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Life is only what you wonder.

Friday, July 30, 2004

If I Strip For You, Will You Strip For Me?

Things are getting weird at the the ol' homestead.

I took off my wedding band today, which clinches it (in my own mind, anyway) that it's totally over.
I'd probably be more upset about it if I gave myself time to think about it, but I've been purposefully keeping myself busy so I don't have the opportunity.
I'll cry some other time. Right now there's too much to do!

I've started packing up things in boxes, and I've got 50% of it done already.
My friend Rick, who tends bar at Phoenix knows lots of people and he said he'd keep an ear open for apartments or people looking for roommates.

It won't be long.
Trust and believe.

Holy snap!
I was invited to this Uderwear Party that'll be going on at Spike this Saturday night. There'll be a "clothes check" and anyone who shucks down to their tighty-whities get's one dollar off thier drinks all night.
Believe it or not, I'm seriously considering it.
It's been awhile since I was "out" on a Saturday night.

It all depends on how late I get out from work and how tired I am.
And whether I "shuck down" depends on how many other guys are in their underwear.
I'm not ashamed of my body or anything -- but I don't want to be the only one, you know?

Thursday, July 29, 2004

Which Did You Choose, The Hard Or Soft Option?

Just to end the suspense -- it's over.
I am officially "single" at this point.
After five days of the Big Silence I had had enough so I called the husband's cell and said "We need to talk, and we need to talk now."
So we talked.
He's not happy with the way things are, and I know for sure that I'm not happy either.
And we've both tried really hard to keep "fixing things" and we're both tired.
We're not just tired, we're fuckin' exhausted.
Maintaining a relationship takes work and effort, but this much? It's insane.

I promised myself I wouldn't trash the husband on here, because he doesn't deserve that.
We tried, OK? We both tried real hard. But when most of your time is spent apart and the time you do spend together is strained and full of arguments--something needs to be done.

And don't think that I'm totally OK, and don't think this is easy for me.
I know for a fact that I'm going to be an emotional wreck before this is all over.
But I'm strong enough to deal with it.
The first step is finding a new place to live. Living in this house is not a good idea right now.
I've got my "feelers" out, so I've no doubt that it won't be long.

Damn, I never thought I'd be writing these words. It's sad that it's ended, but is it wrong that I'm excited as well?

Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Silence Is NOT Golden

The husband and I had an argument the other day and now he's not speaking to me.
Today is day three of The Big Silence.

The "silent treatment" is one of the worst things that someone can do to me. I would much rather he threw things or yelled.
Even screaming would be better.
He's very aware how much it upsets me, too. (This isn't the first time this has happened.) That's why he does it -- to torture me. He knows it not only pisses me off, but it's like stabbing me with a sharp knife -- it hurts.

We work together, too, which makes it really bad. Seeing him joke, interact, react, and have lively conversations with everyone else and I'm the Invisible Boy brought me to tears yesterday. I try never to bring my personal drama into the workplace, but yesterday, it couldn't be helped. I remember standing in the Loading Dock with tears in the corner of my eyes, smoking a bitter cigarette and trying to keep myself together.
I didn't lose it, though. I'm made of tougher stuff than that.

This is the worst part of a Long Term Relationship: sooner or later there's an argument (disagreement, fight, whatever you want to call it) and somebody's going to be sleeping on the sofa, and you'll be lying there feeling more lost, upset, and utterly lonely than you ever would if you were single.
It sucks.

And it doesn't even matter at this point whose fault it was that the original argument came about -- who did what or who's to blame. All that is immaterial.
To deliberately set out to inflict pain on someone (someone you supposedly love) is just cruel.

The silence is so thick right now you can cut it with a knife and I don't know how much more of this I can take.
Trust and believe.

We usually go out on Tuesday nights for a few cocktails and to shoot pool, but that's defin'ly not going to happen with the way things are.
SO, I'm going out my myself tonight, which will probably start another fight, but screw it. It can't get much worse than it is already.

I need some time to myself now anyway.

Sunday, July 25, 2004

Me So Horny

I'm like a dog in heat, a freak without warning
I have an appetite for sex, 'cause me so horny
Horniness comes (no pun intended) in various levels, or stages.
It's hormonal.
We think of ourselves as intellectually "above all that" and then the nasty Sex Drive takes over.
The Six Levels Of Horniness

[Note: Men go from level to level at different rates of speed depending on age and libido.
An orgasm (however it comes about) takes you right back to Level 1.]


Level 1 - Ain't No Big Deal
It hasn't been that long since you've emptied your bucket.
You could do it, sure, but you're not pressed.
Sex isn't the last thing on your mind (it never is), but it's pretty far down the list.

Level 2 - I Feel The Need
It's been a little while and you feel the need.
Though your not out there actively looking for sex, if it came your way you wouldn't say no.

Level 3 - Somebody Get A Mop 
The Urge is not going away like you thought it would. As a matter of fact, it's getting stronger. Any sexy guys that come near you and you're undressing them with your eyes, and there are plenty of of men out there to mentally undress.
You're like one of Pavlov's dogs, drooling like a faucet.

Level 4 - All Day I Dream About Sex
You've managed to last this long? Holy smoke, how is that possible?
Now you've reached the stage where thoughts of sex have taken over most of your brain.
You're no longer undressing men with your eyes. Your wild imagination has taken over and your picturing positions and acts.
You're having fantasies about the pizza boy, the cable guy, and the plumber--all at once.
The bulge in your trousers is getting difficult to conceal.

Level 5 - The Danger Zone
If you got through that last stage without doing something about it, I applaud your inhuman self control.
But just like Kenny Loggins, you are now in The Danger Zone. People that normally wouldn't appeal to you at all are starting to look pretty damn good.
This is where it starts to get really scary.

Level 6 - Condition Red
Your bucket is full to overflowing. Your cup runneth over.
Even if it means taking matters into your own hands (ahem!) something has got to give.
You are going to explode!

[Note: There might actually be a stage 7 (or above), but I've never gotten that far.]

Friday, July 23, 2004

Strike Me Pink

Go figure.
I spend all this time online, spend mucho dinero on telephone and digital cable, and yet with all this media swarming around me, the fiercest thing I've come across is the book Latter Days, based on the fabulous motion picture.
It's a good read, and goes into a little more detail than the movie does.
The movie is due to be released on DVD in early September and I'm going to be the first one in line to buy it. It was that good.

I'm happy to report that after a few days of lounging by the pool and soaking up the sun (with SPF 15 sunscreen on, of course) I actually do have some color.
Right now, instead of being as white as a sack of flour I'm a light carnation pink!
Hey, it's progress, all right?
Rome wasn't built in a day.

Thursday, July 22, 2004

Bedheaded, Redeyed and Bewildered

When you offered me your friendship on the lawn,
Well, I was way to overamplified to bond.
A clear and shining sun was overhead,
The time has come for all good men to rise and make their beds.

When you tried to speak the wisdom of the ages in my ear,
Well, I was way to overamplified to hear.
Bedheaded, redeyed and bewildered in the glare,
And I was way too gone to care.

"Bedheaded, Redeyed and Bewildered"
--Menthol


Wednesday, July 21, 2004

I Know You Gonna Let Me Shine N Get Mine

I've been doing this "High protein/Low Carb" thing for a little while, which means that basically I've been eating like a caveman.
Meat, GOOD! Carbs, BAD!
I've noticed one thing  though . . . meat doesn't fill me up.
I had seven eight-ounce steaks at work the other day and I was still hungry.   Then I ate a saltine and suddenly I was full.
It seems to be working.   I've almost lost that little bit of weight that was on my belly.
Nobody else sees it and everyone tells me I'm nuts, but I know it's there.  Got to nip it in the bud, before things get out of hand.
My friend Jay tells me I have the body image of a girl, always worrying about my complexion, my hair, and my weight.  I don't know how true that is, but I know that (in this society anyway) thin = sexy.  I'm not just going to "let myself go".
I really do miss carbs though, and sometimes I cheat a little.  We had chocolate mousse at work yesterday and I just had to have some.  I would have died without it.

I'm off today and aside from a little housework, all I plan on doing is grabbing my swimsuit and lounging in the pool all day. 
I'm not coming out until I look like a giant pink raisin.

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Queer Eye For The Straight P.I.M.P.

What do you get when you spoof the Fab Five and 50 Cent?
This.

Monday, July 19, 2004

Totally Whacked Out

My friend Chris sent this to me amongst all these other songs on a CD he burned just for me.
It's so wonderfully horrible that it's funny.
At least I think so.

Enjoy!

this is an audio post - click to play


Have a Happy Monday everybody!

Sunday, July 18, 2004

Stinky Dinky

Some of the things I put up with at work, ought not to be put up with by anybody.
There's this horrible couple that come into my restaurant frequently.  Both at least eighty years old.
I call them "The Stinkies".
There's a funk that surrounds them that has to be smelled to be believed.  A mix of urine and stale sweat on bodies that haven't been washed in at least a week.   I almost lost my lunch.  I'm not joking or overexaggerating.  The only way to describe it is foul.   I can barely wait on them because of the horrible stench. 
 
Guess who's section the Hostess sat them in?

There's this old lady (who wears her hair in a huge beehive) who I used to complain about because she smelled like moth balls, but that's sweet perfume compared to these two. 
And they're not to pretty to look at, either.  The man all fat a bloated and belches and farts constantly.  Anf this man puts ketchup on everything.  He'll finish off the bottle that's on the table and then ask for another.  He puts ketchup on his mashed potatoes, his green beans,  his entire plate is covered in it.  The woman's got a humongous mole on her face with black wiry hair growing out of it and she has more hair on her chin and above her lip than I could grow in five days.

Ugh!

And they don't tip, either.  If they left me something nice, I probably wouldn't complain (as much), but the fact that they leave me nothing after haveing to endure the sights and smells of them is just too much to take.
And the worst thing is I can't refuse to wait on them.  "Everyone deserves service" is the motto at my restaurant.  If they were abusive to me I could have them removed, but they're not.
So I hold my breath when I visit my table and try not to look at then if I can help it. 
 
I said something to the Hostess about it.
"Jimmy, I have to sit them somewhere." she said plaintively.

Why me, though?  Why do I always get the loonies?

Saturday, July 17, 2004

P.S.A.

Friday, July 16, 2004

Girl Power?


All that talk about Girl Power and most of the girls or women I come in contact with either act all masculine, brash and agressive, I guess because they feel they have to be in order to compete in this "Patriarchal society", or they act all helpless, meek, and weak. "Oh, poor little me with a button for a head!"

I'm sure there strong women out there who can wear a little sexy dress with strappy heels, be feminine, and still manage to run a successful company or change a tire on their car without help, but I don't see it very often.

I blame the media.

(Girls, don't feel too bad, the men don't fare much better.)

Thursday, July 15, 2004

I'm Tryin' Hard

I pick up slang so easily. I just hear a word or phrase a few times and without even realizing it, I'm using it myself.

I picked up the word "tryin'" from my pal Playboy and I've been using it a lot lately.

    Examples:

  • I'm at work headed to the buffet to eat something before my shift starts. My goal: a plateful of marinated butterfly shrimp. A coworker sees me with a plate in my hand.
    Coworker: What are you gettin'?
    Me: (near the shrimp, tongs in hand) I'm tryin' to get me some shrimp!

  • I'm at work and we're slow. There are too many servers on the floor and nobody is making any money. I head over to the Manager to see if I can leave early.
    Coworker: (sees me on my way to the Manager) What are you up to?
    Me: I'm tryin' to go home!
I do just do things anymore, but I try to do most everything.

Also I've been using the word "grill" to mean "face".
As in: "That bitch was all up in my grill!"

The thing is, it's totally unconscious. It's not like I'm tryin' or anything.

Of course it could be worse. I could be walking around totally oblivious, and wouldn't that just suck?

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

When In Doubt, Post A Pic Of A Guy In Underwear


Totally lacking anything of importance to write about.
Hopefully, I'll be back soon with something relevant.

Tuesday, July 13, 2004

Vogueing With Andy Warhol

Bright lights pulse down on sweaty brows.
blue-yellow-red-green-white
And while I move
Strobes slice through the dry ice haze.
No thought, just movement.
I'm possessed by something or someone else.

Cigarette tips make orange arcs through space
And I'm vogueing with Andy Warhol
And while I move
Sweep hair from eyes, strike a pose
All that's best and bright and true
Shines on me for fifteen minutes.

Monday, July 12, 2004

Goodbye, Weezie


Actress Isabel Sanford, best known as Louise ("Weezie") Jefferson on the beloved television sitcom The Jeffersons died today of natural causes.

Goodbye, Weezie. We'll miss you.

Sunday, July 11, 2004

And The Beat Goes On . . .

Last night I waited on Debbie who was my landlady from over six years ago when I had a rockin' "bachelor pad" in Mt. Vernon.
It was kind of a surprise when the hostess sat her down at a table in my section. I hadn't thought about her in years. It brought back a lot of memories.
I lived at 4 E. Eager St. right next to Central Station (which is called Grand Central now) and right across the street from The Hippo. I was out at the clubs almost every night back then.

Those were the days, my friend. I thought they'd never end.

It was a "studio" apartment and the rent was a measly $200 a month. It was one nice-sized room with a bathroom and a small kitchen. I had a futon that could transform into a bed in about two minutes or less. It was perfect for me. I didn't need that much room.
When I met G. and he moved in, suddenly the apartment was way too small for the both of us. After four months of cramped living, we moved into a one-bedroom apartment out in the county.
I'd lived several places before, and had several apartments since, but that apartment will always be one of the most favorite places I've ever lived.

    "Are you still with that guy you moved out with?" she asked me.
    "Yup!" I replied, "It's five years last April."
    "Congratulations! That's fabulous!"
Debbie was a great person to rent from. She let the rent slide for almost three months when I was going through a rough patch and I was between jobs. How can you say anything bad about someone who would do that? Any other landlord and you'd be out in the street two weeks after the rent was due.
    "Well, I still manage a few properties," she said right before she left, "If you ever need an apartment, just call me up. You were one of my very best tenants!"
And that is a perfect example why you should never, ever burn your bridges.

The restaurant was slow last night, but I had fun anyway.
You know those Chili's commercials where all the restaurant workers are singing and tapping out rhythms on the counters with kitchen utensils and having a really good time while they're working?
Sometimes that actually does happen.
At one point last night we were having a little dance party in the Banquet Room. Everyone was singing and dancing. It was like an episode of Fame.
Having fun while I'm working isn't an option for me -- it's a necessity.

Saturday, July 10, 2004

I Got No Brakes on My Roller Skates

I'm in a good mood, I'm feeling sexy, and I think I even lost a few pounds!
Everything's OK in my world when I'm feeling this way.

I switched shifts with Nancy testerday, so I actually had a Friday night off! That never happens.

I got the new Wilson Phillips CD, California. If you like WP and/or grew up with The Beach Boys, Linda Ronstadt, The Mamas and the Papas or Fleetwood Mac, you'll probably enjoy it.
It's all I've been listening to lately.

I had a strange dream last night of dogs from outer space trying to take over the world. I woke up thinking, "WTF?"
Why can't I just have. one. normal. dream. please?

Me and my girl Jesy came up with a new word yesterday:

    Gayetto - adj. Being both gay and ghetto.
I'm just dying to use it in a scentence, but I haven't had the opportunity yet.

Thursday, July 08, 2004

"Stepford" Husband

Anybody that knows me is absoloutely certain that I am not a "Wonder Worker" around the house. "I'll do it tomorrow" is a phrase I use often whenever the husband suggests some job or task that needs to be done. A little dirt never killed anyone, is my usual attitude.
So what possessed me to be all domestic yesterday?
I actually dusted. What's up with that?

Not only did I dust, but I washed every single item of dirty clothes I could find, did all the dishes and I put them away (which never happens!), and I watered the garden.
I even got out the old tool kit and took care of those little repair jobs around the house.

I distinctly remember having a dust rag in one hand and a can of Pledge in the other. My "stories" were on and I'm cleaning like mad and thinking how good it feels to get the house in order!
I'm actually looking for dirt and feeling overjoyed when I find some to eradicate.

There is something terribly, terribly wrong with this picture.

I seem to be myself today, thank goodness, but if you should ever hear about me doing this on a regular or daily basis, just know this - I've been duped.

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

Do Not Assume

I'm not much for most Reality Shows.
I couldn't care less whether anyone survived on Survivor, whether The Swan was actually an ugly duckling in disguise, or if The Donald found his Apprentice.

I couldn't care less who won The Amazing Race, if The Bachelor or The Bachelorette found their perfect mates, or if The Restaurant was closed down by the Health Department.
Even with American Idol I only watched it sporadically.

But I do have a fondness for Big Brother.

I think it's the idea that cameras are watching them 24/7 and everything they say and do is recorded. They are living in a bubble with the whole world looking in.
It's like watching a human ant farm.

This year's twist is that two of the houseguests (Jennifer and Michael) are half-brother and sister, but they don't know it yet. And that Adria will be playing the game with her identical twin sister -- but nobody will know.

They didn't have a gay person on there last year, and I guess they realized their mistake because this year Will is the "token gay". The good news is he isn't queeny like Marcellus (from BB3) or Bunky (from BB2).

Only one episode watched and already I'm hooked.
I'm curious to see how this will turn out.

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

My Head Is My Only House

Unless I suddenly grew a third eye in the middle of my forehead causing people to stare, or there's something else strange about me that I've been unable to detect, I've been getting cruised a lot today.
And if that's the case, I don't understand why.
But I like it, even if I don't plan on doing anything about it.

I'm currently downtown at a "cyber cafe" enjoying a vanilla latte and staring at my bran muffin, which I really didn't want but felt compelled to buy anyway. It's strange blogging in a public place, but I'm liking that too.
I'm also enjoying being off and seeing all the people in their business suits heading back to their offices.
"Suffer in your cubicles," I think sadistically, "I'm free!"

July 4th was a total bust.
The restaurant didn't close early after all, and I got sat a group of obnoxious people five minutes before we closed. The worst part was these people couldn't get the hint that the restaurant was closing even though the Muzak was turned off, there were no other customers, and all the employees were cleaning like mad all around them. When we started putting the chairs on top of the tables and I had pre-bussed them down to just their drinks, they finally caught on.
"Uh, are you guys closing?" one of them asked.
"We've been closed for 45 minutes." I replied, trying desperately to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
Duh! Do they need a house to fall on them?
I didn't get out of there 'til late, and by the time I got home, the party was all over.
It was just another day.

Housework is on my list of Things To Do for today, whenever I get myself home.
I'm in no rush at all, believe me.

Sunday, July 04, 2004

Skyrockets In Flight

I just found out that there's a chance I could get out of work early tonight. I heard that if we're superduper slow in the restaurant we might close early.
I'm keeping my fingers crossed, but I'm not going to hold my breath.

There's been a slight change of plans. After work we're having friends over for cocktails and a dip in the pool! The party should be in full swing by the time I get there, fashionably late.
And I might even go out afterwards, who knows?

Happy 4th, everybody!

Saturday, July 03, 2004

Why Must We Always Go There?

I don't know what it was, but yesterday must have been Moron Day at work.
I never claimed to be any Brainiac, but every other table would frustrate me with their stupidity.
For example: Table of three. Looks like a mother, father and their young son. Their drink orders were two iced teas and a Pepsi. I go to the soda fountain, make them, and bring them to the table. I sit them down and the woman asks, "Which one is the Pepsi?"
Now two of them are dark golden brown colored and have lemon wedges on the top of the glass, the other one is black-lookin' with bubbles all through it, and foam on top. It should be obvious which was which.
I just wanted to say, "C'mon lady, take a wild guess. Which one do you think is the Pepsi?"
If this happened only once in awhile, I think I could take it better. I bite my tongue so much it has permanent scars.
It infuriates me when people expect me to do their thinking for them.

I brought my uniform to work yesterday and changed after I got there. It's my opinion that if your work requires you to wear a uniform it's essential that your co-workers (and management) see you in "regular" clothes every once in awhile. It lets them know you have a life outside of work.
Anyway, I was wearing a chain on my keyring which was attached to my belt loops on the front and back of my Levis and Martina said, "What's with the chain? You into that S & M stuff, or something?"
"Yep!" I replied, "Just call me 'James Bondage'!"
She gave me a look.
People don't know if they should take me seriously or not.

I'm going to be working tomorrow night (Independence Day). I was going to request the day off, but it slipped my mind and by the time I remembered it was too late.
Normally I'd be upset about it, especially considering the husband has the night free and can enjoy the fireworks, but I don't really care about that for some reason I can't fathom.
I'm definitely going clubbing after work, though. Since most everyone's not working Monday, the clubs should be jumpin' jumpin'.

Friday, July 02, 2004

Who's That Guy?


Most of my "Who's That Guy?" posts have been of actors, models, and sometimes a few sports figures, but I couldn't resist posting a pic of the very apty named LargeTony.



This guy just does it for me, OK? Plus, it's very obvious by the photo above that this man has alot to offer. *wink*

(Link via Fleshbot.)

Thursday, July 01, 2004

Peekaboo, I See You!

Yesterday was spent doing almost nothing. Well, nothing "productive" anyway.
I didn't even make my bed.
I'll admit I'm lazy, but I'm not normally that lazy. It's just I had worked the last seven days in a row, and I'm working the next five days and yesterday was my only day off in between. The idea of doing a load of laundry, vacuuming, or even running the dishwasher made me tired just thinking about it.

Plans for Fireguy visiting me here in B'more, or me going down to Atlanta for a visit just keep falling through for one stupid reason or another. I haven't seen him in over seven years and every time we plan something it just doesn't work out.
I'm getting quite annoyed about it.

I felt the urge to go out for a few cocktails and to shoot a game of pool or two last night, so I went to the Port in a Storm.
There was a group of guys there and one of them looked awfully familiar. I'm pretty good with recognizing faces, and I was thinking, "I know this guy from somewhere, but where?"
Then I saw his cute grin and I knew immediately who it was: Kel.
I would introduce myself on the way out, I decided.

I shot four games of pool and lost miserably at every one of them while knocking back a few Cap'n Morgan and Cokes, and before I knew it, it was Last Call.

Right before I left I went over to him. (I'm sorry if this isn't word for word, it's not like I had a tape recorder going.)

    "Excuse me, Kel?" I said.
He looked a little surprised and I can't say I blame him. I remember the first time someone came up to me and said, "Wonder Boy?". It's a weird feeling.
    "I'm Wonder Boy." I said.
Let me just state for the record that I don't go around introducing myself as Wonder Boy all the time. It was just the easiest way I could think of to let him know who I was.
We shook hands.
    "How are you doing?" I asked him.
    "I'm drunk!" he said, grinning.
    "Me too! Me too!" I replied.
I hadn't eaten much yesterday and those Cap'ns had made me a little tipsy.
    "Anyway," I said, "I just wanted to say hello. Take care!"
    "You too!"
I said goodbye to the bartender and made my exit.

No toil, some pool, some Cap'n Morgan, and meeting a fellow blogger.
It was a good day.