Adventure Time!

Wow. I always wondered what Finn would look like if he were real...

Tee-Shirts

In the countless number of essays I have been writing for school (this week is a three page paper on how the French started Vietnam, or ‘nam if you were there) I have developed a strange addiction. Internet tee-shirt shopping.  It’s strange because I stopped wearing graphic tee-shirts since..... around here....

It was an escape from school work when I started dropping shirts left and right into the online shopping cart on 6DollarShirts.com, then they started showing up at my door. Upon opening the plastic shipping bag, and a quick once-over they then quickly get tossed into the laundry bin or taken to work to be thrown in the employee lounge. It’s an odd habit. 

This week this showed up...

Followed by this...

6DollarShirts.com will be bummed when my semester is over. 

Tea for Steve

Over the dinner table my friend Michelle announced that she would attempt to give up Starbucks for a month. An amazing feat for a woman that announces her daily arrival at Starbucks on Facebook. A daily treat for her, and a great check-in for Facebook friends. When she announced this change for better health, the wheels in my head started to turn.

That hot pink Tupperware pitcher,
behind the "sports drinks" and soda...
is my tiny stash of iced tea. 

Could I really give up my four daily helpings of Diet Coke? 

The life giving elixir that brings sun shine to my day, yet also brought a little padding to my middle. We all have read the articles on how diet coke isn’t better than regular sodas. In fact it may be worse. Tricking your body to release even more chemicals to absorb the unnatural chemicals directly into your fat cells. 

My self-declared challenge was to cut out the cola, and switch to iced tea, the real stuff, un-sweetened. Although at some restaurants I'm finding that I do have to drink the strange powdered mystery tea. So far, so good. 

Ready to Roll

I purposely positioned my bike next to the door I use every day to leave the house. This is to remind me  the ease of grabbing my bike, and going for a ride. This week; however, has been rather torturous in the bike riding department. 

Colorado has decided to not give up on winter and wants to keep the snow cranked up for a long as possible. Winter in Colorado is the Norma Rae of seasons. Monday I was the only student to show up to my American Civil Rights history class due to a massive snow storm. You would think the professor would cancel, but I guess he gets paid by the Microsoft slide show, so I sat alone in class and watched grainy photos of President Johnson, as I listened to Professor Nerdbear speak about President Johnson’s response to Dr. King’s response to Vietnam. It’s difficult to text during class when you’re the only one in attendance to a history professor verbally decipher the Lemarchand's box that was Johnson civil rights policy. On the way home from class I drove through 7” of snow, thinking how ready I am to put LBJ behind me and go for a bike ride. 

Yesterday it snowed again. Yes, it is April. I am chomping at the bit (as President Johnson used to say) to slap my bike onto the back of my car and head out for a long bike ride on the Platt River biking trails. 

The Gay Flag

As I walked through the hotel lobby during my recent stay, I once again got the nod. That knowing affirmation that two men share when, in passing, they notice the signal that states that something is different. The subtle symbol of the elite club that sophisticated and distinguished gentlemen share. 

The modern day gay pride flag, the Atlantis cruise bag. 

If you’ve experienced the Christmas day like feeling of returning to your stateroom on the last day of your over-priced gay cruise, you know what it feels like to find that another Atlantis gym bag has been deposited, like magic, in the middle of your cabin’s bed. A collective squee can be heard miles out to sea as countless queens find their new gym bag has been left like a Santa filled stocking.  


From that point on, you carry your bag like it's Louis Vuitton. This is because in retrospect, it cost as much as a LV gym bag.

A smile. A nod. Maybe a “I have that bag” can start countless conversations. 

A Clowder of Christians

As I enjoyed breakfast at the hotel this morning a group (what do you call a group of Jesus freaks?) of costumed "Jesus' journey" cos-players entered. In full caftan and polyester robedness. Who new Christ stopped for a night at a three star hotel in Santa Fe? Ironic, horribly rude, and left waffle bar trashed.

Treat thy neighbor's waffle maker as if it was thy own. Take only the cream cheese thy need - so others may enjoy its creamy goodness.

-The scripture of continental breakfast.

The Light in Santa Fe

I remember a gay comic, back in the 90s, speak of Santa Fe, NM. “The light, the light you can paint... you can create... yet everything in the town is fucking brown adobe. Can you imagine getting and drunk and telling the cab driver, ‘I live in a brown house.’” Somehow, every time I return to Santa Fe I forget that every man-made structure is covered in brown adobe.  You can’t locate a damn gas station due to it looking exactly like a high-end art gallery, which looks exactly like the capitol building. Brown adobe. 

The latter day spring break road trip; however, is not spoiled by this south-west camouflage. As the dog is colorblind, he doesn't seem to mind the monochrome colors. 
I have successfully eaten every meal covered in New Mexican style green chili. breakfast? Covered in green chili, better. Lunch? Yup, smoother that in south western chilies. 

The only time we’ve stopped the green chili parade is for sopapillas covered with ice cream. After the road trip, I’ll need some major gym time. 

Love Rugby

Have I mentioned lately how much I love rugby? I can't put my finger on exactly why I love rugby so much...

Rugby

I love rugby almost as much as I love road trips. That's why today I grabbed the dog and hopped in the sedan with friends to head down to Santa Fe, New Mexico for a latter day spring break trip.  It's a quick, five hour jaunt. The land of howling cyottes and green chilies await.  

iLost

This morning I awoke bright and early to shower and head over to Hall of Justice. You may think your suspicions that I’m a superhero are proven correct. Alas, It was not that type of hall of justice, it was my county justice center, and I was reporting for non-superhero duty. Jury duty. Boy did I get looks walking in with a cape. 

You might find it interesting that it turns out I have a gripping bias against men who get drunk, toss their children into the family sedan, and drive around town sans insurance and drivers license. For my prejudice against this type of person, I was dismissed. However, as I sat in the courtroom, and the lawyers attempted to find some of my fellow jurors that were pro driving children around after getting liquored up sans legally being a U.S. citizen, my civic duty waned and I started to ponder things.... 

Where the hell did my AppleTV remote go?

I bought AppleTV a while back and installed it in the bedroom, I haven’t watch broadcast television since. At some point I couldn’t find the shiny, tiny, silver remote given to operate the miricale of our modern age. At the crushing point of not finding the sliver remote, I just downloaded the app and started using my iPhone as the TV remote. It’s awsome using my iPhone as the remote, most of the time I’m texting Pac while watching the tube anyway. Multitasking. As the prosecutors asked questions I counted up how-many times I’ve changed the sheets since the remote was lost. Eight. So six weeks ago? 

Where the hell is my AppleTV remote? When I get home I’m going to squeeze the dog and see if the channels change. 

Lights

This morning I should be writing yet another paper on the argument over Dualism or Materialism. Basically, do you exist as a pile of nerves firing, or as a being separate from your physical body. Although I respect philosophers and theologians arguing over this question throughout the ages, personally I’m just in it for a passing grade. 

Instead of absorbing the “spirit -v- body” connection, I’m blogging and eating cold pizza. That’s a “blogreader -v- tummy” connection. 

I’m very excited for this semester to be over. Not just because the hot wrestler that sat in front of me in history class that refused to wear underwear has stopped showing up to class, it’s the amount of stuff on my “to-do” list that’s getting pushed aside due to the huge amount of papers I’m writing this semester.  

 One thing waiting for me to stop writing papers is the light above the sink. A new light was bought to switch out the 90’s Melrose Place realness and install a new Mad Men touch of realness. The left fixture is the 90’s disk light (let me know if you want it: I’ll send it to you) and on the right is the late 60’s chrome job. As you can see they’re halfway installed. This is due to the call I received last week in the middle of class from the homo-sex companion partner; he calmly stating that his attempt to install the light went horribly wrong. Now, I fix. 

As soon as my struggles with writing about Dualism are over, my manly chores can resume. Assuming I make it through my philosophy class. 

London Calling

At three this morning, the LED shaving mirror I have hanging in my ensuite shower started flashing wildly. For what it's worth, and you don't need to believe this, when someone I know passes away, lights around me flash. I don't really believe it either. So there's that.

As my battery operated light flashed in morse code style, it was easy to think that it was a just a short. I finally dragged myself out of bed to rip the flashing mirror from the tiled wall. As I made my way from the bedroom, a question of what I was doing with the mirror and why I was standing in the middle of the room, flashings lights on and off came from my sleepy partner.. . Because that seems normal.

Since I was awake, I showered without shaving, and drove to work. Listening to Larry Flick on the car's radio, I heard that former Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher had died. Maybe she was flashing to apologize for being a jerk to the GLBT community.

*insert tongue into cheek.