I was reading over at JMG's yesterday about an article regarding the AIDS Memorial Quilt and how many seem to think it might have lost it's punch and how we might be in fear of having the quilt lost if someone or some group doesn't step in and try to figure out a way to preserve a national treasure.
Many commenters have given their personal story about the first time they saw the quilt, talked about the quilt they once made or provided some ideas as to what should happen with the quilt.
Reading about it made me instantly remember what it was like for me the first time I walked into the huge Kansas City Arena back in the early 90's, and saw the quilt. It's not a moment I'll ever forget.
I was still fresh from finding out about my own status of being positive. Doctor had given me stacks of AZT and told me to make sure I get my affairs in order, since the time frame of how long someone would live was up in the air. Cocktail medications were still being tested and it wasn't widely available for for just everyone.
It wasn't long before I found out I had the chance to move to Dallas with my company and be under the care of one of the most amazing HIV/AIDS specialist in the country. Finally, I felt like I had a chance and friends had a chance. A few months before leaving the city for good, it was announced that the AIDS Memorial Quilt would be on display. This was something that I had felt like I needed and wanted to see.
I didn't know what to expect.
I walked into that enormous space with thousands of quilts laid out on the floor and hanging on the walls. There wasn't a square inch of that arena that was left unused. At first glimpse I saw nothing but a sea of beautiful fabrics and colors. I found it amazing that it was one of the most jewel like things I've ever seen.
It wasn't until I decided to bend down and take a closer look at the panels that was nearest to me. I started reading the names and the dates. Quilts made by lovers, friends or family. A quilt saying good bye to her son, made by a mother. A quilt made by the lover who was left behind to take care of himself. Quilts made by friends with numerous names on them. Even a quilt that was "made" by the loving pet who's master had passed away.
The dates indicated how young so many of these people were. People in their 30's and 40's. Some in their teens and even quilts made for young children and babies. It wasn't long before these beautiful fabrics and colors that I saw before me became something totally different.
I found myself on my hands and knees crying for people I didn't even know. The further I continued to read the worse it got. By the time I finished reading every single quilt in that Arena, I was emotionally exhausted. I started picturing quilts with my friends names on them. I eventually pictured one with my name on it. I wondered who would make mine if something ever happened to me. If so, would it be on display for the whole world to see. Would anyone weep? Would anyone remember? It's some of the silliest stuff that will go through your mind.
The quilts of total strangers became my quilt. It was our quilt. HIV and AIDS never truly hit home with me until I laid eyes on it. The impact that this disease has taken was made 100% clear to me that afternoon.
Does the quilt still have an impact today? Probably not as much as it did then, but for those of us who've been able to experience it, yes it did and yes it still does. The only scary thing is what's going to happen to the quilt. Who should take over the preservation? What city should host the quilt? The quilts birthplace is in San Francisco, so that's where I feel it should be retired in my humble opinion.
I'm curious to know if people still make quilts for a loved one that's passed on.
Hopefully something will be done and done soon. I just wish that we could see the quilt in it's entirety displayed one more time.
Still continuing with the Max Theme, I thought I would show you a little trick we've been working with him on.
MaxCast 2
Yes, Baby is fine today. After bringing him home last night, he was aloof and avoiding me at all cost like normal. Anytime we bring him home from the vet, despite the fact that he loves it there it seems, he will not have anything to do with me for a little while. This used to throw me into a fit of tears, making me wonder why I was such a bad parent. Once I sat down at the piano to practice for a bit, he finally came over and laid under my feet while I played.
I bought him some extremely bland chicken and rice canned dogfood from the Vet, per their request. It helps to settle their stomach. Plus, I get the joy of making him take an antibiotic twice a day. This isn't hard. I slather it in peanutbutter and he goes to town on it. He's already feeling good and hasn't had to go to to the bathroom every hour since I got him home.
It's funny how your pets become your children. After losing my chow chow named Church over 13 years ago and turning into an emotional wreck, I swore I would never get that attached to a dog again. They would be nothing more then a pet that I took care of and was something that provided companionship while the hubby was away. It seems that I've been proven wrong again or maybe I'm just always an emotional wreck.
We had to laugh last Saturday while we sat in the parking lot of the CityVet Spa and Loft (Daycare). We were sitting there along with other parents waiting for them to open the doors to we could go get our dogs. Laughing as we wondered if they tell the other dogs when we walk up, "That's my daddy and papa! My parents are so much better then yours!" as they stick out their tongues to their dogmates. It felt as if we were sitting there waiting to pick up an actual child.
It makes me wish I could have a child some day, but I've resolved myself to the fact that it's not going to happen and I will just stick to trying to raise a puppy.
That's enough responsibility right there. Plus, as emotional as I am with just a dog, I'd be a blubbering idiot with a child. I'd get all weepy everytime I looked at the kid.
Plus, trying to outfit a child in Kenneth Cole would become quite costly and would interfere in my own clothing budget and I just can't have that.
I'll leave child rearing up to the professionals.
I knew we shouldn't have taken him to doggie daycare on Saturday. You could tell he had a great time when we picked him up. He was perky and hyper, but once he got home he passed out from exhaustion. I'm sure he jumped around and played all afternoon.
On Sunday while Brian and I got the wild hair to reorganize all of our closets, throw a bunch of shit away, clean the floors and oh, re-arrange the livingroom and dining room area (which almost was put back exactly like it was with a few minor exceptions), we noticed that we had to take Max out to go to the bathroom almost every hour. Normally he only goes out maybe 4-5 times a day at the most.
Poor thing. By noon, he was sounding like a sputtering motorboat engine every time we took him out. Which usually scared the living shit (literally) out of him and made him jump two feet off the ground. I knew right then and there that my evening wasn't going to be a pleasant one.
Brian felt so bad having to leave me around 8:30 for the airport. I've taken care of sick people and children, I'm sure I can handle a sick dog.
I slept on the couch so in case he needed for me to take him out during the night. Sure enough, like clockwork he had to be let out every two hours to make his sputtering noises. I'm kind of tired this morning. He looked as if he had lost his best friend. Ears folded back, eyes all sad, head hanging low. He hasn't eaten or drank much water. He didn't play with his toys or chew on his new nyla bone.
I dropped him off at the Vet's this morning. They just called saying that he was very perky and happy. He loves the Vet. They're running a few test, but are pretty sure it's something that's treatable with an antibiotic and some bland dogfood.
Despite the one shitty aspect of the weekend, Brian and I had a wonderful time with each other. We often don't get a lot of "alone time" during the weekend, but was able to spend most of the entire day on Sunday enjoying one another.
I wanted to just put up a quick note and ask peoples opinions about having GB:NYC4 this year. Normally we've done these events at the end of May. Last year we did it the first weekend in June for some reason which totally escapes me. My memory is getting more shit by the moment.
We're planning a trip to San Diego in February. San Francisco for Pride in June. Portland/Seattle possibly July or August. We're wanting to meet bloggers in any of those cities. But the big trip of the year usually ends up being New York City.
For those of you who don't know, GB:NYC is nothing more then a chance for bloggers to gather in one place, drink a lot, fondle your favorite blogger, drink a lot and sightsee. It started off as nothing more then me making a visit to the city to see a few fellow bloggers and it blossomed into 60-80 people coming. Normally we meet on a Friday night at a local bar and the rest of the weekend is up to the individual to meet up with friends. Last year ended up Friday night at Barrage, Saturday night at The Eagle and Sunday afternoon at The Dugout, with large groups in attendance each time. The rest of the time was spent hanging out and seeing the city with various friends.
Is everyone up for another round of GB:NYC? If so, is there a specific time that would work out better? Like I said, normally we try to do the last weekend in May, but I'm open to other times. I just want the weather to be nice and not the monsoon that we had last time.
Throw out some ideas. I'm anal about planning out trips. My Palm Pilot is itching for some action.
You can see a write up and pictures from last years even here.
I've always been the type of person to have a large group of friends. Not only the group of friends you see out at bars, but the close set of friends you see on a regular basis for dinner, drinks and the occaisonal trip to The Ranch or something.
Back before Brian and even before I stopped being the party boy, my circle of close friends was very large. Since then, times have changed. Many of us have drifted apart. It's natural when peoples priorities and lives change so drastically. What was important for me 5 years ago, isn't so important for me today. I've made friends with Brian's old friends and the same goes for him. We've made new friends as well since being together.
Still, the number of close friends I have is a lot smaller then I'm used to. This can be a good thing. Concentrating on a smaller group of friends is a lot easier. But one thing that I've noticed since I've moved to Dallas over 14 years ago (damn, has it been that long?) is that the lack of female friends.
In highschool, all of my friends were girls. In college all of my friends were girls, with the exception of a couple guys. While I was in grad school, my best friend Alison and I were inseparable. I love her more then anything. I lived with another best friend Jennifer for a few years. We were like brother and sister. Once I moved to Kansas City, I stayed friends with them and even aquired another best friend, Andrea my Mafia girlfriend. That's a whole other post for another day. I worked with nothing but women in my department. I was the only male. Needless to say, I became close with many of my female co-workers. We were all going for drinks after work, dinners, movies. Hell, I even hosted a couple of their bachelorette parties. At a gay bar no less.
(Alison and Jennifer back in 1995)
I always had male friends during this entire time, some of them even close but not as many as my female friends. I enjoy the company of women. I always have. It's so different then men. The bond the formed with some of my female friends was amazing and still is until this day with a few. There's not a week that goes by where a couple of us don't email or call each other.
But since the day I stepped foot in Texas, I haven't had one female friend that I would consider to be close with in the past 14 years. I don't have the wonderful companionship of talking every day, having dinner and talking about our relationships, gawking at cute boys, taking weekend trips or spending a day shopping or getting facials and pedicures. Hey, don't judge me! I like to pamper myself from time to time.
Conversations with women are different. I found myself confiding in them more then I did anyone else. The first person I told I was gay was a girl. The first person I told I was positive were the women in my life. The first person I told I was in love with Brian was my friend Alison.
I've met various women over the past few years, but for some reason they always seem to cling to another one of my friends instead. My female co-workers and I would become close at work, but nothing ever blossomed outside of work.
I've met some new people lately that I'm building friendships with and I've listened to them talk about their best girlfriend and how close they are with them. I sit there listening to their stories and become so envious.
I'm not sure whats changed from then and now. Don't get me wrong, I love my male friends. We have a great time together and I love them dearly.
Just ever so often, I miss having a friend that smells a hell of a lot prettier and doesn't have a 5 o'clock shadow when I kiss her.
Despite being a total clothes whore who needs to be in a 12 step program for it, there are a few articles of clothing and accessories that I absolutely hate to buy.
Belt's, although one of the most important accessories to have on your body, is something that I hate shelling out 30-40 bucks or more. Despite the fact that I will never even leave the house without a belt around my waist, getting me to buy a belt is almost impossible. The majority of my belts I've had for a few years and most are Brian's from when he was a tad bit thinner. Back in the day, if a trick ever left their belt at my place and they were even close to my size, I never told them and kept it for myself. It was like they left me a tip for services rendered.
Socks are another item I despise shelling out my hard earned cash. I usually have to hint around to Mom to buy me some around my Birthday or Christmas. I will wear socks until there are holes in them and my black socks have faded so bad they look charcoal grey before I head down to Target for some more. Now that Max finds socks to be his favorite chew toy, I've found myself buying more socks then normal and it literally is killing me.
My last and final object of clothing I can't stand buying is underwear. Before I came out, I wore whatever brand my mother decided to bring home after shopping. Usually, this meant white hanes underwear. Once I headed off to college and came out, I found myself buying Calvin Klein underwear for a short time. I remember saving up enough money to buy about 10 pairs at 25 bucks a pop. I swear the things were hanging by a thread by the time I threw them away. Some of them could double as a thong. Since no one really gets to see me in my underwear except for the hubby, I buy the simple, cheap Hanes boxer briefs from Target. Four pairs for 9.99! I'm now stocked up for at least the next 5 years.
One thing I've admired others for, is their underwear collection. Some people go out and spend hundreds of dollars on this shit. For what? Something that gets covered up by the rest of your clothing and the only person who gets to see it is the person they're sleeping with and that's in the dark. And only for a few seconds.
Total waste of money.
Until recently, when Brian and I went shopping at a local store called Skivvies. They specialize in ridiculously priced underwear. You tend to see a lot of local strippers shelling out their hard earned dollar bills on banana thongs. Another item of clothing you'll NEVER seen me in.
While flipping through the sale rack, I found the cutest pair of Ginch Gonch Underwear. Check out their website, it's like soft core porn. So for the low price of 20 dollars, I picked up this cute pink and brown pair with little pig bottoms on them and I thought it would be fun to share them with you.
Let me clarify that wearing cute little underwear with Pig Bottom's on them doesn't have ANYTHING to do with my sexual activity in the bedroom.
Nothing like spending Saturday night watching about 4 episodes of Cesar Milan, The Dog Whisperer on The Discovery Channel. The hilarious part, was that Max sat there very quietly, and actually watched all four episode so intently it was amazing.
He couldn't take his eyes of Cesar. I think he's got a crush on him like his Papa.
I don't normally post this sort of thing, but a buddy sent me this video and I about pissed my pants. I had to upload it and share it with the rest of you. There's no nudity, but it's definately NSFW.
There's one reason I don't miss the Midwest and it's the cold temperatures, snow and ice. If I had my way, I'd be laying on the sunny beaches of San Diego. But from what I hear they've had some freezing weather. Hell, even Los Angeles had snow and ice this week. Is there no escaping it anymore?
I used to brag about our 10 months of beautiful weather, one month of cold weather and one month of bitter cold weather. Throw in one "snow" day and that was our winter. Not this year. Snow for the 3rd time, ice storms two weekends in a row and there's another ice storm coming this next weekend.
Thats it. Fuck it. I'm moving Puerto Rico or somewhere else warm and sunny. I've had enough of this shit. So has Max. Poor thing still doesn't know what to make of all the white stuff and the slipping and sliding around when he tries to pee. He's completely beside himself. So much, that last week he was in Doggie DayCare for a shampoo and nails. They indicated to us that out of the blue, he's got Kennel Rage! Escuse me? He loves going to daycare. He loves the people there. He's never had a problem with getting a bath and his nails clipped. All of the sudden this woman has issues with him? I think it's her. I think something happened and she's not telling me.
In other news, out of the blue a few days ago, I received a call from a long lost best friend from grad school. He was my first gay best friend. He helped me come out basically. He was an overbearing, egotistical, arrogant sort of guy. You never believed anything that came out of his mouth. He was snobby, snotty and full of shit. Sounds like a great friend, no? Somehow, we were very close. A fight eventually happened between us and we hardly spoke again after that.
Thirteen years later while drunk and probably high (which is his normal state), he decides to try and find me. He remembered my last name and where I grew up. If you have that, you can pretty much contact any of my family and find out where I am. He calls me. Of course, his life is full of drama and strange stories that I found hard to believe. Working for the CIA? Married to the 2nd richest person in the Kansas City area? Owns many homes? Taking over the "family business"? Which he still will not tell me what the "business" actually is.
Despite all of my eyerolling during our conversation, it was good to hear from him and we had a pretty good talk about the old days back in school. The entire time I'm on the phone with him, which probably lasted almost 2 hours, I couldn't help but constantly think how much I've changed. I'm not that same person I was in grad school. I'm not the bright eyed, newly out gay boy who's not experienced in the ways of men, relationships, drinking, drugs and clubbing. I've been through a lot and I've come out through all of it a totally different person.
He hasn't. He's still the same. Arrogant, full of himself and a mind who's imagination has no limits. He still drinks like a fish is still going through a slew of mind enhancing drugs. I'd like to say that everyone changes throughout their life, depending on what we all go through and experience.
Maybe thats not the case for everyone.
He wants to meet again soon. I was assuming Dallas or possibly us taking a trip to Kansas City.
Oh no. He plans taking me to Paris for a week so he can see the city one last time before he dies. (He's dying?) He wants to pay for it all with the hundreds of thousands of dollars that he's been hiding away. We're not to tell anyone where we're going, especially our husbands. It will be "like the old times" he told me. Not unless he considers Lawrence Kansas to be like Paris. Maybe I should borrow some of the drugs he's on. He lives in a better fantasy life then I do.
Naturally, I tell Brian all about all of this, expecting him to say something like, "Oh hell no! You're not going to Europe for the first time without ME!!"
Instead he replies, "Hell, go have a nice time honey!"
I'm going nuts! I was sick Monday and Tuesday, stuck at home with nothing to do but lay on the couch. I feel better today and decided it's time to go back to work. I wake up to snow and ice is covering everything. Our fair city is shutting down. I'm stuck home again. I know I should be excited about being able to stay home, but I'm literally going crazy.
Luckily, a friend is stopping by to take me out to lunch. The side roads around here aren't so bad.
The way it's going, tomorrow should be just as horrible outside, making it almost impossible to get to work.
I wish there was better shit on TV during the day.
We sit here waiting for the approaching ice storm. I guess it's pretty good timing. I've been sick most of the weekend and didn't want to go to work tomorrow. I have that cold/flu/sinus crap that's been going around. This ice storm came at a good time. Forced me to sit inside all weekend and relax. Hopefully it will be bad enough so I won't have the urge to go into work.
I just hope the power outages that are going on all over Dallas doesn't hit our part of the city. I guess I'll be able to get some more painting done if I'm/we're stuck at home. I'll be surprised if Brian can fly out tomorrow morning.
I've already finished "Blue Max".
After our first half a year together, Brian surprised me with a photo montage of us since the time we met, set to one of our favorite songs. Yeah, it was one of those mushy moments that produced tears and would cause scores of people around the world to start involuntarily throwing up. The following year, we made one together for ourselves to remind us all that we did the entire year. After a while, you forget what you've done, where you've gone, people you've met. We ended up sharing that one as a ZeitCast.
Even though making these is purely for us, we like to share our Year in Review with everyone. Below is ZeitCast 17: Year in Review 2006.
Damn, we did a lot of shit last year and 2007 looks like it's going to be just as crazy.
I finally got off my ass last night and actually did something. I cleaned the house. After working myself up to a sweat, I cooked a quick dinner, watched only one episode of Law & Order: SVU, then went uptairs and started a new art project.
I draw a quick image on paper, lay the image underneath a large piece of Plexi-glass and start painting. Once I finish the painting, I'll turn the picture around and view it from the non-painted side. I have to paint in reverse order, so it requires some additional thought process. I got further last night then I thought I would. Here's the first layer. Additional color will be added on top of the black image:
I know my sleeping habits like the back of my hand. **oh look, I've never noticed that mole before...**
I battle fatigue on a daily basis, which I'm sure is due to meds. It's something that I've lived with for years now. By 10pm, I'm pretty much pooped and can barely keep my eyes open. This is a huge reason that I have trouble going out to the bars with friends on the weekend. I start yawning by 10pm, while everyone else is just getting started.
Once my head hits the pillow, it normally takes me about a half an hour to fully fall asleep. I toss and turn a few times, trying to get into the perfect position. I've never been one of those freaks people who start snoring within 30 seconds. Depending on how tired Brian is, he's one of those that can be out like a light within minutes.
I'll usually sleep very hard. Having to wake up to pee at least one time in the middle of the night between 3-4am. Like clockwork. If I've not been careful to drink very little fluids during the evening, I might even wake up more then once. One of the perks of getting older I guess.
About an hour before I'm to officially get up for the day, I'll wake up, check the time, notice that it's 6am and fall back to sleep. I do this again at 6:30am and usually anywhere between 1-4 minutes prior to my alarm clock going off. I can't stand the sound of an alarm clock going off. Somehow, my brain knows this and wakes me up a few minutes beforehand.
My sleep routine is as boring, monotonous and routine as my every day/evening routine during the week. If you ask me what time it is, I can tell you what I would normally be doing.
I wasn't tired last night at 10pm, but just to make sure I get a good nights rest, I laid down anyway. I must have fallen asleep immediately. I woke up this morning to the alarm blaring in my ear at 7am! Not once did I wake up to go to the bathroom. I don't remember even waking up at some point to look at the alarm clock and thanking Jebus that I have another 2-3 hours left under my warm, cozy comforter.
So this morning, I flew out of bed like I'm 3 hours late to work and in a panic. I've been groggy all morning. I can't stop yawning. And there's that nagging feeling constantly in my head, wondering WHY I got a full nights sleep like normal people do. I can't stop thinking about it.
That, plus the fact that if I got a full 9 hours sleep, why am I so fricken tired?
I need a nap.
I need to take a break from blogging for a few days, more often. I kept finding myself feeling the need to post every day, when I know that it's not necessary. I didn't have anything to write about. Nothing to say. I shouldn't feel tied to this blog. I shouldn't feel as if I have to do anything. It's one thing I've always struggled with ever since I started this thing back in September of 2003. You all might see post from me here more sporatically. Might be every day at times, might be just when I feel like it.
It was another great weekend. Again, Brian and I had full intentions of taking it easy and doing nothing. Just us. That never seems to be the case when I start evaluating the weekend on Monday mornings. I took the day off on Friday so I could spend it with him. He was flying in early. After eating lunch, we headed to the Barnes and Noble to do some book, dvd and cd shopping. Kenneth Cole was having an additional 70% off sale merchandise at the mall so it was a no brainer to where we were going next. Like a moth to a flame, I walked in with a glazed look on my face and left with some incredible deals. Since Brian says KC is only for skinny people, he went nuts at Banana Republic instead. It wasn't long before we got a couple phone calls from friends, so they joined us at the mall to walk around, then see a movie. Do NOT go see Happily N'Ever After.
Although I tolerate love one of Brian's friends dearly, I wanted to strangle her at one point. After shopping, my friend Brad left to go out and she decided to stay. We watched TV, went to Blockbuster, grabbed dinner and then watched movies. She finally left at midnight. We even hinted around saying that she didn't have to stick around all day and night if she had other stuff she wanted to be doing. "Oh no, I'm great, thanks!" How can you tell someone they need to get the hell out of your house so we could have some alone time?
Saturday night, Brian and I had dinner plans at The Catalina Room with our friends Brandon and Dusty. This was our first real "double date". After a wonderful dinner which they treated us to, Brian gets the idea of going to the top of The W Hotel/Residences to check out the Ghost Bar. The Hotel isn't even 100% finished, but it's pretty close. After paying an ungodly amount of money to valet, we were ushered through lime green velvet ropes by men in black suits and earpieces. Once we got to the area to pay before heading up to the 33rd floor, she indicated that the cover was twenty bucks. Not bad we thought. Until she indicated that it was per person. Before most of us started throwing a hissy fit, Brian decided we never do anything like this so he paid the cover so we could check things out.
After more velvet lime green rope, we finally headed upstairs. The bar was amazing. Everything in white, silver, plastic, metal. LED lights changed the color of the bar constantly. Girls in skimpy white outfits pranced around, while hunky men stood behind the bars. One side of the bar looked straight on to downtown. The outdoor patio hung out from the building and was filled with couches and chairs. What an amazing view it was. I was so pissed that I didn't bring my camera. After gazing at downtown for a while, we headed over to another patio. This one was much smaller and used only for viewing. It too, hung over the edge of the building, yet this one had a glass floor so you could see straight down. I don't like heights. My groin area gets this achy feeling the minute I stepped onto the glass bottomed patio.
This bar is definately a place where any sort of Star that is in town will be visiting if they want to go out on the town. Two thousand dollar bottles of champagne. You can even buy a bottle of vodka and have it set on your table with mixers, bucket of ice and glasses for the low cost of $350. Who does that sort of thing?
The highlight of the evening was the bartender. She was the only female. When we walked up, the first thing Brandon asked was, "So what the hell does 20 bucks a head get us here?" She grabbed her boobs, shined her pearly whites and shakes her boys at us. Not once did any of us ever look at her boobs, but kept our eyes fixed on her face. She laughed and immediately pegged us for gay boys. We smothered her with compliments and before you know it we were getting our ten dollar drinks free. All night long. The straight boys didn't know what to do when we walked up to the bar to leave and we covered her in kisses before we left.
We finished up the night having a couple more cocktails with the common folk down in the gayborhood. We joke that we partied like rockstars, but we had one of the most amazing nights ever.
Sunday was spent shopping for painting supplies so I can get some work done. I've been needing to spend some of my nights painting and drawing. I've just needed a swift kick in the ass to get things started.
We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening watching movies. Unfortunately, my baby had to leave last night at around 8pm to catch his flight back to San Diego. The only thing that made me feel better was that Desperate Housewives wasn't a repeat.
I couldn't have asked for a better weekend.
Here's a few views inside the bar and the view from the patio:
Ugh! I have that head-full-a-snot thing going on today. I guess I shouldn't complain. I didn't get the constantly-throwing-up-your-stomach-contents thing that my entire family has had the past couple weeks.
So in between blowing my nose and sniffing, I managed to get the become-innovative-while-trying-to-find-space-for-all-of-our-christmas-decorations thing done while I finished laundry from our let's-see-how-much-shit-we-can-dirty thing this past weekend.
Work has been unusually quiet, so I'm trying to do the find-things-to-keep-me-busy-before-I'm-given-a-boring-task-to-do thing.
I might have to go see a movie tonight, so I don't just sit at home on the computer doing the watch-so-much-porn-my-right-hand-starts-to-bleed thing.
The year is officially over and I couldn't be more happy about it. Now life can slow down for a little while so this tired, old body can rest.
The weekend consisted of Brian and I, along with our friends Brad, Mama and Terry staying in the trailer with us. We have new neighbors that moved into the spot next to us. They're really great guys and we're looking forward to getting to know them better.
We were going to head down Friday night, but we heard about severe weather that was heading that direction and was going to last most all day and night. It's a good thing we stayed home Friday. Nearby towns were hit with 3 tornado's and a deluge of rain poured down on the place for hours on end. We arrived Saturday morning and spent the majority of the day taking it easy, playing cards, eating and having an occasional beer. No parties, no getting crazy. Which was a good thing, since Sunday night we all got slightly wasted. Nothing like ending the year with a bang.
It was nice to spend New Years with close friends and the one you love in a safe environment, free from crowded bars, party hopping, drunks on the road and cops on every corner. Rather then party hopped, we hopped from bonfire to bonfire after tearing it up at the pavillion and watching a spectacular fireworks display at midnight. The sad thing is most of us don't remember much after the fireworks. The evening gets a tad bit fuzzy. By 3am, we were stumbling back to the trailer.
Life gets back to normal finally. No more parties or dinners to attend to, so now I just get to spend the entire week taking down the Christmas decorations. Brian headed back to San Diego this morning and I already miss him. I'll have to work on our Year in Review 2006 ZeitCast to pass the time.
I hope each and every one of you had a wonderful New Years and here's to a wonderful 2007.
