BRIEFS OR BOXERS

Remember the saying from the 90’s “Briefs or boxers?”



Back then it seemed to me that boxers were old fashioned. But since we now wear our jeans down around our hips, boxers came back into style. Personally, I was a commando guy for quite a long time. Now I’m a brief guy. But, they have to be Calvin Klein’s. I say this because I spent another 30 bucks on undies today. Man! How come I get all the expensive fetishes? Pumas and Calvin’s are pricey. Why can’t I have a “stick my finger into Wonder Bread” fetish? Or a “push all the buttons on the elevator” fetish? Those are free, and other than miss-shapen PBJs pretty harmless.

Anyway, I love to see that little bit of brief peeking up from the top of jeans. And, Boxers just don’t do it. So, which is it? Briefs or Boxers?

Birthday Wrap

The Birthday went exceedingly well. We went to Lucille’s for Breakfast, had a great workout and sat at Dazbog for way to long chatting with friends. The Afternoon was filled with a self-made Ghost in the Shell marathon whilst Fuzz made me a meteorite shaped chocolate cake. Every year we go to Le Central for my Birthday Dinner. This year was pretty damn yummy, with Onion soup and nibbling things followed by a French cut rib eye. No one could tell us what made a French cut rid eye, French cut but none the less it was pretty damn good. Today I’m back to carrots and celery. But after a day of Creole Breakfast, American coffeecake, and French dinners. I’m looking forward to nibbling on rabbit food.

Birthday Steve

Here's a picture of me on my 33rd Birthday....



Man I was skinny, I can't believe that was four years ago today.

Hart to Hart

Over the weekend I had lunch with a friend of mine. Somehow the topic drifted towards when we were closeted and effeminate children. My lunch companion blurted out that he was excited to find out that Natalie Wood died. Because somehow this meant that Robert Wagner would be able to marry Stefanie Powers. Or, more importantly Jonathan Hart could really be married to Jennifer Hart. Seriously what gay boy in the ‘80s didn’t like Hart to Hart.

I didn’t know that Hart to Hart actually ran five seasons on ABC, with eight made for TV movies. When Jonathan and Jennifer got together I guess it was murder. Ratings murder. Sorry. I guess it comes down to the universal rule that little gay boys just love to watch millionaires become amateur detectives. Or, Stefanie Powers rocks.

Aunt Barbara

It's your Aunt Barbara's anniversary on you tube. She'll be hurt if you don't stop by.



Happy Anniversary Aunt Barbara!
Thanks for 2 years keeping us moist and fresh.

Fuzz's Birthday

Today is Fuzzy's birthday!
Here's to Captain Fuzz, Happy B day!

We decided to spend the day in Springfield.

Dreaming of a pony

"Yes, please." This is what I said today to the dealership service guy when asking if he should go ahead with $350 more dollars in repairs on the Jeep.

I went limp, threw myself on the floor and started to dream about this.....


The service guy then stepped over me and said,
"That's not going to work, we have your credit card in file."

The Death of Disco

It is with most sadness that I inform you that the disco ball died yesterday.

The other half went to hang our new disco ball when it fell from his grasp and crashed down into a million gay-mirror pieces. Somewhere Liza Minnelli wept.

This is because I made fun of Yvette Fielding's hair isn't it?

Sonic Drive-In

Over the weekend we went to the Sonic drive-in. For some reason the Sonic Army minions were on roller skates. Have you ever seen this? I haven’t and apparently neither had the minions. As we had our lunch whisked across the parking lot, we heard a THUNK.

The poor bastard couldn’t stop his skates and ran into the side of the truck. Tatter Tots went flying everywhere. Fuzz jumped out and first looked at his truck, then checked to see it the 16 year was still alive. He was. Let’s just say we got our lunch for free.

MLK

How did you spend your MLK day? I celebrated by not taking a shower until four in the afternoon. We left the house only to run out and buy a disco ball. Well, we needed a disco ball. Now we have one.

All day The Travel channel had a Most Haunted marathon on TV. Six hours of Yvette Fielding's bad hair. What's up with her? Does she not realize that she's on a TV show?

Fuzzy buys a disco ball

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Fuzz and the Fuzzy Shar-Pei sleep in today.

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A FOGGY BOTTOM

A couple of news agencies had reporters at the Foggy Bottom Subway stop in DC.I giggled every time I heard it. I remember standing in front of the Foggy Bottom sign stoned off my ass. Giggling over and over, “Foggy Bottom” Heee-hee Foggy Bottom.” Man, I thought that’s funny. I still think it’s funny. I wonder if the sell Foggy Bottom T-Shirts?

Bunnnie!!!!

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MORNING DRIVE

For reasons I won’t go into, I work in east coast time. Because I sit in Mountain Time, I have a clock on my desk set two hours ahead; soon I’ll get a whole other project in West coast time. I can never tell when to go to lunch.

I mention this because I have the choice of switching my work schedule from 9AM -5PM to 6AM -2PM. I haven’t really decided what would be best. At six there’s going to be a lot less traffic. Since I have an hour commute right through the heaviest traveled part of the city, six might be best. Not to mention getting off at two in the afternoon. That would rock. On the other hand I’ll have to leave the house at five, not so much fun. I think I’m leaning towards the six o’clock time just because of traffic. I will miss watching Kyle Dyer’s huge gums in the morning as she trips over the Channel Nine news. But I think I’ll live.

Getting all, NAIAS crazy up in here!

Just like you I’ve spent my week watching everything I can on the NAIAS.
That’s the North America International Auto Show in Detroit, Michigan. This year has been very humble. The CEOs are there talking more about stock then cars. Ford debuted the new Taurus, here’s a highlight.






It's just all Taurus crazy - n'shit!

CTR and Taco Bell

I had a mini meltdown the other day. It was about my birthday. I’m turning thirty-seven in two weeks. Now, I’ve stated previously that I’m very content about this, so why the meltdown? I was making a very healthy salad at Wholefoods. A lunch Including sprouts, spinach, and natural spring water to wash it down.

Okay, okay!
I was in the drive through at Taco Bell. I hate that I can’t get anything passed y’all! So anyway, I’m in the drive through, and thinking about age. My age. I’m pretty comfy with my lot in life, good job, and perfect if not freakishly insane partner. Have I missed anything? Is there anything I could have done in my twenties that I just can’t do now?

I thought of my sister, the veterinarian. She was scared that she would never have a “first kiss” ever again if she married her fiancé. That part of her life, the one about discovery was going away. But hell, that was years ago and now she sleeps with any cowboy with an appaloosa. She loved her marriage, glad she did it, but life is long and if you live long enough you’re gonna do pretty much everything once. Everything but, vote Republican. So why worry about “the road not traveled” sometime the road will come back to you.

I do my best thinking in the Taco Bell drive through.

This came in context today when I spoke to a friend that was thinking of moving. They’re deciding on Dallas or Denver, giving up the East coast.I know odd choice, but still that is the choice. I started thinking of my slut, Mormon sister.


As part of the Mormon brainwashing when you’re a kid they have this program called CTR or Choose The Right. This means choose the Mormon beliefs but now that I’m an adult I think of it as listen to you. Every chapter in your life is just a chapter.

Superboy

I had a dream last night that I had carnal relations with Superboy. Now, before you get that creepy pedophile feeling. I’m not talking about the skinny kid from the nineties Superman comics. So let’s get that idea out of your head. I’m talking about the older muscle-bound Superboy from the Titans. You have no idea who I’m talking about? See, I knew this was weird and hard to explain. This Superboy:



Let’s just say it was a pretty hot dream. And as I woke up I soon realized just how weird it was. Turning off the alarm and forcing my limbs to move I started to realized, not that I’m having sexual dreams about fictional comic character, but that as you know, Superboy has been dead for awhile. Weird hu?

Trouble in the Relationship

As Fuzzy and I walked through the Target exit doors. He turns to me and calmly states,
“We’re not working out.”
I stop clicking away on the IPhone.

“What! Oh fine, NOW you want out! This is because I won’t buy the cheap coffee? I have needs Fuzzy, I’m sorry, I need name-brand coffee. I know we’re on a budget but I have NEEDS! Needs that store brands can’t fill. Great soooo now you want out of this thing? How are we going to explain this to the Shar-pei? To our friends? I just knew this was coming! I put on some holiday weight and now you’re so shallow that you dumping me. Right before my birthday. My birthday Fuzz! How could you………” Sniffle, sniffle (just for effect.)

Meanwhile, numerous onlookers have to side step our cart and, my mellow-drama.
“Or” he calmly states in a way that’s obviously he’s had to deal with this countless number of times.
“I might have simply stated we’re not going to the gym today, but no.”

The Advocate

Have you seen the new Advocate? The February 2009 issue is out, and it’s new and improved. The advocate had suffered along with other members of the PlanetOut media company. The gay magazine had become a shadow of its former self and very seldom delivered to my mailbox. I was beginning to worry that my lifeline to all things gay was going to join the sad ranks of “online only” magazines.

But, behold the new beefed up Advocate! The February issue is the “re-launch” of their print version. I can breathe easy now, and sit at the Jeep dealership reading stories such as this one:

FOR GAY PENDUINS, FIRST COMES LOVE THEN KIDNAPPING *
After their long waddles together grew tedious, male penguin partners at a zoo in Habin, China graduated to the next step: kids. With family options limited, the guys took matters under their own wings by pilfering eggs form hetro birds, nests. The plan backfired – it wasn’t long before the eggs were back with the parents and the boys exiled to a separate sanctuary by zookeepers.
“It’s not discrimination,” a keeper told the press. “We have to fence them separately; otherwise the whole group; will be disturbed during hatching time.”
Even in conservative China, animal experts acknowledged the egg theft is simply biology at work, saying the gay penguins gave a natural desire to be dads. They soon got their wish. Says a zookeeper: “We decided to give them two eggs from another couple whose hatching ability had been poor and [the gay couple] turned out to be the best parents in the whole zoo.”

It that not the cutest story ever?! See what you’re missing by not subscribing.

Civic Planning and Lesbians

I have a wonderful talent. This being able to memorized huge amount of data on completely nonsensical, idiotic topics. A good example is Howard Johnson. The hotel chain, not the guy. Ho-Jo being a chain of the 1950s motor hotels. I have spent way to much free time memorizing long useless facts about the motor hotels locations, facts and trivia. Did you know that there was a Ho-Jo on the South east corner of Hampton and I25? I bet you didn't.

This data will never, never in a million years possible get me laid. Yet I can regurgitate this back at any time. Dalton and I drove cross country to New York and along the way I thought I’d share this knowledge and point out former locations and other helpful facts that made Howard Johnson a success. We had not left Colorado when I was told that most well adjusted adults don’t discuss topics that they’ve memorized data just to spew back. I think this was a nice way to saying no one likes a show off. I have that tendency, to exhaust people during conversations. That’s why I have a daily blog.

My latest way to irritate people is denverinfill.com. A site completely dedicated to the renewal of the Denver skyline. Meaning, new buildings being planned and built in downtown Denver, Colorado. Today I tried to slip some great bits I’ve learned about Denver’s future plans into normal work conversions.

“Hey, Dina good morning! Soooo you take the train to work. Are you excited about the 2016 Union Station expansion plan? I’ve got a map of it back in my cube.”

I learned that Lesbians don’t care to “chit-chat” about civic planning at 8AM. And that’s okay. As she turned to quickly walk away from me I think I shouted.

“That’s cool; we can check it out later. It’s on my desk. I printed out some pictures……so whenever…..cool.”

IML

When I first moved to Dallas I had a roommate that was a bartender that the Dallas Eagle. I was a morning person and he, a night owl. He’s plan was whomever was left at the end of the night he’d bring home to get plowed by. One Sunday morning I was in the kitchen making coffee in my Calvin’s. I just needed some caffeine before heading to church. The bathroom door opened and a random guy staggered out and said good morning. As I say morning to him as he comes in for a kiss.
“Thanks for last night you’re a pro” he grins.
Uhh.. That wasn’t me. That was the roommate. He’s the pro.”
A puzzled face came and went.
“Well, I have time. If you wanta…….” he plainly states.

Have you ever had one of those whole body shivers but can’t show it? Like when a homeless man tries to touch you or you find yourself shopping at PayLess.

I calmly state “Thanks, no. Coffee?
“Come on! I’m an IML title holder!”

I smirk, “been there, done that. Got the T-shirt.”

Marcos' Italian Restaurant

At dinner Saturday night a couple of us were discussing how bad our waiter was ignoring us. This, of course led to the “when I was a waiter” conversation. It seems funny how many gay men were waiters while in college or just starting out.

This drew me back to my last stint as a gay waiter. Back to Dallas. Back to Marcos Italian, off Cedar Springs Road. It was a part time job to pay for a lift kit on my jeep.* It was mostly pretty fun. Right in the center of the gay ghetto, I met some really cool people by slopping bad Italian food in front of them. A fellow floor whore was Dave, he was your waiter for dinner and your “anything else” if the price was right. One night Davie and I were making Marco’s signature Bellini. In a five gallon bucket and a stick we found in the alley. As I was jabbing at it with our “sterrin stick” Davie complained that his washboard abs itched. Lifting his shirt he rubbed the dried cum off his muscular belly. My head cocked at an angle to watch the dried man snow drift into the bucket.
“Huh. I have no idea whose that is?” Dave wondered out loud.

My last week at Marcos was pretty bad. I had decided that I really didn’t need a lift kit. That’s when Cher walked in. Not the Cher, but a Cher. Damn good one too. She was scheduled to perform at the Village Station later that night, but was hunn-gree. There was the typical drag queen flack. But soon enough I got a plate of lasagna in front of her so she’d stop saying “Ooooh.. Can I swing on your arms?”

Half way through her meal I decided to go smoke. But as I turned to leave I heard a scream. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEECK! Owie, Owie!” Let’s just say that Cher lost some cheap dental work. If you’ve ever been fingered as the cause of a drag queen losing a paying gig. You know, it’s not pretty.

I quit the next day.


*Wow, that sounded butch.

The Family Quilt

This weekend we had to check on my Mom’s “switch to digital.” I figured that taking Fuzz with me would mellow and guilt for being a no-show for the holidays. As soon as we walked in the door the Mom was very excited over a gift that the vet sister had made for her. I instantly flashed to a multitude of gifts that Good’ol Sis had made over the years. There was the “trivet” she made for Dalton and me years ago. This was a perma plaque image of us, camping, two days/no showers, smoking and sitting on a stump. Perma Plaque!
“Welcome to our lovely home! Our home is spasouis and well appointed from our Italian leather sofa to rare finds from our travels around the world. Here you’ll find a rare hand made piece of Dalton with a smoke hanging from his lip, sporting a filthy shirt. Yes! It is stunning, we’re very proud. “

My vet sister is also a quilter. She’s won many 4H prizes for her quilting ability. Upon two seconds in her retirement chalet my Mother carries her newest acquisition to the living room and proudly sits down next to Fuzz.
“It’s a quilt!”
Fuzz glances at me with the same look given when a freak has declared their love to him at the bar. Her new quilt is images that have been scanned on to fabric. Hundreds of creepy Mormon images of long dead kin. Their data lovingly cross-stitched in hearts next to their mug.
“I don’t know how she does this! It’s a miracle.”
I pipe in “No ultrasuede is a miracle, that’s just a good printer.”

At this point the Mom starts going through every person on the quilt. She has that air of “Mormon family tree linage” thing. I mutter to Fuzz
“Mormons are so inbred that any fresh DNA and there’s a reason for a quilt.”
“….. and this will be passed down to all of our generations! Our children’s, children. Here you are Steve!”
Now as my eyes slowly move towards the Mormon fabric family tree. Fuzz starts to laugh, not in a polite way. More of a Jesus Christ this will be seen be generation’s way!
My eyes fall on to my image. Me, staring back. In a skin tight Hoist Leather bar T-shirt and a Lone Stare cap.
“Wow! Look at me, it’s like an afternoon at The Hoist.” On a family quilt.”
The Mom beams. "You sure look happy!”
“It looks like I sent Sis the wrong Picture,” I say.
“No, I think you sent just the right one.” Fuzz belts between laughs.

ALL GLORY TO THE HYPNOTOAD

Now in a dance remix.

ALL GLORY TO THE HYPNOTOAD

WELCOME TO '9

Oh, what fun we’ll have in ‘9! What could go wrong? Forget I said that. We have a president that can use pronouns, what more could ya ask? Today’s New Years Day, or the first day of ‘9. Let’s just say that I’m very hung. Over that is. We plan spending the first day of the New Year over a Carl and Will’s house. Eating black eyed peas.

Many parts of the U.S. (meaning the south……meaning Texas) celebrates the New Year by consuming black-eyed peas. These legumes are typically accompanied by either hog jowls or ham. Black-eyed peas and other legumes have been considered good luck in many cultures. The hog, and thus its meat, is considered lucky because it symbolizes prosperity. Cabbage is another "good luck" vegetable that is consumed on New Year's Day by many. Cabbage leaves are also considered a sign of prosperity, (meaning gassy) being representative of paper currency. In some regions, rice is a lucky food that is eaten on New Year's Day.*

The song, Auld Lang Syne is sung at the stroke of midnight in almost every English-speaking country in the world to bring in the new year. At least partially written by Robert Burns in the 1700's, it was first published in 1796 after Burns' death. Early variations of the song were sung prior to 1700 and inspired Burns to produce the modern rendition. An old Scotch tune, "Auld Lang Syne" literally means "old long ago," or simply, "the good old days."*

After the Peas and Pork we'll spend the remainder of the day on their couch wondering what the rules of football really are. Besides shoveling all their meaty junk in tight spandex. Yum!

So, go have a safe and fun day. And, when someone asks why you’re eating black eyed peas say that you read the reason on some wack-jobs blog. That will gain you respect.

Here's a vid of me in the kitchen last night...




* http://wilstar.com/holidays/newyear.htm