Holy Buttload of Bloggers and Readers Batman! My deceptive plan to obtain the most entries this site has ever gotten in a single day has WORKED!!!
BWAHAAHAA RAAHAAA HAAAHAAAAA HAAA! HA! HA.....
In all honestly, I'm totally kidding. I'm not a stats whore. *Shut up!!* I get enough harrassment over at the Gay Blogger Tribe to which I'm co-founder and current moderator. Stop in, join us, say howdy. Membership is free. Donuts are served every Friday.
Where was I? Oh yeah, if I wanted to gain more hits, all I have to do is mention Hot Carls or a Dirty Sanchez and google searches alone do the work for me. There's a lot of people into Poo out there in this sick, twisted Southpark-like world.
I really did this to give lurkers a chance to say Hi, see where people were from, find out about their profession, see how big their dick is, you name it. So many non-bloggers or bloggers who visit that are quiet as a church mouse. Who knows, maybe by challenging everyone to say Howdy Y'all, they might get over their lurking mode and throw out their opinions once in a while. Plus it gave a chance for other bloggers to say Hi and possibly have people stop by and visit their own sites after reading their whitty and sometimes smartass comments. I love you all. Truly, I do.
One thing that surprised me, is the number of readers who are in long term gay relationships. Maybe I found a niche. You know the rule, one gay year being equal to 7 straight years. So many couples celebrating 5, 8, 10 or 12 years together. I was also surprised at having straight male readers. When I found that out, I immediately started thinking about all the poo stories like mentioned above, talks about fucking or sucking dick and of course, showing Bear Pool Party pictures, complete with nekkid menzes. Hopefully their virgin eyes stayed clear of such provocative photos. I wouldn't want to corrupt a poor defenseless straight male.
*cough*
So thanks to everyone who introduced yourself. Thanks to the long time blogger buddies who said Hey also. I've been trying to respond to each and every person and attaching a naked photo of myself and Brian for your viewing pleasure or displeasure. What?!!! The photo wasn't attached?
Damn, maybe next time.
Just so you know, my carpal tunnel has come back.
PS: For those still wanting to de-lurk see yesterdays post. You know you want to.
Three months from now, I'll be celebrating my 2 year anniversary here at the House of Zeitzeuge. Over the past year and 9 months, I've met some incredible people. People who I chat with on the phone, instant message and email. Not to mention that I've had the pleasure in physically meeting probably 60 bloggers. I've flirted with some and fought with some. I've felt one's boob, touched another's penis, crashed in one's bed and slept on another's couch. They're an incredible bunch of people, funny, sexy and often quite horny. *ahem*
Some bloggers and readers have come and gone. Others have been here since the beginning. Recently however, I've gotten comments or personal emails from people I've never met before. More then normal. People I never knew read this blog and decided to "de-lurk" because they had something they wanted to say, or just to say Howdy.
My challenge to all readers today, is to say Hi by leaving a comment. Just tell me (us) know who you are, where you're from, what you do. Simple as that. If you're not comfortable saying a specific name or say you work for the Pentagon and would like to keep that private, then by all means tell us what you're comfortable letting us know. Just throw out your initials and where your from for example. Let's pretend we're in an AA meeting and we're all getting to know each other. Coffee and cigarettes provided.
Is all this considered a Meme because it's all about Me(me)? If so, then so be it.
Now, I'm not doing this to get comments. Hell, to do that all I have to do with this bunch is to write about sex, dick, ass or post naked pictures of myself and Brian.
Which is not beneath me to do.
Hmmm, should I pass this on to others?
As many know, I grew up in the Church. A Pentecostal Church to be exact. And no, we don't make you kill a live chicken or handle snakes. Not on your first visit, right? I can't tell you the number of friends I have or the number of times I come in contact with other gay men which grew up Baptist, Assembly of God, Church of Christ or some other variation.
I was our Church's youngest Pianist. I was taught at an early age by various relatives and finally settled on a cousin who was our Church organist. It wasn't until Highschool did I start taking more advanced lessons at our local college. I started playing the piano for 3 or 4 services a week starting at the age of twelve.
Over the next few years, I became what I would consider, more popular in our Youth Group. I never was popular in school. I stuck to myself. Hid out in the art department or study halls to avoid people. I never went to games, dances or any sort of school function. I was there to study and get good grades. Nothing more. Church became the place I was noticed, respected and in certain cases by the younger youth in our group, looked up to.
I always dressed (obviously) more flamboyant. Not your typical drab midwestern wear. My father and I fixed up vintage Mustangs, so I was always driving some flashy car. I was given the term "golden boy" by many. A term I hated. I started dating the "golden girl" of the church. Much older then me. Classically trained pianist. Daughter of a wealthy family in our Church. By the time I was in my latter years of Highschool, we were quite the item.
There was a group of 4 or 5 boys in their early teens, who would want to hang with me, dress like me and two of the boys actually talked their parents into buying them a Mustang. I found all this attention quite humorous. As I said, I was a hermit in highschool, so Church was my place to shine.
One boy in particular I will refer to as S. Sweet kid, kind of on the nerdy side with tall, lanky, red hair and glasses. For a time, I took him under my wing so to speak and befriended him. The boy constantly struggled with school, with his parents and eventually started hanging out with "the wrong crowd" as we put it. His parents would often ask me to talk to him because he would listen to me, but nothing seemed to work. It wasn't long before I left my hometown and never heard nor seen him again.
About ten years ago, my Mother told me that S was heavily into drugs, stealing, couldn't keep a job. This didn't surprise me. He seemed to struggle his entire life. This past weekend, my Mother called to tell me he killed himself. He was addicted severely to heroin, lost his job and his wife and kids finally left him for the last time.
S was at his wits end. He had enough.
The Church shoves ideals, rules and morality down our throats. One such rule was that suicide was a sin. A big sin. Funny how even after leaving the Church, years later it's hard to break the habit of thinking in this way. Many rules and regulations of the Church is something that Man tells you, not God or the Bible.
My Mother said that the service was beautiful. Many people from our home town drove hours to the funeral to pay their respects. The minister didn't say anything the entire service about the specifics of S's death, until the end when he stated, "S was a troubled man. He chose a path that was too difficult for him to handle. And let me just tell everyone here, that there isn't ONE place in the Bible that states suicide is a sin."
The minister goes on to try and comfort the family. Letters are read, songs are sung. One by one people lined up to tell their favorite stories about S.
Of course, when my Mother got home, her and her husband grabbed their Bibles and searched for hours. Something that they were taught their entire lives wasn't in the Bible.
"Even at the age of 77 years old, you can still be taught things", my mother told me. "Don't always believe what Man tells you."
Amen, Mom.
Nothing like a huge chandelier hanging in the middle of the street to indicate the center of Houstons Pride Parade. As I mentioned before, the parade is held at night. Luckily since the 98 degree days turned into 75 degree nights. Felt like a cold front had came in it was so nice.
We had an absolute blast despite the fact that this years parade was crap. The Chandelier was towards the end of the parade route where QTV was filming. By the time they got to where we were, they were traveling at lightening speed just to get the damn thing over with. I can't tell you how many times we asked, "Did you see the float that just flew by? Who were they?" Plus the fact that 80% of the parade was nothing but people walking, wearing matching t-shirts and carrying a tiny banner. The 10 minute gaps in the parade didn't help matters any. And I thought we homo's were organized.
Brian met a friend from Dallas and before you know it, he was hanging with us most of the entire evening. If you're reading this D, we had a blast with you Saturday night!
Brian also got a chance to see some of his college buddies with whom he keeps in close contact. These are the guys who took a die hard Southern Baptist Radical Psycho Christian and turned him to the Big Homo he is today. They even sat him down at one point many years ago and taught him out to cuss. When Brian tried for the first time, the word Poodle-juice came out of his mouth. He had a lot to learn back then. Thank God for all their help and training.
One hightlight of the evening was late when we headed over to the Ripcord for a couple drinks. While hanging on the patio, we noticed three men in nothing but leather jockstraps. One hunky young blonde guy was giving a cute hispanic boy the BJ of his life. When the young blonde stood up, you could almost hear the crowd say, "ohhhhhhhh myyyyyyy". This pee pee was huge. Not being a shy person, I asked him for a photo. He obliged. You can see the entire group of this weekends photos right here. Be careful, the pee pee shot obviously isn't work safe. I seem to be writing that a lot here lately.
Before we headed out of town, I wanted to stop by and see this amazing fountain at the Galleria. Despite all the people around, this was truly a magical little place and quite romantic. I could just imagine sitting there late at night feeling the mist while having a glass of wine with someone you love. Hmmm. Maybe next trip
I don't usually post things of this nature. It's just not...well, in my nature. A fellow co-worker's last day was yesterday and this poem was sitting on my desk, along with a note saying that the part of her "dash" that was spent with us, will never be forgotten. I actually liked this one and thought I would pass it on. Take a moment and check it out.
We're heading to Hotter then Hell Houston this weekend for Pride. Their parade is at night, complete with lighted floats and homo's draped in christmas lights and glow sticks. They say it's to be different, but I say it's to keep people from passing out from dehydration due to 110 degree heat and 100% humidity during the day.
For all of those celebrating a Dash of Pride, celebrate it well.
How Do You Live Your Dash?
I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the date on her tombstone
From the beginning ...to the end.
He noted that first came her date of birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth...
And only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own;
The cars... the house... the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard
Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what's true and real,
And always try to understand,
The way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we've never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile...
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
So, when your eulogy's being read
With your life's actions to rehash...
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?
It seems a blogger turned porn star is back. Or in his words to me, He's dabbling. Favorite line from one of his movies? "Suck that dick, you pansy". Seems not only is he hot, hung and overall just a really nice guy, he's got a way with words.
Another blogger is back from....well, wherever retired bloggers go. Although I'm sure he hasn't been sitting around eating applesauce and having someone wipe his ass. Welcome back Geek, you've been sorely missed!
My one and only blog son Rusty from Sex and the County has moved. It's a hush hush, top secret, high government security requested move. You see, his brothers found out about the blog and were telling everybody and their dog about it. The boy couldn't get laid to save his life due to Mo's afraid of being written about. You now can find him at ChaChaChanges! Let me know if I need some sort of security password clearance, ok Rusty?
Lately, new bloggers have been popping up worst then Michael Jacksons penis at a daycare center. Check out Titanium Project. Go over and say Howdy, Ya'll. He's a fellow buddy from Kansas City. Go give his Metal a good rub down.
Or check out Three Year Sentence. He's not only a fantastic artist, but a writer who pours out his heart and soul.
Damn, you can't swing a dead blogger's cat without hitting a NYC blogger. Give Hyphenated Non-Identity a shout.
At first glance, their name has the makings for a good Gay Country and Western song. Check out J.P and Earl.
Holy Cow. Is there something in the water in NYC? Say hello to The Mark of Kane.
And last but not least, if you have a favorite gay blog you would like to nominate, check out Best Gay Blogs. You never know if one day you'll be up there saying, "You like me! You really really LIKE me!!!"
We seem to be going down Memory Lane more then usual here at the House of Zeity. Ever since Brian bought me my very own Creative 30GB mp3 Player, which if I were like Sam I would have named it by now, I've been...."only looking and listening to music off the internet and NEVER EVER downloading them" constantly lately. I think I have a sickness.
I'm on some sort of 80's kick. Flooding my brain with cheesy pop lyrics and catchy synthesized melodies. I can feel my flock of seaguls hairdo coming back as we speak. Only with a few more bald spots. Many albums or songs I have been searching to buy for years now with absolutely no luck what so ever.
Yesterday while goofing off at work, I decided one more time to try and figure out a way to upload mp3's to my server through SmartFTP program without the help from everyone on the blogger planet who knows how to DO it already *glares intensly*. Now I know what it feels like to give birth. I feel like a proud papa.
Hey, it's the little things in life for us computertarded people.
Here's some of my fav's, which will only be up for a couple weeks due to the limited amount of space, plus the fact that I could get addicted to putting music on here and totally run out of space way to fricken' soon:
Cry - Godley & Creme
Waterfall - Wendy & Lisa
Respectable - Mel & Kim
Lessons in Love - Level 42
Digging Your Scene - Blow Monkeys
Better Be Home Soon - Crowded House
And because Jeff begged and promised to show show me some skin:
The top 100 movie quotes of all time was on TV last night. I'm a big fan of movies. Any kind of movie. Sometimes I go to movies for the aesthetic value, a moving script/story, a favorite actor/actress and sometimes just because I want to pay 8 bucks just to be entertained and nothing more. Give me special effects out the ass! I want to see things blown up!
Instead of sitting and watching 100 movie quotes go by, we went to see Batman Begins, followed by a great Vietnamese dinner with a friend. By the way, go see the movie. I was completely and totally surprised at how good it was. Very dark.
So first thing this morning, I check online for the results. I have to say that I'm glad I didn't watch. After reading the bottom 5, I would probably have gotten pissed off and turned the channel:
96 Snap out of it! - Moonstruck, 1987
97 My mother thanks you, My father thanks you. My sister thanks you. And I thank you. - Yankee Doodle Dandy, 1942
98 Nobody puts Baby in a corner. - Dirty Dancing, 1987
99 I'll get you my pretty, and your little dog, too! - Wizard of Oz, 1939
100 I'm king of the world! - Titanic, 1997
Ok first off, never and I mean NEVER under any circumstances take a Wizard of Oz quote and put it at number 99. Are they shitting me? Obviously, not ONE homosexual was consulted when putting together this list otherwise, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, The Women, All About Eve and The Wizard of Oz would be in the top ten.
After gathering my composure at seeing number 99, I saw that The Titanic quote made the top 100? Are you shitting me twice? Obviously, some Dallas Highland Park Soccer Mom, complete with 2.3 children and white picket fence was on the judging panel. Stupid bitch.
Shit me once, shit me twice, but don't you fucking shit me thrice by putting on the Dirty Dancing quote. I would have turned of the damn channel after hearing that one. Luckily they probably went to commercial break so everyone could make it into the bathroom to vomit. Nobody puts Baby in a corner, my ASS.
Yankee Doodle Dandy? Does anyone even remember that movie?
And hell, at least Cher made the top 100. All Hail Cher!
The list was redeemed eventually. "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn" - Gone With The Wind, was an obvious choice for number one. "Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore" - Wizard of Oz, thank GOD was number 4, even beating out "Here's looking at you kid" - Casablanca at number 5.
There is a God.
The list is full of some of my favorite classic movies. Makes me want to grab my blankie, get naked and sit in front of the TV watching the TCM channel for an entire weekend. I'm sure that would be nothing short of a sharp stick in the eye for my boyfriend.
Casablanca
Sunset Blvd
All about Eve
White Heat
Gaslight
The Women
Whatever happened to Baby Jane
...just to name a few. Don't get me started on having a Judy Garland movie marathon. As long as you bring me food and let me pee ever so often, I'm set.
What are your favorite classic movies?
I love Target. Fuck Walmart. There...I said it. Target is where it's at. Unfortunately, walking in for one item, usually means you're spending an ungodly amount money on stuff you don't need and need a damn cart to haul your shit out to your car.
Not sure why I'm cussing a lot today. Must be feeling frisky.
Last night I had to take my friend shopping for a few essentials. I had no intention of getting anything and walk out with an armfull of picture frames for the livingroom. Once I was home, I sat digging through folders and folders of pictures, trying to pick out the best shots of friends and family. Then I came across this photo, which I've posted here before, but it's been a while. It's a scan of a small, water damaged photo I have of my first dog Church. The only one I have.
Damn, I had hair and a baby face. I'm not sure of the year exactly, but I do know the time period. I was attending Graduate School at the University of Kansas. I was blowing glass and going to class. I had recently been dragged out of the closet. It was an incredible time of my life.
I do remember that the photo was snapped while we were getting ready to head out to the clubs in Kansas City. The Edge to be exact. I saw that picture, remembered that time of my life and immediately thought of the first time I was taken to a gay bar. The Edge.
I was so damn naive. After I came out and did the deed so to speak, I met someone one night who mentioned that we should drive to The City to go to a club. "What kind of club", I asked. "Well, a gay club, Mark", he responded.
"Kansas City has *whispers and looks around* gay bars?"
This threw him and his buddies into fits of giggles. I was labeled A Newbie, had a complete clubbing outfit picked out for me, someone spiked up my hair and sprayed it with more AquaNet then I needed and off we were to The City.
I was nervous as hell. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding. I had no idea what to expect. I assumed the bar would resemble the Blue Oyster Bar from the movie Police Academy. Leather men, smokey atmosphere, Donna Summer playing in the background. I was sure we would drive up some dark alley to a non-marked door and give the doorman some sort of password to let us in.
Honestly, I was clueless.
My friends were new to the University themselves and had only gone to The City a few times. My friend looks at me and says, "After you take this exit and smell coffee, you'll know when to make a left turn to find the bar." The Edge was downtown, right next to a small coffee packing plant. He was right. I smelled coffee and heard pounding dance music at the same time.
We climbed out of our car and walked up to a huge building. There was a line of people, many dressed up to what I later learned to be Club Kids. I literally thought I would pee my pants. We walked through the doors into a sea of flashing lights, black lighting, dance music and........gay.....MEN! I actually turned to my friend and said, "So ALL these guys are gay???!!!!"
More fits of giggles.
That's all it took. I was hooked. I took to the bar like a fish to water. I eventually made some "mafia" friends. The Mafia technically owned the bar. So after months of showing up 3 or 4 times a week, we were given VIP treatment and keys to the executive bathroom. Don't ask about the things that went on in that bathroom.
I can't tell you the number of friends I made there and all the experiences I had the last two years the club was open. Drunk nights, sweating our asses off dancing for hours, running to the bathroom to check our hair and to smoke, the first drag show I saw, and of course the many men I met. I could write about that club for days.
It wasn't just a club. It was my Gay Prep School.
Remember your first experience?
Well that's what our weekend felt like. Hairy men, tons of water, flowing alcohol and lots of nakedness.
I'm surprised I'm not shriveled up like a prune. Friday night we hung out at a friends house so Brian could work his magic on our friends poor computer. Being the ex-baptist boys that they are, it wasn't long before they were sitting at the piano, belting out Religious Show Tunes hymns. Later, when they worked on the dying 'puter, I sat down and played the piano for about an hour. It's been a while. I'm in the market for purchasing one myself again, so this was a nice way to get my butt in gear to get it done.
After running around town buying new swimsuits, stocking up on alcohol and cleaning house, we headed out to another swimsuit optional bear pool party around 8pm. I think this was the first time Brian and I didn't take 10 pictures of just ourselves together.
Let me introduce you to our new friend J, who Brian and I have met recently. He seems like good people to me.
Who could forget our buddy S?
Can you tell they're starting to get a tad bit drunk?
I can't tell you how many hunky, hairy, musclebound bears were at this party. Did I mention it was clothing optional? It wasn't long before a someone jumped out of the pool, tattoos everywhere and an enormous prince albert big enough to chip someones tooth staring us in the face. Of course we all had to get a closer look and cop a feel. No one was shy at this party. Yes, there's a picture of him and his jewelry here so calm down everyone. Plus, a host of more pics from the nights festivities. I'm not telling whether or not I got naked at this party. I will say that the photo album is not safe for work. There ARE a few pee pee shots in the mix.
No one experienced finding someone sitting in the gravel pit wanting them to pee on them. I'm not sure if we were disappointed or relieved. We drank and drank until we couldn't drink anymore. I think we finally headed home around 2am.
I'm just hoping they cleaned the filters out of that pool the next morning.
The next afternoon, we headed to what felt like Canada for another pool party thrown by our good friends B & D. Ok, it was Frisco Texas, a suburb of Dallas, but still.
Isn't my honey just the cutest thing in the whole wide world?
No better way to end the weekend, then to relax around a beautiful backyard pool. My Partner, friends, food, sun and beer.
What more could a guy ask for?
How can I put this delicately?
Our conversation during dinner last night turned to shit.
Literally.
Sometimes I'm amazed at the subjects we can get ourselves on. Brian and I went out to dinner with my friend B and our friend S. You'll remember S as our 6'5", 240lb buddy who got so drunk I had to practically carry him back to our cabin when we went camping at Spring Round Up. He tried to stop the world from spinning by placing his hands on the ground. B is my long time friend who I've lived with off and on for the past 14 years.
Tomorrow night, we're all going to a party in the hood. No, the real hood. You know us homo's. We find a housing developement that's in need of repair, move in, fix it up, raise the property value, create our own mini-gayborhood, then move out once the straight people figure out where the cool, hip and expensive places to live.
This party is another Bear Pool Party. One of the years biggest food, drink, music, entertainment, swimsuit optional pool party. S has been to it before. He remembered a funny story about last years event. Due to the number of parties thrown and number of men who attend, they devised an outdoor "peeing" area rather then 200 wet hairy men tracking shit through their beautiful house. It's a nice, out of the way, gravel pit, complete with a natural rock approaching sidewalk. I'm surprised the sprinklers don't automatically come on once you 're finished.
We noticed this ourselves when we went to a small pre-pool party, that the area got a little festive at times. Three men peeing in a dark corner of the lush back yard can bring out the animal in people I guess.
Our buddy S is extremely pee shy, unlike Brian and I. Last year, while trying to pee in the gravel pit in the dark, he heard a voice speak out in a low whisper, "Pee on me man!" This was enough to make any pee shy man's penis shrivel back up inside his body. Naturally, he couldn't pee. The man had to sit there and wait for the next man who wasn't pee shy to shower him with their goodness.
While telling us his horror story, B mentioned that the story reminded him of something that happened to another friend of ours. E had met this guy in the bar. As the evening progressed, the possible trick told him about a "Hot Carl". Brad couldn't remember, I had absolutely NO clue and neither did Brian. S, being the worldy man that he is, new what it was right away.
If you have ANY problem discussing poop, please find something else to do. That's right people, a Hot Carl refers to when one man wraps his chest and face in saran wrap, while the other man goes Poo on him.
*cricket noises*
Now, I'm not such a prude to think that Skat doesn't happen. Everyone has a fetish. Some more extreem then others. This one for us being a 20 on a scale of 1 to 10.
This threw us all into a fit of uncontrollable giggles as we sat there after dinner, having what normally would be "good dinner conversation" amongst friends. Of course, my mind has to start churning, thinking of possible scenarios, problems and issues or worries regarding receiving or giving a Hot Carl.
When is it an appropriate time during your date to even bring up the subject of Hot Carls?
Do you wait before or AFTER dinner to perfom said Hot Carl?
Is the use of colored saran wrap a suitable wrap to "spice" things up a bit?
What happens when you have "exploding ass" issues? You know, like after a long night of drinking too many beers. I can just hear the person scream, "Oh my God! I don't have enough saran wrap!" as they run to try and cover the furniture.
When does the situation of giving a Hot Carl warrant NOT using saran wrap?
Is it considered in bad taste to exclaim during the process of giving a Hot Carl, "Damn...when did I eat corn?" I'm sure eating corn, red beets or peanuts is a definate no no.
What if your constipated? Do you switch roles?
As you could imagine, 4 grown men talking in a restaurant about pooing on another person and thinking about the problems that could arise, caused us to laugh to the point where our tummies hurt.
Thank God our waiter was no where to be seen during all this.
Ah, good times.
But don't even think I'm going to tell you what a "Dirty Sanchez" is.
Nope, ain't gonna do it.
Ok, I changed my mind. Want to see an "animated version" of a dirty sanchez? Be my guest. Funny, I think I'm the only person on the planet who had no clue to what it was.
I remember the first day I arrived at Lawrence Kansas to go to graduate school. I couldn't wait to get down to The Barn. The art department had purchased an old 1800's, high peaked, limestone barn to house the glass studio hot and cold shops. It was only a short drive from my dorm room down into the valley.
As I arrived, I noticed a bunch of students sitting just outside the huge sliding doors. The studio temperatures can average 140 degrees on any given day, so a chance to get fresh air, smoke, chat, throw back a beer or just relax was a nice break.
As I approached the group, I introduced myself to everyone. I met the other two graduate students plus a couple of other students. We immediately started talking about glass. I was overwhelmed. I was forming a bond with other serious artist. We were discussing our work, our passion, our drive, our goals. I fit in here. This was what I was looking for.
One girl in particular stood out. She had on a tie dyed shirt, faded and ripped up jeans, funky colored tennis shoes, bright red hair with a black and white skunk strip down the side. She wore incredible jewelry which I later found out that she made herself. After listening to her talk, I could tell she was different then everyone else. She talked of meditation retreats, buddism, metaphysical new age spirituality. She talked of love of peace.
Her nickname was Kunk. She had a t-shirt with SKUNK on the front. Part of her hair covered up the S. She was known as Kunk after that from her friends.
We were so different. My first impression was that I would probably never be close with this person. It's sad that I made this immediate assumption. I was sheltered from this sort of thinking and beliefs. But after a while, we warmed up to each other, talked and got to know each other a little bit better.
Before you know it, we're going to classes together, eating lunch, going for icecream after art history class, having drinks after a long day at school, blowing glass together and hanging out at each others house until the early morning hours.
We became best friends. Still are in fact. Nothing could separate us. She was one of the first people I told that I was gay. She was there for me during tough breakups, finding out I was positive, moments of lonliness and desperation. There wasn't a time where I didn't drop what I was doing for her.
She's like having another sister.
I just got a call from her. She's in the hospital. Without going into specifics, there is a chance of cancer. Which I refuse to believe. I'm hoping for the best possible outcome. They'll know the results of her condition tomorrow.
If you're a praying kind of person, say a little one for her, ok? If you're a positive thoughts kind of person instead, send as many towards her that you possibly can.
I know I will be doing both.
First Thing:
While in New York we stayed at one of Brian's *cough Ex's cough* good friends. While showing us around his apartment, which we all know in New York usually consists of standing the in the middle of the room and spinning in a circle, he asked if we like the sounds of the beautiful birds. Dumbass Texans that we were (I say "were" since we're bonafide cityboys now), we walked over to the window, looked out on to the overgrown pit full of trees, weeds and garbage Veranda and searched for the infamous Whippoorwill.
No better way to wake up. Not. If I hear that damn sound at 6am, I'm looking for a BB gun. But at night? Completely different story.
Then he shows us his Nature Sounds Alarm Clock, complete with Waterfall, Summertime, Thunderstorm, Rain, Ocean and Birds. I wonder if city people go to the country and take along a City Sounds Alarm Clock? Complete with Sirens, Car Crashes, Horns, Hookers, Gunshots and Screams. I know that's what we hear outside our window.
I was instantly hooked. The sounds of a thunderstorm to lull us to sleep was pure heaven. We had to have one, but Damn! Those little bitches are expensive! I'm not paying a hundred bucks or more for cricket noises.
Night before last, we found one at Walgreens for only 35 dollars. The first night we listened to the soothing sounds of an approaching thunderstorm. I was just wishing that our windows would flicker ever so slightly to enhance the mood. Last night? We decided to try Summer. The sounds of crickets and cicada's.
*cricket noises*
I swear to GOD I still hear them and I've been awake for over two hours! Someone please grab a huge oversized Q-tip and some bleach. I need to go diggin' and get this shit out of my ears.
Second Thing:
I love Triumph the Insult Dog. He's never been better then when interviewing Michael Jackson fans outside the courthouse.
You'll pee your pants laughing.
Third Thing:
Think I may have figured out how to upload songs and movie clips. Coming from someone as computertarded as I am, this is HUGE for me. I'm a music nut. Especially, 80's and 90's dance or pop music. So ever so often I thought I'd just link one of my favorite songs for you all to enjoy.
Call My Name
(links removed after two weeks)
UPDATE: Well screw THAT idea. I have too many hits to my site, so the forum guys said that my link will stop working due to limited bandwidth. Fuckers.
Sucks being popular....
Kidding.
There was one good thing about my trip home.
Pretty clouds.
At least for one afternoon. It rained and stormed every single morning, afternoon and evening. I even took some short clips of an approaching storm and how things drastically changed about every minute or two, until we had 80 mile per hour wind, hail and a tornado approximately 3-4 miles away. Always a good way to start off a vacation. Luckily my car was back in town which didn't get hit by the storm. The shots are amazing. I would have posted them here, but I can't upload avi's or mp3's. I've been told to "push" them to the server. *blank stare* I've been told to download some sort of "ftp" thingy. *blank stare* Last time I tried to do this, I stared at the computer screen for what seemed like hours.
The family seemed pre-occupied this time. Mother was crabby, touchy and didn't seem to feel well. My sister was busy having her house reshingled and the windows replaced after last months hail storm. She was at the point of tears everytime you looked at her. My older brother and his wife were heading out of town when I arrived, to go visit their daughter in Montana. No other reason to go to Montana I would imagine. My middle brother decided to get a round of golf in every chance he got. Never saw him. All my nieces and nephews decided to have a party while the parents were away. They forgot to tell me.
But we did have good weather one afternoon and the clouds sure were pretty.
My trip started looking up once I visited my old college. The glassblowing professor was working in the studio. I sat there watching him and a few of his students work for a while. As we sat there talking in between pieces, he told me to stop by on Sunday to use the studio by myself for the afternoon. I was happier then a pig in mud. I haven't blown glass in over 13 years. Unfortunately, when I showed up, he had left to golf (what the fuck is up with golfing lately?) and 5 students showed up to use the studio since it was vacant. Instead, I sat and watched these budding new glass students. You could see the excitement on their faces. I remember that feeling.
But then again, there was an up side to my trip home. We had one afternoon of beautiful weather and the clouds were sure pretty.
Overall, I shouldn't complain. Family just seemed pre-occupied with other things. It's the beginning of the summer and everyone is working, traveling and of course, golfling.
There's always my next trip home.
Best thing about my trip other then the pretty clouds, was coming home to my baby.
Sure missed him.
If it was a Friday night, you could find me, my friends and a score of other people at the roller skating rink. Come Saturday morning after sitting and watching a couple hours worth of cartoons and eating a bowl of cheerios, I got cleaned up and headed out to meet friends again at 10am at the rink.
I did this from the time I was in 5th grade all the way until I was a sophmore in highschool. It's a small town, so there's not much to do. Hell, it was the late 70's and early 80's. Disco ruled. So did rollerskating. It's where I formed my love for dance music, fog machines and disco balls. The first place I kissed a girl and didn't think it was icky. I found it to be icky much later on in life. The first place I learned how to dance.
I remember my Aunt Charlcey taking me there for the first time. The entire family came along. It only cost $1.25 and skate rental was 50 cents. I remember the skates feeling warm and sweaty when I put them on. Obviously someone had just worn them, so I took them back and asked for a fresh pair. Everyone just laughed.
I walked in holding Aunt Charlcey's hand, being bombarded with strobe lights, swirling colors, pounding bass and Anita Ward singing Ring My Bell. I guess my face lit up. My Aunt immediately took me to a seat to get laced up and we hit the floor. She told me I was a natural and picked up skating really easy. I hardly ever fell down. It wasn't too many rounds before I didn't have to hold her hand anymore.
Round and round I circled with the rest of the crowd. Panicing when they said, "Opposite direction!" For some reason my feet didn't want to skate that way, so I sat this one out to watch everyone else. I watched as they had speed races, danced to the Hokey Pokey, The Limbo and finally it was Couples Skate.
First time I saw people disco dancing was when they were on roller skates. That form of dancing looked silly without the skates, let alone with them on. I was still entranced. Then out of the blue, Aunt Charlcey and Uncle Harry took to the floor. While everyone was sticking their finger up in the air like John Travolta, my Aunt and Uncle started waltzing. The were twirling, spinning and dancing like the professional iceskaters I had seen on TV.
Everyone cleared the floor to watch. It took me a while to figure out that they were famous at the rink. They had been skating there since 1940 and over the years, when Harry and Charlcey took to the floor, the crowd stopped to watch. They were amazing. I could sit and watch them for hours and not cared if I ever got on the floor some nights. I'm still like that today. I can sit and watch two men dance at the Round Up Saloon for hours.
From that moment on, I was hooked. I bought my own shiney black skates with glow in the dark wheels. I even accessorized them with a variety of sock covers and fancy shoelaces. The day I bought minature strobe lights which attached to the bottom of my skates, I was in pure disco heaven.
I became quite the little skater over the years. Learning to skate backwards, sideways, speed skating and even was taught how to dance on skates by my Aunt Charlcey. Unfortunately, the crowd never parted ways when we entered the floor.
The last time I was home, I got a chance to visit with my Aunt Charlcey. Aunt Marcilene was able to join too. For the first time in ages, all three sisters were there together, so of course I had to make it a photo opportunity. I sat there listening to my mother and her two sisters all talk at once, laughing and cutting up with each other. They were talking about their husbands, all which have passed away. I sat there quietly soaking everything in. Remembering wondering memories of my Father, my Uncle Clarence and also my Uncle Harry. First thing that came to mind was him and Aunt Charlcey skating.
"Hey, remember when you took me skating for the first time, Aunt Charlcey? I can still see you and Uncle Harry spinning and twirling around to disco music. You two were amazing.", I said.
Aunt Charlcey immediately got big tears in her eyes and said quietly, "Sweetheart, there's not a day that goes by where I don't remember things like that."
The room got so quiet. "Hey, anyone want any homemade fudge?!" Aunt Charlcey said in a chipper voice as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "Oh sure, blow my diet Charlcey!" my Mother bellowed. "Oh please, what diet?" Aunt Marcie said as they all cackled like a bunch of old hens.
Life was simple, but life was sweet. Home and family hold so many memories for me. I'll be leaving tomorrow morning around 4am for my 9 hour drive back to Nebraska to see the family and won't be back until next Tuesday.
I would love to grab the family and head to the skating rink for one night. Unfortunately, it's now a Mexican restaurant called Dos Hombre's.
Wonder if they left the disco ball hanging from the ceiling?
I was driving to work this morning as usual, minding my own business, when all the sudden a thought occured to me as I kept driving past a sea of yellow ribbons. The numbers of these things is getting astronomical. Before you know it, you'll be seeing "Remember my wife because I beat her since she wouldn't let me go to the NASCAR races" ribbons or "Remember my son because his crystal meth lab just blew up and I'm out of work now" ribbons.
Maybe we ALL should jump on the ribbon bandwagon. Hell, I'm sure there's people out there who might need a "Pray for me, the doctor botched my sex change and my new penis fell off" ribbon or "Remember me, My boyfriend fucked me up the ass and I ain't gonna be able to shit normal for a week" ribbon.
Now don't go getting your spiderman underoos in a wad. Please put down your Coors light and tell your wife to adjust her tube top because it's slipping. Oh come on, I know Jerry Springer is on, but it will just have to wait.
I'm all for supporting our troops and getting their asses safely back home where they belong. But buying a five dollar yellow ribbon magnet and slapping on the back of that hunk-o-junk some of these people call an automobile, doesn't do shit. I'm sure not one troop has benefited from your magnet, OR the other 8 magnets you have stuck next to it. You made your fucking point with the first magnet you dumbass.
Instead, let's all say a prayer, light a candle, hold hands across America and fart Kumbaya in unison while we snap our rubber unity braclets in the air. I'm sure it will have the same affect.
But have you noticed that when you take that ribbon and lay it on its side like many people are doing now, it looks a hell of a lot like this OTHER infamous car magnet?
Co-inky-dink?
I know now why I've been in a funk. Quick to snap. Not wanting to do much of anything. Moody. Cranky. Bitchy. Ask Brian, he'll tell you. Bless his heart.
I always get this way a few days before a quartly checkup with the doctor. Even though I pretty much know things are OK, there's always that lingering concern that something might not be right, counts are off, somethings not working. Until I sit there and he tells me things are still going great, I tend to stress for a few days, making life miserable for everyone around me.
He tells me right off the bat that things look good. Tcell count is 1081 (higher the better). He's still amazed that after 13 years that it's that high. I have friends who get giddy when theirs reached 400, 500 or even 600. My viral load (lower the better) was 850. For the past 8 years, mine has averaged below 400 which is undetectable. It's been known to even drop as low as 40. This is the 2nd spike in viral load the past year. 850 is still considered very low, but it's not the normal "below 400" that I usually have. Personally, I don't like this.
Maybe I'm just picky and should be happy with the counts, but dammit I want them back like they were. Doc isn't concerned, but knows what I'm like. He'll to do a genotype in 3 months to see if possibly there's a medication not working. I'm sure my insurance company will be thrilled. It's not a cheap test. Hopefully the spike in viral load will just go back down below undetectable. Which is totally possible.
Triglyceride levels were around 850. Which is caused by one of my meds. I'm sure eating McDonalds, KFC and Hunky's Burgers isn't helping either. So this means a possible change in two medications. Again. We only have a limited number of medications. Medications that often become resistant. Stop working. Stopping and starting them isn't a good idea.
I hate the thoughts of starting some new meds. It's a vicious circle I've seen the past few years. New meds, side effects, medication for side effects, meds cause kidney problems, new meds, new side effects, meds cause high triglyceride and cholesterol levels, new meds for these side effects, spike in viral load, new meds, new side effects....
Feel like my head's going to explode.
I would have liked to ramble on about our trip to the middle of fucking nowhere to go to a co-workers wedding at the First Baptist African Methodist Episcopal Church. I kid you not. That's the title.
I was also going to tell you in detail about the birthday party Saturday night for a friend of ours. You get a bunch of Louisiana Ex Seminary college buddies together and you hear things like, "Girl, it's hotter out here then three rats fuckin' in a wool sock." or "I hate her so much. I would wouldn't piss up her asshole even if her guts were on fire." or getting to hear the birthday boys straight brother say, "My God, could this party GET any gayer? The only "straight", married guy...wearing a white linen suit, complete with daisy on the lapel, just sat down at the piano to play showtunes. Is that a Judy Garland number I hear!!??"
Or I could go into specifics about Brian and I getting manicures and pedicures yesterday by 75 pound vietnamese women. They were the cutest! Having my feet touched, scrubbed and massaged drove me into an uncontrollable fit of giggles.
I'm not even going to tell you about the afternoon at the Beer Bust. it would only be a repeat of the last 4 times we've been there. Drink, take off clothing, drink, get drunk, eat mexican food, get into an argument.
Another vicious circle.
*sigh* I sit here at work staring at my two Beta's (Japanese fighting fish) more then I do my computer screen. They're both in a small aquarium with a plastic screen divider separating the two. They're pissed. Each one takes turns flaring his gills and batting the screen with his fins. Big teases. I swear one of them is trying to jump over the divider. I can hear him headbutting the plastic with his nose.
What a life. They are constantly pissed off at this other fish, ready to kill them, for no reason other then genetics. They spend their entire life angry. Always trying to get to the other side, but to no avail. Each one thinking that they've won the battle, go back to their own corners, only to come back like a bull in a china closet, gills flaring.
The only thing that stops them is when I lift the lid to throw in some food. They're happy for a short moment only to get pissed later on.
Stupid fish.
Lately, I feel like work is this big aquarium and we're all Beta's. We've lost four people the past two months. Flushed them down the toilet. They decided to go out for the kill. Find something better. And they did. Many people in my department and outside are vying for these positions. Butting heads, tapping their noses into other peoples cubes. Angers are flaring, whispering in corners, fanning their resume's as they taunt the other.
Then there's me. Waiting patiently, stalking my prey....only to be distracted by food.
Change is in the air. Re-organization is on the horizon. Promotions are possible.
Now I just need the higher-ups to show up with a huge can of fish food to distract me for a little while longer.
Until then......just keep swimming.
I hope you don't mind stories about my Mother, or any member of Familiy for that matter. There's not a week that goes by when she doesn't make me laugh. Yeah, I'm a mama's boy. We probably talk at least 3-4 times a week. Never really saying much of anything, but how your doing, what your doing or how's your day is going. I've been feeling quite homesick the past few weeks and can't wait to get home. She can tell.
She just got back from a 5 day trip to KCMO with my Sister. My Sis had to go take care of her grandkid's and wanted my mother along to help. Mom needed to get out of town for a few days, although it really makes her exhausted for a few days after she returns. Being 77 years old, she gets that way easily.
They spent the days shopping, eating out and trying to find anything to occupy the children. Both who require lots of attention. She called me Sunday afternoon and told me she was going to a movie. I literally about fell out of my chair. "YOU'RE WHAAAAT??!"
The last time my mother was in a movie theater was around 65 years ago. Back when they were showing news reels relating to World War II. I swear she told me the last movie she saw was Gone with the Wind. Her mother didn't want her to see it because they said the word DAMN at the end. She went and saw it anyway. After she found God, she stopped going to movies, dances, drinking, smoking and a host of other things I'm sure. Things that she also raised her family not to do.
Hell, we weren't allowed to do.
My Mom's changed over the years. My sister is 57 years old. My brothers are 53 and 49. I'm the baby. Spoiled rotten baby. I was the first child that wasn't allowed to get a job during highschool. First child to be given a car. First child not to be given an allowance, but instead just gave me money whenever I asked for it. They never prevented me from seeing movies as long as they were not rated R. I could go on dates before I turned 16 years old. I also was allowed to go to my senior prom since I was going with a girl from our church. All things that my brothers and sister weren't allowed to do, but they did it behind her back anyway.
On numerous occasions the topic comes up of how I was allowed to pretty much get away with anything, never spanked, never grounded, given anything I want and allowed to do the things that they weren't allowed to do. Jealously reared it's ugly head. My siblings felt as if I was their favorite.
"No, that's not the case", my mother said. "I was young as far as being a Christian goes. I realized that no matter what I told you that you couldn't do, that you were going to do it anyway. I realized that going to movies and dances wasn't all that wrong. As long as you use good judgement. I'm not stupid. I knew you were all going behind my back. I finally wised up after 3 kids and let the last one just do what he wanted. Plus, he wasn't as mean and ornery as y'all were!"
They had to laugh and agree. They knew they were a handful.
Mom told me they were taking the kids to Madagascar and that my sister was forcing her to go. My family is like that. My Mother called me to ask what the movie was like, if there was any cussing and would it be ok for her to see it.
"I haven't stepped foot in a movie theater since the war. Feels like I'm walking into a bar for a drink or something. But I'll be fine. Not sure why I was so uptight about it anyway. My husband and I just bought a DVD player and the first movie we watched was Friday Night Lights. It had some cussing in it, but it wasn't too much to deal with", she rambled on.
Friday Night Lights? It has more then a little bit of cussing. "Yes Mom, we just saw it and you'll absolutely LOVE it. I think you should go", I said.
My Mom has changed so much. She's loosened the Church purse strings a bit.
I called her Tuesday to ask her how she enjoyed her movie going experience. "The movie sucked." This threw me into a fit of giggles.
If she starts cussing and hanging out at bars, I'm going to have to sit her down and have a very long talk with her.
You might want to stand back a bit. If not, you're probably going to get showered with a spray of snot. My allergies are kicking my ass. Things like dogwood, ragweed and pollen counts are skyrocketing around this area. Cottonwood trees are in full bloom and at times it looks as if it's snowing due to the amount of little fuzzy cotton floating in the air. Ever get one of those buggers up your nose?
I've been sneezing for a week. The last few days, my nose has caused excessive drainage. How my petite *cough* little nose can produce all this crap is totally beyond me. Yesterday, I didn't feel 100% right. I started to have a nagging cough and a general feeling of being run down. This morning I wake up with a full on sore throat. I'm sure chest conjestion is next.
I know my body well. I was 8 years old when my Mother and Father took me to an allergy specialist in Omaha. It was like a mini-vacation for me. It wasn't Disneyland, but it was better then nothing. It was 1973. I remember driving into Omaha and my Father getting lost trying to find the allergist. This always threw my mother into a hissyfit. She never understood why my father wouldn't ever just pull over and ask for directions.
We finally arrive without either one killing the other. We put our name in and took a seat. It wasn't long before a woman with a huge amount of hair piled on top of her head called my name. Taooot? Tuaaat? Twat?! That's right, she pronounced my last name as Twat. I of course had no clue to what that meant. My parents just grumbled and shook their heads.
I was taken into a small room to have a series of test done. As I sat there on the examination table, this devil of a woman brings in approximately 500-700 viles of liquid and syringes. Yippeee! I was going to get shots! Not being afraid of needles, this didn't seem to be a problem....until I heard the little boy next to me screaming at the top of his lungs.
Mother told me she would take me shopping if I didn't cry and was a big boy. It's her fault I love shopping so much.
After hundreds of shots, marking and recording all the reactions, slathering my body in lotion to stop the itching, my Mother took me shopping as promised. I was pretty damn proud of myself at 8 years old. Felt as if I had done something pretty amazing.
I wasn't so strong when I had to go back two more times for more test. At least I got to go shopping some more.
Allergies suck.
I want to chop off my nose. It's like breathing through one of those straws you stir coffee with. Feels like someone's sitting on my chest.
Ok, enough complaining. I'm off to OD on Sudafed and Coffee.
