PARK TIME

I’ve got Spring fever. Bad. The type of spring fever that drives into the park wearing only daisy dukes to wax your car whilst a gaggle of pre-op Hispanic trannies cheer you on. That sort of Spring fever.


I seriously need some Stevie in the park with his dog and a large Diet Coke time. Speaking of enjoying myself maybe I shouldn’t be here typing and be there…. Enjoying.

SODOMITE SNACK CAKE '10

Okay seriously, are all snack cakes gay? I was on the internets the other day looking for images and I found this yummy if not flaming layout. I don’t remember snacks cakes being so swishy. Like they would get their delicious little cream-filled heads bashed in if they walked through the corn chips turf in the vending machine. So on the left there’s “The Captain” a dark, fudgy daddy in uniform. Then there’s Twinkie the Kid, I love the hearts on his scarf very broke back."I wish I could quit you!" Next is what it would look like if a chocolate roll was “rolling” during a Peter Pan Themed Atlantis cruise T-dance. His bags have “water” bottles and tiny little glow sticks in them. On the right is apparently an Oscar Wilde cream pie. Yummy, and sharp witticisms on every bag. You didn’t hear this from me but Chocolate Roll is a huge druggie bottom. Just so ya know.

FOUR EYES!

I had to go to the Optometrist last Friday. Staring at Government forms and a computer all day plus a two hour commute has taken its toll. It has NOTHING to do with being in my late thirties. Nothing. I’ve been putting it off for quite awhile because of the “What. Another thing to make me big dork? Like the Sci-fi and blogging and anthropomorphizing my dog and my endless boring obsession with the Amber Room isn’t enough?” Great.

I was a little sheepish as I went into the doctor’s office. It was a gay office in a very trendy neighborhood in Denver. Hell, if I had to go to the eye doctor, I might as well go Uber-gay. I quickly calmed down when the check-up went really well and a little gay boy helped me find some great frames. Even though the only direction I gave him was that I wanted frames like Clark Kent would wear to a White Party. When he looked sideways at me I followed up with “Uh….like Bruce Wane cruising Castro?” I’ll get my new specs in a week. I’ll let you be the judge.

During the final step the Doc had to dilate my eyes. After pouring in the liquid hot magma, he stepped out, this is when I zipped out my iPhone for some E-cruising via Grindr and Facebook. Quickly my screen got blurry, but as the gay receptionist came in to check on me he was amazed and questioned.

“Wow, you can still see your phone?”

“Yes.” I calmly replied. “My will to Grindr is too great.”

StevieB needs 2(x)ist

Is it possible to get addicted to buying men’s underwear? Seriously, nothing gives me a charge like buying men’s briefs online. Lately, I have been buying 2xist’s Contour Pouch Briefs from International Jock.com over and over again. How many colors do I need?

So, I had a bad week. I can’t think of a better way to cope  than to go to Old Navy and stock up on printed boxer shorts. I guess it’s better than spending my time at the bar. And, it’s cheaper than my other addiction. Pumas and shiny, shiny gym shorts.

I'm just a bill

SNOW DAY

I got a snow day yesterday. It really helped put my brain back together. This whole week I’ve been walking around singing Kristine W’s Be Alright because I’ve been wondering who’s in my corner. Or not. Don’t you just love self-doubt? I’m sure it comes from my creepy Mormon childhood with a Mom that would scream “They’re either for ya, or against ya” and a Dad that would scream “Nobody wants to hear what you’ve got to say, and nobody ever will!” Said like pirates for some odd reason. Mormon pirates.

So…. A nice day to decompress was needed and wanted.

I think I’ve completed my personal-Pacific Rim-gay-love story film festival yesterday with Bangkok Love Story. It was a pretty good film and I would recommend it. And not just because one of the actors spends like the entire movie running around in his undies. Well maybe. Just turn it off when there’s fifteen minutes left. You don’t need to see the end. No one does.












So, pardon me. I’m going to go back to listen to Kristine W. now…..

CENSUS 2010

“Let’s be Filipino?” I said coming in the house with the mail.
“What?” Fuzz, looking up from his computer on the Super-squishy Elle Shaped Sofa of Love.
I had just gotten the mail and we received our Census form. This was when suddenly I decided we should be Filipino. See, we live in a very white. Very boring little town. The big excitement this week was seeing a transgendered truck driver clomping around Target. Wearing a black bra under a white silk blouse.
“Well, we got our Census form and since we live in the land of White Toast I thought we’d throw a curve ball and say that we’re Filipino Gym Bunny Homosexuals.”
Fuzzy raised an eyebrow. “White toast? What does that mean? Does it even ask if we’re homosexual, gym bunny or otherwise? You can make us any nationality you’d like.”
Just then Harley walked through the living room. “I’m Chinese. I don’t care what you honkies wanna call yourselves.”
I’m hoping that somewhere soon in a Census Bureau someone will stop and say, “Hu, I guess there really are Filipino-gym going-Homosexuals in small towns across America. Good for them.

IKEA

IKEA announces that its Denver store will open in fall 2011.
See the link.

I told myself I wouldn't cry....

BREAKUPS ARE HARD TO DO

“What happened to the coffee maker?” I said to the dog as I came home and walked into the kitchen.
“I’m not gonna say but, it was spectacular.” Harley the Shar-Pei said with too much glee in his voice. Uh, oh I thought. When Harley says something was “spectacular” that means a lot of cursing and cussing was involved.
“Fuzz? Uh…did something happen between you and the coffee maker today?” I yelled up the stairs.
“No.”
“Are you sure? It’s no longer in the kitchen. Did the coffee maker move out?”
“We’re not going to talk about the coffee maker!” Fuzzy yelled down the stairs.
“Let’s put it this way. If I were to check the coffee makers Facebook status, would it have under Relationship It’s Complicated or Newly Single?”
“I wouldn’t know, I’ve de-friended the coffee maker, you can continue to message him but, I’m done.” I rolled my eyes in mocking as I said out loud “I’m done.” Italians. “I’m done.”
“Well. I’m sorry to hear about you and the coffee maker. If you want to talk about it I’ll be right here.” Then I raced back into the kitchen to ask the dog what really happened. Apparently, the coffee maker had the audacity to stop working….or maybe break during a critical coffee need. Still spurting out half brewed coffee it got carried to the curb. Whilst Fuzzy was wearing nothing but coffee covered underwear and swearwords.

Tonight, we try to go pick up a hot new coffee maker. Maybe this time in stainless steel. Hot.

STEVIEB'S MAC

"A battery?" the Macbook said to me over the weekend. "Nope haven't seen it."

"It's right there! It's literally attached to you!” I screamed. “See! Right there.”

“Uh, no. And please don’t yell at me. There is no sign of a battery; I don’t think there ever was one. I don’t know what to tell you….you have wanted to spend 100 bucks at the Apple store. For no good reason. You could buy me a new battery.” The Macbook calmly suggested.

“God I hate you” I muttered.

“You could never hate me, I’m your Macbook.”

“Uh, you’re right I could never hate you. You bring so much joy to my world.”

“Well…..yes……and I could send all your porn to everyone you know. Just saying. Go buy me a new battery.”

PIE DAY

Let’s take today to appreciate Dalton James. He gives us so much, so we must take a day to celebrate the day that Port Arthur, Texas gave him to us.

**Head bowed, quiet pause. **

As you know, Dalton was my partner for 17 years. Okay, 4 whatever. Until he ran away to New York to become a graphic artist and a cosmopolitan socialite. Puff, puff. At least until he gave up the bear party scene to move to little ol’Denver. Sunday is the Mighty, Mighty Dalton’s birthday. On pie day! 3.14… pie, get it?

Yeah, no one does.

So… wish him a great day and if you’re hanging out at your local Bear Bar this weekend raise your drink and toast Dalton. He’ll be the one with that shell shocked look in his eye that every guy gets after dating me.

*May not be an actually photo of Dalton.
It is, but when I get a head smack I want
to say I put an asterisk next to it.

MASH-UP THURSDAY

I guess I’m trying to work the beard thing again.



I realized that my “manly gym swagger” was out of control yesterday. You’ve seen the guys walking across the gym, they can’t put their arms down as they swing the pumped up shoulders back and forth. Like they’re hunting the Mammoth. Or Tatonka.

So I might have been one of those guys…… I just finished bench press and as I walked over to get a drink my iPod kept shuffling songs. The Shake to Shuffle Application on my iPhone believed it was being shaken, shaken, shaken like a Polaroid picture. My first thought was of Patrick Stewart in Jeffrey.

“Oh, get her.”






Speaking of getting her, I finally got my car windows tinted.



They're Limo black. I now have to put down the window to turn left but, hey. Details, details.

BACON

Two men are walking through the desert. Upon a crest of a dune they see what appears to be a large tree covered in crisp, delicious bacon. Every branch had long greasy strips of perfectly cooked bacon swing in the quite breeze.

“Oh my god! We’re saved!” said the first man, as he ran down the hill towards the bacon tree. But as soon as he got within reach of a branch a Soldier jumped out from a sand dune and shot him down.

BAM!

“Dear God!” screamed the second man. “What happened? What is it?”
The first man, with his dying breath. “It’s not a bacon Tree. It’s….It’s a Hambush.”


I’m sorry, that really the best I could do today……Sorry.

DON'T NOT ASK, DO TELL

Sometimes I’ll be in the middle of something and stop to think “That’s so Raven.”


I spent last week on a military base. I overheard two older, career service members talking. The first one was laughing about don’t ask and don’t tell, that the higher ups are showing that they haven’t a clue about unit cohesion.

“Maybe, it’s because Old McCain hasn’t been in a unit and has lost any concept of unit cohesion?” The other service member said.

“Yeah, cuze then they’d know that it doesn’t frickin matter who likes to sleep with who[sp] in the unit. Only if everyone pulls their weight.”

I took out all the swearing. Funny that the troops don’t care about who serves, as long as they stand up next the one another.

WALK SIGNAL MAN

A glowing “walk signal” man takes a leisurely stroll through Tokyo at night.

tokyoglow-low from Nathan Johnston on Vimeo.

Found on Pink Tentacle.

Frozen Dead Guy Days

This weekend marks another Frozen Dead Guy Days in beautiful Nederland, Colorado. In 1989, a Norwegian citizen named Trygve Bauge brought the corpse of his recently deceased grandfather, Bredo Morstøl, to the United States. In 1993, the stiff Granddad was transported it to the town of Nederland, where Trygve and his mother planned to create a cryonics facility of their own. When Trygve was deported from the United States for overstaying his visa, his mother, continued keeping her father's body cryogenically frozen in a shack, a Tuff-Shed to be precise.

When the Mother came close to eviction, she informed a reporter that it would cause her father's body to thaw out. The story caused a sensation, including a documentary film on "Grandpa", called Grandpa's in the Tuff Shed.

Frozen Dead Guy Days is an annual event to celebrate Grandpa Bredo continued….. Frozenness with Coffin races, a slow-motion parade, and "Frozen Dead Guy" lookalike contests are held. And beer, lots of beer. A gang of us will end up with the other crazy moes, taking over a corner of a local bar and downing some suds before standing out in 30 degree weather to drink more beer. It doesn't get cold that way. Yippy, can’t frickin wait.

SCREW JOB

A great idea for one final and permentint screw.

Click here.

Yes, it's safe for work.

KEYS TO HAPPINESS

I stumbled across a couple of studies over the weekend. They were the “how to be happy” or “keys to happiness” studies. Mostly I hate this type of mumbo-jumbo, but as I read, I quickly realized one scary thing. They were right. Every “study” had two major themes in my life. I hate it when the internets is right. Jerks.

Be positive
Are you overwhelmed by a sense of dread every time you try something new? Happy people focus on what is possible rather than dwell on the chances for failure. They look at the lighter side and find humor in every situation.

Work out
Consistently breaking a sweat. Exercise improves one's state of mind in part by affecting the body's levels of two chemicals: cortisol and endorphins. The adrenal glands of angry or scared people produce cortisol. This increases blood pressure and blood sugar, weakens the immune response and can lead to organ inflammation and damage. But working out burns cortisol, restoring the body's normal levels.


Click here to read more.