and all I have to do is point it in their general direction and they stop.
I wonder if they can feel the force?
I never really understood the range of my power until this weekend when every idiot decided to come out of the woodwork. When traffic would get pretty bad, not only would they feel the wrath of my one finger, they at times would experience.....
........THE CLAW!
All...five...fingers.
I wish I would have found out about my superpower many years ago and used it for good. Such as stopping really hot, hunky, hairy guys at the bar, dead in their tracks. Controlling them, forcing them to.....wait, is THAT how I met Brian? I did point him out to a friend when he walked in.....hmmmmm.
All kidding aside, Brian found this quite amusing all weekend and continued to laugh every single time I did it. It's a win/win situation. I can easily amuse him and he laughs at my goofyness.
My weekend was filled with shopping (duh!), cleaning house, lunch and dinners with friends and making Brian go through 10 years of his past and throwing it away. He's kept every slip of paper, receipt, paycheck stub, trick card(s) and an ungodly amount of clothing, since his days in college. Five trash bags to the dumpster and 5 hugs boxes of clothing to a local charity which gives out free clothing to HIV/AIDS and terminally ill people. It felt good to help others and in turn, clear up space all over our new apartment.
Seems to be a lot of 'newness' in my life lately.
Life is good.
