Nervousness is setting in.
I always get antsy before a trip. Even if it is just a weekend getaway to some remote part of Texas, where visions of the movie Deliverance come to mind. We're heading out this afternoon to Lake Whitney, which is close to its sister lakes, Lake Barbie, Lake Mindy and Lake Stephanie.
I've never been before. I'm told it's near a city approximately two hours away from here called Waxahachie. Yes folks, it's pronounced just like it looks. My sister went one year to a bible college in Waxahachie. I remember being five years old and SO damn proud that I could spell that word. WA-XA-HA-CH-IE! Wheeee!
Many people that we met from my first ever camping experience at a gay owned and operated campsite called Rainbow Ranch, will be in attendance. From what I understand, the weekend is about drinking, relaxing, drinking, eating and last but not least, more drinking.
I'm more worried about the water snakes more then anything. Y'all might not believe this, but I have an amphibian phobia. I know! Who would have thought?! I'm sure there's a technical name for it, but I don't have a clue. Last year at Rainbow Ranch, I was sitting on the toilet my first afternoon there. While doing my business, I started reading some information posted on the bathroom stall doors.
"Beware of watersnake season!"
I remember starting to sweat profusely and my limbs going slightly numb.
The notice proceeds to tell people of the hatching season of water snakes, how to protect yourself, to be on the lookout and what to do if bitten. It also warned people to look in the toilet before sitting down. Water snakes have been known to come through the pipes.
Bitten? Toilets? MY ASS!!!??
I slowly started whimpering.
You've never seen a grown gay man scream, clinch his butt and stop pooping, clean up and book it out of a toilet stall faster in all your life. I'm sure I was seen running out of the bathroom, high stepping it with streams of toilet paper hanging out the back of my shorts. I'm sure that's TMI, but let's be real people.
It wasn't until later on did I realize that watersnake hatching season was April and May. We were there in September. I felt a tad bit foolish.
Pooping was a still traumatic experience for the rest of the weekend let me tell you.
Hopefully I won't come back with some horror story of me being rushed to the Waxahachie hospital with hundreds of snakebites which were given to me by a herd of charging watersnakes. Ever seen that T-Mobile commercial where the guy's been bitten by some bug and his face now looks like the elephant man? That will be me.
Instead, I hope to come back with lots of pictures and funny stories to share.
Y'all have a safe and fun weekend, ya hear?!
ps: It's rare when I say, Get thee over to this persons site and check them out now! I love 'em! Check our Big Daddy.
George W. Bush was in Galveston this week pushing his Social Security Reform. While speaking to a group of college students, President Bush decided to get up close and personal with the crowd and asked them if they still held Splash! there in Galveston. The crowd murmured. President Bush looked around slightly confused, continued and asked again if they still held the Splash event and stated that he use to attend in his younger days. The crowd continued to giggle and snicker. With a funny look on his face while the crowd laughed President Bush stated, "You have to be a baby boomer to know what I'm talking about," Bush said. The crowd laughed again.
In other news, the planning for Texas' largest Gay and Lesbian Event held in Galveston is underway. Spokespeople for the yearly event called SPLASH! stated this years event should be one of the best.
A semi truck overturned on highway 30 today in Ft. Worth and caught on fire. Fire and police departments were on hand to handle the problem. The highway was shut down for more then 8 hours. Ft. Worth officials tell us that the entire cargo consisted of nothing but various forms of meat.
In other news, Texas officials announced the plans to host the largest outdoor BBQ in hopes of setting a new worlds record. Ft. Worth Chamber of Commerce has agreed to host the event today if possible just outside of downtown Ft. Worth, off of highway 30. Details to follow.
Rumors of world renown blogger, Zeitzeuge's retirement have been circulating since early yesterday morning. A recent post on Zeitzeuge's site lead many readers to believe that the blogger has decided to hang up his keyboard for good and seek a quiet non-blogging life. Further rumors were feuled with the revamping of Zeitzeuge's blogroll. A spokesman for Mr. Z stated that the revamping has to do with the increased number of links that Mr. Z has acquired over the years. "The blogroll took up so much space and many of Mr. Z's daily reads were lost in the shuffle. Any sort of reorganization on Mr. Z's part is nothing more then a way to list his daily reads and the other links Mr. Z frequents on a weekly basis. Mr. Z feels this makes his site, as stated in his own words "Looks purdy!" The spokesman further stated that many might not be able to view Zeitzeuge correctly on certain systems. The issue is being looked into.
In other news, Mr. Z from the infamous blog titled Zeitzeuge has already posted an entry the day after complaining that he has nothing to say and that blogging has lost some of it's charm. Mr. Z stated that he realizes the irony of the situation and request that no one pick on him. His stated that this changes nothing about what he stated previously and will continue not to feel the need to blog every single day.
Back to your regularly scheduled blogging.
Not sure whether or not to write this entry. I thought I'd just disappear from here for a few days, a week, two weeks.
Blogging just has become a chore lately. I don't feel witty. I don't feel as if I have anything important to say. I'm running out of hilarious or heartfelt stories from my past. Lately, my life feels so content. Very little worries. I can only tell you so many times about how much I love my boyfriend without all of you throwing up in your mouth just a tad. I don't spend my weekdays partying it up at the local gay wateringhole. Very few stories of me getting so drunk I'm showing my dick in a bar. My friends and I only get together on occasion. How many times can I write about the upcoming camping trip and NYC blogger meeting?
My circle of bloggers has changed. Many of old school bloggers are gone. Many others only post once a week. You can tell they're straining to find something to talk about. Many are going through personal problems which has caused them to lay low for a while. Others are going through family issues, breakups or lost loves and are still pouring out their hearts, only to have people shy away.
The community aspect of blogging seems on the fence. Bloggers are using passive aggressive behavior in their post to cut people down, make them feel bad. Only to have their slew of fans shower them with more praise and adoration. Sickens me. Other bloggers are using their blogs to take a more aggressive approach to making fun of people. Their boyfriends blogs in turn, take time defending their boyfriends blog. Other blogger friends use their blogs for idle threats against other bloggers who say anything. It's dizzying. Hope it ends.
Comment sections are a forum for people to argue and throw insults. Not a place to share ideas or thoughts.
Sad thing, is these people were on my blogroll. I haven't read many blogs, except for a handfull each day, for months.
The days of using a blog to write about your life, your thoughts, your dreams, your interest seem to be fading away. Who wants to listen to that when you can find some good ol' fashioned junior highschool drama at another blog.
I don't deal with drama anymore. There's no point.
Maybe I do need a break. If only for a few days or maybe a week. Come back with some form of renewed interest. Things to say. Stories to tell. Pictures to share.
A different format?
Who knows. I'll hit my two year mark blogging in about four months.
Maybe I'm going through a mid-bloglife crisis.
Again.
The official countdown has seem to begun. The countdown to losing my insanity. This coming weekend is Spring Round Up. The best way to describe it, is it's some sort of gay campground site.
Brian's good friends Mama and Twyla Starlett, are putting on a comedy drag show. Brian will handle all the sound and lighting at the show. I'll take pictures. We spend the rest of this week getting ready, doing laundry, getting packed and then driving to Lake Whitney. Brian and I have done the whole gay camping thing before so I know what I'm getting myself into. Drag Queens, drinking and dodging snakes.
He and Mama worked all weekend on different video's and sound effects. I layed on the couch. Productive weekend. We leave Friday, get back Sunday. Spend the next few days getting ready to leave for GB:NYC2/vacation to NYC. We leave Thursday the 5th and fly back the 9th.
I just need to make sure I don't over do it and wear myself out. I'm old and I get tired easy. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
Our NYC plans are pretty much set. We arrive Thursday and hook up with one of Brians friends who's letting us use his apartment while he's out of town. We'll have dinner with him that evening. Friday, we'll be up bright and early to see the sights of Manhattan. We have dinner reservations for Tavern on the Green early evening followed by a horse drawn carriage ride through Central Park.
Then the night of drinking and debauchery begins at Barrage with slew of other bloggers from all over. Saturday morning is more sightseeing before we head out to Long Island for a BBQ thrown by Jess and his hubby. Sort of a blogger gathering/house warming party. After a few hours of schmoozing, we head back for Brian and I's One Year Anniversary dinner. Hard to believe that May 7th it will be one year. It honestly doesn't seem like it's been that long. First anniversary of many more to come. We have reservations at a little romantic spot told to me by MAK called The Place. I'm sure we'll hook up with friends for a few late night cocktails afterwards. Sunday we have tickets to the Museum of Modern Art, followed up with tickets to see Avenue Q. Monday? We'll fit in whatever we missed throughout the weekend, pack and then head to the airport for our 7pm flight home.
For those wanting a commerative t-shirt for GB:NYC2, click here.
That's all I have folks. I'm tired, worn out and in a very mello mood today.
Spread the love....
Just when you think you've heard everything. While chatting with Sam today, I was searching for music on Tower Records website and found a very unique CD.
Take a listen to the song done like Madonna's "What it feels like for a girl". The lyrics are changed to "What it feels like for a bear. Do you know what it's like with all this hair?"
You've got to be fucking kidding me....
I'm kind of grumpy today. I'm still swollen and half my face aches. I talk like I'm a slurring drunk. Half of my face has this burning sensation on the skin. At least my face looks fuller. That's one positive thing.
I didn't get to bed at a decent time last night. I had to yell at our upstairs neighbors who were having a party on their balcony. They realized in their drunken state, that it's hilarious to scream at cars or people who passed them on the street. Especially the non-english speaking people. Guess they figured it was time to practice their Spanish. I didn't find it all that funny. Especially at 11pm.
After politely telling them to keep it down, I over heard one drunk fool say, "Oh fuck him, he'll get over it." Oh no he di-in't. Bad thing to say. After tearing him a new asshole and many apologies from everyone a few minutes later, the party quieted down and I was able to pass out.
Brian's having Lasik today. He's a tad bit nervous which causes him to be tense. A polite way to say he's a tad bit grumpy and on edge this morning too. We were quite the pair going to work. I had to drop him off and hop on the President George Bush Tollway to get to work.
I felt dirty. I felt like I was giving the finger to every Democrat in the country. I just know the tollway is a secret way for the government to raise money for The Bush Administration. I've avoided the tollway ever since it was built a few years ago. I had no choice today and I apologize to everyone for having to do so.
I realized I hate paying money at a tollway. Tollways, valet parking and cover charges at bars. I hate paying them all. I feel like I'm just throwing my money out the window, when I could be spending it on a really nice cocktail or discounted Kenneth Cole shirt at Dillards. I have my priorities you know.
Valet Parking. I fucking hate it when you come out of a restaurant, look over and your vehicle is parked no more then twenty feet away. You have to hand them your keys and five bucks for a tip to the son of a bitch to get your car. Waste of money. Hand me my keys and I'LL walk 20 feet to get my own damn car.
Cover Charges. I'm handing the owners of a particular bar 8-10 bucks for what? Cheaper drink prices? Fuck no. To help pay for improvements to the facilities? Yeah right. To help pay for security, so I'll feel safe walking out to my car at 2am? Are you crazy? Another waste of money.
Last but not least, Tollways. I know they use the money to maintain the roads. To extend them. Yes, tollways are usually a shorter and quicker route through a city. Over the course of a month, tollway charges will rack up quickly. Buy a tolltag and see how often your credit card is charged 50 bucks. That's a new bottle of cologne. Dinner at a decent restaurant. Another Kenneth Cole shirt!
The first person I got behind today before throwing my money away, decided to write a check for 75 cents. Obviously she knew she was getting on the fucking tollway. Bitch wrote a check, balanced her her checkbook and had to have the toll-booth-guy take down her drivers license information before getting her ass down the road. I waited patiently.
I figured that lightening doesn't strike twice, right? The next toll booth, I got behind a soccer mom in her mini van, (she had a soccer mom bumper sticker) complete with bright pink lipstick and hair in a pony tail. Name was probably Buffy.
After seeing that she was arguing with the attendent, I rolled down my window to easedrop. She was screaming at him, saying that she shouldn't have to pay a toll since she only traveled one mile. The guy kept trying to explain to her that she shouldn't have taken the tollway then and only used the access road. She wouldn't hear of it. She continued to yell and scream at him. He looked back at me and threw up his hands in defeat. Finally, bitch number two grabbed a handful of change and threw it out the window. I think a total of five pennies made it into the drop off basket. The rest was all over the ground.
I hate to pay a toll as much as the next guy. But if I take the tollroad, I know that I have to pay a toll. Stupid bitch.
I couldn't wait until I could get to work for a cup of hot coffee and another painkiller.
I was asked a few days ago on the 20 question meme, what book I would take with me on a long trip. I mentioned The Book of Questions. This little book holds many memories.
After sleeping through my fair share of the men while living in Kansas City, it was time to mark my territory somewhere else. I was like an animal in heat back in those days. In other words, kind of slutty. St. Louis was a quick 4 hour drive. My roommate and I, along with my best friend would pack some snacks and hop in the car on a friday afternoon. We found a hotel that reminded us of The Bates Motel in Psycho. I kid you not. It was clean and had two beds and only $25 a night. That's all that mattered. Hell, none of us ever hardly spent the night there. We just used it as a place to prep before going out and getting laid.
This trip became a monthly ritual. Once I started dating a guy here and there from St. Louis, our trips became even more frequent. To pass the time while driving, we would often read from The Book of Questions to spark conversation, make us laugh and often cause us to get into some pretty deep talks.
I've pulled this book out when we've sat around after dinner having coffee. I've taken it home and found out how trully crazy my family really is. It's a great way to get to know something about yourself and others.
I'm sure with this group, the answers will be quite varied. My personal answers will follow each question.
The Book of Questions
Question 1:
For a person you loved deeply, would you be willing to move to a distant country knowing there would be little chance of seeing your friends or family again?
I've moved away from friends before. Although extremely difficult, this I could do, but I would really have to love the person I'm doing it for. My family? This is a whole other issue. I'm very close to my family. I don't think I could do it if I couldn't see my family again. Luckily, I know how close my partner is to his family also. We're both Mama's boys.
Question 4:
If you could spend one year in perfect happiness but afterward would remember nothing of the experience, would you do so? If not, why not?
I feel like I'm the happiest I've ever been. I would say no. Why would I want to experience something, only to not have any recollection of it afterwards? I don't see the point.
Question 9:
Would you accept $1,000,000 to leave the country and never set foot in it again?
No. The money won't last as long as you think it will. Despite our countries problems, I do love it here. No country is perfect. Every place has it's problems.
How would YOU answer these questions?
Yesterday was a day from hell. I went in around 10am to an oral surgeon to have an old root canal that's deteriorated, removed. I thought I could go in, get some laughing gas, have it removed and go back to work.
Holy shit, was I wrong.
After hammering, cracking, splitting, drilling and scraping my jaw, I left dizzy, sick to my stomach and hurting like hell. I drove home and spent the rest of the afternoon, popping extremely strong painkillers all afternoon. I'm a goofball normally. You should see me higher then a kite. Brian sure got a kick out of it. I have to give Tunagirl a huge hug for what she had to go through. I had one lousy tooth removed and I become the biggest baby.
I need to go back though and tell you about peoples reactions in the dentist office. My normal dentist sent me over to one of their offices that had an oral surgeon.
My chart mentions that I'm HIV positive. I feel no matter what kind of doctor I visit, they need to know of my status and what kind of medications I take. While sitting in the waiting room, a nurse behind the desk calls me back up and asks very quietly, "How are uh....well, you know....things?"
"I'm not sure what you mean", I said.
"Your health. How is it....specifically", she whispered as quiet as a church mouse.
"It's great. Is there a problem?"
"Oh no, just making sure", she said.
I sat back down very perplexed. I was soon called to the back to get the ball rolling. A very perky older woman asked me to sit down. She grabbed my chart and asked me a series of questions to verify a few things before we started. Towards the end, she gets all quiet, looks around, leans over only inches from my face and says, "How's your blood?"
"My blood is fine. Why?", I asked.
"Are you alright? Is everything OK before we proceed?" she whispered with a very sad look on her face as she patted me on the shoulder.
In a confident voice I said, "If you're referring to my HIV status, yes ma'am, all my counts are perfect. I have been for over ten years."
"Oh good. I'll tell the doctor we're ready to proceed then", she said.
After a few moments, in walks the doctor. A goofy, dorky acting guy who insisted on cracking jokes constantly. Bad jokes. After studying my chart for a moment, he leans in very close and whispers, "How's your liver functions?"
"Uh, they're perfect", I said.
"Good...good, and your kidneys?" he inquired.
"Well, they're in good shape too I would assume. Why are you asking? I listed nothing on my chart regarding either organ."
"OH, just making sure before we proceed." He looks around, leans in closer again and asks, "May I ask how your blood is?"
"My blood is just fine. My health in regards to my HIV is great. You're the third person to question me. My counts are great. Never been better. Has been for a number of years. Can we pull my tooth now?", I said, my voice growing louder.
"That's great to hear Son. I'm not sure if you know, but it's not a death sentence anymore. I hear people live more then just a few years. Hell look at Michael Jordan! That man will live to be a hundred years old! He should be an inspiration to you."
"If you say so. We all can live a very healthy, long life. With medication, healthy diet and exercise. We'll all be around for a very long time. I've had this for over 13 years. I'm comfortable with it. It's something I live with, like some people live with Diabetes or an irritating boyfriend. Can we get to pulling my tooth now?" I said all this very bold and as a matter of fact. The doctor could see how I was reacting to having not one but 3 people react the same way.
The cute little surgical assistant blurts out in her best southern drawl, "Well, hell (as she slaps my shoulder) we're all going to die some day! None of us will ever really know when. Guess you just live your life one day at a time."
"What the hell is the issue with my HIV, my blood counts, my liver, my kidneys......I'm here to have a tooth pulled, may we proceed? And to be perfectly honest honey, I'll probably die of some sort of cancer or heart attack the way my life is going. Now won't that be a kick in the ass after living with HIV for so long, huh?"
I found the entire thing quite comical in a way. They couldn't say the word HIV out loud, even in my presence. I understand not saying it while I was standing at the front desk. Privacy issues and all.
Hell, write the word down and point to it for all I care.
Ever so often I'm still amazed at how people treat HIV patients and how they view the disease. I figured we were past this kind of behavior in the medical field.
Maybe I'm just overly sensitive today. Who knows.
I'm not even going to get into the part of the morning where they wanted to pull out two healthy teeth on the other side of my mouth. It was an all out argument trying to convince them that the tooth to be removed was on the left hand side, bottom and had a few chunks that have fallen out of it. The tooth in bad shape. Not until they took another x-ray, did they finally agree with me.
I was so ready to get the fuck out of there.
I need another painkiller.
Not everything is like riding a bike. You hop back on one after years of 'bike riding retirement' and you immediately start riding again like a pro.
I'm having a struggle right now. While in college, I practically took every art class they offered. Hand built pottery, wheel thrown pottery, photography, color theory, sculpture, drawing, life drawing, glass blowing, silkscreen/woodcut/etching/lithography printing, scores of art history classes and finally, painting.
I've never been the greatest painter. I excelled more in drawing and tried to concentrate my efforts there, but I wanted to be a wellrounded artist and tackle everything. I took the following classes in painting: Acrylic 1&2, 3&4, Oil 1&2, 3&4, Watercolor 1&2, 3&4, Airbrush, and finally two studio classes where I set my own syllabus. You would think I'd be a pro after all that shit.
I sucked. I was known to stay up all night working on a huge painting, only to have my professor come in the next morning to me sitting there looking haggard, staring at a 4x5 foot white canvas. I would get so frustrated, I'd paint over it in a fit of anger. I was known to throw mini hissy fits and rip up my watercolor paper and throw it in the trash. Usually after my professor told me he loved the progress on my latest work. Oil painting was another story. The paint took what seemed like years to dry. I would constantly re-work it until it basically looked like mud. After working on one final painting for 3 months, in another fit of anger I squirted it with tons of white paint, thinking I'd just cover it up and start over. I frantically started smushing paint around with a huge brush. I was manic about it. The paint started to mix with the colors below and was in my mind, creating a mess. Being the moody artist that I was, I remember taking every tube of paint I had left and squirting in on my canvas. I used brushes, wood, cardboard and even my hands to move the paint around. I was frantic.
It was 6am. I had been there all night. I was tired, frustrated, angry. I was a good artist dammit! Why in the fuck couldn't I master the art of painting???!! While standing there sipping my coffee around 7am, watching a beautiful sunrise light up our studio, in walks my professor. He stood there, tapping his index finger on his chin and squinted his eyes. I didn't want to hear what he had to say. I already knew I had flunked his class.
He turned on his heels and walked out of the room without saying a word. I had made straight A's in every single fucking art class so far and now I was going to flunk my first class. I rested my head on the window sill while tears of anger welled up in my eyes. I don't think I had ever been so pissed off at myself.
In walks my painting professor with my glass professor, John. "I think your boy is onto something here John. Seems he might not turn out to be a glassblower like you thought. I might have to steal him from you. I need a painter like him John. Look at this piece! I absolutely love it!" The professors were notorious for "stealing" other students and getting them to change their area of emphasis.
He continued to ramble on and on while my glassblowing professor stood there smoking his cigar, stroking his foot long nicotine stained grey beard with a pissed off look on his face. Somehow, both of them liked the horrible piece of shit that I had just "finished". Little did they both know I wasn't creating anything special. I was just having a temper tantrum at 4am.
My glassprofessor grunted and walked back into his office. My painting professor stood there proud as a peacock while he patted me on the back. "Welcome to the world of painting, Son", he said.
"Fuck that shit, painting sucks", I told him as I walked back to the glass studio. A place I felt comfortable.
I still got an A.
I'm currently trying to create some work for our new apartment and boy am I struggling. Stupid me decided that we need big huge paintings. Acrylic, watercolor, oil. Maybe I just need one of those all nighters from 1985. Slinging paint, listening to Madonna, drinking coffee, watching the sunset come up and finally throwing a fit to create anything worth hanging.
Me thinks I need to go buy a big tarp.
Talk about a variety of questions. Since there are so many, I'll be very short and sweet. I'll also be adding this same post throughout the day, so check back for more questions answered.
And off we go.....
So... imagine that the Mayflower needs some repairs after the Pilgrims land. Some boards are replaced, a mast, and some sails. Next year, same thing, more repairs, more boards, some nails and more planks. Year after year, more boards, planks, sails, and ropes are replaced until at some point not an original board remains of the ship that originally crossed the Atlantic. Is the Mayflower still the Mayflower? If not, at what point did it become not-the-Mayflower?
Why are they still repairing the boat after they've already landed?
Yes, the spirit of the boat still exist, despite it's cosmetic surgery.
How annoying was that question, and did it make you want to slap me?
Just wait until we meet.
Same question as the first, but substitute a human being for the Mayflower, and substitute the various skin, organ and hair cells we get rid of and regrow for planks, boards, and sails.
The soul, I would imagine, would still be intact, so yes.
If you were going to have kids, what would you name a boy, and what would you name a girl?
A boy would be named Damon and a girl would be called Alex.
Did you notice how inconsistent I was about using the "Harvard comma" in the first question, and where do you stand on the use of the Harvard comma?
If I knew what a Harvard comma was, I would tell you.
Out of your most prized possessions, which one would you be willing to give up for the sake of it being something that someone else needed?(Not wanted) and why?
To be perfectly honest, I don't have a prized possession that I can think of. I learned a log time ago, not to hold stock in material things all that much.
What would your perfect vacation be (money no object)?
A trip to Germany.
What is one thing you think you've done that no one else reading this has?
Blown glass.
What is one thing you'd like to experience before you die?
A day without illness.
What is the song which makes you cry every time you hear it?
The song my boyfriend told me to listen to when he was traveling constantly with his job. It put a lot of stress on our relationship. It's from the movie 'Camp'. I Believe in Us - Warren Wiebe
What was the last thing to bring you a feeling of joy?
Falling asleep with the person I know I'm going to be spending the rest of my life with.
Do you prefer hamburgers or hot dogs when made on a barbecue? (Think I have an ulterior motive?) ;)
I can't eat a hotdog. They're full of lips and assholes. I prefer a good old fashioned hamburger.
If you could have any job/profession, what would you do?
Be a professional glassblower and own my own hot shop.
Okay, now a fun one. How old were you the first time you had sex and who was it (not looking for names; more interested in circumstances: the neighbor, a guy from school, the postman, etc.)?
I was 15 with a much older girl. That's all I'll say. :)
Would you ever like to travel in outer space? Like outside the atmosphere not just a hot guy in a silver suit...
Don't really have a desire to ever experience that. So many things here on planet earth I haven't seen yet.
What color combination confuses you the most and how does it fit into your plan for world domination?
Purple and Yellow, and I have no clue.
What happens to the things that get flushed down the potty?
They float out to sea along with Nemo.
Do you have any sexual fetishes we don't know about?
Getting spanked, leather... etc.
Other then having a HUGE thing for a man in uniform (like most homo's) I'm as vanilla as they come.
What qualities in a guy turn you on?
Makes me laugh. Can carry on a meaningful conversation. Physical? Stocky, hairy, goatee, shaved head.
What was the best day of your life?
Tough question. I've had so many. I would say my first gallery opening. Normally 100-150 people show. I had over 750 show up to my first opening.
If you're having a stresful day, how do you do to get yourself to relax?
Sitting down to a nice dinner and a glass of red wine. Nothing better.
Favorite concert t-shirt?
Siouxsie and the Banshees
Book you'd take with you if you left on a trip tomorrow?
Where would you go tomorrow if you won three million in the lottery?
Back home to share it with my family.
If you won Miss America, who would be the designer of your gown?
Jean Paul Gaultier.
Angels: patterns of thought that convey inspiration, compassion, benign accidents, etc. or actual supernatural beings?
Actual Supernatural Beings.
Was the angel guy you saw hot?
I only remember him having blonde hair and smelling like cotton candy.
If you were cast on Touched by an Angel, what Angel/Demon would you be?
I've never seen the show.
What movie character do you feel most resembles you in terms of chracteristics or personality, for fun, maybe in looks too.
I believe I'm the spitting image of Vin Diesel. No really! Fine, I would say uh....have NO fucking clue and I've thought about this one a LOT.
Most inspirational movie.
Don't laugh. The Color Purple.
Favourite video game where mario is a character
Has to be the only one I played while in Highschool and College. Super Mario Brothers.
What's the only beer you could ever drink warm?
Guiness Stout.
It seems I've been passed the latest meme torch by this sardonic man. I guess I'll take this one on.
You just KNOW I have to make sure I keep up with all the highly popular, famous, everloveable, egotistical bloggers out there that wants everyone to know everything about them.
Don't you know enough already? Last time I did something of this sort, I ended up answering over 90 questions. Yikes!
Here's how it works — each one of you gets to ask me up to 4 questions. I will answer the first 20. I will answer honestly, but just the first 20. Ask me whatever you're dying to know in the comments to this entry. You'll find the answers in subsequent posts.
I'm sure I'm going to be answering more then 20 questions. That's a given. I just have have to cut ya'll off at one point.
All answers will be posted Monday and Tuesday. I pretty much answer anything.
Let the games begin.
It's come up a few times in conversations the past couple weeks. Brian and I spend many hours just talking and ever so often I start rambling on about some career I wish I could have persued.
There are many of us out there who spent thousands of dollars on a college education. Many went on to put themselves further into debt by going to graduate school. Those certain crazy people even went as far as to get their doctorate. I would imagine the people who obtained their doctorate end up with a career in that field. Hell, who would spend all that money and time and end up working at the mall slinging hamburgers. But like me, I'm sure others out there went to college, majored in something specific only to get out of college and NOT work in any job even close to their major.
I got my BA in Art and Design. I was half way through my graduate studies in Art and Design before things just fell apart. Our department was shut down for financial reasons. I was tired of waiting tables to make ends meet after that. I finally took a job in Kansas City with a Mortgage company. It payed good money. Overtime. Great benefits.
I was sucked into to the corporate world before I knew it. Once you get in, it's very hard to get out.
I never lost my passion for Art. I continued to draw, print and blow glass. Lately, all I seem to have is my drawing. Thank God I have that. I still do commission work, working on personal pieces ever so slowly, hopes of getting my work into galleries some day, having my own show......
I'm often told that I'm wasting my life away working for The Man. Whoever the fuck The Man is. Being without a steady paying job with health insurance and disability isn't an option for me anymore. So it's something that I live with.
If given the chance, is there a career that you always hoped would have worked out? Something you always wanted to do? Your dream job? If given all the money needed, would you go back to school, even if you're in your late 30's and 40's, to persue another career of your choice?
Other then always wanting to have my own Glass Blowing Studio, I've always wanted to own my own Art Gallery. Showcase all kinds of work from various artist, including myself. Give the chance to those people who might not ever get the opportunity to show their work.
My other career choice? You all might laugh, but due to my LOVE of storms, I always wanted to be a Storm Chaser. Once I found out that you have to become a Meteorologist, I just laughed and quickly changed my mind.
I just wanted to chase Tornado's for the rest of my life.
It's that time of year again. Time for the annual Dallas Auto Show. It must have been an If-you're-gay-you-get-in-free night. We never saw so many 'Mo's who decided to forego a night out at a bar and opted for an evening checking out the latest and greatest in automobiles. Brian even had some guy grab his crotch and exclaimed, "God I just LOVE this new interior." Turns out, he knew him. Probably slept with him.
Brian again, was like a kid in a candy store. Should have put him in depends diapers. I'm sure he wet himself a few times. I honestly think the shrieked when he saw the Mercedes and started fanning himself. Do you realize that he giggles like a little girl when he pushes some secret button or panel and out pops a cup holder? Especially the ones that spiral, twist and spin and VOILA!.....cup holder. It's the little things that excite him more then anything. He gets in and has to hit every single fucking button inside the car. He presets the radio stations. Pushes the On-Star button, knowing damn well no one is going to answer.
Of course, he knows everything about every car there is and takes it upon himself to correct me all night long. I think I was finally able to show him a few things once we found the vintage Mustangs. Must keep the boyfriends in their place.
My favorite part of the evening is when we walked into the Ford display area. They had eight 2005 Mustangs. Convertibles, Pony, GT's. People were clamoring all over them for a closer look. As we looked over the details of each car, you might have heard me say the following a bit loudly, but I'm not to commit to anything:
"Huh, this looks JUST like MY new Mustang I bought only a few weeks ago!"
"Wow, MY new Mustang has that really cool feature also!"
"I think I like the color of MY Brand New Mustang that I bought ONLY a few weeks ago better then this one."
"The Convertibles are very nice looking, but I think I prefer the look of my FASTBACK Mustang that I bought recently."
"Damn I would love to have one of these...", the guy said. "Oh you'll LOVE it if you ever get the chance to buy one. I LOVE mine!"
Honestly? No one really gave a shit. I didn't either. I'm still on my New Car Buzz and after watching people go googoo over them, I had to rub it in I guess. I know, I'm bad. I feel bad.
Ok, not really.
On another note, a friend just sent me a pic of Texas Ranger player, Kevin Mensch, saying how much he looked like Brian. What do you think?
I think he does a little.
I might have to get Brian a baseball uniform.
I cannot believe I wasted my time yesterday writing about my sweet and innocent weekend with the Tunafamily, only to have a bunch of pervy bloggers ruin it by only wanting to talk about me having my dick out of my pants at the Bear Beer Bust. I'm shocked.
I'm appalled!
Kidding.
Ok so lets talk about this phenomenon. I have to say that I think I have another gift. We all know about my powers of stopping traffic with only my index finger. It seems I have the power to make men whip out their pee pee's in public places. OH sure, you're saying, "But Mark, it was a Bear Beer Bust at The Hidden Door. That's not much of an accomplishment." You're probably right. Fifty cent draws and dollar jello shots does have a side effect. Mix that with a bunch of horny bears?
Loose zippers.
I'm innocent in all of this. So is Brian. We under the power of the almighty alcohol gods. We had no choice. I think it all started when some bear walked by with one of those Utility Kilts (aka Utilikilts). Within five minutes I'm looking under his skirt (yes people, let's just call it what it really is) to see if he was wearing underwear. Much to my shock and surprise, he wasn't. I wasn't expecting him to be wearing jewelry either!
Seconds later, someone unbuttoned my pants and my dick accidentally fell out of it's hiding place. A few men were in shock and awe of the mighty penis that lay before them and decided to take a closer look. A few daring souls even decided to pet it. After I gave my other half a horrified look and shrugged my shoulders, he came over to investigate. A few seconds later, the Crotch Diggers, started in on him.
The evening ended with a nice dinner at Taco Bueno.
I know where my exhibitionism started. I was just an an innocent newbie going to the gay bars. I frequented the nightclubs in Kansas City and the thoughts of showing my hoo hoo in public was unheard of.
Then one fateful evening someone took me to a bar called The Dixie Belle. A levi/leather sort of bar, full of masculine, hairy men and lots of dark corners. The place usually smelled like a used jock strap. Men were giving head in the bathroom. A circle jerk was going on in the corner of the patio. A bartender was sucking some guy off behind the bar. This was all so new to my virgin eyes.
My first experience showing my goods ever was downstairs in the dungeon basement which housed another bar and store that sold leather goodies. The hot as fuck, hairy as hell, muscular, shaved headed, goateed hunk was working in the store. I walked by, trying not to make total eyecontact with him. I hear him yell, "WOOF!". Not sure what the hell that meant at the time, I decided to ask him. He told me it was a good thing. He followed it up with a couple of "growl" sounds in my ear. It fucking sent shivvers up my spine. I stared intently over his shoulder at the leather harnesses hanging on the wall. Without saying a word, he starts taking off my shirt, throws it on the floor and slips a cold harness over my chest.
There was this extra piece hanging on the bottom. I asked him where that round metal piece hanging off that leather strap went. He was a man of very few words. He proceeded to unbotton my jeans, squatted down and with a few quick flicks of his tongue and nimble uses of his fingers, I had the cockring around my dick. I was partially erect by this point. He positioned a leather hat on my head and attached a leather armband on my upper arm. I learned that he marked me as a top. I looked and he had indicated himself as a bottom.
It took me a moment to realize that I was buck naked, in full leather, standing in the middle of a leather store in a bar. There was a crowd gathering outside the door. He spun me around, wrapped his huge arm around my chest and stood me there for everyone to get a better look. I didn't know what to say or do. I was more then embarrassed yet still turned on. He slowly took off the leather and put all my clothing back on for me. Once finished, he pulled me behind the counter, whipped out a very large beer can shaped cock with a prince albert the thickness of my pinky finger.
Look! Jewelry!
He asked me if we could have some time together privately. Oh, NOW he wants to be private. I said yes. He then escorted me out to my car and followed me home. Lots of first time things happened that night. First time with my dick hanging out in a bar. First time wearing leather. Someone sucking my dick in public. Touching another man's dick in a bar. Seeing penis jewelry and finally, sleeping with my first guy in leather.
It's all been downhill since then. I can blame that man for my subsequent dick showings at a bar.
Not that I make it a habit.
So much to tell from the weekend. So little time to do it in. Think of me while I'm sitting in a Dentist chair this morning while I'm tortured at the hands of an evil Dentist. I hate Dentist. They make my blood pressure skyrocket. Maybe I'll get a cute one.
If I come out of this alive, hopefully I'll have much to tell this afternoon.
*whew!* They decided to do a full exam (minus the prostate) and figure out a game plan and dollar amount for my up and coming work. Game plan...I felt like I was in a football huddle. The Doc was cute actually. Although he had one of those constant "deer in the headlights" look about him. I did too, after he told me what had to be done inside my mouth.
One root canal, three crowns and 4 cavities.
Holy Shit Batman! I wanted to cry, but he comforted me the best that he could. Told me that most people need more work then that when they come in. Bullshit, but ok fine Dr. Cutie with the big eyes. Three more office visits and a total of $1080.00 out of my flex spending account here at work. Not bad considering that without insurance, he quoted me almost $4000.
On a lighter note, I had the best time with the entire Tunafamily, minus the hubby. Brian and I took them to The Magic Time Machine.
Aren't the kids just the cutest things?
Come to find out, it's a great place for PRE-TEENS and very young Teenagers to hang out. *shudder* All the staff is dress up as different movie characters. We got Joe Dirt. Cute, but annoying. I wanted Spiderman. The kid had an ass from hell and his package didn't leave much to the imagination. I was trying to snap a pic with no luck. Every booth has it's own theme also. We got The Love Booth. How appropriate.
Our own little Love Shack.
The next morning, Tunagirl and family arrived at the butt-ass-crack of dawn, ready for a day at the Ft. Worth Zoo. It was cute to hear the kids say, "On to anothe exhibit!" after spending a total of 10 seconds at each one. Balls of fire they were. I even slightly got over my fear of flying birds. I should have known that walking in with 5 sticks with seeds stuck to the ends would cause a stir. Hundreds, Fifty, Twenty birds flew right towards me, all wanting a piece of me. I only shrieked a few times. Honestly, the kids reacted better then I did.
One final ride on the train and carousel and we were ready to call it a day. Kids can wear you out I tell you. But I wouldn't have traded the weekend for anything else in the world.
Thanks Tunafamily!
I'll leave out details from Sundays late afternoon time at the bear beer bust. Let's just say, my dick was out of my pants more then it was in. So was my hubby's.
Yes that's right folks! You too can order your very own, extremely rare, completely sought after t-shirt from this years up and coming GB:NYC2 Event! Madonna and Cher have totally endorsed this product! Britney Spears was unable for comment.
Front view:
Back view:
Choose from not one, but four, count'em FOUR different styles!
Click here to add this amazing new product to your wardrobe!!!!
How much do they cost you might ask? CHEAP CHEAP CHEAP!!!
(no profit will be made from the sale of these t-shirts)
Be the first on your block to own one!
Don't wait another minute!
Order TODAAAAY!!!!
What better way of reminding everyone about the GB:NYC2 hookup, by showing you t-shirts that Brian put together using Aaron's stunning, amazing and totally hand crafted icon. There's a link on the left hand column to see pictures from last years event.
Here's the ad that was placed on Tribe.net:
Date & Time: Friday, May 6 2005 - Sunday, May 8 2005, 7:00 PM
Location: Barrage, 401 West 47th Street (midtown west) between 9th & 10th St., New York, NY
Phone: 212-586-9390
FRIDAY MAY 6th - Barrage:
Our little meeting which ended up being HUGE last year in NYC was such a blast, I've decided to go again this year, but this time with my boyfriend.
Friday May 6th, bloggers, their husbands and friend are meeting for cocktails around 7pm or later. Nothing formal. Just a casual meet, greet and drink. Fondling is optional.
Review of Barrage:
"Barrage is one of several gay lounges to descend upon midtown—before, the only real option was Stella's (a randy collision of theater queens and in-your-face go-go boys). On the heels of Hannah's Lava Lounge (working for a kooky, it's-cool-to-wear-your-fez-in-here East Village feel), Barrage's lack of any discernible identity works in its favor: The crowd doesn't know whether to be bitchy (Chelsea) or wacky and off-kilter (East Village). Stripped of these options, the people at Barrage usually err on the side of friendliness—which means it's a great place to go if you actually want to meet people, and a very bad place to go if you want to brood over a Stoli raspberry. "
SATURDAY MAY 7TH:
Jess and Marc will be hosting a barbecue at their new house on Long Island. It starts Saturday afternoon at 2pm. You can take the train (30 minute ride) to get out there, unless you'd rather drive. For more details, write to Jess at jess466@optonline.net or contact Mr. Zeitzeuge. Please RSVP Jess if you plan on coming.
REST OF THE WEEKEND, YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN:
These are the only two events that are definately scheduled. The rest of the time is left up for bloggers to meet for brunch, lunch, dinners, drinks whenever/whatever/wherever their little heart desires. Brian and I will be spending most of our time sight seeing, the MoMA and possibly a broadway show. I'm sure we'll meet people throughout the rest of the weekend at different points, but nothing will be set in stone.
...on the way to my Doctor this morning. I had to have another blood test done to see how my kidneys are doing. Few years back, my kidney functions had dropped more then half. I had to go in for a biopsy to see what the hell was going on.
Did you realize that they go into your kidney through your back with a gun the size of a McDonalds straw and take out chunks at a time? Did you know that they do this to you while you're completely awake? Did you also know that they lose 1 out of every 1000 kidneys? Yikes. Long story even longer, they found out my kidneys were full of crystals. The crystal form of one of my meds. It took a couple years to get them functioning normal again. Well, it seems my functions are off again, but just ever so slightly. I was probably just dehydrated before.
I know, I'm taking forever making my point.
ANYhoo, I parked the car this morning, got out and grabbed my manpurse. Let me remind you that my Doctors office is on the outskirts of our downtown. As I started walking across the street, a HUGE chicken with a vicious beak and ferocious talons on his feet come charging right past me!! Anyone who knows me, knows that I have a fear of birds. To be specific, birds who are flying or running towards me.
I see this chicken, practically in the downtown area, running across a busy street dodging cars, coming straight for me. Of course, being the manly man that I am, I clutched my manpurse close to my chest, screamed and ran around to the other side of the car until it crossed the road safely. When the coast was clear, I made my mad dash for the other side.
Freaked my shit OUT.
Why does a chicken which belongs on a farm, who's found himself in downtown Dallas instead, cross the road?
Because he's fucking scared shitless, that's why!!
I just want to find the son of a bitch who has a home on the edge of downtown that has livestock.
I'm so going to kick his ass.
We had the guilty pleasure, if you want to call it that, of watching part of the season premier of Show Dog Mom and Dads on Bravo last night.
The night before, Brian and I had done something for the first time. No, the sling is still on back order. I'm talking about buying groceries together. He's like a little kid. Wanting everything. Trying to try out the food while we shop. Will my training never end?
So last night I decided to cook in our apartment for the first time also. The most we've made up until this point was coffee. We eat out that much. It wasn't anything special. Just Taco's. So now you can picture two hairy naked men, sitting on the living room floor, so we wouldn't "dirty" up the couch with our food, and start to watch this new show on Bravo.
There are some psycho fucking dog owners out there. Bravo seemed to have found 5 families of them. Each one batshit crazier then the last one. The gay couple not being any different. These extemely young, pretty, pretentious, snooby, arrogant, stereotypical queers have more clothing for their dog then most people have in their closets. Feather boa's and little shoes included. During a fight, one of them even called the police on the other, if...well, his boyfriend wouldn't stop doing....something.
We honestly couldn't take anymore and started having sex turned the channel. It was the most painful thing to watch. One lady was having her dog jacked off so they can save his sperm
f o r e v e r! She would be one of these people that would try to clone her dog over and over if given the chance. Another woman couldn't talk to someone without mentiong what 'her and the dog did', where 'her and the dog' were going, etc. The amount of money they spent was ridiculous. $25,000 a year? Don't get me started on the woman who was forcing her 10 year old son to be a handler and try to win various competitions. The kid didn't give a shit. She yelled and scolded him after he would lose.
I loved my pets in the past. They were a wonderful companion. The bond between pet and owner can be so strong. I know. I've been there. But fuck people, there has to be some boundaries!
It made me, and probably Brian, realize that we really aren't ready for a dog yet. I'm a big dog person. Cat's make me sneeze, stuffy nose, red, puffy eyes. We've talked about getting one some day. After putting Palin to sleep, I'm just not ready to start that whole thing over. Training, vet bills, walks, picking up poop.
While we were walking around the Arts Festival Saturday, we stopped by the local SPCA booth to see the dogs, puppies and kittens they brought. Our hearts sank. It's tough seeing them there. Knowing that if they don't get adopted within a certain length of time, they're put to sleep.
Ever so often, one of the handlers would take one of the dogs out for a walk up and down the festival to meet the fairgoers. Often this helps with adoption. The cages are usually empty by the end of the day. Most find good homes. While we were standing there, a handler brought back a german shepherd/alaskan husky mix puppy. Probably 6 months old. Beautiful dog. The dog didn't want to get back into his cage. He curled his legs up and pressed his head against the handler.
We heard the handler say, "It's ok. It's ok. You're VERY special. Yes you are! You're so very special!" as he tried to coax the dog back into his 4x4 foot kennel.
Brian lost it. Tears welled up in his eyes. Neither one of us could even talk about it without starting to get all misty-eyed. I found out he's a true dog person himself.
No wonder people usually adopt all the dogs they bring to the Fair. I know I didn't want to leave without that puppy.
The timing just wasn't right.
But someday.....
I wanted to show him he WAS special.
I was standing out back with my Father while we looked over our latest 1965 Fastback Mustang he had just purchased. We stood there talking about what had to be done, the color we wanted to paint it and of course me begging to be the first one to drive it.
Dad had a huge garage out back for his Mustang hobby and also for his side business. Car detailing. After working from 7am until 3pm as our city's Police Captain, he came home, threw on a tshirt, popped in his detailing toothbrush in his pocket, his trademark headband and went out to the shop to work his ass off making even more money to support his family. That German man was built like an Ox and was as strong as one too.
While discussing our renovation plans, his eyes started to water. We weren't talking about anything that would make him cry. Hell, I had never even seen my Dad cry. I tried to ask him what was wrong, but he couldn't even utter any words. I looked over to his left arm and saw it hanging there lifeless against his body. He slowly tried to use his right hand to grab his heart. Even though I was only 15, I immediately knew he was having a heart attack. Dad had been having Angina attacks during the past couple years. A heart attack seemed almost inevitable.
His knees buckled and he fell to the ground as I tried support a 220 pound man. I screamed for anyone who could hear me as I reached in his pocket to grab his tiny bottle of Nitro pills. I struggled to get the bottle open and get out one of those damn pills no larger then then those sprinkles you find on a donut. I know this because his bottle had spilled on the counter one morning before church. He thought he had them all put back in the bottle. He brought donuts home for breakfast. The kind with sprinkles on them. After putting my donut on a plate, I saw one of the sprinkles had fallen off. I licked my finger and popped it in my mouth. It was a Nitro pill.
I never made it to church that morning.
I shoved the pill under his tongue and told him to relax. I'm yelling for help in between trying to comfort him. Somehow I stayed calm and didn't panic. No one was home. I remembered. I told him I had to call an ambulance.
"Like hell you are", he said. "Take me yourself".
Dad was a proud man. Taking an ambulance wasn't an option. Damn, he was a stubborn son of a bitch. I was 15 and my driving skills weren't that polished yet. I put him in our 1965 Dodge Dart Covertible which had the top down. I think the breeze helped him. I assumed we were in a hurry and I had to haul ass, so I'm taking corners as fast as the car would allow me. I kept hitting dips a tad bit too fast, causing my dad to yell in pain and call ME a son of a bitch with every bump.
I was called a lot of names by the time we got to the emergency room. It didn't matter. I got my dad there in time.
This was the beginning of a long hard road for my Father and our family. Mild heart attacks happened over the years following. A quadruple bypass was performed. Constant high cholesterol and high bloodpressure. Numerous trips to the hospital.
Eventually he became terminal and died ten years after his initial heart attack.
Memories came flooding back yesterday as I talked with my Mother. Her husband's stressing due to some personal issues with his Son. He turned pale yesterday and started to sweat profusely. Mom checked his blood pressure and it was obviously causing some issues.
I could hear the pain in her voice. She's worried about him. We're all worried about him. He's a wonderful man who loves my Mother more then anything.
He's the reason she acts like a teenager again. I would hate to see her have to go through this again with another man. It was hard enough the first go around.
My brothers already battle high blood pressure and cholesterol levels. One of my brothers has even had a mild Angina attack that my mother has oddly shrugged off. Maybe she doesn't want to admit that her Son's are possibly following the family trait. I don't discuss my high cholesterol and triglyceride levels, nor my slightly elevated blood pressure. It's under control with medication. Working out and eating better is helping prevent my Mother from EVER going through this with one of her Son's.
She's got enough to worry about right now.
I'm praying Mom.
Disclaimer: For those who plan on seeing Margaret Cho and don't want to hear how it was, please ignore this first paragraph.
Let me clarify first off, that I had a wonderful time. We loved seeing her. I laughed until my face and stomach hurt. My hands were sore from clapping so much. Brian has seen her a few times and told me on the way home that he was little disappointed. He was wanting something more political. I was wanting something less "gay". Almost the ENTIRE routine had something to do with gay men, sucking dicks or licking something. She ranted on about President Bush, The Pope and Terry Schiavo. But eventually, somehow, made it relate to gay men or their faghags. Our biggest beef? The set? A black curtain. Lighting? One spotlight. Her outfit? Overly tight jeans and a shirt that showed her belly the entire show. Her hair? Not even going to go there. She even stood in ONE spot the entire time. Hardly ever moved. I guess I just pictured something a bit more flashy like you see in her dvd's. But again, we laughed our asses off.
After relaxing by the pool all Sunday afternoon and frying our skins, we decided to have dinner with one of Brians friends we call Mama, then head over to The Wanda Show which has moved to Woody's. How do I describe Wanda. Well. She's a black man who puts on the worst drag possible and will crack you up with her ability to make fun of people. No one is safe from this woman. If you're easily offended about ANYTHING, you should probably stay away from her show. If you can laugh at yourself and others, you'll have a good time. She mixes her show with special guests, drag numbers, "reading" the crowd and special events. Her little event last night was to go into the crowd and hand pick men to get up and strip/dance. People vote and the winner gets a hundred bucks. FYI to anyone who goes. You don't say no to Wanda. You'll regret it.
Guess who was told he was going to dance? Me. Guess who was told he was going to dance after Wanda stated she needed another (in her words) caucasion? Brian.
Wanda's act is called Sista Act 2. Imagine a bar that is normally 95% white. Your typical levi/leather sports bar. Wanda has a huge following. Once her show started, it became 75% black, 25% white. I swear it was like holding Church. She wasn't just putting on a show and ripping people to shreds, we were having a come to Jesus meeting at times. Brian and I were her "two caucasions" needed to dance up against the three muscular as hell black men. I just kept standing there, comparing biceps.
You have to understand her humor. She was passing out free passes to some upcoming show of hers. She loudly kept telling her assistant to "give some to the whites". It's all done in fun. When you go to Wanda, you know what to expect.
To make a long, boring story even longer and more boring, I lost. Brian, who can shake his ass with the best of them, actually ended up winning 2nd believe it or not. Hell, his prize money paid for our bar tab. I have no problem pimping him out if he can pay for my beer.
Dance bitch, DANCE!! Daddy said DAAAAANNCCCEEE!!
Unfortunately I didn't get a picture of him shaking his moneymaker. But the little shit snapped one of me. Notice the dollar bills sticking out of my shorts. A whole three bucks!!!
Ok, is it a bad thing that I was sitting here, answering phone calls, chatting with co-workers, putting stuff away, realized I was getting dizzy and shaking then after drinking a cup of coffee I'm all better?
Damn, I need to either cut back or this Model Diet of Caffeine, cigarettes and tic tac's just ain't a workin'.
Our department moved from the 2nd floor to the 1st floor this past Monday. Compliance is usually the first department to get shuffled around all the time. Our neighbors are the loudest group I've ever been near. They've always got some contest going, emergency group meeting (in someones cube) or "23 CALLS ON HOLD!!! EVERYONE ON THE PNONES!!!!!!"
And If I hear "Hey BOO!" or "Hey, Sista!" one more fucking time, I'm going to go boo all over someones sista's ass here in a minute. I can't hear myself think. Hell, someone at Corporate just called me a little bit ago and they asked me what the hell was going on over here.
I need to get some coffee and pee. I'll be right back.
Why do people pop their zits while standing at the mirror here at work? OR not wash their hands after peeing? And the ones that do, don't put the paper towels in the trash. For some reason, the floor is a better place. Felt sorry for the guy that was in the stall. He could shit through a screen door and not hit a wire. Must of had a hard night of partying. Beershits are the worst.
Anyhoo. What else?
Oh, going to see the movie Sin City tonight. I've been waiting for this one for quite some time.
Tomorrow during the day, we're walking down to Deep Ellum and checking out the Arts Festival. An afternoon of eating bad food, listening to poety readers, watching creepy performance artist, checking out some regional artist, listening to a couple bands, and of course checking out the local shirtless hotties with their dogs. You know that's the only reason we're going down there.
Tomorrow night we have tickets to see Margaret Cho on her Assassin Tour. I can't wait to come out of there with a plethora of new sayings from the Ass Master herself.
First time I think I ever used the word "plethora" in my blog. Yesterday was Quantum Physics. What's the world my blog coming to?
I can't concentrate anymore. Work to be done. Phone calls to be made. Plans to be organized. Coffee to be drank...
...Boo and Sista's fucking ass to kick.
