The Fourth Rule of Tricking
"Thou shall disclose any fetish, repeat ANY fetish, before there is any f*&king."
OMG. I should have just stayed home last night. But no. I go out and what a mistake it was. Listen, vanilla isn't just an ice cream flavor. It can be a lifestyle choice as well. And no we aren't talking about anything freakish from the
hanky code list (though I do want to try gold lame someday).
But it was just too weird for me.
So thank you, but goodbye and goodnight.
Fatty McFat
It's official. I'm huge. No, not huge. GINORMOUS! Instead of playing the role of the handsome professional gay male for the summer, I get the role of the beached whale. Gee, didn't I play that last year, and the year before?
Went to the gym this AM and got on the scales afterwards. It was not pretty. This is the most I've weighed in almost 6 years. Just not happy.
Rationalization: It's not my fault. I went on vacation, then I got sick, then I went on travel, then I got sick again. So it's not really my fault.
Denial: I really don't feel that heavy. And some of that is muscles, I'm not 100% fat. Just probably 75-80% fat.
Like any good little fag, I've got my fair share of body dismorphia issues. I'm sure it had nothing to do with all of the years my Dad called me fat when I was a teenager. No, not at all. And I won't share some of the strange things I did to maintain the body weight standards in the Navy. No, not bulemia. But let's just say that I climbed on board the obsessive exercise train long before it became popular.
Anyways, when you've battled with your weight for as long as I have, you don't really expect to win, but how about a truce every now and then? Would that be too much to ask?
The funny thing is that something like this would usually send me into a great downward spiral that would include copious amounts of full strength Coke, Chocolate Zingers, and Pizza. Yes, I know, but don't knock it till you try it.
But it didn't. Well, atleast not yet. I'm still okay. Not happy, but okay. The good thing is that I've started this new program where they portion the meals for you. So I've eaten my lunch. And my dinner. And I'm not hungry and while part of me wants to drown my sorrows in chocolate, I can fight that. So we'll see.
Of course, I'm still going to go running tonight also. That will help me feel better.
Instant Gratification and Cock Rings
Okay, get your mind out of the gutter, it's not like that at all. Well, mostly not.
So when I went to the Dr's last week for my shingles, they wanted me to do an HIV test. Shingles can sometime be an indicator of a compromised immune system. Or a stress freak like me. So I got the test. And they did it the old fashion way where they drew blood. The problem isn't that I don't like needles, well it's not that like needles either, it's that the test results take a week. A WEEK! Hello, the little oral test takes like 20 minutes. That's 604800 seconds as compared to 1200 seconds. And 1200 seconds isn't that big of a deal. I can usually keep the dark downward spiral at bay for 20 minutes. But a week? Not even. That's just way too much time to think about what happens if the test comes back positive. Especially say when you're trapped in a plane with nothing to do. I need instant gratification, or atleast no more than a 1200 second delay. Anyways, it was negative of course. But still.
And speaking of stress, apparently while the shingles are gone, I'm now breaking out with excema. Probably from stressing about the stupid test.
Cockrings. So I forgot to mention a piece of fashion intel from my gay summer camp. Apparently cock rings aren't just for the bed room anymore. There were lots of men who were using the lift and separate function of the cock ring to help make their swimsuit look more. . . more . . . what's the word I'm looking for . . I guess I'll settle for impressive. And at a gay resort I can see the advantage of that. But PLEASE explain to my why some guy is wearing a cockring at the gym. I kid you not, there was some guy who's package was just not normal, and it was noticeably so. This isn't some jockstrap/cup thing. No, there's a whole lot of movement there as well. Don't look at my like that! I was trapped on the frikken stairmaster so I had to people watch to pass the time. Back off! As I was leaving the lockerroom, he was undressing and sure enough there it was. I felt like I was leaving the set of a bad porn movie. Except most of the actors weren't attractive. Anyways, how weird is that?
If it's Tuesday it must be . . . .
Los Angeles. Carson to be exact, but let's not quibble about details. Especially since the whole time I was driving through Carson I was thinking about a scene from "Valley Girl" where Nick Cage tells "Julie" : "If they attack the car, save the radio." It was just a bit too sketchy for me.
Umm, let's see. Monday I was at the Google Campus in Mountain View. OMG, so cool. It really was. And we ate at their cafeteria which offers like 6 different cuisines. It was awesome. The downside? I've never felt so old. I'm fairly certain the average age there is 24. Or it just looked that way. But I would totally work for Google. In a heartbeat.
After the training/meeting thing, I drove back up to SFO. It was one of those rare just amazingly clear, beautiful, sunny days in San Francisco. I kept looking out the window thinking I could so see myself living here. It's just that little thing called a job holding me back.
Flew from SFO to LAX. Got the rental car. Drove to the hotel. Crashed. Had the meeting today and we got out early. Since I'm still taking medicine for my shingles, I thought it would probably not be a good idea to go visit my sister and her family. If I infected my niece and nephew with chicken pox, she would kill me. And yes, I mean that literally.
So I'm on the 1030PM red eye tonight back to DC. Where I go directly from the airport to a meeting. And to top off my great day planned for tomorrow, I'm getting a filling replaced. Hopefully between the sleep deprivation and the novacaine, I'll just fall asleep in the dentist chair.
Wow, I really do live the glamorous life!
If it's Monday it must be . . . .
Palo Alto. Yep, I'm out on the west coast for a whirl wind trip.
So, Sunday AM I get up early and drive Dad to National. Final words at the airport. Me: "I love you." Him: "Take care of yourself." Nice, but not the same.
Drive to Dulles. I take my time as I've got tons of time before my flight. So glad I got there early. There is a line of 30 people to use the no checked luggage/carry-on only kiosks! Are you kidding me? And apparently they've changed so you can use them for international flights and there's some extra process you need to do to get your passport info entered properly. Agh! Then the line for security is insane. The worst I've ever seen. And I'm standing in line listening to everyone bitch and someone asks what the deal is. And another person goes, "College graduation weekend." And he's right. I think Gtown, GW, and GMU all had their graduation this past week/weekend. So now everyone's trying to head out. It took me 90 minutes to check in and get through security. That's not even taking into account taking the little mobile lounge things over to the terminal and then walking to the farthest gate. I was fine with my departure, but I think alot of people got screwed.
The flights were okay. Air travel certainly has lost it's glamour, hasn't it? I still look forward to the flights. The chance to escape my current life. The idea of going somewhere else where no one knows you and you have the opportunity to BE someone different. It's all a little mind game since you're the same you no matter where you go (~ish), but it's still appealing. Somehow I got economy plus on the Chicago-San Fran flight, so I was stoked. Saw King Kong on the flight. On a little bitty tiny screen abour 10 feet away. Hmm, not so much. Plus I was neck deep in my Greek Islands book planning Trey's Big Greek Adventure. I'm so psyched! I can't wait.
Land in SFO and it's overcast, cold, and rainy. And I'm in shorts. Oh well. The drive down to Palo Alto was okay. The hotel is nice. And hosting several college mens tennis teams. HELLO HOTTIES! And I've never felt so short and fat. Oh well.
Training today at the Google HQ should be fun/interesting. Really looking forward to that.
We can't be related!!
We can't. There must have been some mix up at the hospital. There must have been.
So Dad got back last night. They didn't get into the city until almost 1030 and then he WALKED from the hostel to my condo. I can't believe he did that. Hell, even I wouldn't walk that at night. But he got in safe and sound. He knocked back a whiskey and told me about the trip. In 6 days, he rode over 350 miles up the C&O Canal and up into Pennsylvania until they were close to Pittsburgh. How impressive is that for a man about to turn 76!! It was almost midnight by the time we crashed.
Up at 7AM. We walked over to Starbucks since I don't have coffee at my place. And during the short 5 minute walk he used the term spic or wetback atleast 5 times. We have to pass the corner where the day workers hang out, and so it just rolled off his tongue and I just cringed. And this later this AM, while we were watching MS-NBC (because I refused to turn on Faux TV), they reported something about GITMO and he made some comments about just killing them all.
Who is this man? This is the man who served in the Army for over 30 years and in that time I never heard him speak derogatorily toward any minority. He talked about race relations, he had many troops who were black or hispanic serving under him, and I think he understood that all men are created equal. It's just weird/sad to hear him talk this way now.
I'm not sure if it's a generational thing, or a result of the accident he had, or maybe it's the product of the brain washing by Faux TV. But he's my Dad and I love him. So I just bite my tongue and don't say anything. Getting into an argument isn't going to help anything.
There are so many things that I admire about my Dad. He really is remarkable, but he's not perfect, he's human. And so am I. Just like he's got to take the good and bad about me, I've got to do the same. Becuase in the end, we are family and I do love him.
I'm a Blog-Daddy!!!
Yes, it's true. I'm officially a blog-daddy. Greek boy has started his own
blog!!! I'm so proud. So now you can hear the other side of the story. Don't believe what I write on my blog? Then check his out! And he's got many mory stories about Dolce and Gabanna,
so check him out!
Okay, back to me.
Hmm, tres shitty week. Had the some serious work problems on Monday. Then I started to feel bad. Weird neck/shoulder pain, weird headaches, random sensitivity to light. Just not good. And then on Tuesday when I saw these weird bumps on my shoulders, I knew what it was. And the nurse confirmed it. Shingles. Oh yeah. But I caught it early and I'm on good drugs, so that's good. But needless to say that put a damper on my week. I stayed home on Thursday since technically I'm contagious. Nice, right?
I'm now at home awaiting the return of my Dad. He's been gone all week riding up the C&O Canal. He was completely worried about the rain and we had like no rain in DC for like the whole month of April. And I swear it's rained every day this week. Oh well. He called and he sounded okay, so I'll hear about it soon enough.
I can't end this week without talking about the Madonnarama at Nation. OH MY GOD!! What fun. What great music. And what wimps of friends I have. I had sent them all an email before I left for Mexico reminding them of the Madonnarama. Hello, I've spent all day on a plane and I'm tired as sh!t and I'm still going! Only one of my friends made it, but we lasted till almost 430AM. It really was a great time.
While there I ran into this really woofy guy. About my height, nice biceps, nice beard, and a great smile. I was going to say hi, but he was always with his friends. So I ran into him tonight at Halo. He works there. I was only going to do one drink, but since he was behind the bar, I went for a second. So cute, and he admitted that he was at Madonnarama. But our time was cut short as he had to help someone else. The bad news? His mojito totally sucked. I could barely keep it down. Oh well, I'm sure he could make it up to me in other ways!
Gay Summer Camp (Part 2)
So Wednesday was the trip to Chitzen Itza, or as I like to call it, the Mayan Death March. Chitzen Itza is like 2 and half hours from our hotel, so we are talking some serious bus time. But it doesn’t phase me. I get in the bus, which is thankfully air conditioned, and I promptly succumb to tour bus narcolepsy. At some point, someone wakes me to hand me these drawings of ancient mayans having sex in hammocks. Umm, what did I miss that would make them hand out ancient mayan porn? And do they show these to the regular tours filled with families? Because I’m thinking if they did it just for us, they might have re-thought the subjects. Maybe two guys instead. But that does remind there is that row of hammocks back at the resorts. Hmm. But I digress. We stop for the mandatory tourist stop/bathroom break. Yawn, see it all before. And it’s really not that nice. Finally around 1130 we get to the park. Now we are way inland on the peninsula and the jungle is thick here and there is no breeze. None. Nada. And it is just ugly hot. Talk about miserable. But the ruins were spectacular. We walked around for quite a bit and our tour guide gave us a lot of background on the site. It really was amazing and there were parts of the ruins that you could climb on, but most of the major parts, including the main pyramid, were roped off. That was kind of sad. Did I mention it was hot? And I just
can’t imagine that some older, maybe heavyset tourist hasn’t dropped from heat stroke before. No idea where any medical facilities are, and I don’t want know. After a couple of sweat drench hours at the ruins, we left to eat lunch at another tourist trap like place where there are dancers. The dance show was okay, including one part where the spin a tray loaded with tequila and shot glasses on their heads. How’s that for talent? The funny thing is that they positioned themselves at the door to guilt trip us for tips as left. And yes, I was guilt tripped! After lunch we went to a ceynote. A sink hole. Apparently there is a huge series of underwater caves and sinkholes 
throughout the Yucatan. So we climbed down these very narrow steps and entered this cave with the most beautiful blue water down below. The cave was almost complete except for a small hole in the ceiling. Coming down through the hole were these long narrow tree roots that reached all the way to the bottom. Everyone quickly stripped down to their bathing s
uits and got in. It felt SO good after being hot and sticky for so long. We swam and chatted for about 30 minutes in the clear water, even jumping off the ledge a time or two, before it was time to pile back into the bus. The return trip was uneventful except for a quick stop at an authentic Mexican village. At that point I was worn out and said no. The entertainment for the night was Ms. Ritchfield 1981. She was hilarious, as usual. My favorite line: “I wish you could live in my reality, but there’s only room for me.” After her show, it was time for the 80s & 90s party. YES! Just great music to include “Dress You Up” and “Holding Out for a Hero.” I refused to dance to anything by Michael Jackson. One must take a stand after all.
Thursday was quite a busy day. I mean I must have walked from my lounge chair by the pool to the bar atleast a dozen times to get a beverage. And yet I still managed to participate in water aerobics, which I really don’t think were that aerobic in nature. So I spent the first part of the day just working on my tan. Still slathered up, but I was starting to get red a bit. But then it was time for Club Atlantis version of the Amazing Race. Since Greek Boy wasn’t feeling well, I did it myself. Which I actually think gave me an advantage over some of the other teams. No arguing. It’s my way, or my way. I was wearing some shorts that were a little big for me, and in one of the challenges, I got in the pool. So now I’m walking/running around the resort looking for clues in a wet pair of shorts that keep threatening to fall off. Not attractive at all. But I was a man on a mission. One of the clues was about American Idol. So I made my way to the theater and there was Paula (our comedienne extraordinaire), Randy (our singer/piano player), and Simon (one of the guests). You had to reach into a hat to pull out a music genre and then you had to sing. What did I pull? Hip Hop. Are you frikken kidding me? I just blank. I go up on stage and I’ve got nothing. Nothing. And then I think of a rap song and I just start singing, badly: “Um, I’m slim shady and I’m the real slim shady and I’m slim shady, and I’m slim shady. I’m the real slim shady, I’m slim shady and you’re, no, I’m the real slim shady.” The look of horror on the judges faces stopped me in my tracks. “Just two lines,” they said. “You only have to sing two lines.” And I’m like, “It’s this or Ice, Ice Baby and I don’t know any words to that either.” I have never felt so white. Or so sad. They finally took pity on me and gave me the next clue. I ended up coming in second in the first part of the game and went on to the final round. The first part of the final round included putting the following in order of power: king, duke, baron, prince, viscount, earl, and marquis. Finally, being a fantasy fag paid off. All of those fantasy books are going to help me win. And I was the second person out of that round. But I lost ground on a challenge where 
I had to dig on the beach for treasure and then lost the grand prize, which was a cabin for two on their Alaska cruise, or a week at the resort next year. After I lost, I went to the bar to drown my sorrow, and shame. At 7PM that night, they played the non-so newly wed game. I’ve seen this before and it’s always so funny. The first thing they do is ask all of the bottoms to stand up and leave the stage. The look of the couples on stage is priceless. And then they proceed to ask the usual questions, but of course with a gay twist. It was really funny and we knew a couple of the couples on the stage. After that, it was time for Shann Carr’s show. She was awesome as always and was making fun of the “American Idol” channel. She laughed about the asian guys getting the latin genre, the Israeli guy rapping “Hava Nagelah,” and then she started dissing this cute blonde guy with a spike haircut who must have had rap or hip hop and kept saying that he was the real slim shady. I slowly sunk down in my chair at that point! But the funniest part was apparently some guy drew Babs music and didn’t know any Barbra Streisand songs and they kicked him off the stage. Bad gay, bad! Then it was finally time for the White Party. It was fun and the music was actually pretty good.
Friday was pretty much a down day. I was really red at this point and my skin just felt on fire. Greek boy and I pretty much stayed on the beach under one of the canopy things and read our books, etc. It was very relaxing after the busy day we had before. They held the best tan line competition and a couple of the guys were really dark. I was so envious. I’ve just got bad genes. One of the guys was a huge muscle guy and while his tan line was only okay, his 
ass was like a rock. Note to self. Start diet tomorrow. And lunges, squats, and everything else! After that, they had a sarong tying demonstration so we would all be prepared for the tropical beach tea dance that afternoon. Now, I’m not usually a sarong wearer. For people like me, it’s not sarong, it’s so wrong. But, with the proper lighting, posture, and semi-tan, I can actually look like a hottie. The tea dance was good and again the DJ played some great music include a dance remix of James Blunt’s “You’re Beautiful.” Must find that. The evening’s entertainment was from a comedian who’s name I won’t share. I went into the show in a good mood. It had been a great week, and I was feeling good and looking forward to a little comedy. And a little comedy is what I got. I’m not sure if the guy was nervous, or drunk, but he just wasn’t funny. Costco jokes. Yawn. And then he started to get rude. And racists. And we were sitting there laughing at how awful the show was. He started to get some hecklers and he was like, “F&ck you, this routine got me a home in Bel Air.” Umm, okay. I’m thinking not more than 10 minutes into the routine, people started to leave. Including us. We got outside to the courtyard and just couldn’t believe how bad he had been. And as people continued to stream out, everyone said the same thing, “I can’t believe what he’s saying and how bad he was.” Anyways, it was a so-so end to a great week. I understand that there was some after hour fun at the pool that night, but I walked along the beach for a bit by myself under the moonlight sky and then called it a night.
The trip back to DC was long and painful. After clearing customs in Miami, I realize that I left my carry on bag at the baggage carousel in customs and I FREAK out. Just not pretty. But apparently it happens quite a bit and some nice guy escorted me back into the baggage area where my bag was just where I left it. Then I had to fill out another customs form, but then since I was a repeat customer, I had to get searched. But it was relatively painless all things considered. Anyways, it was a great relaxing vacation. Altantis does such a great job and I’m already looking forward to my next vacation with them (in August!).
Gay Summer Camp (Part 1)
First of all I want to say this is all Greek Boy’s fault.
He twisted my arm to go on this Club Atlantis vacation, and I have to admit it was fun.
Very different from a cruise, much more like gay summer camp!
We fly down Saturday AM (early!) and get to the resort in Playa Del Carmen a little before noon. The resort is nice. There had been some damage after Wilma, but they’ve cleaned it up nicely. It’s got a main lodge/building and then all of these two story “bungalows” that have 8 rooms a piece. The rooms are nice and air conditioned which is a necessity as it is just insanely hot and humid. A very short stroll from our bungalow is the very large pool. Just beyond the pool the beach starts. There are easily 20 or 30 little thatch roofed canopies with lounge chairs and then there is the water. So after doing a quick recon of the facilities, we quickly changed into our bathing suits and hit the pool to tan and drink. Later that evening, they have a little welcoming ceremony where the “cruise director” lays out all of the events for the week. So it’s definitely like summer camp. And then he goes into this hilarious explanation of why you are going to get sick, and why it’s not the water:
“You wake up in the morning and you head to breakfast. There´s nothing like a bloody mary before breakfast (since all alcohol is included) so you have one or two. Then it’s time for breakfast. It’s a big buffet (yes all food is included) so you pile on the food. After breakfast you head down the pool, sure it’s only 10AM, but doesn´t a nice cold margarita or two, or three sound nice. Lay out in the sun and begin the baking process. Bake, cocktail, bake, cocktail, jump in the pool, cocktail, bake, cocktail, and then before you know it it’s lunch time. Yumm, another big buffet. And what to have to drink? Maybe some cold cervesas? Or two, or three. Then it’s back to the pool. Bake, cocktail, pool, cocktail, bake, cocktail, cocktail, cocktail. Then maybe a little mid afternoon snack. Oh, sangria sounds good doesn’t it? Then some cold cervesas as you watch the sun go down. Then it´s time for pre dinner cocktails, then dinner. Another great buffet. Then post dinner drinks. Maybe some dancing. Wow, working up a real thirst, so maybe some more cocktails. The next thing you know its 2 or 3 AM and it’s time to go to sleep. You wake up the next morning and you’re sick. IT´S NOT THE WATER!!”
Sunday was pool day. After breakfast, we hit the pool and I slathered on the SPF 30. So I’m 
surrounded by 300 plus gay men. Do I socialize or do I tan. Hmm, I tan. Sure, I did jump into the pool once or twice to cool off, but didn’t really hang out much. I did hang out long enough to meet this one guy from NJ. Talk about a label queen. He says to some guy, “Nice sunglasses, those are Ray Bans, right?” And the guy says yes. And then D&G turns to us and say, “Yeah, I thought so. They’re last season Ray Bans.” Please forgive me as I slip into gay-bonics: “Gurl! Puh-lease!” I was just waiting for judgement on my $8 fake oakleys I got from a street vendor in Dupont. Oh, for the rest of the trip we refered to him as Dolce and Gabana (D&G). I hate to stereotype, but so NJ. The Dog Tag Tea dance was in the afternoon. Green for single, Yellow for maybe, and then Red for coupled. And then all sorts of fun combinations. I personally liked the double green and red from a bear couple. Just think about it for a second. So another choice for me. Dance, or socialize. I dance. And I wonder why I never really meet anyone at these things. Anyways, the music just rocks and a good time is had by all.
Monday is beach day. So I walk the extra 20 feet to the beach and lay out. Greek Boy is sick. And not from the alcohol, but from the sun. He’s not as Greek as he used to be and he got a lot of sun on Sunday. I spend the day relaxing and chilling out. They’ve got these huge women doing massages by the side of the pool and it’s really cheap, so I get one. Good, but I was starting to get a little red/tender myself. I skip the water aerobics. And the beach volleyball. And the water volleyball. I mean, where would I put my drink? Oh, the alcohol. At the all inclusive resorts, the alcohol is what I would call Mexican rail. I’ve never even heard of these brands before. And you’re getting more fruit juice/mixer than alcohol unless you constantly order doubles. For $20/day, you can get the good name brand liquors, but I’m not planning on drinking that much. Plus, someone finally broke the code and started ordering Long Island Ice Teas. They pretty much don’t have any mixers. So it got ugly. That night part of the entertainment was Atlantis’ version of the dating game. So they have one guy to the side and then up on stage they have Bachelor #1, Bachelor #2, and Bachelor #3. So of course they have some of the usual questions: Who did you last kiss? Mother, trick, or you don’t remember. How would your first date be rated? G, PG-13, PG, R, X, or XXX. But my favorite question was: How do you spell relief after sex? Bachelor #1 said: “Aahh!” And then had to be coached to spell it to answer the question correctly. But Bachelor #2 didn’t miss a beat. His answer? “S-A-F-E-T-Y W-O-R-D.” Half the audience didn’t get it, and the other half just gasped, and then laughed. Malcom asked the audience who has a safety word and I raised my hand. Oh yes, when I’m in a hard core S&M scene and I want it to stop, I just say the word “Cher”. That much pretty kills the mood cold. (BTW, I’m totally kidding) Anyways, the whole thing was just fun. Later that evening was the Mardi Gras party. Another night of good dancing, but not out too late as we were getting up early that morning.
Tuesday we opted to go on a snorkeling trip off of Puerto Morales. It was a quick van ride down to the beach at Puerto Morales. We get out of the van, and then we get conned. Because where we are going is a national park, you must have bio-degradable sun lotion on. If you have regular lotion on, the park rangers will not let you in the water. But luckily, they do sell bio-degradable lotion at their little store. For $20 a bottle. Are you kidding me? I managed to borrow some from a family and then walked down to the beach. Not only didn’t I see anyone checking for the little wrist bands they had made us wear, but I certainly didn’t see anyone checking on lotion. “I’m sorry Senor, but your Banana Boat lotion is not bio-degradable, so no snorkeling for you!” Puh-lease. But despite this little haze, the snorkeling was excellent. Was saw all types of fish and even ran into some huge barracudas. They are not friendly looking fish. After the snorkeling, we went back to the resort, did a quick costume change, and then headed to Playa Del Carmen to walk around. Despite being right on the water, it was just deathly hot. We wandered the town a bit and it’s sad to see some of the awful, tacky, and just sad tourist t-shirts down here. “Eat My Burrito” or the one showing the international sign for giving head. Nice. That’s the American culture that we should be exporting. I did buy a ni
ce plain, white shirt that looked good on me. I’m think it will work well in DC in August. We did manage to find this very hip hotel on the main drag and went up to their roof top lounge to enjoy a nice cold beverage. It had the most amazing views of the town and the water. You could see all the way to Cozumel. Back at camp, the entertainment for the evening was a gay hypnotist. He was just amazing. He brings all of these guys up to the stage and then hypnotizes them. Some go under, some don’t, some fake it. The ones that were under, we’re hilarious. At one point, he tells them to think of their “energy color”. “It’s oozing up from the ground and encasing your feet and your legs and it feels great. It moves up your legs to you stomach and you’re pulsing with energy. It keeps moving up your chest to you arms and you just feel alive. Now, at the top of your lungs, scream out your energy color!” And one sad little queeny boy yells out “TEAL!!! I almost choked on my cocktail. At the end, he kept several of them under and told them to strip down to their underwear. They would think they were fully clothed and after the show, they would walk out to the lobby, to the center where the fountain was, and then bow to the fountain. Once they did that, they would realize they were only in their underwear. Some of the guys came out of it a bit some, but a couple of them walked up the fountain, bowed, and then freaked out that they were only in their skivvies. It was just hilarious.
(to be continued)
Two Kinds of Pain and more quotes
So I’ve experienced two kinds of pain this week.
Well two kinds of physical pain.
Earlier this week I went to the dentist.
I’m usually pretty good about my dental hygiene, but at some point I lost my dental floss.
It fell in a drawer or something.
So I took a “flossing vacation.”
Then a couple of weeks ago I get this little postcard, “Just a dental reminder . . .” and I’m like, “Oh crap, I need to floss, bad!”
And I did.
But it wasn’t enough.
No cavities, but when the dental hygienist started working on my plaque I was just cringing in pain.
It got so bad that I actually pushed her hand away from my mouth.
I just needed a moment of non-pain.
Afterwards I joked that I was going to get my back waxed and I would let her know which hurt worse.
So today after my haircut, I got my back waxed. Now the irony of this is that Joe has been talked male grooming and various implements yesterday and linked to this hilarious commercial. Ah yes, the gays already knew about the optical inch, it’s about time the straight guys caught on. Anyways, I got my back waxed. The hot wax kind of felt good and it sort of tickled me. What was not ticklish is when the little old lady (don’t ask) started pulling out my hair using those little cloth things. It didn’t HURT hurt. But it was definitely a bit painful. Sort of like a lot of mosquito bites. Over and over and over again. But nothing compared to the dentist pain. It wins hands down. Now my back is smooth and I’m ready for my vacation. I did not wax my chest. That’s just plain wrong. However, there is nothing wrong with a little bit of grooming to take care of any unsightly, freakish, chest hairs to make for a more pleasant, yet still, manly appearance.
Oh, so I totally forgot a great quote from yesterday:
“Simplistic arguments are seductive to those who wish to be seduced.” Copperred. He was ranting about the insanity of the immigration issue and I completely agree. But this is really a more all purpose quote. It can be used when discussing WMD, NSA wire tapping, torture, etc. I just kills me that instead of engaging their own brains, so many people are perfectly happy to be led down a certain path that they sort of want to go down anyways without bothering to look at the actual evidence and facts being offered in the argument, or looking at who is making the argument and what their intentions are.
Another one of my great blog reads is from the Anonymous Liberal. His blog has a quote at the top of it that says, "The essence of the Liberal outlook lies not in what opinions are held, but in how they are held: instead of being held dogmatically, they are held tentatively, and with a consciousness that new evidence may at any moment lead to their abandonment." -Bertrand Russell. And that’s so me.
I used to wonder if I thought too much about this stuff and then I remembered a great quote from “My So Called Life”:
"What I was thinking, as like a New Year's resolution, is to stop getting so caught up in my own thoughts, 'cause I'm like way too introspective...I think. But what if not thinking turns me into this shallow person? I better rethink this becoming less introspective thing."
Quotes and more
I saw/heard two great quotes today.
1. "I thought it would be interesting for us to just spend a minute to think about what a billion is," he proposed. "A billion minutes ago, Jesus was alive . . . A billion days ago, no one walked on Earth on two feet." But, he added, "A billion dollars ago was only eight hours and 20 minutes at the rate we're spending money in the federal government." Republican Senator Robert Coburn of Oklahoma. He must have missed the memo where they decided to drop the whole fiscal responsibility from the party platform. A billion dollars in just 8 hours and 20 minutes. Isn't that just insane?
2. "Love is as love does. And love doesn't hurt." Yvette Cade. Her estranged husband doused her with gasoline and lit her on fire. I saw a bit of her on Oprah today while I was at the gym. She's covered in scar tissue, but was just so eloquent. How can you hate someone so much that you would do something like that to them. It's just beyond me.
Spinning the subject wheel. I've spent the evening "straightening" up the apartment. The wall to wall pictures of naked men were hard to take down, but I thougt they might offend Dad's sensibilities. Wall size pictures of naked men? As if. The little rainbow magnet and the HRC magnet are off the fridge. As is the drawing of four shirtless guys standing together over the line: "Friends are family we choose for ourselves." I've removed all of the G and PG rated gay books from the shelf in my office and hidden them in the bottom drawer of one of my dressers. I can't believe Dad would look there and if he does, oh well. None of them have naked men on the cover so if pictures of just regular (though usually very buff) men offend him, there's nothing I can do about that. And I've removed all of the X rated stuff from my bedroom and put them in my own version of a
Mommy Box. It's just a couple of small gym bags that I will take down to my storage unit. Dad arrives next week while I'm gone on vacation. So he'll have the run of Chez Treys while I'm gone.
And I spent some quality time on the phone with Mom providing technical support. Oy vey. And I mentioned to her that I was straightening up the condo and she said good. Something along the line of not being "in your face". And I sort of mumbled a response, but inside I was kind of mad at her. I guess she's still kind of in denial and I was hoping that we were further along than that. I guess I'm just mad because I'm fairly certain her definition of not being "in your face" means being closeted and lying. And I just can't do that anymore. And I thought she understood that.
Just a couple of drinks
Went out this evening to a little happy hour thing called First Tuesdays. It's little roving happy hour that goes from bar to bar on the first Tuesday of every month and usually brings out 60-80 guys. So it's not a bad thing. Greek Boy and I went. I was dressed in my work clothes, but freshly showered and coiffed after my run. I must say I did look at bit dapper. Another one of my "friends" joined us. Let's call him 2Name. He's someone I dated (the rebound), then broke up (what was I thinking?) and then we tried to stay friends. That really hasn't worked so well. And after trying for awhile, I determined that the problem wasn't that it was all about him. The problem was that it was all about him while cutting me down. It was some sort of weird competition that I just didn't get. And it just became very tiring to be around him. We had some sort of fight and he claimed he never wanted to see/talk with me again (hello drama) and I was like fine. Have a nice life. And then 6 months later, he calls me. Oy vey. Anyways, 2Name joined us at the happy hour. There were enough guys there to keep him occupied, but at dinner he was working over Greek Boy like there was no tomorrow. It was shameless and so not subtle. And it was the whole scenario over again when we talked. He wants to me to call him again, but we'll see. I hate being rude, so I'm not sure how I'm going to deal with it.
Couple of highlights. The tall, built, scruffy guy I've been psuedo stalking stopped me and said hello. He lives across the street from me and he made some comment about looking through my windows. I asked him what he's seen and he said nothing. I told him he needs to let me know when he's looking and I would put on a show for him. So how's that for flirting? Of course we left before I got to chat with him again.
We ate dinner at the Diner. Two guys I've psuedo lusted after separately are on a date together. Totally the Ken and Ken thing. Shoot me now. And my own very
secret blog daddy was there as well having dinner. I wanted to be cool, so I didn't say anything. But I told 2Name and GreekBoy the first time I saw him at the blog jam almost two years ago. It lead to the creation of this blog!
So yes, I had a couple of drinks. Okay maybe a bit more. Now it's time to sleep, perchance to dream! Nite folks!
Do I Miss the Navy?
A friend of mine is in Iraq now. We worked together in Naples and she left there to get her Masters in Computer Science at the Naval Postgraduate School. Apparently she was offered a chance to volunteer for duty to the Middle East. She "volunteered" to go to Afghanistan, and the navy accepted and sent her to Iraq. The emails she's sending back are scarey and sad and I pray for her every day.
Do I miss the Navy? Sometimes. Not that often anymore. My tolerance for inane BS is almost zero now, unless I'm taking abuse for money. Hey, I am a scum sucking contractor after all.
Anyways, at my farewell from the USS Reeves, one of my friends wrote up a list for "73 Ways to Leave the Navy." Here are some of the highlights
- Buy a dempsty dumpster, paint it grey, and live in it for six months.
- Whenever something breaks, spend atleast 2 days investigating it, until the blame can be put on someone.
- Arrange with the post office to have you mail delivered by helicopter every two weeks.
- Once every three months physically exert yourself, to prove to no one in particular that you can do it.
- Don't allow your children to age without first passing a 150 question test based on information they have no access to.
- Write a 5 page instruction for changing a light bulb. Include all tools needed, all safety regulations to abide by, and level of skill needed to perform the job.
- Pay your barber to cut your hair in a way he was taught not to.
- Once a week hold a one hour lecture on some topic nobody cares about.
- Train everyone to answer the telephone by giving the house address, their name, and rate. Tell anyone who calls that it is NOT a secure line.
- Make everyone accountable for things they have no control over.
- Pick a name from a hat once a week to voluneer a family member to do something he or she doesn't want to do.
- Never Again Volunteer Yourself!
I have the utmost respect and admiration for those still actively serving. But I thank God every day that I'm no longer in the Navy.
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