Barilla is Al Donte

It's funny, the whole Barilla pasta CEO stating the he believes in "traditional families" and that homosexuals should eat another brand. It's not the ignorance of a corporation shoving customers away, it's the barking conservatives stating that the  GLBT "activists" are attempting to hijack Barilla for the furthering of some sort of minority cause. 

I choose where I spend my money. I do my research on corporations, and decide what brands I will support. I'm not alone. Most people I know, make informed choices. The  credit card I've chosen gives money to the HRC, the place I buy my groceries extends domestic partner benefits.  It is very easy to find out if the company you're giving money too is onboard and in line with your morals and standards.

Shark Boy http://sharkboy.ca 
fingers pasta

Barilla just did our work for us. The CEO invited anyone who believes in equality to give money to another brand. So, I find it hysterical that conservatives are trying their best to turn hate and prejudice around and blame the supporters of equality. As if standing up and declaring that we say "no" to hate is an agenda. We are simply taking Barilla pasta empires CEO, Guido Barilla's invitation. I will buy another brand of pasta.  

Do You Feel Old?

14 Music Facts That Will Make You Feel Old

Coffee Talk

As I finish my homework at the dinning room table today, I am experiencing two separate things. The strange sensation that only comes from seven shots of anesthesia on the right side of my face, and the complete excitement that only comes from waiting for a UPS delivery. 

This morning I had a periodontal therapy known as root planing. This is a process of removing etiologic agents, dental plaque, via the use of a massive, rusty, dagger-sharp hook known as a scaler. The pointy dagger is jammed into your gumline until the Dentist hears the ping of metal hitting the jaw bone, then it is dragged it up the tooth to collect barnacles. The oral biofouling is slowly chipped away. To deaden the urge to scream, the Dentist shoots your mouth full of anesthesia using a long needle. My face is now sliding down into a Droopy the Dog pose.

 That is not why I’m excited today. 

I finally got around to buying the one cup phenomenon known as the Keurig coffee maker.  I have been checking these coffee makers out for quite a while now. The way they brew coffee, one cup at a time, being able to switch  to different styles of coffee, and darkness of roasts seemed to match me. It’s just like my past dating life. The only thing that stopped me was the tiny cups it brewed. I’m sorry, I’m a

growing boy, I need more than 8oz. of coffee in the morning. Well..... I guess the Massachusetts boys over at Keurig finally got the idea, or maybe the name “Keurig” meaning excellence in Dutch prompted them, either way, they made a maker that brews more, hotter, and stronger. 

So, here I sit. Waiting for the UPS delivery driver to ring the bell and hand me my new happiness machine. He shall be greeted by a drooling, under-caffeinated idiot.  

Booked

I did it. I finally did it. 

I guess I wouldn't make a very good world traveller. Me, jet-setting off to all the global gay hot spots. Like haut and cold running circuit parties. Other than not being twenty five and having a cocaine habit, I am the worst procrastinator when it comes to booking air travel. I like to finalize a vacation, hop on-line to check out the travel sites, then wait a month, or two until the prices go up sixty to seventy bucks.* Why pay the cheapest fair when I can wait and pay more money? 

I finally did it. I booked my ticket to fly to Florida for the Big Gay Cruise in February. It’s a nice feeling to have it done, and that I didn’t pay too little for it. 

Since we’re flying out several days early, now I have to find a fun Bed & Breakfast in Miami or Fort Lauderdale. One that has a pool and is clothing optional. Please write in if you have any suggestions. I’ll wait until January to book the room. I have plenty of time. 

If you would like to join Patrick, me, and 4,000 of our closest friends on the boat, check out RSVP's site. Here. 

*Yes, I am aware of the “return site visitor price hike” I do clear my cookies. 

Death By Tupperware's 9x13 Cake Taker

“We have have rats in the cellar.” I announced.
“Uh... we don’t have a basement” was the response I received, as the other half calmly explained the construction of the house, not looking up to see my best Betty Davis face. 
“Okay, we have mice in the kitchen.... and I want acknowledgment for my campness..."

That was over two months ago. After a long contract with an exterminator, and me bleaching every surface time and time again, we still have rats in the cellar. Well, they’re actually cute tiny mices. They only come around when I’m doing homework at the dinning room table. After an hour of sitting quietly, they start to scamper around the kitchen. They don’t really DO anything, just scamper and leave droppings for me to bleach. Leave it to me to have the most boring mice, yet I’m not sure what mice are legally obligated to do. Their job pretty much is to just scamper around in your peripheral vision. Like twinks at a dance bar. 

This morning I sat down to write a paper for Sociology class when I distinctly saw a bit of brown fluff fly into the pantry. “Ah-Ha, you think you can out smart me!?” I said in my best Inspector Jacques Clouseau voice. As I opened the pantry door, there was my little friend, trying his best to look like a piece of fluff. Like twinks at a dance bar. I reached for the first thing I thought of when one wants to catch a mouse. My Tupperware 9x13 cake taker. In yellow. I slowly undid the cover and held the lid of my fabulous Tupperware product as I peered into the darkness that is the lower shelves of my pantry. A loud shake to the turkey roaster and the game was afoot. The tiny mouse ran out of the pantry and I slammed down the lid of of the cake taker. The furry beasty was trapped under the translucent lid. Trapped as my prisoner. 

“What the hell do I do now?” I asked the dog, who had just peeked his head around the corner to see what the hell what the noise was all about. The dog looked at me, then the cute fur ball in my Tupperware prison. “Beats me, they scare the hell out of me” was the look I got from the fierce Chinese fighting dog. Do I just kill it? In my Tupperware?  Well, they are air tight... No. By the time I concocted a plan I glanced down to find my plastic prison was empty. 

“Run little guy--run free, but tell your friends of what you saw here today. Tell them the story of your capture. Your torment. This kitchen is defended!”

The exterminators are scheduled for Friday. 

Not-So Muscle Bear

There is something horrible wrong with Google. For some idiotic reason, when you Google "Gay Muscle Bear" you get the following results....

A nice sampling of smoking hot muscle. Until you get to a photo of some idiot holding a toilet seat cover up to his head. What the hell is that doing on a page of muscled up fur beasts?? I believed it was some how linked to my 2009 post, read here. Most likely is comes from that smokin' hot Aussie, Kez's blog. 

Either way, it's an embarrassment to all gay muscle bears. And I apologize. 

Labor Day

The Labor Day weekend was just the kick off to my "Late Summer Staycation." For me this is a quiet time to enjoy the ending of the crazy summer and welcome the fall season. This breather seemed to be the only time I could crank up the tunes and strip down to running shorts to give a well-deserved hand wax to the car in the local gay park. Truly a great way to meet people.

Labor Day found me relaxing with friends having a barbecue; it was just a  cat dangling afternoon....

After the symbolism of Labor Day betokening the end of summer, my mind too thought of fall. Well, new athletic shoes for fall. Mostly because everything makes be think of new athletic shoes. This prompted me to finally organize my obsession. So I went to the Homo Depot and bought a cart of this...

I then, turned it into this..

It's been a pretty great week off. As my home projects are done; today I'm off to the mall. The reorganizing of my running shoes gave me room to buy a couple more pair.

Nuts for Nuts

When I like something, I sometimes go over-board. Lately it has been sweet and salty nut bars. Can't frickin' get enough.