Now that's a title I thought I would never have to write.
The number of great nieces and nephews I have continues to grow faster than Brian's back hair. There must be something in the water in Nebraska. That or people are so fucking bored as hell, all they have to do is screw like bunnies. If you've ever been to my home state, I has to be the latter. There's not much to do unless you like watching corn grow.
All total, I have 5 great nephews and 3 great nieces now. The last one being born only last week. Nolan Blake. I swear if all these kids don't grow up to be Soap Opera Stars, they're name is a complete and total waste. If they're not careful, I'll soon be the proud Great Uncle of Storm, China, Stone, River and Buck in the years to come. *rolls eyes*
All the women of course gather for an enormous baby shower everytime one pops out someones vagina. A chance for 40 women of my family to sit in a livingroom, make Ooooh, and Ahhhh noises for two hours, hold the baby, eat cake and gossip.
I'm one of the only men that's allowed at these little events. Go figure.
Towards the end of the party, generation pictures are always taken. While everyone was primping, plastering on more makeup and spraying more layers of AquaNet on their beehive hairdo's, my mother was holding Nolan. Within minutes, the room burst out in laughter. All eyes were on her. My mother looks down and little Nolan is just trying to go to town on my mothers boobie. Was her nipple already numb from years of abuse from us kids? You think she would have felt something.
From the way she described the event, the little shit would have torn through the fabric if he could.
While Nolan was trying to grab some quick din din, my Mother looks down and exclaims, "Get off me you little pervert! Don't you know that damn well has been dry for years!?? Oh well, they were good back in the day!!"
My Mother always knows how to put things bluntly and of course, in front of new guest.
I truly am like her, aren't I?
I feel the need to travel somewhere. Oh sure, we take our little weekend trips home to see the 'Rents or hop in the car for a roadtrip to Houston, Austin or one of the many cities in Texas. I'm talking a real trip where I have to stand in long lines at an airport and practically get strip searched to get through security.
It seems I have an issue getting through security sometimes.
My trip to Kansas City and Lawrence was great, minus those nagging little kidney stones that kept moving all weekend. GB:NYCII in New York was fantastic, minus the lack of time with some bloggers. My trip to San Diego to see Brian while he was working there for a few months was absolutely incredible, minus the fact that it was for only two days.
I guess no trip is perfect. Seems like you always need more time to to do everything you want. Never enough time in the day to visit with everyone. Never enough time to see everything the city has to offer. Days aren't long enough and the weekends are even shorter. Spending the time to find the local Kenneth Cole store or outlet can exhaust a person in and of itself.
Brian and I have thought about various places we would like to come visit. New York City will always be at the top of the list. GB:NYCtrinity I'm sure will be a huge hit next year.
Brian got sucked into a 'timeshare' many years ago. Places to stay throughout the country, one being Orlando Florida. I'm one of the biggest Disneyworld fans.
Miami and Southbeach would be great for a weekend of partying and recovering by the beach.
San Diego has always been "our spot". I could never get tired of seeing that city.
Arizona would be a great place to visit blogger friends and see lots of cactus and sand.
San Francisco would be top of the list, especially for a GB:SF.
Chicago before it gets to cold, windy and rainy.
New Orleans would have been great before it went underwater.
And finally Portland to visit bloggers and a chance to meet Brian's Brother and his partner. They own a restaurant called No Fish! Go Fish! For those in the area, please stop by and have lunch or dinner and tell them Brian and Mark sent you. The place is getting great reviews.
If you could hop on a plane this very moment and fly anywhere for the weekend, where would you go?
Thanks to Bryan over at That's Interesting, we finally pulled our heads out of our butts and got this whole video thingy working.
I went with Brian to West Texas to visit his Mama and Daddy, who by the way love me to pieces. I'm just sayin'. Included below are a few photos also.
What you'll see...
-Meeting Jackson the family dog.
-Brian chasing the cats, making funny Meow sounds.
-Two queers hiking out back.
-Road trip with Mama and Daddy to Odessa.
-Watching the lightening with Daddy.
-My fascination with huge windmills.
-Approaching storm!
-Attempting to sing horribly.
-We're home!
Brian and his Mama. That woman was shoveling good ol' southern food down our mouths all weekend. I swear I gained 10 pounds. This woman is as sweet as a buttered biscuit.
Brian's Daddy with a Knife. They say to look at the parents to see what your partner will be like down the road. I'll start hiding the knives now. Both Brian and I had some good bonding moments with Daddy this weekend. If I could only hunt, I'd be In Like Flynn.
Did I tell you I fell in love this weekend also?
I went by myself on a little hiking excursion in their back yard which turns into this enormous valley and ravine. I'm sure my screams could be heard for miles every time I heard a buzzing or hissing noise.
I had good intentions of making a ZeitCast last night. I really did. I promise to have something done this weekend for post on Monday. Hell, I might even make it another video ZeitCast. Your guess is as good as mine.
By the time Brian and I had a couple drinks with friends, ate dinner and watched a movie, I could barely keep my eyes open and finally crashed. Poor guy. I've done this the past couple nights. I'm not sure what's wrong with me, but my energy level is non-existent. Not having sex for the past couple days is probably driving him crazy. I should give it up for him tonight.
We housewives have our duties, you know.
Ever so often I need to mention some blogs that I've recently stumbled upon and really enjoy. It's good Blarma (Blogger Karma) to promote your fellow bloggers.
Remember Glenn's visit a while back? Our good friends Scott and Jim have started their own blogs. Does this make me their Bladdy?
Go give a warm welcome to Scott at Who Pung Floo and Jim at Pretzel Logic.
It's nice to find more Texas Bloggers. We are a rare breed down here it seems. Must be the heat. Go say a rousing Howdy Y'all to the hunky Texas Yankee from Houston and Richwhiteboy from Dallas.
My blogger son Rusty has changed his blog name and address for the 132nd time. You can find him at Country Boy Confessions. Hey, you can only train them so far before you have to cut the apron strings.
And last but not least, I came across Lucky Devil a little while back. Not only is he a great artist, I enjoy his writing and he's a cutie patootie to boot. Go say Hi now, ya hear?
One last thing....before I get tagged again for this meme, I had better respond. Ever time I turned around I saw my name! Die Feldermaus, V-Hold, Lucky Devil and I swear there was another one. I'll get you my pretty.
List ten songs that you are currently digging … it doesn’t matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they’re no good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying right now. Post these instructions, the artists, and the ten songs in your blog.
Sunshine in the Rain by Bodies Without Organs
Burning Rain by Crazy House
Better Be Home Soon by Crowded House
These Words by Natasha Bedingfield
Looking for a Place to Land by Dakota Moon
Mary's Prayer by Danny Wilson
I Want Love by Elton John
Here I Go Impossible Again by Erasure
I Would Die For You by Jann Arden
Blow the House Down by Living in a Box
I'm not tagging anyone. You want to do this meme, feel free.
Ok, did I leave anything out that I was meaning to do? Hopefully not.
Have a great weekend while we roast by poolside.
love and kisses....
Walking out the door this morning was like walking into a sauna. Fucken 'ell, it's 6:30 in the morning! We've been having over a weeks worth of 100+ degree weather and the forcast shows another week. We've been lucky the past few years, if we make it over 100 twice in one summer.
While driving to work in my nice new Mustang (I'm still like a little kid with a new toy when it comes to this car), it reminded me of something that happened years ago.
It was the worst summer I had ever experienced anywhere. We had a record 63 days of 100+ heat in a row here in Dallas about 8 years ago. None of that "dry heat" bullshit, we're talking high humidity to go along with it. I could NEVER get my chest and butt hair to stop frizzing! So un-ruley.
Now I know I shouldn't complain. My bletheren (blog bretheren) such as Homer and Brian deal with this all the time. Well bless their hearts, they can keep that type of weather. Leave it in the 90's, hand me a margarita and position me next to the pool and I'm fine.
It was the summer of car problems. My Hyundai had practically blown up on me one afternoon. The amount to fix it was double the amount that the car was worth. Screw that, I'll buy something to get me by for a while. I found a questionable car dealer and bought a little rollerskate from her. A 1988 Geo Metro. It was cheap, good gas mileage and it ran. Good enough for me.
It wasn't long before I took a trip home to see Mama after being in Kansas City for the weekend. Approximately 4 hours from home on quiet back country roads, the engine blows. I guided it to the side, cursing like a sailor and tried to figure out what was wrong. I've only had this car for a week! To make matters worse, Nebraska was having a 100 degree heatwave also. I walked 2 miles before I found a nice farmhouse to make a phone call. No, I didn't have a cell phone back then.
I knocked on the door. A woman in her 60's opened the door an inch while I told her of my car troubles. She screams, "HAROLD! There's a STRANGER at the DOOOOOOR!!!!" From the side of the house, a man walks around and says, "Step away from the door son." I'm baffled by this point. These are good, midwestern folk. Trusting, caring, helpful people. Or were supposed to be. I told him of my situation and that I needed to use his phone to make a phone call. He looked me up and down and said, "I'll go get a phone and bring it out here to the garage. You just stay put."
When he came back he had a shotgun in his hand, pointed towards the floor. I put my hands up telling him I wasn't there to cause him any trouble, just to use his phone and be on my way. He told me that with the way I looked (pissed off look, shaved head, goatee) that I was probably one of those Nazi Skinheads. I tried to ease his mind, but not a damned thing worked. Telling my mother over the phone that I was practically being held at gunpoint while talking to her, sent my mother into a hissy fit. "Put that man on the phone! No one treats my baby like that!! I'll show him a thing or two!!!", she screamed.
After calming mother down and hanging up, I asked him if I could have some water before walking 2 miles back to my car. Of course that was out of the question. I was told to just get back to my car and wait for my family. In the sun. In a hundred degree heat. Long story even longer, they showed up 4 hours later, had the car towed to Lincoln and the car dealership paid for repairs.
Fast forward two weeks. Dallas is still in the midst of the 100+ heat wave. While driving to work, my airconditioner stops working. I tried to roll down my window, but the drivers side was stuck. As I tried to crank it some more, it literally falls outward about 5 inches rather then roll down. I'm stuck in this little tin can of a car, no airconditioner and windows that won't roll down. For some ungodly reason, the passenger side window wouldn't roll down either.
Of all the fucking timing.....
I couldn't take it anymore. I sat there in my car and just started bawling like a baby. On a whim, I drove to the Ford dealership and on the spot, they approved me for a brand new pickup truck. They told me my car was such a piece of shit they wouldn't even take it for a trade in.
Late that night, my roomie and I drove that old piece of shit back to that womans lot, left the keys in the ignition and a note on the car telling her to keep the hunk of crap. Never did hear from her.
Did I mention how much I love my airconditioned Mustang this time of year?
On any given morning, I groggily wake up, turn off the alarm before it goes off, silence the thunderstorm sounds and stumble my way to the bathroom to begin my morning routine, grumbling all the way. I go potty *giggle*, inspect my face in the mirror, trim my goatee and then head for the shower. Afterwards, I shave, brush my teeth and get dressed. Not once have I stopped grumbling.
All this is done before Sleeping Beauty even thinks of getting up to get ready for work. I fling my manpurse over my shoulder, kiss him goodbye and I'm out the door. I have no clue what time he gets up, but it's usually an hour or so after I've left.
Last night My Precious had to work very late. He asked me to wake him when I got up today so he can get to work early. Fine. My personal getting ready time will be invaded, but that's something I can live with.
Groggily he stumbles his way to the bathroom after me and decideds he needs to pee the same time that I do. He's so out of it, I have to tell him to stand closer to the toilet or he's going to miss it completely. He just nods quietly with his eyes half shut. Poor thing, he isn't used to getting up at the butt-ass crack of dawn.
I swear he met Jesus in the shower or something. He came out of there giddy and chipper as hell and I swear was ready to sing "I love a parade!" by Ethel Merman. He starts talking about life and love and other too deep conversations to be having at that time of morning, giggling and being silly the entire time.
How do I respond? "You DO know it's fucking 6:30am in the morning, right?"
Grounds for murder people.
I'm an impatient man. I hate to wait for anything.
If I show up to a restaurant and there's more then a 15 minute wait, I get agitated because it usually means I have to spend money at a bar while my blood sugar drops due to lack of food. I've been known to hover close to a table near by, giving them the evil eye since they've been chatting after their meal for an hour, sipping their coffee. Get the hell out. Daddy's got to eat.
If I pull into a drive thru and there's more then 3-4 cars ahead of me, it's guaranteed one of them will not know what they want eventhough they've ordered a Big Mac every single time from that damn menu at least 200 times prior.
I usually get behind the person at a buffet line who picks out one lettuce leaf at a time, insuring the best quality salad possible and proceeding to top the salad with 75 incredients. I get behind the types that glance over every item 5 times and usually decide on an item they've already passed. Causing me to have to back up.
If I order something online and it says it usually ships within 1-2 business days, I'm definately calling them on the 3rd day to make sure it's been sent.
When I decide to brave the grocery store, I usually get behind the last person on the planet who still writes checks for everything. After painstakingly writing in their best script, they usually proceed to flip through pages to find the right spot to balance their checkbook while still in line.
Thousands of cars on the highway during my daily commute. I get behind the only car that's driving 55mph in the fast lane.
I admit that I've snuck a quick peek at the end of a book because I'm dying to know how it ends ahead of time.
Sometimes I think I'm cursed. Maybe it's growing up like I was an only child. All of my siblings were out of the house by the time I was seven.
Instant gratification.
I've found myself being this way while I was in school getting my Art Degree. I never worked on drawings or paintings for weeks. I would rather spend 24 hours straight, painting like a mad man. I would take a roll of film for photography class and have to develop the roll immediately. Glassblowing was perfect. I could have a finished product within a 2 hour studio time. Shitty part was having to wait for the piece to come out of the annealing ovens the next morning. Which by the way, I was usually sitting there at 6am, watching the temperature drop to a certain degree so I could open the doors.
Last night I started painting acrylic paints on Plexiglass. Painting on the backside of the glass in backwards layers. You'll view the painting from the unpainted side. Paints keep this fluid glasslike appearance once dried.
I could have stayed up all night to finish the test project. I wanted to run to the Homo Depot and buy more plexiglass for permanent projects.
Add this impatient issue to the host of other oddities that I have. Put me together with a partner who's an only child. When he was a child, his kindergarten teachers had to call his parents and tell them to teach their child that he DOESN'T always have to be first in line every single time. He's as impatient as I am.
Sometimes I wonder how we function.
Going to the Doctor this morning to have blood drawn for an upcoming appointment was like getting a Neo-Con to show up at a Pride Parade. Impossible. Before, you could just walk in at anytime, tell them you needed blood drawn for an upcoming appointment and you were out in ten minutes.
Now? You walk in, fill out a form, verify all personal information, pay a co-pay, verify your insurance and then have a seat for 40 minutes because obviously there's a huge rush of people needing blood drawn at 8am. They finally call you in, weigh you and then put you in a waiting room. They take all your vitals except sticking a finger up your ass for a prostate exam and then let you sit and wait some more.
Finally, someone comes in and says "Are you here for labs?" No honey, I'm here because I love wasting my fucking morning at the Doctors Office and reading 6 month outdated magazines. I love you all that much. Hell yes puddin'! I'm sitting in the "second room you sit in before you have your labs done" aren't I?
If looks could kill, she would be a pile of sludge on the floor. She then takes me to another room. I sit there waiting for Bertha the Blood Sucking Vampire to finally arrive. She asks me what type of labs I'm requiring. I'm sorry, I missed that fricken day of Medical School. Dammit it all to hell. Just my luck.
I tell her I just need labs for my quarterly checkup in two weeks. She finally finds out what's needed exactly and proceeds to draw blood. Before I can leave, she makes me re-verify all personal information again on all five forms before I back to the checkout desk. I find out from my nurse, who's sitting there laughing at me because I look like I could rip off a baby's head with my bare teeth, that our good ol' insurance companies require all this to be done now before having blood drawn.
Each and every fucking time. Lord have mercy.....it took an hour and 15 minutes!
Anyone and everyone who knows me, knows I'm ready to blow by this point. The veins in my temples are enormous and pulsating. My breathing becomes shallow and in small pants. My forehead is scrunched down and my eyes are narrow little slits.
All is better now though. I've sat here with my Pineapple Guava White Tea and relaxed a bit.
The weekend was probably one of our most productive. No drinking (neener neener neener!!) first of all, good sex (my butt is still sore and he's SO in for it when it's his turn) and shopping at IKEA. What more could a man want?
We pretended to be lesbians, broke out all our power tools and put together a whole new bedroom suit. Don't attempt this naked like we did. Created some artwork for the walls, did laundry and drew two portraits for a co-worker. I'm pooped. All this work wrecked havoc in our guest bedroom though. There's shit everywhere and our old bed is leaning up against the wall. It will be another 6 months before that room is ever put together I'm afraid. Someone needs to come visit us soon so we'll have a reason to have it ready.
Any takers?
I promise to put little chocolate mints on your pillows and might even wash the sheets for you.
Oh, and provide lots of porn.
I'll let you all in on a teensy tiny secret.
I was hungover yesterday.
Our good friend Mama Starlett celebrated her Birthday on Wednesday. I made the stupid mistake of meeting a friend of mine for happy hour before heading to the Birthday dinner at 7 o'clock. After two hours drinking I was primed and ready to go for Mexican food. What goes best with Mexican food? Margarita's. Four of them to be exact. What better way to finish off the evening? Heading to the Round Up for two more beers and doing a round of tequila shots. Brian can't handle shots, so he pours his into my glass. Immediately following those two shots, someone hands me another double and tells me to finish it off. Seems someone else didn't want their shot also.
Muppet on Crack reared it's ugly head.
Once I woke up at 3am to got a tad bit sicky poo, I knew what was ahead of me. I'm not as young as I used to be. There was no way in hell I was going to work. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before *ahem* but my 40th Birthday is coming up. I can't do this shit anymore. The number of times I get shitfaced like that are getting fewer and farther between. Before you know it, all my stomach will be able to handle is warm milk and Rolaids.
Needless to say, I was still drunk when I woke up yesterday. Stomach was a total mess. I laid in bed until 1pm hugging a pillow as tightly as possible could, wimpering constantly. Couldn't get enough water or tylenol in me, which by the way wouldn't even stay down. Finally could keep food down after Brian brought me something to eat later that night. He's a good caretaker.
How are things this morning?
I'm never drinking again.
Unfrackenbelieveable. We finally were able to sit and watch last seasons 2 hour finale a while back. Last night we were able to watch the first 5 fracken incredible episodes of this years 2nd season back to back. At least I fracken think it's the 2nd season. Who in the frack can keep up?
Normally, I'm not a big fracken Sci-Fi nut. Oh, I fracken loved Star Trek and Star Wars, but I wasn't the type to collect the toys as a kid, go to those silly-ass-fracken conventions or bought every fracken DVD collection of every fracken season. I mean, Frack! I'll leave that fracken geekyness to my other half. He's fracken geeky for the both of us.
God, I'd love to frack him right now.
Where was I? Oh yeah, I fracken forgot. If you're wondering why I'm fracken talking this way, it's because of the new Battlestar Galactica. I have to say I fracken love the show, but due to all my years watching Star Trek and all it's fracken variations, I keep finding teensy tiny faults that fracken drive me crazy.
First off, what's up with using the word fracken or frack and all it's fracken variations? Frack it gets annoying after a-fracken-while and I can't stop using the fracken word!!!!!
Secondly, they fracken have no capabilities to beam people out of bad situations? Scan areas for these bad fracks called Cylons? They still use fracken bullets in their guns??!! All this fracken technology, yet so much of it seems so-fracken-stoneage to me. Fracken give me a brake! They have the fracken technology to clone people for fracks sake!
Thirdly, they use brick sized phones with fracken CORDS attached to them and in one episode they recorded a message using a fracken TAPE recorder! Oh, nothing digital for these people. Robots running around, incredible space ships, ability to timewarp (or whatever you fracken want to call it) to other parts of the galaxy, but they still don't have the capabilities to have phones without cords or be able to record data digitally.
Unfrackenbelieveable.
But it's still a fracken great show.
Frack, dude.
This world of ours can be a very small place at times.
Last week I received an email from someone I had dated for only a few weeks back in Graduate School. He stated that he found my blog after being directed to Drub's artwork. After reading things I had written about Kansas City and Lawrence Kansas, it peaked his curiousity. Once he saw my picture, it all became clear to him who I was.
He told me that he had fond memories of me and was happy to see that I was doing well. He mentioned that the last time he saw me was at a bar in Kansas City. I had told him I tested positive and was worried about my weight loss. This was right before I was moving to Dallas.
After reading two of his emails, I was completely blank. For the life of me, I had no recollection of who this person was. I felt horrible and pondered all weekend at who this mysterious person was that I had met and dated for a few weeks. During my 'coming out' days, I struggled with many things. I fell in love quickly, fell out of love quickly. I could be fickle, stubborn and bitchy. Many traits I still possess, but at least I feel that I have control over them now. I know I hurt people along the way and it was nice to know that someone out there during that time, I left with good memories, not bad ones.
We exchanged a few emails. He told me where he lived, where I lived, my roommate, the name of a co-worker who was a good friend of his. He told me what his major was.....
After 4 days it finally hit me like a mallet to the forehead. I knew who this person was and could picture him perfectly. He wasn't able to send me a picture of himself so I described what I remembered about him. It seems that I finally was able to solve the mystery that had literally drove me crazy. I start obsessing about something and won't let things go. Memories came flooding back quicker then I could register them. Places, times, dates, people, bars. I had ran into a few people from my past a couple years after leaving Lawrence, but to have someone stumble across my blog 13 years later and remember me was a first. Being able to jolt my ever-forgetting memory was another.
I'm coming up on my 40th Birthday here within a month and I'm not necessarily dealing with it all that well for some silly reason. Even more then I normally daydream, I find myself being nostalgic. Sitting and trying to remember as many details that I can from a time in my life that I look back so fondly. My life was carefree and little worries. I went to school, worked to make some spending cash and I partied with friends. All I cared about was meeting people, getting laid and finding the bar with the cheap drink specials.
He got back together with his Ex after we had our little fling and was with him for 9 years. He's in a wonderful relationship with his current partner for the past 4 years and is very happy.
Life is funny sometimes. You can meet someone, spend two weeks together, lose touch and 13 years later that person finds you. How crazy is that? Makes me wonder who I've met the past few years that I might bump into someday....
Thirteen years down the road.
Here I thought I would be able to have some "alone" time, what with the hubby gone all weekend seeing his Mama. Oh, no. I got one night but a good time was had by all. Friday was spent doing absolutely nothing. Saturday was filled with brunch, drinking some bubble tea and then a movie with a friend followed by a couple hours to rest. After my disco nap, I had dinner with Scott friend followed by a night drinking at the The Round Up and The Dallas Eagle. I'm not sure what it is lately with me and that leather bar. I've been there more this past month then I have the past 8 years.
A leather or levi/leather bar was probably the only place you would find me on a Friday and Saturday night way back when. I've dated more men covered in leather then you can shake a stick at and mind you, I've shaken a lot of sticks. Colored Hanky codes come second nature. I can get a man out of a harness in less then 6 seconds flat. Dated men who never left the house without a cockring and arm band. You would have thought they left the house without a belt or something. Not sure what happened over the years. Like any scene, I got tired of it after a while and was searching for something else.
All I know, is that I could get into trouble in a leather bar. Men get handsy. Lots of grabbing, fondling and rubbing. Before you know it, your shirt is taken off you. If you're not careful, someone's unzipping your pants and playing with your willy. OUT IN PUBLIC, no less. The nerve of these people. That's all fine and dandy for a single guy, but when you're tied to the ol' ball and chain like I am.
So rather then take my chances with the masses, I sat half naked (some stranger made me take my shirt off the first 60 seconds in the bar) at the bar and chatted with the bartender whilst my buddy Scott disappeared faster then you can say LUBE. I have to say it was fun and flattering getting hit on though. I swear the first words out of my mouth were, "Hi! Thanks, you're hot too! I have a boyfriend!" The words flew out of my mouth faster then my buddy Scott can run a potential trick down.
I'm such a dork.
Of course, Mr. Musclebound 6 pack Heavily Accented Cuban Hottie who rubbed his rippled, sweaty body all over me every single lap he made around the bar while grinning and winking at me said, "Oh, will he play with us too?" *blank stare* Was I giving off some sort of signal or something? I took that as my cue to down my last free beer from my buddy and head home.
Knowing that I have a beautiful partner that loves me more then anything, makes walking away from situations like that easier then anything.
Helps when you have porn at home too.
I'm just sayin'.
One more thing. My take on one of the most filthy, vulgar, foul mouthed movies I have EVER seen in my entire life. We LOVED it!!! The movie is a documentary called The Aristocrats. It's a movie about an old Vaudville joke told by comedians to other comedians. Each person tells the joke a different way. Trying to out do the other guy. Each making it more disgusting and vulgar every time. A total of 75 of the best comedians around were interviewed and were asked to give their take on the joke. Bob Saget's version was the best. You might remember him as the sweet Dad from Full House. Just go see it if you're not easiliy offended.
The movie was followed by watching the Friar's Roast of Pamela Anderson. Jesus Mary Mother of Cher.
I felt so dirty after all that.
I'm tickled pink that so many people liked to see us make total fools out of ourselves and post it on the web for the world to see. Hell, you can see that goofyness in person. ZeitCast will definately continue, but until I learn how to compress the 35MB size Video ZeitCast from yesterday down to something more manageable, those are going to be few and far between. It's all baby steps learning this shit.
I'm not going to know what to do with myself this weekend. Brian leaves for home this afternoon to get his quarterly Mama Fix. She'll smother him with hugs, kisses, ham, red beans and cornbread, which ruins all the training I've accomplished over the past year within two days. You just get your man trained and Mama can ruin all that faster then you can say Hello Darlin'.
He's spoiled rotten.
I can't say much. My brother closest to my age is 49. My older brother is 55 and my sister is 57. Being that I'm almost 40, I was raised like an only child. Brian actually IS an only child. I was destined to be a Mama's boy from day one. Most of the siblings were married and out of the house by the time I was 7 years old and the spoiling started immediately.
Mama constantly bought me toys. Took me shopping with her everywhere she went. Never spanked me. Always praised me for being 'such a gooood boy'. Whenever my father would try to discipline me, she always calmed him down. But all hell broke loose when it came for HER to dish out the discipline. I was smart early on and tried to never to do anything wrong. Seriously! I mean, who wants to have their mother tell them to go out and get their own switch to be whipped with? If you brought back a little brittle twig, she made you go back out and bring back the greenest, most bendable twig you could find. Curses that we had a weeping willow tree in our front yard.
From what I can gather, Brian was raised a lot like me. I was given my first car and the 4 following that one. I never was allowed to have a job in Highschool. They never gave me an allowance but instead just gave me money whenever I asked for it.
I got straight A's and worked my ass off around the house for that lifestyle. Mama didn't raise an idiot.
So, curses to you Mama Brown if you spoil him this weekend. Don't make me come to West Texas!
Now I just have to figure out what to do this weekend without him. Normally, I go home around the same time that he does. Didn't work out that way this time. More I think about it, I'll have 100% control of the TV, the computer AND the bed. No more channel surfing, no more sharing time on the computer and no more hogging the bed.
I really am going to miss you this weekend, sweetie.
I swear!
Just a reminder: For those still wanting to donate for the Dallas AIDS Walk, you can do so by clicking on the link to the left. Thanks to many of you out there, I surpassed my $1000 goal by $30!
We are the dorkiest guys on the planet.
Want to watch an impromtu, silly ass interview of the hubby? I giggle too much I realized. Brian makes funny gestures with his head. It's strange the things you notice about yourself. It's nothing exciting. Just us rambling for 2 minutes.
If you don't have DSL or Broadband you probably might want to go watch Maury Povich, actually do some WORK while on your job or go smoke 'em if you got 'em.
(Link may be removed after one week due to it's hugeosity)
I often feel like Sofia from The Golden Girls. The old woman who seems to have lost that part of the brain that gives her tact. Nothing like losing the ability to think before you open your mouth. That would be me. I was sent the picture above and thought to myself, "Oh hell, I'm that Chihuahua!"
Growing up I would avoid eyecontact with people, lower my head, never defend myself and never said what was on my mind. I avoided people and all social situations outside my comfortzone of family and close friends.
Well, what the fuck happened and when!? Now, you can't get me to shut up. Someone irritates me or pisses me off or bothers a friend or partner of mine and I'm right there, puffing out my chest, pointing my finger and using my words like razors. I don't stop and think of the consequenses in the heat of the moment from time to time. My mouth reacts before my brain does. It's not the first time my mouth has gotten me into trouble.
I even remember my first trip to New York City. I was cowering around through the subway system, looking lost and paranoid. People bumping into me, telling me to "get the fuck out of the way". Two days later someone says that to me and before you know it I'm turning around telling them to fuck off then continue on my way.
My God. I've become a New Yorker. I'm a Yankee!
Kiddin' y'all.
I know there has to be a fine balance between knowing what to say and when. All I know is there are times when I think the world would be a hell of a better place if we just said what we thought. Never held back. Say what was on our mind.
Better then walking through life with blinders on, head down, never making eye contact and keeping your mouth shut.
From this day forth, go out and be a Chihuahua.
Columbia, the nation's first space shuttle, was launched April 12th, 1981. In the same year 52 Iran hostages were released after 444 days of captivity the same day Ronald Reagan was inaugurated. It was the year John Hinkley, Jr. attempted to assasinate President Reagan. Minimum wage was $3.35 an hour. Sandra Day O'Connor became the first woman of the U.S. Supreme Court. The year Prince Diana married Prince Charles and the top-selling song of the year was Physical by Olivia Newton-John.
Although the release of the song Physical is right up there at the top of everyone's list, I'm sure we all know where we were the day the first shuttle took off into space. I was a freshman in highschool and watched with fascination with all my other classmates. We remember watching again on January 28, 1986 as Challenger was destroyed during take off. I was a Junior in College as we sat there watching during my Nude Figure Drawing Class. Our model never even bothered to put on his robe while we watched.
Since then, countless trips have been made into space without any problems until the Discovery tragedy in February of 2003. Friends and I watched the sky as the shuttle blew apart over Texas, dropping dangerous debris in East Texas and parts of Louisiana.
The Shuttle has to be our defining moments in history for children of the 80's. It held our fascination. That fascination left as shuttle missions were happening without much fanfare and media coverage. We stopped sitting in front of the television, trying not to miss one moment.
My Mother would tell me stories of where she was during specific moments in history. Being in a movie theater when Pearl Harbor was bombed and having the movie stopped while an employee told everyone to rush home immediately. Sitting there with her mother and sisters as they listened to the radio. She remembers where she was the world found out about the assination of President Kennedy. She was sitting in a soda fountain restaurant in Hesteds Five and Dime. She had just received her food, pushed it away and started to cry. She joined people on the streets as they gathered in front of the local store windows that had TV's. She talked about the start of the Vietnam war and being worried that her sons would have to go.
Every generation has defining moments in it's history.
For the first time in years, I sat in my car listening to NPR's coverage of the shuttle landing this morning at 7am. I sat there with as much anticipation as I had the first time back in 1981. I just wanted them home safely.
What are your defining moments in History that you'll always remember where you were and what you were doing?
(Bless his heart, Brian wasn't even in Kindergarten quite yet when I was a Freshman in Highschool. Shut UP!)
For those that have any sort of commute to work. Have you ever found yourself having so many things race through your mind, that when you get to work 30 minutes later, you honestly don't remember the entire drive in? That happened to me today. Before I knew it, I was exiting and thinking well this just isn't possible.
Ok, now that's just scary.
It was another weekend of seeing enough hairy chests, penises and alcohol to last me for the rest of the summer. Yeah, you're thinking "You can never see enough of those three things!" We hung out with friends early Friday night and ended up the evening dancing with a bunch of hairy muscle bears at S4. Having me in the mix made it look like a Chihuahua dancing with a bunch of St. Bernards.
I haven't danced like that in years. Back in the day, each night ended with hours upon hours of dancing. Now, I'm lucky to make it through 2 songs before my knees give out or I'm sweating like a pig and can't breathe. Forty years for me is coming up and there are times when I feel it.
Brian was sent off on a play date with a friend of his early Saturday before we headed to yet another Pre-Decadance Bear Pool Party. I guess they felt the need to be decadant for an afternoon before a weekend in New Orleans. Go figure. Someone mentioned to me that they made approximately 1275 jello shots. I only had fifteen. That many jello shots, two kegs and a full bar makes for a lot of frisky bears. Crystal clear water turned into an overflowing, cloudy mess after a while. An enormous afternoon thundershower put a damper on the party for a couple hours, but that didn't stop people. They just moved things under the canopy's and inside.
Before you know it, suits are being shed, penises flopping around the pool and if you're careful, you might see someone getting their ass eaten in the corner. Eight hours later, we're exhausted and headed home to snarf down some Whataburger. Thank goodness Sunday is a day of rest. If you want to see all 130+ photos, click here and click on the 8/2005 Bear Pool Party link. DO NOT VIEW this at work because you KNOW there's some nekkid ones in the mix.
Would you believe we got invited to TWO more parties within the next month? Bears love their pool parties.....
Last time you'll hear about this, I promise. Test results are back and kidney functions are on the road to normal. Creatinine levels are at 1.9. Normal is 1.3-1.5. People with one kidney usually function at 1.9. Dialysis is required for levels averaging 8.0-10.0 for adults. Highest last week was 3.5. So my numbers are going back down to normal. I could float away due to the amount of water I'm drinking, but it's all for the best.
There's something that I have been keeping secret here at House of Zeity. Rarely will I talk about my job. If I do, specifics are kept at a minimum. The last thing I need is to be dooced.
I enjoy my job. I don't love it. I don't fly out of bed every morning, giddy at the thought of another work day. It's a place I make money and am offered fantastic benefits. Insurance being the number one. But I do enjoy what I do and truly get along well with my fellow co-workers and managers.
Lately, I've been feeling a tad bit unhappy here and have been looking to see what else the world has to offer out there. Could it be better? Is it worth the jump? Should I leave a company that I've been with for 8 years? We all know how money can be a huge factor. Often we can put up with 'not so pleasant things', in lieu of more cash. I, like everyone else, had been bitten by the green monster. Could I make more money somewhere else? Will someone pay me what I feel that I'm worth? Am I even worth that much more money?
Who knows, but I was willing to try. I didn't put much effort into looking. Ever so often, I would search Monster or various other job sites. My abilities are very specific and you just don't find tons of positions out there.
Then I did. I applied and was called in for an interview months later. I almost forgot that I had even applied. After a long interview with HR and the heads of the department, they seemed to love me and were anxious to have me on board. I felt good about the company and the people. Felt good about the position and it's duties. Then I told them what I would require to come aboard.
The offer letter received yesterday was in my book, a slap in the face. By the time I go from paying $25 for insurance, to $175 a month, the increase doesn't look as good. No vacation for a year. No sick time or insurance for 90 days. No 401K for 6 months. No, No, No. That's all I seem to concentrate on while sitting here reading the letter this morning. Don't get me started on how much I would have to pay for Cobra Insurance for three months. It's not cheap for someone like me.
No. Hate that word right now.
Would I have a better chance for advancement? Possibly. But my company here is currently looking into something new for me also. They see my potential. They just need to act on it, which they say they will.
Patience, truly is a virtue.
I'm not sure what I was expecting. Maybe a pay increase way too good to pass up and benefits starting day one.
When they say something seems too good to be true....it probably is.
I just need to sit and wait a while longer.
Patience my ass.
My weekend will be filled with dinners, movies and pool parties, so the distraction will be welcomed. Hope yours is as enjoyable also.
I know we shouldn't talk about bathroom issues, but when has a topic for me ever been "off limits"? Pardon the poo talk, but I'm worse then a water ride at Hurricane Harbor right now. Damn, can't a boy get a break? How much water can a body hold, especially with enough force to shoot me across the stall? I could charge for rides.
Speaking of going to the bathroom, someone I know was sitting in the stall. The handicapped stall to be exact. It's more spacious, less claustrophobic feeling and there's a railing for those rare moments when taking a poo can literally make you dizzy. You know the kind I'm talking about.
Anypoo, where was I? Oh....while this person was sitting there doing dropping the kids off at the pool, in comes someone in a wheelchair needing to use the stall. I.....I mean this person could see the wheels underneath the door while the person in the wheelchair cussed under his breath and shook the door handle. I swear he was peeking in to see who was in there. This person that I know sat there embarrassed as hell that he......well, what could he say? That he left his wheelchair at his desk? That he forgot to hang the handicapped parking sticker on the door? The other two stalls were completely open and he didn't have an excuse other then, "Uh....um, sorry.....I'll be out of here in a second."
Am I so caught up in my own little world that I didn't notice that there's been someone in the department next to me wheeling himself around? HR should have sent me a fucking memo so I will NEVER be in that position stall again. I mean, Jesus Tap dancing Cher, could a guy get a break anywhere or anytime this past week? Wonderful thing is that the guy works in the department right next to me so I get to see him on a daily basis now that I know where he sits.
"Yeah, hey there buddy...yeah it's me, the guy who was occupying the only stall on this entire wing of our building that you can use." "Yeah, that would be me." "Sorry about that."
Lord....I almost made a man in a wheelchair poop his pants.
I could have crawled inside the toilet right then and there and flushed myself away into oblivion.
I mean my friend could have.
It wasn't me.
Have you ever done something really stupid which caused an uproar and no one ever found out it was you? No, don't worry I haven't done anything wrong lately although Brian might say otherwise. I'm not perfect you know.
We were talking while on a road trip one weekend like we normally do. Anyone who's met us knows that we can talk circles around each other. We both got to talking about events in our past. After a couple stories he said, "Oh you have to tell that on your blog."
It's not often that we can do something and get away with it. Seems like someone always finds out.
Back in 1980, we were the first 9th grade class to be moved from Junior High to Highschool. We were nothing but scared little 15 year olds. Highschool was honestly traumatic for me. I hated it. I spent my free time hiding out in the art department to avoid contact with people, especially upper classmen. I've been shoved in my locker, beaten up in the parking lot, detested Gym class, called faggot every single day. Oh yeah, life was good back then. I emersed myself in my studies and art.
My goal was to slide through the next 4 years without getting noticed. Never to rock the boat. Never to piss someone off.
One of my least favorite class was Life Science. Anything regarding Science or Chemistry caused an ulcer. My brain seemed to shut down. I remember my science teacher enthusiastically thumping me on my head and say, "Come on Son! Get those gray cells workin'!!!" He might as well said, "Wise up, dumbass!!"
I hated disecting bugs, frogs and ever popular pig fetus. I hated looking through microscopes. I hated growing things in petri dishes. It all seemed pointless. Only one project did I ever truly enjoy.
Fruit flies!
I remember "knocking them out" with ether, figuring out the sex, putting male with female in little jars and wait for them to reproduce. I was fascinated with this project for some odd reason. So much in fact, that I decided to sneak out some of the little jars after the project ended and put them in my locker. What I was going to do with my new little families, I had no clue.
We were notorioius for sharing other lockers with friends depending on where they were located. My highschool wasn't small and often required walking to the other side of the campus just to get your books. After leaving my little jars of goodness in my locker I basically forgot about them. After a few weeks, they got shoved in the back, under old lunches, books and backpacks.
One afternoon in Accounting class, the teacher was walking by someones desk and bumped into it. Out of nowhere came this enormous swarm of little flies. We're talking in the thousands. It was of biblical proportions. Moses would have been proud. I thought nothing of this occurance other then the fact that they cancelled class. Within hours, other swarms were found throughout the entire school. I'm sure numbering in the millions. Once the initial nest was disturbed they must have went out to find their friends.
No one could understand where they were coming from or how the infestation occured. Announcements were made over the loud speaker, telling everyone not to panic. People were running around spraying bug spray and opening windows. The infestation seemed to get worse rather then better throughout the day. Eventually they had to cancel school around 1pm and told everyone to go home.
The next morning there's a school cancelation on TV for my school due to a massive, uncontrolable infestation of fruit flies. It took them two days to completely clean the school. Everything smelled like bug spray. Cafeteria was shut down for a couple days due to cleaning.
The only question was, "How did this happen?"
Then it hit me. I ran to my locker and in the back under stacks of books and papers were ten little jars. Most were broken, caps were off and the amount of dead fruit flies was sickening. No wonder I never used that locker very much. Ever so discreetly, I shoved everything in a plastic bag and cleaned out the locker as best as I could without getting caught.
No one ever found out that I caused our school to be shut down for a couple days, no cafeteria food for a few more days and God only knows how many thousands of dollars they spent on removing the infestation.
My science teacher was right.
"Wise up, dumbass!"
I'm in an irksom mood. That a word isn't it? If not, add it to your spell check list.
*looks up word in Websters*
Yup, irksom is a real word and I'm full of it.
Just got back from Dr. Finger Pokey. He tells me my sonogram came back normal and that I have pristine urine. Well excuse me Doctor, but I don't think we know each other quite well enough just yet. I'm sure pristine urine is something that one who's into watersports would find a good thing? Is my urine the "Waterford Crystal" of the Urine World? Should I bottle it up and sell the shit?
He asked me how my trip to the Nephrologist (specializing kidney functions and diseases) went this past week. I told him I haven't been to see one since he nor anyone else has told me to see one. "Oh...", he said. "How's your creatinine levels (kidney functions)?" he asked. I told him I have no idea since he didn't draw any blood last week. "Oh....", he said. "Guess we'll have some drawn for whenever you decide to see a Nephrologist. Well, here you go (hands me a paper) and thanks for coming in." Basically both visits were a total waste of time in my book. I still no nothing more then when I started.
The thoughts of going to a Nephrologist scare the shit out of me. I went to one before about 7 years ago. My kidney functions dropped extremely low and no one seemed to understand why. I went in to see the doctor and she said that I needed to have a biopsy of one of my kidneys. Um, ok. I remember telling her before the procedure to give me a shot of something....anything to calm me down so I don't remember. She then tells me that I have to be awake and very alert during the procedure, but gives me a little happy shot to calm my nerves. I remember slurring to her while she wheeled me down to the surgical room, "Yoooou have da most puuuurdy pink pant suit I've EVER seen!" Over and over and over. She wasn't amused. No sense of humor.
After marking an "X" on my back and numbing the kidney area, she tells me to hold my breath and that I'll feel a little bit of pressure. She says this while holding this gunlike tool with the diameter of my little pinky finger. The reason I have to hold my breath while she sticks that thing in my back to retrieve the kidney sample, is to prevent any sort of kidney damage and raising the chance of losing it.
My happy shot wore off real quickly.
After four samples, I find myself laying on top of a sandbag for two days to make sure there's no internal bleeding or damage. No lifting, driving or flying for a couple weeks. Reasons for the low kidney functions were due to an HIV medication I was on at the time.
She suggest this little procedure again and I'll turn that biopsy gun on her. Hopefully kidney function labs pulled today will come back good.
At least there will be no more visits to Dr. Fondle and Finger Pokey. No more dropping my pants while he feels me up. No more telling me to bend over while he pounds me with his large sausage finger.......wonder if he will even call me? Send me a card?
Productive is a good word for the weekend. Before you judge us, Brian and I saw the movie Sky High. Thinking it might be a funny, family Disney type movie. Worst fucking movie of the year. We almost left after 10 minutes if that says anything. I blame this one on Brian. Stealth, seen on Saturday had the most incredible special effects and was mildly entertaining, but the rest of the movie was...how should I say, shit. We were two for two.
I finished the latest Harry Potter book. I'm sure there's a bunch of pre-teens out there that are absolutely devastated. I even cried at the end. Good thing I sent Brian out on a play date with our fellow resident geek Scott. I love having a babysitter near by who can take him to Fry's and geek out for a while together.
That evening we decided to have a couple cocktails and head to the Rose Room for the drag show. One timid girl standing next to us had never been to a gay before in her life. I swear she was a Southern Fried Baptist the way she was acting. Jasmine was her name. She stood there with her mouth open and eyes wide apart. Then out came Krystal Summers. You might remember her from a few weeks back. The one with big boobs and blonde hair. Her last number was done wearing nothing but silver pasties and a g-string. DAMMIT where's my camera when I need it. I thought that poor girl was going to have a coronary. Later that night we went dancing for the first time in months. While on the dance floor dancing shirtless and getting sweaty, over comes this hunky, hairy guy and says he didn't know that he would be coming to Dallas from Austin and run into celebrities. He reads "our" blog he told us. Here's a shout out to Jason from Austin. Hi, Jason! Hope I got his name right.
Sunday was spent shooting more pictures at the Dallas Cemetary again and painting on a 4x6 foot canvas afterwards. I have no idea what I'm doing, or where the painting is going. I'll keep you updated.
Then came Monday morning......
Good thing I got to work early. You see, my 8 year anniversary with my company is today. Yeah, yeah. I know that should probably be a big thing, but for me it's just a reminder that I'm still here. A reminder that I possibly could be doing something better somewhere else and making more money. But I do love it here. Love my co-workers and my managers. I'm happy here, although it's not a perfect job.
From the other side of the floor, I could see my cube from far away, covered in balloons and crepe paper. Awww, how sweet I thought to myself. They decorated my cube. I heart these bunch of people. The closer I got, the more I wanted to shoot my fellow, loveable co-workers and shove a hot poker up their asses. Amongst the ballons and streamers, are bags and bags of glitter and metallic confetti strewn everywhere possible.
Not only did they dump that shit everywhere, but the contents of everyone's hole punches as well. And it's not just sprinkled on and around my desk. It's on the computer, on the keyboard, the phone, my books, my papers. Inside my stapler, tape dispenser, pen and paperclip holder. Inside files, envelopes and desk drawers.
You think they would have stopped there. Oh no, those silly little huggable buggers. They took a couple pads of post-it notes and covered the walls. They took crepe paper and wrapped my chair. Taped my phone so I couldn't make any calls. I'm surprised my fish were left alone.
Oh gosh darn it, I love these guys. *sigh*
Have I ever told anyone how anal retentive I am? How much I hate messes? You could imagine my horror. I've spent the past 45 minutes cleaning my desk just so I can sit down. My face and hands are glittery. My black pants look like something that Joe would have worn back in his disco days.
Golly gee guys, you're all swell.
*breathe*
It does make coming to work enjoyable. I wouldn't have them any other way.
I leave you with a few shots from Sunday's photo shoot. Click here and check out Dallas Cemetary Album for the entire afternoons photos.
