Monday, February 28, 2011


Saturday night I found myself going to the movies, the flick was The Kings Speech. I’m a fan of costume dramas not just because I’m gay but because I’m a big gay history nerd. So if a film has drawn out dialog and slow sweeping landscape shots it’s most likely a perfect fit.

Several minutes into this film I became exceedingly unconformable. I guess I didn’t realize that it was about a bloke with a speech impediment. What most people don’t know about me is that left unchecked I myself have a crippling stutter. Seeing someone stutter puts my brain in a tailspin and I go back to square one with the way I think and speak. Two hours of this put me into a verbal meltdown.

When I was a small fey and pale boy I couldn’t start a sentence without fear clenching my girlish hands into a fist. The nickname of Stuttering Stevie came from my classmates in third-grade. The ironic thing was I couldn’t even repeat my own nick name to my teacher when she asked why I always cried.  It is also ironic how I wanted nothing more than to leave the small town I was trapped growing up in. Yet unknown to me at the time this small town was a college town and home to a teaching program that would hold the key to my future.

The university that my school bus drove by every day was on the cutting edge on education in learning disabilities. I’m still unsure of how I ended up at the center of a study program on teaching children with speech impediments and dyslexia. Looking back it has changed my life forever.

Everyday through the remainder of my elementary education a team of professors and teaching students would come to my school to teach me to speak. I ate the attention up, I would walk into a conference room filled with adults who wanted nothing but to gush over me. Every day the head of the program, Mr. Sena would enthusiastically announce to the group“Well… It’s nice to see Stevie B!”

After three years of daily training the study and program was ended. After three years of daily training I could speak. I finally had a voice. Although I struggle when I see Colin Firth stuttering ten feet high on the silver screen mostly my stuttering only shows itself when I’m trying to speak to someone I don’t know at the bar. The hotter the guy is the more I turn back into Stuttering Steve. I like to tell myself that guys find it endearing.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Disappointed Dog

Someone could not wait for me to take a shower. So he could have the bed.

Friday, February 25, 2011


I have an odd weekend lined up. Not as odd as the weekend I spent in bed with my high school principal, but different none the less.

The companion partner is out of town on a “boys retreat in the mountains”. Most of the guys or gang I run with will be out of town for a multitude of reasons. It’ll be just a gay skeleton crew around these parts, which really isn’t a bad thing sometimes.

The Cheesman Park pavilion
I’m finding lately that I don’t need to constantly be around the buzz. This really started when I began to take running seriously. I’ve found myself turning off the thump-thump dance music on my iPod and just listening to my breath. All the years of the meditation and yoga stuff and I never got the idea. Then one day in the park it just hit me. Breath in, breath out.

Okay, let’s not get deep here. The other part of being alone in the house is my horrid taste in movies. Not every homo likes to sit and watch Godzilla, some kind of low-budget Sci-Fi then wash it down with a subtitled foreign gay romance flick. It’s an acquired taste.

Don’t get me wrong there will be a large amount of whoring and a lot of Chinese food in bed. In that order. But it will also be a weekend of drinking coffee to all hours at my local coffee shop and going for a nice long run.

Thursday, February 24, 2011


A Zen Master once said “The Atlantis gym bag is the new gay pride flag.”

Deep in its meaning, true in its declaration.

I carried my Atlantis Cruises gym bag like a true disciple for years. Recently while I stood naked in the locker-room it self-destructed in front of me. Just fell to the earth and faded into dust. Kind of like Christine Aguilera. With less flames.

I had a moment of naked silence for my gay cruise memento. Then as I stood over the ashes of my dearly departed and rubbing the hairs on my stomach, I realized the next chapter in my life. I quickly dug like a vulture through the dead bag and pulled out my phone. “I’m calling Dalton!” I declared knowing he is the only man to care about my naked moment.

“Hi. The zipper just ripped out of my gym bag, now I have a reason to buy a new Puma backpack.” Realizing how A) shallow B) gay it sounded as I said it. “Uh…. Great…. Good for you?” Dalton is the only man I know that will give me mock praise and concern when I want it. That’s why I love him, he patronizes me. Tiny moments in your life sometimes need to be shared with someone that unconditionally loves you.

“Tell you what. I haven’t given you a birthday present yet. What If I make that your present?” Dalton said in that tone that always makes me feel all warm and safe.

An end to an era. Out with the old, free bag with cruise purchase with it's never ending smell of Gun Oil and in with a rocking Puma backpack. 

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Tuesday, February 22, 2011


It usually starts with a whisper. Then maybe a rub on the back. The quiet time in the middle of the night when one of us can’t sleep and wants to talk. Maybe not talk, just to not be alone in bed awake wondering about the future or the past or really nothing at all. This usually results in a quick stride to the truck in gym shorts for a middle of the night drive around town.

We started these late night cruises five years ago, the drive around our small town in the truck when we can’t sleep. Since our town really is one long main street it’s easy to make a couple of trips up and down, past the Latino cell phone store / quinceañera shoppe, past the Soviet Safeway, the bowling alley, the DQ and down to the gym. This is when we either turn to head for pancakes at the Village Inn or zip around the traffic circle and head back up the town’s streets and it’s blinking four way stop lights.

We don’t really talk much. Just listen to the overly loud exhaust pipes of the truck grumble away as the sound bounces off the façades of the buildings on Main Street. Before we know it we’re back to the ranch and slipping back between the sheets. Somehow, this makes us able to slip off within minutes.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Presidents' Day in 2011

Oh with all the day to day struggle of working with the Military there is some stuff I really like. Government holidays. Although somehow I alway mark mine with a trip to the dealership for car maintenance. This still makes me happy...

See? Happy.

Saturday, February 19, 2011


Y'all have been sweet asking about my carpet burns. They're doing okay....

Friday, February 18, 2011


I’m re-watching all of the Godzilla movies, Wednesday was the first 1954 release, Gojira. This black and white un-subtitled masterpiece spoke more to the theme of the horrors of nuclear weapons then the spectacle of Japan getting eaten by a lizard. This may be why, when pretending to be Godzilla chasing after the Shar-pei to stomp him and everything he holds dear, I fell down the stairs.

I’m sure even Godzilla had problems with stairs.

During my fall I managed to get my tiny T-Rex arms under me to break the fall. I then slid down the full flight of stairs on my butt and elbows. Whilst still making dinosaur sounds. The dog, thinking he just brought down Godzilla promptly attacked in a playful manner to score some brontoburger.

Flash forward to the gym the next day.

A gym bud noticing my severely carpet burned and scabbed elbows says something like “Hee-hee, carpet burned elbows hu? Wow! You must have had fun.” This is when I stated something like “yeah, you should see my ass, black and blue. I took a pounding, man am I sore.” I found it odd that when I turned to explain how I fell down the stairs he had busted into laughter and just walked away.


Minutes later…..

“OH MY GOD! He thinks I got the carpet burns because of…… And I said…. Man! I said I took a pounding!....... black and blue.

My life as it has been lived with dignity.

Thursday, February 17, 2011


As a couple I believe that Fuzzy and I have moved past the high gay, rose petals on the table type of Valentine dinners. That and our combined loathing of corporate restaurants have spurred a new sport in our house. Find the most obscure, oddly kitsch restaurant and go experience the bizarreness.

On Valentine’s Day we found a relic from the heyday of wood paneled steak houses called Gala Gardens. This seventies steak house is where you would of taken your prom date for a lobster dinner before ravishing her in your Chevy Silverado. In 1978. Literally on the other side of the tracks in Commerce City, Colorado the restaurant and lounge is stuck in a time warp. A tacky popcorn ceiling and deep rust carpeted time warp. But with reviews like “This is the kind of place very old people and truckers like to go” We were so in.

Actual diners from the website,
don’t they look like they’re enjoying life?
 In their matching outfits.

After the smell coming from the fish tanks settled in my head, I noticed that I was overdressed for a romantic Valentines Dinner. My dress shirt had sleeves. Apparently the new look this year in this industrial, grain elevator populated suburb to Denver, Co. is NASCAR pit crew vests.

We were shown to a booth next to the waterfall. Well, It was an indoor waterfall and pond in 1980. They’ve since moved to a plastic fern and pastor garden gnome theme. By filling the koi pond with plastic flowers it coordinated better with the missing teeth and pierced eyebrow of our waitress. This was the same waitress when asking about the lobster and prime rib turned to the table next table, picked the surf-n-turf out of the hands of the leather vested gentlemen about to enjoy this delicacy and brought to show us. Now that’s service.

All in all it was an amazing evening. We were there for hours, tried all of the house specialties this side of the Rocky Mountain Oysters and enjoyed the old steak house style of dining. We’ll go back anytime. Where else can you start your meal with an iced tray of radishes and green onion Apéritifs and end with a dessert called Cherry LeBamba.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011


Yesterday afternoon I finally stopped the whining and the excuse making. I pulled up my big boy pants and walked back into a college advisers office. I felt nineteen again. Sitting in the waiting room of a college advisor, wondering if I can make the wrestling team. Or pep squad. Did I mention that back in Texas I was a cheerleader? Uh, probably best if we not go there.

My background is in HR administration, but for some odd reason it’s kind of a dying field. Why have Human Resources when there’s a perfectly good website to handle everything? So, Steve goes back to get a diploma in something else. I checked, there’s not a degree in blogging, drinking coffee or sarcasm. Damn it.

I’m thinking the next chapter in my life will be in the Healthcare Administration field. It’s close to what I’m doing now, just in the private sector. That is if I survive lugging books to class again, not seeing the other half for days and….well if I make the pep-squad. Wish me luck.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011


An open letter to the other half…

Dear Fuzzy,
First and foremost I’d like to apologize for screeching at you like a crazy person. And on Valentine’s Day too. I apologize because I now understand you are free to make your own choices in this world. You’re an adult. I respect that.

The choice of once again brewing and bring to bed an over sized steaming mug of coffee is yours to make. Might I add a wise one? Drifting off to sleep whilst sipping away at a mug of caffeine overloaded coffee the temperature of the sun is probably what most health people do, who am I to holler that you’re an insane crazy whack-job for this practice.

And as you balanced your oversize cup on your stomach you drifted off to a peaceful slumber. You looked like a sleeping puppy as I jumped from the bed and without provocation started to beat you with several pillows. Violence never solves anything. I know that now.

I now know that there was no way to tell that once you where asleep, still holding on tight to the mug that when you rolled over to hold me the beverage would spill. Not, spill. Pour down on my naked torso. Well, my naked torso, the dog, the sheets, blankets, and everything else in the bedroom once the pillows started flying at your head.

I was way out of control. I’m sorry.

Being jarred awake by your partner screaming bloody murder, the dog pouncing on you manhood as he tries to get away from the coffee tidal wave and the violence that followed is not appropriate for Valentines’ or any day.

The sheets and bed linens where easy to wash, the dog getting a bath at 3AM was kind of romantic. I’m sure the cowering around coffee mugs will eventually stop. Most of all I’m really fond of the pungent, lingering smell of mocha in our bedroom.

So, thank you for another year of…. hot nights in bed.


Monday, February 14, 2011


So my niece apparently did one of those “Top Fan” programs on Facebook.   Funny that I came in two behind an ewok.  I’m thinking number nine isn’t too happy about it either.

Me, teenage girls, an ewok, and PussNBoots. Great.


Friday, February 11, 2011


My sweater got made fun of today.....

They be Haten, I be sweaterin.


Not that I'm insinuating Harry Potter is gay butt...

I have the perfect location for your new house. With an amazing view of elevated Interstate 70 this land is covered with trees.... and homeless drifters that will slit your throat for your shoes.  I wonder if the real estate agent had a laugh as they placed the "Your Castle" slogan sales sign?

Wednesday, February 9, 2011


So part of my tax return this year is going towards shiny new wheels for my Korean sports sedan. Since this is my first car, before this I’ve only had trucks and 4X4s I want to treat it special, show it I care.

I’ve been shopping for quite a while trying to find the right type of rims. This was made more difficult then I first suspected because I have a raging twenty-one year old inside me that apparently listens to Pitbull and needs chrome rims to match the chrome studs in his Ed Hardy knock off sparkely hoodie. I’d pull up a website for over-sized hand polished rims and want to strip down to my wife beater and say “Oi! Thems sweet!” This started to make my co-workers worry.

Eventually the mature and tasteful gay man took control of the brain. He decided upon nice, polished steel from Italy. I ordered a set and had them shipped to a “retailer near me”. That’s when I received a call from Paul. Mr. Paul, the most unromantic tire man in the world, called me to let me know when my Italian beauties would be ready for installation. This is when Paul put me in a Sophie's Choice moment.*

The first appointment available was on Monday. This coming Monday. The 14th of February. Then I had to decide to take the evening appointment and started to rehearse what I’d say to the Italian I had at home. “Right. So we usually do a romantic dinner at 17th Avenue Grill…… but I thought what would be really special would be the Philly Cheese steak stand next to my custom garage. Doesn’t that sound…… great?”

When Paul finally pulled me back to reality I told Ed Hardy dude to shut the hell up and decided that Tuesday the 15th would do nicely.

*Never start quoting lines from Sophie’s Choice to you local auto mechanic. He just won’t get the camp.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011


Last night started the other half’s first day on his new diet. God help me.

This means an entire shopping trolley full of non-carb high protein slabs of meat, cans of meat and other carbohydrate free sundries. These times are crazy up at the old South Fork Ranch. He with the non-carb Atkins diet thing and me with the non-fat close to vegetarian thing working. The dinner table can get a little…. Exciting.

If you would have joined us for dinner last night you would have been treated to meatballs, large pickles, and cubed cheese with a can of Vienna Sausages as an appetizer. Or, you could have started with a Caesar salad with fake chicken strips and crumbled facon followed by low-fat cheese pizza with whole-wheat crust. For dessert you might have enjoyed either low fat chocolate pudding or a five slices of salami.

I know it’s only the second week in February but, is it Spring yet??

Monday, February 7, 2011


Years ago Dalton declared Sunday mornings as The heathen hour. This is because you can wander the mall, go shopping at farmers markets or get your hair did without The faithful stopping in the middle of your path to stoop over and tie the laces of their crying rug rat. During the heathen hour you can freely go about your tasks free of screams that can only be generated by small children wanting to suck the life out of everyone near them. When a screeching child starts its fever pitch battle cry is right around the time I suggest to the parent that if you shake the little bag of snot really hard it will stop making that noise.

I bring this up because Super bowl Sunday is like the heathen hour all day long. Going anywhere on this holiday for the unfootballed is probably like going to the movies on the 25th of December for non-gentiles.

I'll give you a tight end.

Saturday it snowed a couple of inches and knowing it would be impossible to find running paths I headed to the gym yesterday. Part of every warm up is waiting for a treadmill to open up, surprisingly there wasn’t a single person on the treadmills. Praise to Jesus and the NFL.

Even after one of my fellow cardio enthusiasts sized me up with my Under Armour cap and shorts and switched the TV in front of me from the Food Network to the Live Coverage from Dallas Pre-Pre-Pre-game show I got my miles completed and headed out to the safe quiet street.
Could be worse, I could be Christina Aguilera right about now.

Friday, February 4, 2011


My Ex and BFF, Dalton sends me photos from his day to day life in New York City. Here is this week’s winners….

Jesus or Andy Gibb?
Or maybe both.

Will someone please think of the Vajay-jays?!
Wait, no don't.

Thursday, February 3, 2011


Another February and another loss in the holiday decoration contest. This is the yearly bet between me and Fuzzface on when our village will take down the cities Christmas decorations. Not Holiday, but Christmas décor. Plastic trees and wreathes bolted onto every street light.

If they sober up and remove any trace of Jesus-fest by my birthday I win. If they make it into February he wins. They officially took down the plastic fantastic Jesus tribute yesterday. Main street looks so bare and holiday free. It’s spooky.

Last night:

"I love you." I sleepishly said.

“Yeah, I love hotdogs too.” I heard back from the other side of the bed.


“Man, I know there nasty but doesn’t a couple of hotdogs sound great?”

“I’ll slip you a nice plump hot dog.”

“Really? You’d go buy us some hotdogs?” With utter excitement in his voice.

“Good night” I said pulling the duvet over my head.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011


I started out this week of sub-zero temperatures by taking one step in my new pumas onto our front sidewalk and flying up into the air and landing spread out flat on my back. I was okay, my backpack stuffed full of gym shorts and Morningstar grillers cushioned my fall. But, as I lay there in the early morning freeze I started to think about that rap/hip-hop star Flo Ridder. Would his friends call him Flo? Because the only Flo I knew was from the TV show Alice. I started to think that he works into his rhyme Yo-Kiss my grits, dog. Then I realized that I should get my ass off the ice before the used vacuum cleaner bag of an old lady next door calls the cops.

Yesterday when our fair city dropped into the negative temperatures I worked from home. Leaving the house only to go to our villages ALL YOU CAN EAT MEXICAN BUFFETT[sp]. The tasty yet bad grammar restaurant had a mile of cheap Mexican cuisine. To stay warm I ate an entire chupacabra in a chocolate mole. Man they’re tasty.

Today is another below zero day. But no fear, I went outside and didn’t see my shadow. So we’re bound to have a early spring.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011