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Life is only what you wonder.

Tuesday, December 28, 2004

Wonder Boy's Psychic Drinking Horoscope

New Year's Eve is coming up quick. Time to party, right?
But what are you going to be drinking, and how much? These are questions that plague us all.
I, the amazing Wonder Boy, using my keen psychic powers that have been honed by years of strict mental discipline, have taken all the guesswork out of all that.
Capricorn - Most often thought of as practical, steadfast, money-hungry and status-thirsty - no wonder they get off the Astrological Cocktail Party list. Capricorns tend to be powerful, independent, seriously charismatic and not too eager to please. Ergo, they are the true rock stars of partying. In their darker moods they can be pessimistic and fatalistic, which can get much worse when they've had too many. Trademark cocktails: Old-fashioned Capricorn would probably like an Old Fashioned just fine -- or a Martini, or a Gimlet or any other no-nonsense drink. No funny paper umbrellas for them.

Aquarius - Aquarius and drinking don't go together that well, unless you’re talking about water. They have an innate capacity for know-it-allism, and if they get an idea while sizzled they're more stubborn than a stain or a stone. If they're throwing a party or organizing a function, however, they're too preoccupied to get combative, and they make perfectly charming drunks in that case. Aquarius is fascinated by drunk people and is capable of holding interesting conversations with soused strangers while sober. Trademark cocktails: Aquarius is most likely to order stuff most people have never heard of: a Widow's Slap, a Black Cat, Satan's Whiskers, or an Arthur Tompkins. They like to stump the bartender.

Pisces - If you're a Pisces, you've probably already been told you have an addictive personality. Not only do Pisces like to lose themselves in the dreamy out-there feeling that only hooch can give, they build up a tolerance pretty fast. Who needs an expensive date like that? With the right Pisces, though, you can start off sharing a pitcher of margaritas and wind up in bed together for days. "Addictive personality" can be read two ways, you know. Trademark cocktails: Pisces rules fresh mint, and they love a Mojito or three -- though a Julep will do just as well. They also love punches like Sangria, or a spiked "house punch" at a party. "Drinking like a fish" is an idiom pulled out of the zodiac, not the deep blue sea.

Aries - Impulsive Aries people love to party and sometimes don't know when to call it a night. Their compulsive streak makes them prone to closing time shot contests. They're sloppy fun drunks who can get mighty flirty after a couple of tipples. Getting Aries people drunk is a good way to get what you want out of them, should other methods fail. Aries can become bellicose when blotto, but they will assume that whatever happened should be forgiven (if not forgotten) by sunrise. Trademark cocktails: Born under the planet Mars, Aries is the ruler of spicy food and red things -- and for balance, astrologers recommend they eat tomatoes, onions, olives and greens. That's right Aries; you were born under the sign of the Bloody Mary. Aries also rules grapefruit, and they've been known to kick back a Salty Dog or a Seabreeze or two.

Taurus - Taurus prefers to drink at a leisurely pace, aiming for a mellow glow rather that a full-on zonk. Since a truly intoxicated Taurus is a one-person stampede, the kind of bull-in-a china-shop inebriate who spills red wine on white carpets and tells fart jokes to employers, their reluctance to get totally wasted is quite fortunate for the rest of us This is not to say the Bull is by any means a teetotaler -- God, no. A squiffy Taurus tends to get pretty gregarious and is extremely amusing to drag to a Karaoke bar when intoxicated. Trademark cocktails: Early-to-bed Taureans need a picker-upper -- try a Red Bull and vodka. More macho Taureans will go for something unpretentious like a Jack and Coke or whiskey sour.

Gemini - Geminis can drink without changing their behavior much. They're just so naturally chatty and short-attention-spanned that it's just hard to tell sometimes. They can amaze you by conversing with finesse and allusion and then immediately afterwards doing something that reveals their extremely advanced state of intoxication, like puking on your shoes. They like to order different cocktails every round -- repetition is boring -- and may create a theme (green drinks: an Iguana, a grasshopper, a margarita, a melon ball) for their own amusement. Trademark cocktails: Easily bored Geminis need some stimulation in their drinks. Drinks in two or more parts, like a Black and Tan, a Mind Eraser or a Stoplight are particularly appealing. Otherwise they'll drink all over the map. ordering frou-frou drinks to add to their collection of paper umbrellas, or drinking Black Russians because they're feeling rather noir.

Cancer - Cancer is a comfort drinker - and a glass of wine with dinner or an after-work drink or six can be extra comforting, can't it Cancer darling? Like fellow water-signs Pisces and Scorpio, Crabs must be on guard against lushery. Cancers are brilliant at ferreting out secret parties and insinuating themselves on VIP lists. Hang with a Crab if you want to be where the party's at. In true Hollywood style, Cancers are never really drunk; instead they get "tired and emotional" (read: weepy when lubricated.) Trademark cocktails: Ruled by the moon, Cancers are intrigued by the idea of moonshine – any brown booze, from a bourbon press to a whiskey and soda to grandpappy’s special brew in a mason jar will do. This sign also rules the flavor vanilla, and you'll be adored if you serve up a Stoli Vanili and soda.

Leo - Leo loves to drink and dance -- they're often fabulous dancers, and usually pretty good drinkers well, losing their commanding dignity and becoming kittenish. Of course, they're quite aware how cute they are. They generally know their limit, probably because they absolutely loathe losing self-control. When they get over-refreshed, expect flirting to ensue, and not always with the person what brung them. Trademark cocktails: Leos like a flashy drink, like any kind of cocktail that’s meant to be set on fire before quaffing, or complicated tropical concoctions loaded with fruit garnishes. Indeed, Leos definitely have a taste for the fruity and you can usually spot them sipping a mai tai, Bahama mama, or the more common strawberry daiquiri. Their sense of drama easily lends itself to a kir royale, also.

Virgo - Cerebral Virgos are compelled to impose order on their bender. Their famously fussy quest for purity could lead to drinking less than other signs, sure -- but it could also lead to drinking booze neat, to sucking down organic wine, or just to brand loyalty. They very rarely get fully shellacked, though -- but, oh, when they do! Virgo is controlled by the intellect, but there's an unbridled beast lurking within, and they let it loose when walloped. It's dead sexy (and surprisingly unsloppy.) As one Virgo friend used to declare, "I'm going to drink myself into a low level of intelligence tonight!" Trademark cocktails: Many Virgos prefer clear, simple, untreacly drinks like a vodka tonic or a real Margarita, though you'll find 'em drinking anything -- from unflinching downing Cuervo straight to smirkingly ordering a dirty virgin.

Libra - "I'm jhusht a social drinker," slurs Libra, "It's jhusht I'm so damn social!" Libra loves nothing more than to party, mingle and relate to everyone. Libra is an Air sign, and Librans can hold lively conversations with virually anyone about almost anything, and when they’re drinking this trait becomes even more pronounced and they become the true social butterflies of the zodiac. Whether dipped in favor of Good Libra (with Insta-Friend device set to "on") or heavier on the Evil Libra side (they are little instigators when bored), the Scales can really work a room. Trademark cocktails: Aesthetic Libras like pretty pouffy drinks like a Pink Lady or brandy Alexander. That's the influence of Venus, their ruling planet, which also gives them a horror of crudely named concoctions like Sex on the Beach.

Scorpio – Don’t ever tell Scorpios they’ve had enough, or they’ll smirk at you and quietly and intentionally keep tippling until hog-whimpering drunk out of 100-proof spite. Scorpios like to drink, and screw you if you have a problem with that. Generally they’re fascinating drinking pals, brilliant conversationalists and dizzying flirts. They also remember everything. Only drink with a Scorpio who likes you. Trademark cocktails: Just as a Scorpio can look you in the eye and smile while secretly plotting your demise, so does the brandy-laced Stinger’s sweet taste hide a very potent amount of alcohol. If you want to get literal, serve them a Scorpion – they may not love tropical drinks, but it shows your paying attention.

In vino veritas – and for Sagittarius, in booze blurtiness: When buttered, they’ll spill all your secrets and many of their own. Tactlessness aside, Sagittarius is just plain fun to drink with. They’re the people who chat up everyone in the room, then persuade the entire crowd to travel somewhere else – like a nightclub, or a playground, or Cancun. Trademark cocktails: A travel-loving sign, Sagittarius might be intrigued by drinks like Moscow Mules or Singapore Slings – perhaps even a Long Island Iced Tea (not a bad option given how much Sag can put away and still stay vertical).

(Please drink responsibly, however. Don't drink and drive. You know the drill.)

Monday, December 27, 2004

On Shuffle / Repeat

Here's what's in my CD player this very minute:
    Scissor Sisters - Scissor Sisters
    Sugarcult - Start Static
    Rocketboy - No Sign of Intelligent Life
    D. Fuse - Room Full of Smoke
    Ultra. - Dance 05 (Disc 1)
    Liz Phair - Liz Phair
    Blondie - The Curse of Blondie
    Cause & Effect - Trip
    Akron - Trouble
    Queer As Folk - Original Soundtrack (Season One)
Can you say "diverse"?
Of course, I'm changing the CDs every other day, so who knows what'll be playing next.
CDs? That's so 90's, right? Hopefully I'll be able to go digital sometime soon.

Sunday, December 26, 2004

It's Not About The Things You Get

ChristmaHanuKwanzakah is all over. (Well, except for the Kwanzaa part. Apparenly that keeps going 'til the 31st.)
It was a good one. Santa Claus came and gave me some pretty good stuff.
Cologne, loungewear, jewelry, some spiffy new clothes, some books I've been wanting. I'm not going to list everything here, but you get the drift. Santa kicked ass!
Hopefully, he was just as good to you.

You know, I was going to title this post "I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got", partially because it fits the "theme" of this post, but mostly in homage to the fabulous Sinead O'Connor. But I can't do that because it isn't true.
I do want what I haven't got! Don't you?

Santa brought me some nice things, but there wasn't a cordless port.able com.puter (fully loaded), or a HD Plasma screen TV under my tree this year.
Do I want those things? You bet your sweet ass I do. But I know I'll get them eventually, the way I get everything else. By working hard, not spending frivolously, and saving my pennies.
I want alot of things, but I don't expect Santa Claus to bring them all to me. Some things you need to do yourself

It's pretty matierialistic to break out your adding machine and calculate how much you spent by how much you recieved to see if you're ahead, but so many people I know do exactly that. It's a petty way to think; some people can't afford to spend as much money as others. We hear it all the time, "It's the thought that counts", but does anyone other than me truly believe it?.

My point (and I do have one) is this: You need to be happy with whatever you get. Even if you only got socks and underwear. Because someone thought of you enough to buy you socks and underwear. Somebody thought of you! Isn't that wonderful? And honestly, couldn't you really use some extra socks and underwear?

Anyway, now that the holidays are (mostly) over, it's time for me to focus on what's coming up next: New Year's Eve! YAY!!
G. and I still don't know what we're doing yet. We're really not that good with planning ahead.

    "What do you want to do?"
    "I dunno. What do you want to do?"
We've been invited to several NYE parties, and of course we could always go to a local bar or disco, but for now everything's up in the air.
I want it to be extra fabulous, but since we're both working the next day, there's a limit to how far we can travel and how much partying we can do.

Oh, it'll all come together eventually. It always does.

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

I Couldn't Have Asked For Anything More

It's OK if you're a Muslim, a Christian or a Jew,
It's OK if you're Agnostic and you don't know what to do.
An all-inclusive celebration . . .
Happy ChrismaHanuKwanzakah to you! (And Pagans, too!)
I am lovin' those Virgin Mobile holiday commercials. They rock.

Christmas is nearly here and I am so not prepared for it . . .
SO I'm taking a little time off from blogging until after Christmas is over to really focus all my attention on all the things I need to take care of.

But I couldn't just go without telling the very best news of all: I finally got a hold of my Mom! I called her last night and we talked for over an hour.
During that hour I went from laughter to tears and then back again over and over.
When she said, "James, your father loved you very much. I know he did. He just didn't know how to show it, that's all." I was blubbering so much I nearly dropped the phone.
It was just as emotional for Mom, too.

You know, I'd asked my Mom to call me "Jim" or "Jimmy" since I was 12, but she simply won't do it. I'll always to "James" to her. As a teenager, this used to drive me crazy.
Guess what? Her calling me "James" on the phone last night was like music to my ears.
Talking to Mom was like a part of me that I didn't even know was missing was returned.
It was the best Christmas present I could have asked for.

Anyway, that's all for now. I'll be back sometime after Christmas, but before the New Year.
I hope you have the best ChrismaHanuKwanzakah ever!!


Saturday, December 18, 2004

But The Person Underneath, Where Does He Go?

I was reading a post by my buddy Tony about gay men and their never-ending quest for beauty.
Later on, while carelessly flipping channels on the TV, I came across a show on Discovery Health about plastic surgery. These were success stories of women who had procedures done -- and don't they look fabulous now?

All of that got me thinking what kind of work I would have done, if I were so inclined.
The first step was identifying my flaws.

Let's see. Pectoral and bicep implants would be good. No amount of working out, no matter how strenuous, has ever made a bit of difference in my physique. I have the chest of a fourteen year old boy. It'd be nice to take my shirt off at the beach and have someone go, "Wow!" instead of "Oh my God, you have no definition al all!"
A nice V-shape to my back wouldn't be unwelcome either, and of course I'd have to have my shoulders built up to compensate for it, but I could have the torso of an underwear model.

I would have my teeth all redone. Capped, bonded, bleached, straightened. I would have a perfect set of even, gleaming-white, movie-star teeth. You'd need to wear sunglasses when I smiled.
Corrective surgery would eliminate the need to wear glasses. I can't wear contac.t lenzes because of my astigmatism.
Dermabrasion would smoothen the skin on my face, and a little Botox would eradicate that little furrow between my eyebrows. Oh, it's not so bad now, but in ten years that sucker will be the size of the Grand Canyon.

See, that's the thing. Once you start listing your "flaws", where does it end? Where do you stop, draw the line? There's always something else that could be modified, corrected, or otherwise improved upon.
Try it yourself and make your own list. You start thinking like that and you start feeling really, really ugly.

But, OK, let's say I went and had the works done. The whole shebang: teeth, chest, body, face. eyes, skin, what have you. And while both our feet are firmly planted in Fantasy Land, let's also say I got a golden Bains De Soliel tan, a brand new hairdo, a new high-fashion wardrobe, and some bangin' bling-bling to go with it.
Would all of that make me a better person?

I guess that depends on your definition of "better", doesn't it? The media would definitely say I was much improved, and so would almost anybody else you care to ask. I would have only gotten more desirable, more interesting.

But would my extreme makeover make me a better conversationalist? A more kind and caring person? More intelligent? A better person on the inside?
And what happens when I look in a mirror and I don't recognize myself? What then?

Everyone has this fantasy of walking into a room and everyone is awe-struck and dazzled by your incredible beauty. You're a hunk-a hunk-a burnin' love, you are! You're beating the men off with a stick. You're so handsome everyone wants to be with you. People stammer and stutter and fawn all over you because your so fuggin' gorgeous.
But that's all it is -- a fantasy. That's not going to happen no matter what I do. And would I really want people desiring me just because I'm that incredible-looking? How shallow is that?

There's nothing wrong with wanting to improve yourself. And if that mole on your face bothers you so much, then, by God, have it chopped off. But, as Tony pointed out, beauty (even extraordinary beauty) will all fade with time no matter how much you try to keep it at bay.

A makeover is best when you start from the inside and work outwards.

Friday, December 17, 2004

I Would Reccomend This To Anyone

Last night I watched Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life.
I laughed; I cried; It became a part of me -- again.

I missed seeing it last year, and I was sorely dissapointed because it's one of my very favorite holiday movies.
I try to watch it every year, and --guess what?-- I never get tired of it!

If you've never seen it, I suggest you run out to your local video emporium and rent it, buy it, steal it, or otherwise find some way to view it.
It will uplift your soul.
Trust and believe. (Would I steer you wrong?)

The story, for those not familiar with it, is this:
Poor George Baily, dissatisfied with his life and feeling like a big failure at virtually everything, is ready to end it all and is just about to hurl himself off a bridge on a snowy Christmas Eve night, convinced he has nothing worth living for. A fledgling Angel, Clarence, shows him the true meaning of his life.
That's all you really need to know.

Everybody who knows me knows that I cried like a big ol' blubberin' baby at the end. No big surprise there.
This movie touches me very deeply every time I see it. Not just because of the story, but because of the subtext behind the story.
That subtext can be summed up as follows:

Your life has meaning.
There is a purpose to your life! Unlike George Baily, you may never discover what that purpose is, but there is a reason for your existence. It's no accident that you're alive. Nothing is arbritrary.
and . . .
The world is a much better place with you in it!
This world just wouldn't be the same without you here. Without you, this world would be a little darker, a little colder. You touch so many peoples lives in so many positive ways that you don't even know about, just by doing whatever it is that you do.

That's something that everyone needs to hear that now and then.

"Strange, isn't it? One man's life touches so many other lives.
When he isn't around, he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?"


Tuesday, December 14, 2004

It's All About Feel Ass!*

Incredibly hot sex lately with the husband.
Butt slappin', ass grabbin', hair mussing, moan-inducing, heavy-breathing, passionate sweaty hot monkey love.
When you have to do your hair afterwards, you just know it was good. :P

I don't know what it is, but I've been hornier than a rhinoceros lately. I tackled the husband as soon as he got home from work yesterday. We had just gone at it the night before.
"Again?" he asked as he started undressing, "OK! Let's go!"
He's almost never too tired for sex, thank God.

You know, when we first got together the husband (actually back then he was "the boyfriend") and I were doing the dirty deed at least three times a day. We did it until we were sore from too much friction. We were buying lube by the gallon.
Ah, those were the days, my friend. We thought they'd never end.
That phase lasted about six months. Then it was at least once a day for another six months. Then six times a week, five times a week, three times a week . . .
You get the picture.

I read somewhere (I think it was in Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City, but don't quote me) that if during the first year of a relationship you put a penny in a jar for every time you have sex, and after the first year you take a penny out every time you have sex -- you'll never get all the pennies out of the jar.
I never believed it, but now I think there might be some truth to that. We put alot of fuggin' pennies in that jar the first year.

I've been pondering this for a little while and here's what I've come up with:
In the beginning of a relationship, your partner's body is an uncharted, unexplored territory. Sure other people may have been there before you, but it's all new to you, and that's what makes it special.
His body is a wonderland. A marvelous place where wonderful things happen.
You delight in the firmness of it, the shapes and smells and tastes and feel of it. His firm, tight nakedness presses against you while you're sleeping and you can't help yourself, you have to do it. It's primal. It cannot be denied.
But then some time passes and it's no longer new. His body is still a wonderland, but there isn't a place on his body you haven't explored with your hands, your mouth, your tongue. You know every line, every mole, every dimple, every single inch of it from head to toe. You know what makes him gasp and beg for more and you also know exactly which buttons to press and when. You know the face he makes when he has an orgasm.
Guess what? He knows all this about you, too.

After awhile sex isn't quite as urgent or important. Oh, it's still on your Top Ten list of Things to Do, but it's dropped from Number One to Number Six or so.
There's too many other things to worry about: When should we take the dog to get his shots? When are we paying that bill that's due?

My husband is still the sexiest man in this world to me, though. And he still has the same six-pack and toned body that he had when we first met, which he maintains without working out, exercising, or watching what he eats.
(I'd be insanely envious at his ability to look good without even trying, but I love him too much.)

(*Apologies to Watercolor Boy for swiping his tagline.)

Monday, December 13, 2004

At Long Last

Yes! I've been waiting for a Fantastic Four movie since I was a child.
Now if they'd only make Wonder Woman into a major motion picture (with top-notch special effects, natch) I could die happy.
Not that I plan on dying anytime soon, or anything. I'm just sayin'.

Friday, December 10, 2004

A Letter To My Father

Seeking some kind of closure, I did as Greg suggested, and wrote a letter to my father who passed away last year.
This is what it said:
Dear Dad,

I love you.
I just wanted to be sure you knew that from the start. Ten years is a long time, and I wouldn't blame you if you were somewhat confused about my feelings about you.

This must be about the seventh letter I've written. The rest are wadded up paper balls in my wastebasket, because I wanted this letter to be perfect.
But now I realize that it doesn't have to be perfect, and any words I use will be the right ones if they come from my heart.

I also wanted you to know that I regret these last ten years without any contact. I keep thinking to myself, "What if I had tried harder?" There wasn't a holiday, birthday, or any important event that went by that I didn't think of you and how you were doing. I think that's why I'm so bitter and jaded about holidays now. I used to love Christmas, and I find myself dreading it every year.
I'm not blaming you, I'm just saying.

I also wanted you to know that you were a great dad. You taught me to tie my shoes, you taught me to ride my bike, you checked my homework, stayed up all night with me when I was sick.
You also taught me to be a good person, obey the golden rule, to be responsible, to give more than I take. Good things, valuable things. Things I will keep with me always.
I guess I should consider myself lucky, because some people never had a father like that.

I remember when I graduated and the principal put the diploma in my hand I scanned the audience and I could see the look of pride in your eyes, as if you were saying, "That's my boy!" It made me so happy to see that, because all I ever wanted was to make you proud of me.
I know when you found out I was gay you were asking yourself, "What did I do wrong?". You didn't do anything wrong, and neither did mom. I'd like to think that if we could have gotten past this somehow, that you would be proud of me still.

And I wish more than anything that you were still here, so I could say this to you in person. And so I could embrace you and tell you I love you, Dad.
Because I do. Regardless of all that's happened, I always will.


. . .

I read the letter aloud when I was alone in my room. By the time I was finished my cheeks were wet and I could barely read the words written on the page.
I don't know if he heard me or not, but I like to believe he did, and when I was finished, I felt much better about things, which was entirely the point.

I still haven't been able to contact my Mom.
Hopefully that will happen soon.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Some Recent Photos

Here's some photos I took recently.
. . .

Post No Bills!

I took this one downtown near Lexington Market, right by a sign that says "Post no bills!". There are always advertisements for new movies and upcoming albums and such pasted everywhere, yet I never, ever see anyone putting anything up -- and I'm around there all the time. They just mysteriously apeear, like acne. Do they sneak around at 4AM, paste them up and then dash away? I may never know the answer.
It's great for finding out what's up and coming, though. Want to know what's going on? Just look around you.

Cheap But Pretty

I got this $10 lamp at Wal-Mart. It's pretty, and it has a kind of "rainbow" look to it. I thought that from the right angle it would make an interesting photo.

Li'l Rico

He's gotten alot bigger since I posted his picture last. His mother was a Chihuahua and his father was a dachshund (picture that union if you want a laugh), so I doubt he'll get much bigger than this.
He atually held still for this one, which is nothing short of amazing. In most photos he's nothing but a brown and black blur.

On the Bus

I had to take this one quickly. People freak out if they think you're taking a photo of them, and I didn't want a Sean Penn incident to happen. ("I said, 'NO PHOTOS!'" *Smash!*)
It's slighly blurry and out of focus, but that's because the bus was lurching and shaking so much. Don't they put shock absorbers on these things?
There aren't enough words to describe how much I hate public transportation.

These Boots are Made for Spendin'

The ingenuity of people never ceases to astound me. As a waiter, I've seen dollar bills folded into dozens of shapes. Ducks, boats, frogs, rings, snakes, little hats, roses, lizards, airplanes. There must me a book on Money Origami out there somewhere, or else people have alot of time on their hands.
I thought these little boots were cute though, so I snapped a photo before I unfolded them and put them with the rest of my tips.

Out in the Streets

Walking around the mean, dirty streets of downtown Baltimore, I put my camera on an EZ Park kiosk and set the self timer. There were a few people looking at me funny ("What's that crazy white boy doing?") but who cares? I've never been one to worry what random people on the street think.
I kind of look pissed off in this picture, but it was a (cold) windy day and the sun was in my eyes.

Happy Dog

Rico is such a friendly dog. All he wants to do is jump on top of you and just lick you all over.
Puppy kisses, I call them.

"Rico is a happy dog, aren't you Rico? And a good dog, too, isn't he? Yes he is! Yes he is!"

I talk to Rico like he's a baby. I never talked to my cat that way.

The Shadow Boy

Yet another selfpic taken with the timer. I deliberatly didn't use the flash because I wanted to capture the colors of the very early morning light.

As you see, I'm wearing a "wife beater" undershirt.
I'm gay, shouldn't I be calling them "husband beaters"?
Don't get any ideas. I'm not Ike and the husband isn't Tina -- or the reverse.

Baby Incredible

Someone left this McDonald's Happy Meal toy -- from the Pixar motion picture The Incredibles -- on one of my tables, and I took it into the Server Station and snapped a photo of it. You wind the knob on his back and he kind of jiggles around for a few seconds.
Cute, huh? It doesn't take much to amuse me.
I still haven't seen that movie yet, damn it.

Looking Out

Me looking out my bathroom window.
Again, I chose not to use the flash to capture the shadows and shading.

This would have been a better photo if it had been a little sunnier instead of overcast and cloudy.


I made this necklace using "alphabet beads" that I got at this shop called "Beadazzled", on Charles St, downtown. Any kind, color, or style of bead you could ever want, they have in there. It boggles the mind.
The beads, wire, and clasps only cost about $1.50 and it took only a few minutes to make, which gives me a great idea what to do for Christmas presents this year.

. . .

There are more "serious" posts coming soon, but I'm not ready for that just yet.
Stay tuned.

Monday, December 06, 2004


Gay or queer? Gay
Yoko Ono or Sonny Bono? Sonny
Paper or plastic? Both
Farrah, Jacklyn or Kate? Jacklyn
Ding Dongs or Ho-Hos? Ding Dongs
Nude or naked? Naked. It sounds dirtier
Cappuchino or latte? Latte
Frankfurter or hot dog? Neither. I prefer "weiner"
Queer Eye for the Straight Guy or Queer as Folk? QAF
Weblog or blog? Blog
I Dream of Jeannie or Bewitched? Bewitched
Regular or decaf? Regular
The Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew? Nancy
Scissor Sisters or Hilton sisters? Scissor Sisters
Six Million Dollar Man or Bionic Woman? Bionic Woman
Ashlee Simpson or Jessica Simpson? Neither
Green Acres or The Beverly Hillbillies? Hillbillies
Cut or uncut? Cut
Velvet Underground or Velvet Revolver? Underground
Dogma or Karma? Karma
Afterglow or morning after? Afterglow
Punk rock or Daft Punk? Daft
The Munsters or the Addams Family? The Munsters
Regular or Menthol? Menthol
Top or bottom? Both
Swimmers or gymnasts? Gymnasts
Britney or Madonna? Madonna
Take out or eat in? Take out
Working hard or hardly working? Working hard
Kate Bush or George W. Bush? Kate
1979, 1989 or 1999? 1999
Pagan or Carl Sagan? Sagan
Crank callers or Crank Yankers? Crank Yankers
A grow-er or a show-er? Grow-er
Nelly or Usher? Nelly
Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise? Brad
Stepford Wives or Desperate Housewives? Desperate Housewives

(This post inspired by Jocko.)

Saturday, December 04, 2004

Not For Those Who Wait Too Late

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," my Aunt said over the telephone, "But your Dad died last year. . ."
. . .

I hadn't spoken to my Mom or Dad --or any of the rest of my family-- in over ten years.
They couldn't accept me being gay, and I was determined that I was going to live my life the way I wanted, on my own terms, with no apologies or excuses. If they couldn't handle it, they didn't have to be a part of my life.
I loved them, but it's my life, and I wouldn't compromise.

I won't lie, it hurt me a great deal. But the more time passed, the less it bothered me. Except around the holidays. Holidays always sucked because the holidays are the times for family, and the only family I had were my circle of friends. Comforting, yes --but not the same.

Every year that went by also made it more difficult to contact them. So much time had went by. What would I say to them? How would they react?

So I put it off 'til later. And later took longer and longer to get here.

Yesterday, I finally decided to bite the bullet and call them. And if it turned out that they still wanted no part of me, well, I could at least say that I tried.

The number I had for my parents was seven years old, and was an invalid number. The numbers for my grandmother and great aunt were just as old, and just as invalid. A computer search turned up nothing.
It's ironic that now that I was trying to get a hold of them, I was getting nowhere.

I finally tracked down my Aunt Helene. Technically, she wasn't my Aunt anymore, since my Uncle Paul and she divorced years ago, but she'll always be my Aunt to me.

When I envisioned it in my mind, I guess I expected that my Aunt would give me my parents new number. I'd call and they'd be so glad to hear from me. In my little fantasy world, they'd been trying to contact me, but didn't know how. Things would be a little awkward at first, but then we'd laugh and we'd cry and eventually bygones would be bygones. Fade to a happy family beside the Christmas tree.
Real life isn't a storybook or a movie on the Hallmark Network.

So I called.

The reality of the situation is this:
My father is dead. He's been dead for almost a year. There will be no reconciliation, no happy ending.
I waited too long. All the bitterness, and unkind words, and bad feeling can't be taken back now. I can't make it right.

Part of me is still stunned, but most of me is filled with regret. There's a lump in my throat that hasn't gone away since I got the news.

My mom is living with my Aunt in North Carolina. I can't get her number until next week when my Uncle returns from his vacation.

I don't know what I'm going to say to her. It'll happen the way it happens.
All I know is this time I won't hesitate.
I can't.

I'll post more on this topic later when there's more to tell.

Friday, December 03, 2004


For a change of pace, how 'bout a Photo Friday for today's post?
The topic? Refections

Thursday, December 02, 2004

Who's That Guy?

Mark Roberts - Self Employed ,19 yrs old, 5'11', blue eyes, brown hair, 31w, 40c
Likes: Skiing, gym, sex, athletics
Dislikes: Bitchy Queens
Claim to fame: Spilled a drink on Liz from Atomic Kitten
Sexiest dream: Sleeping with Hugh Jackman

Congratulations to Mark Roberts, Mr.Gay UK, 2005.