FB

I’m finding that Facebook is a weird little land. You can quickly connect with people from your past that just pop up into your friend request box. Refresh you page and suddenly there’s your roommate from 1997.

I am now FB friends with my first and only girlfriend Tammy, I escorted her to the Junior High School prom. Don’t worry, I was a perfect gentleman. She’s now in a triad living near Boulder, CO. I then had a friend request from a random Nicole. I had no idea who the heck she was, upon further review I found out that we went to High School together, One of the three I went to. After looking at her profile I had no clue who she was, and since she had the tack to not identifying herself I just responded back say that I wanted to take this opportunity to apologize for ditching her at the prom but, she was really drunk and embarrassing me. She hasn’t responded back.

On the flip side I reconnected with the only guy to plow me in at Ford Mustang. Picture it Denver, 1988. Dave now lives with his longtime companion in Kansas. Is doing amazingly well and has some great video blogs, or vlogs posted.

A month ago I would have said that the only real purpose of Facebook was to find your old classmates and judge how fat they’ve gotten. That and to cyber stock other bloggers but, no there really is better purpose. That being, to find the folks in your life that you should of not ignored whilst you were trying to figure out who you were.

So good, you’ll want to suck the bag

Have I introduced you about my Aunt Barbara? The Long Island Housewife, host of her own cable access television show and top Tupperware Consultant? She likes to help you save money on household items, so you have more money to spend on Tupperware.

She’s a giver.

Take a look at her latest money saving dinner idea:




“So good, you’ll want to suck the bag.”

Check her out on YouTube, on Facebook or my.tupperware.com/AuntBarbara

REINFORCING STEREOTYPES

On Friday I went to pick up a Birthday present for our friend Michelle’s daughter. Little Raven was turning three so it was fun to go shop in the toy department. Not that I‘m not there on a regular bases buying DC action figures. (They’re action figures, damn it!)

Fuzzy came home as I had a toy vacuum cleaner on the dinning room table getting ready to be wrapped.
“You got her a vacuum cleaner? Doesn’t that reinforce feminine stereotypes and a woman’s role in society?” Fuzzy questioned.

“It’s never to early for her gay uncles to build life lessons, like the number one rule in life, the best thing to have in this world is a named-brand vacuum.”

Fuzzy rolled his eyes and turned towards the kitchen.

Taken aback that he didn’t agree with my take on fostering the youth in our lives, I continued, “When I was a three year old girl, I would loved a play upright vacuum cleaner.”

Fuzzy turned his head. “Don’t you mean IF you were a three year old girl?”

“Crap.” I quietly continued to wrap the damn present.

AND THE STEVES ARE THERE

Isn't it about time for a Gay Asian / Steve / Thrust McHardbody MST3K movie montage?




Too dumb? Yeah, I thought so. Sorry, I started back doing Smith Machine Squats at the gym. Let's just say that I couldn't get out of bed this morning without crawling to the bathroom. Even typing hurts,Oooooh the pain! I hate working legs, but, I’ve challenged myself to start back at four sets of ten and a high weight and shoot for three times a week. If you don’t hear from me, pray for Steve.

Since my yoga class had been taken over by a nut job, I’ve decided to spend more time on legs and less time listening to her talk about her “special breathing” as she tries to get us to stick our fingers up our nose.

Today is back, nothing better than some bent over rows. If you know what I mean; like this guy:




At 1:45 I'd just turn down the sound, because I just need to see the arms move. That's all I need.

Have a great weekend.

DAMN YOU, WILLIAM PHELPS ENO!

The lovely little village in which we reside in, some time ago decided to rip out the major intersections and replace them with traffic circles, or Roundabouts. I guess they wanted to class up the joint, make it seem like we’re all British. I like them because I can fly through them shirtless with the top down on the jeep at high speed blaring Rammstein. All, without spilling my martini.

The latest roundabout had sat half finished for quite awhile, I’m guessing until today. At 5:00AM I’m sheepishly heading for the intrastate, trying to get the iPod to play some System of a Down when suddenly the curve to the left around the construction project overnight turned into a sudden swerve to the right. That’s when I screamed:

“Damn you William Phelps Eno! Damn you for being the Father of American traffic safety!"

Well….I would of screamed that if I was able to reach my iPhone and Google “American traffic circle” but it was resting peacefully between the passenger seat and the door upon my newly two dimensional banana.

GYM UPDATE

This is how I like the gym...



Just one power lifter doing his thing over on the Smith Machine. Between sets yesterday I kept my heart pumping by reenacting the dance sequences from Madonna’s Borderline video. It was soon after that the entire gym cleared out. I was then able to leave a 60pound weight on a flat bench for 20 minutes; I wasn't using it, I just wanted to see what it felt like.

I have however, been avoiding the treadmill the last couple of days. Monday it was because my tan was uneven, Tuesday because the Ben and Dave’s Six Pack Podcast hadn’t been updated. Today no excuses, back to running! I did get a solid run Sunday, that’s when I saw the little person.

Sunday morning I felt like crap. Not because of all the malt liquor from the night before, no. I just didn’t feel good. Still, I was determined to pull my ass around Cheesman Park. Halfway through my run I came to a crosswalk, looked down and realized I was crossing with a little person (I think they like to be called midget freaks now…right?) I didn’t stop to ask which term she might prefer because I believe she was a little person of-the-evening, if you get my drift. She was all kinds of done up - hair teased high into a Tammy Wynette bouffant that really set off the cowboy boots. So, I didn't ask if she would rather be referred to as "dwarf" or "wee cowgirl" because I didn’t have my wallet on me.

Maybe avoiding the treadmill is a bad idea.

HE'S A RIGHTEOUS DUDE

I’ve recently received a review of my blog, well part review and part reminder of why I flunked out of VCR repair trade school.

"When in the hell did you become so... literate? I have gone to the blog now, like, twice and cannot believe I am friends with you in your newfound state of celebrity. I remember the days when you only grunted and gripped a pencil between your toes, couldn’t remember the correct spelling of your own name, and would wake up in stranger's homes without memory of exactly how you got there. Well, perhaps I can explain those things. But the blog? I love it!"

This comes from Nick via my Facebook page. Nick and I were gay waiters together at a health food restaurant back in ’93. Nothing like your friends to remind you of what a complete slut you were.

If you want to review my blog, or just call me a slut please do so by leaving a comment or shoot me an E-mail here.

ALAN TURING

The story of British Prime Minister Gordon Brown offering a posthumous apology to Alan Turing was broadcast on September 11th but, I’ve been thinking of Mr. Turing non-stop since then.




"British Prime Minister Gordon Brown offered a posthumous apology Friday to Alan Turing, a World War II code-breaker who was later prosecuted for being gay. The apology came following an online petition started by computer scientist John Graham-Cumming, author of The Geek Atlas. Graham-Cumming says Turing is one of the great figures of mathematics and science in the 20th century." Read the entire story…

The last days of summer

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THE BACK ROOM by Greg Ivan Smith

This short film is so damn cute!




Watch the whole film and vote for it at Logo.com.

CRANK

Dalton over at Crank Industries has new T-shirts on a new site. Check them out:

Redbubble.com

SPENDING THE DAY WITH MATLOCK

I took yesterday off to help a friend out with a doctor’s appointment. Some people just hate the thought of hospitals so I offered to hang out in the waiting rooms while a series of needed tests where completed. Even though the Kaiser building was new the waiting room had a distinct smell of polyester, urine, and Matlock. I made myself useful by reading blogs, thinking what I wanted for Christmas, and spending way to long helping a 137 year old lady fix a strap on the purse she got in Boca. We arrived at eight, and finally dragged my bleacher butt out to the parking lot around two. With a new appreciation for Andy Griffith.

Here’s yet another awkward picture of Steve in a bathroom mirror. I think I need to take a night class on how to hold a phone and smile.




Speaking of which, at the Beerbust on Sunday Mike pointed to a gaggle of moes next to us, all six of them had their IPhones out and where shaking to exchange numbers and then snapping photos of each other. “Awwww, a gaggle of igays” Mike said sarcastically. Sadly, I pulled out my phone to check how close they would register on Grindr.

I’ve been eating my best friend?

I came across this picture on my continuing quest of the internets.



The caption should read: Kids, you like meat? What do you say to the nice man giving you his meat?

This photo reminds me of Moo. My family bred and traded in American Quarter Horses, in the middle of nowhere. Being raised on a ranch sounds like fun for a little boy, unless you’re a fay little boy who cares more about “his” new name brand vacuum then getting dirty in the hay loft. When my Dad tried to teach me how to rope a steer I spent twenty minutes atop my horse clutching pearls and crying for the poor little cow. There’s a picture of that somewhere.

When I was five, I befriended a rough and tumble cow…named Moo. He was his own cow, going against the herd. Like me. We spent hours together lying in the fields, until the day he was gone. I thought for weeks that he had abandoned me, my cow. When I stopped crying into my pillow I mustered up the strength and nonchalantly asked my Dad what had happen to that cow we had.

“His down in the chest freezer” I was told. All those steaks you’ve been enjoying? That’s him. I started to get dizzy; I’ve been eating my best friend? Oh, God! What kind of monster am I?

For the next several years, it was a war at the dinner table. My parents never knowing why I wouldn’t eat the thick, grilled steak in front of me. On a completely unrelated note, sometimes my friends wonder why I’ve never introduced them to my parents.

StevieB...and the case of the fake bacon!

No more homemade blueberry muffins for breakfast. Instead, I’m having this:



A protein shake and fruit. I think I bought the “non-dissolvable” protein powder. Great. Really. And what’s for lunch? Why it’s salad!



I really do like my big salad, it has facon in it. That’s fat free turkey bacon. Now I know why guys with six pack abs are jerks, they’re just hungry. I've also cut back on the Diet Coke but, my plans would be ruined if I got my hands on this.

FLY PAM ANN

I just bought tickets to fly Pam Ann. She’s landing in Denver on the 13th of October.




Pam Ann's site
Check out her comedy tour, she's going across America this year before she returns to the UK and her home port of Aussie land.

STEVIEB'S GLASS EYE

There are certain people in your life that just understand you; even when you don’t understand yourself. Dalton is one of those guys, we lived together for three years. So he has a grasp of the crazy that swirls around in my head. The other day I had made the statement, “I’ll be at home staring at my glass eye.”


Dalton calmly stated “Uh…I think you what you meant to say right there is that you’ll be at home with Pleurosis.”
“What?”
“When you just mentioned your glass eye, I’m sure you meant that you have Pleurosis. And your Mother is obsessed with finding you a gentlemen caller. Who will hear you say blue roses.”
“Wow, you got all that from the mention of me sitting at home staring at a glass eye.”
Dalton sighed, “Yes, I speak Steve. It wasn’t a glass eye, it was a glass menagerie.”
This is where I chuckled and said “I love it when we sit around and talk about Tennessee Williams. I feel so upper crust.”
“Have fun with your glass eye.” Dalton returned as he hung up.

LABOR DAY

I think Fuzzy set the tone for the weekend.


I never realized how much gas four burly gays can make in a hotel room. Do you like the Moose and Bear theme? Although we had a frickin river right in front of the hotel no one fell in.

Would you eat at a Chinese restaurant next to a dog groomers?

We ate brunch at the Stanley Hotel. The ghost tour sounded kinda lame so we just walked around and made up crap. That and made fun of Steven Weber.





Now I'm exhausted and ready for bed. I'm taking the dog and heading for bed.

WAPITI

The Wapiti restaurant sounded so cool. Yeah, it means elk. Like let's all eat elk.

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THE EYES OF STEVIEB

This is my profile picture on Facebook right now. I believe that it comes across with an air of distinction.



This will be the same photo I’ll use on the jacket of my Biography, Will There Ever Be a Rainbow. It’s a gripping book about my life starting out being tormented by Annaka Manners in St. Mary’s Orphanage, to my youth on the cold, crime ridden streets of Brighton, England. How I fought my way up through the meat grinder of New York’s fashion scene in the 1970’s where I was a fashion photographer who specializes in stylized violence. This is around the time I was forced to reluctantly pull the trigger and kill Tommy Lee Jones. While Barbra Streisand’s song “Prisoner” played in the background.

Random House is very excited.

So….have a great weekend. I’ll try to blog some pictures from our little mountain chalet above Estes Park, CO. I’m not sure if the Rocky Mountains have WIFI yet. I’m sure they do, I mean really.

COLTON FORD EDSEL

You know that I’d drink Colton Ford’s bathwater, right? I’d totally go gay for Colton Ford; I sit and write his name over and over onto my Social Studies book. Mrs. Steve Ford Colton and Stevie Ford. When Kitty Kelley writes her unauthorized biography of his life I’ll be the first to egg her well appointed Dallas townhouse. It was with this zest and devotion that I went to buy his new Album Under The Covers. I did read the reviews which were less than favorable. Such as:

“Complete crap”
“This album is completely unlistenable!”
“An album of complete covers? Seriously? Stick to porn.”

I readily accept that I’m a sixteen year old girl for Colton Ford, so even though I spotted a cover of Lithium by Nirvana I bought the whole damn thing. Yes, the whole album. Including the twenty second long a cappella abortions. I thought I’d do a better review then the anonymous critics on iTunes. But quickly I realized that they were right. That and, after trying to listen to this album, Helen Keller didn’t really have it that bad off. You know how when you bring up Hitler or the Nazis in an argument you’ve lost? Well, that’s the only way I can set the scene for me trying to get through this album. If dance music were Poland, then Colton Ford is goose-stepping across it.

I can now say I have all of Mr. Ford’s music, even if I did delete all but a few songs off of my iPod. I’m not saying not to buy this CD, please do. Rush right out and get it. It may remind you of the whiny-voiced, peroxide-blonde spitfire girlfriend Norma in Victor Victoria, and you can’t pass on the camp value in that. But, most importantly for every song we buy we help pay for his gym membership. And that really is what’s important here.




The Nice To See Stevie B. blog is moving. Please check out http://www.ntssb.com/ and don't forget to update your favorites tab and blog roll.

S IS FOR STEVIEB

This is the first day to wear a jacket to the office. This means, it’s also the first jacket to be left at the office for weeks to come.

This next photo was taken by Brent Heinze last Sunday. I just want to prove to you what I have to live with… Tom is on the left and my dear Fuzzface is on the right. The LOLcat caption would read: IZ ON UR LAP. SHAVIN MI BALZ

PARTY IN THE RMNP

I was whining about the end of summer yesterday so someone sent me this link….



Thanks….I think.

What are your plans for Labor Day or your end of summer getaway? I plan on packing away all of my white slacks and capri length clam diggers. After that we have a great mountain getaway planned. A group of us are going to Estes Park, CO. It’s a little mountain town next to Rocky Mountain National Park most famous for the Stanley Hotel, where Steven King wrote The Shining.



Although we’re not planning on setting foot in the park.….or getting axed. We’ll be spending the days at the local spa getting massages and mani-pedis. Maybe we’ll get really ambitious and do a lip-sync video to a Miley Cyrus song. Who knows?