I spent my day yesterday doing homework at the local gay coffee shop. After the coffee had gone through me, I headed to the bathroom. Upon my entrance to the Men’s room I immediately noticed the newest addition to the men’s room decor. Someone had taken time and effort to scratch YOLO into the stainless steel towel holder.
So, you believe in the mantra of “You Only Live Once.” The concept that we have a choice of living life to its absolute fullest, seize the day, and do what makes you happy. Maybe you are picking up Henry Fonda’s vibe from the1937 crime drama that shares the same name, You Only Live Once. Henry Fonda busts out of jail in this classic after gunning down a prison chaplain. All for the love of Sylvia Sidney. Maybe this film noir, along with the hipster, Jersey Shore urban, modern take of controlling your own destiny drove you to use, no doubt, your laundry room key to scrape this well versed acronym into a gay coffee shop’s towel dispenser?
May I offer a bit of advice? There are a million stellar sights and experiences to behold in this amazing world. Biking trails in the Rocky Mountains, so amazingly beautiful they bring tears to one’s eyes. Discovering and unavailing unconditional love from another person. The pride and inner-strength of standing up for your integrity and morals in this corrupt society. I can not begin to see the edge of possibility in life. No one can. That is why it is so amazing. And some modern philosophers believe you only have one chance at it.
No one has ever, nor shall anyone be able, to unravel the mysteries of life. So, yes you only live once, or YOLO. As individuals begin to explore the advancements and developments in their place in this finite life, great adventures take place. Go! Take it, Seize it! You do only live once. And, in my opinion, that life should not be about defacing a f%$#king Dazbog paper towel dispenser. Ya’ nit-wit.
Last night, instead of joining my circle of friends for our weekly Friday night dinner out at a new restaurant, I ate Chinese take-out like Cliff Barns. I sat in bed with the dog and the MacBook, attempting to write a summary for "White Male Privilege" and their admirers.
I'm finding that my seething hatred for old white straight men is clouding my writing ability. If I read one more fact about this demographic not aware they have a advantage, one more account of a Caucasian male not understanding why minorities are "all angry" about equality, I'm going to lose it.
I really need to unplug for this one. This is why I hate Sociology, give me a ten page paper on Ancient Greek funeral rites and I'm good. Make me think about how the modern world sucks, and I'll want to jab a hot Chinese potsticker in my eye.
When you're in a relationship long enough, you find yourself in the strangest arguments. Coming home from a Pyrex themed pot-luck, the other half and I began to disagree on a matter of the utmost importance.
What car did Alice drive in the opening credits of the television show Alice? I stood my ground in my belief that Alice drove a Mercury Cougar wagon. My childhood memory was clear and unwavering. Turns out, I was wrong. If I was wrong about this... what else have I been wrong about? My whole life is a lie.
I’ll admit it. I have no selfie control. This year the term selfie was added to the Oxford Dictionaries* online site where it is defined as "a photograph that one has taken of oneself, typically one taken with a smartphone or webcam and uploaded to a social media website."* Something that gay men, and fifteen year old girls, have been doing since cameras were invented.
If there is an empty room, with a mirror of relative cleanliness, I’m gonna start pumping my biceps to snap a picture. Patrick, of http://pacspad.blogspot.com fame and I have a text history that is a jumble of self-archetyped, self clicked modern kodachromes. followed, typically by “yeah, wear that shirt...”
Typical "I just ate nachos,
look at my belly"
gas station selfie.
Yet even with my endless bathroom self-aggrandizing turned vaingloriousness, I have one rule... check out what is around me in the room. One slip-up and a snapshot in someones bathroom will lead to years of the image having a huge red circle pointing out the rubber fist that blended so well with the decorative soaps above the commode.
That is why I was puzzled by a post on OMG Blog. Former One Life to Live actor, and openly gay, Scott Evans has the same fondness for selfies. The photos do reveal all, so don't follow the link if you are at work. OMG Blog. Yes, he’s hot, but my first impressions was on how filthy his bathroom was. He couldn’t kick the gym shorts behind the door? really?
I always take windex to the shiny surfaces before I snap.
The Histories has probably never been compared to the TV Series, Dynasty. Until now. Herodotus was the Aaron Spelling of classical Greece. He, Herodotus, wrote the now considered founding work of history in Western literature. This page turner recorded the ancient tradition, politics, geography, and wars happening around the Mediterranean around the 450s BCE. Just as Dynasty recorded the 1980’s America for generations to come. To put it simply, Herodotus invented history. Well, the recording of it.
Based in Denver, Colorado Dynasty painted a realistic picture of how Denverites lived and played. Herodotus traveled around the known ancient world, and collected stories from these travels. He portrayed the conflict between the Persians, and the confederacy of Greek city-states. This text is this the only account on how Egyptians lived.
Why, you ask am I comparing the Father of History to Dynasty?
Well, Herodotus wrote dramatic accounts of pitched battles, about Xerxes, the Persian “King of Kings", once absolute ruler of the greatest empire on Earth. See? Just like the powerful oil tycoon Blake Carrington.
I have decided to read Herodotus’ The Histories, all 700 million pages of it. I’m attempting to make it “fun” by comparing it to the Carrington’s epic battle against government oil regulation and other independent oil companies. Yes, there is a nerd crush I have on Tom Holland, the new translator of Herodotus’s accounts of Greek and Persian battles. That’s just a small adorable part of it.
I will keep you informed to my progress as I dive into this endeavor. We will learn together about the cradle of western culture. And the Carringtons.
“It is time to buy a new house.” Was declared to me several weeks back. Apparently the sink in the master bath had finally clogged from the beard trimming and "Just For Menning. This was followed by weeks of playing the “who’s going to fix it” game. That tedious dance where one of us needed to take the initiative and fix the sink. Also several weeks of using the hall bathroom to brush teeth. I found it easy to begin my teeth cleaning process by loading my toothbrush, then making a dash for the hall bathroom to complete my chore. That, or brush my teeth in the shower. Which reminds me.... Do you find it weird to brush your teeth in the shower? I only ask because upon mentioning my sink repair procrastination and shower brushing to a fellow blogger, they felt it was equal to licking cats.
How Clean is Your Lube?
Today was the day. The sink would yield to my manly, magnificent power. I had to start by digging out all the items that found their home under the bath cabinet. I made a note, when we do buy a house, only pedestal sinks. As I discovered a third container of J-Lube from antiquity, I thought of a new British television show. “What’s all this, then...” Two nicely dressed grandmotherly Brits will come to your house and sort out all your lubes and... bedroom aids. They will be overly sweet as they reorganize your porn DVDs and recycling some, inventory all your lubes and check for quality and safety, and ensure all your “devices” are sanitary. In ten minutes the sink clog was cleared. I then spent an hour organizing the endless amount of supplies I have collected over the years. Guess I used elbow grease to finally find my tub of Elbow Grease.