New Years Eve

Happy New Years Eve! I just wanted to take some time on this last day of 2013:

Thank you for making this year a good blogging year. Without getting all sappy, thank you. I'd totally give you one of those bro hugs right now.

I hope 2014 is great to you, if not let me know and I'll kick its ass just for you. But, I'm sure it will be great. I soon will be heading out to the New Years Eve celebration with complete optimism.
Enjoy 2014; I’m sure it will be kind to you.

Andrew and His Banner Adds

So, ugg. No Uggs for Christmas. Which solidifies the thought that certain people in my household (along with English speaking humanity) never read my blog.  My witty hints had gone unnoticed. I cannot complain; however, because Santa in all his velvet covered silver bear sexiness did stop at the Apple store and pick me up an iPad. It wont help my collegiate backpack shrouded style as I walk down the pavement on my way to coffee, but once I’m in the gay coffee shop I can read to my hearts content on my sexy and glossy Apple product. 

I have quickly encountered a problem on my new e-reader.  I have some-sort of computer virus that quickly spread to my computer as well. A complex problem that only affects gay users of the Internet. Andrew Christian adds. Upon my first visit the Official Andrew Christian Men’s underwear website these banner adds have now found there way to every site I visit. Just one on-line shopping trip, and now he thinks we’re dating. Stocking me in some creepy banner advertisement kind of way. This morning I was on a website that had four places for adds. All four were filled with eight-packed sporting quasi-ethnic hip-hugger wearing panty clad hotties. 

If you were around in the ‘ol start up days of America On Line (AOL) there was a time they attempted to cram their “start up discs” in to every crevice in the universe. Opening your mail box weekly meant ten of the CDs would fall out onto your feet. If your excavate any landfill in America, there will be a solid layer of blue and yellow AOL mailers in the late 90’s and early 00’s. For the gays, Andrew Christian underwear adds are the new AOL propaganda.  One late night visit just to “shop for underwear” and you’re assaulted via banner adds for the remains of your days with incredibly and impossibly hot, sexy and smoldering, beautiful males. Banner adds that force you to click on them and to spent hours examining the curve of these sexy lads amazing abs. Leering at their abdominal region, and those perfectly plump rectus abdomen muscles and the external obliques that form a line at the edge of massive abdominal muscles that point straight to their lower pelvis.... uh... where was I?

Yeah. I got an iPad for Christmas. And I use it to shop for underwear. 

Crunch-a-tize Me

As I sat down to enjoy my Sunday morning bowl of serial, I started to wonder if the Cap'n real name is spelled with an apostrophe. If on his drivers license it reads "Cap'n or Captain."  Turns out, his full name is Horatio Magellan Crunch.

Either way he spells it, my research discovered that The Wall Street journal reported that the number of stripes on his uniform indicate a rank of Commander and not Cap'n. They reported that the U.S. Navy had no record of Crunch and that NCIS was investigating him for impersonating a naval officer.

The old queen. 

The Omitted Octopus

It’s always fun to come home and find new presents under the Christmas tree. We have a tradition of just slipping newly wrapped presents under the tree, without saying anything to the interested party. As this year I drug out the old Chromium 1950’s tree, new presents springing up like weeds under the tree have  an aluminum sparkle upon them. 

Then, I came home to find this….

Yes. It’s a box labeled “Octopus” What does that mean?? My mind whirled. Is there a real octopus in that box. Am I getting a pet octopus? Maybe more than one. That would be cool if I did, get more than one, because then I could finally use my knowledge that there are three correct plural forms of octopus: octopuses, octopi, and octopodes. I could meet people and say, “Hey, wanna come back to my house? I could show you my octopuses, octopi, or octopodes depending on if you’re English, Greek, or Latin....” Scratch that. I should never say that. To anyone. Ever. 

I stared at the box for a while, dreaming of my pet octopi. I’d be a hit at the gay park, as I would train it to catch frisbees. My dreaming of long walks with Octavious; however, were dashed when the box was gone the next day. Apparently it was a punch bowl for a very strange friend. 

I’m left with a wanting of Octavious. My pet octopus. 

The Lineage

Sometimes I’m asked how I got my independent streak. The ability to be an individual and, a little far out into wacky land. To face into the wind. Beat my own drum. Then, I open up Facebook and see pictures like this one....

Yeah, you can guess which person is my sister. This example photo was taken during her works Ugly Sweater Contest. I always answer that it’s a family trait. 

Our strong individualistic characters are due to the fact that we have a strong English family line heading back to 1622 in Somerset, England. Our ancestors were a strong family that united to stand their ground and defied the local government.  Even when the neighboring government was not really asking them anything. 

This is why our families coat of arms has the Latin saying, “factum est, usque non est super” It is not done until it is over done.

Stevie B. NEEDS Muggs

It appears to be nine days away from Christmas. This means that I’m successfully well into my plans of getting Man-Uggs, or Muggs as my present from Santa. 

As you may be aware, last year I launched Operation Muggs. Unsuccessfully. The operation failed, yet I did receive some amazing gifts. 

This year it’s war. 

See! Tom Brady wears Muggs. 

I have recruited an army of minions to begin a texting campaign. Texting things like, “yeah-know, I over heard Stevie talking about wanting new boots... something like Muggs.” Or random photos of Uggs being texted from random strangers. It’s my plan to layer the knowledge. I guess whispering late at night in the dark will help too.  “mmmmmmmmmmaaaaaannnnnn Uuuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggggggggggsss, Steeeeeeeeeveeeeee waaaaantssssss Booooooooooottttts!!!!!!!

And, Yes. I am comfortable enough in my masculinity to wear Uggs. Although, a friend pointed out that “all the other girls wear them with skinny jeans.” 

Hotel Room Portraits

As I over-researched the perfect place on vacation in February, I stumbled upon an amazing photographer's collection. I have a thing for photography sites. Years of staying in hotels around the world this gay couple has documented their lives. This series has blown me away. Please check out Richard Renaldi's  Hotel Room Portraits.

Hotel Room Portraits

Learn more about Richard Renaldi




*Photo used without authorization or approval. Claim no rights. 

Stevie's Choice

I am glad to say that I have survived this semester of school. Now it’s time to relax and play, “school boy on winter break.” I’m very excited. 

As I’m on winter break, I have time to finally complete some over-due chores. This morning re-ignited a debate in the house. Where to stay the three days before the cruise in February. Or, what gay B&B shall we flop at for three days over Valentine’s Day. As you no-doubtfully are aware, I’m a gay ghetto gay. Meaning, if given the choice in life, I would love to live in the center of a gay neighborhood. Hence the choosing of vacationing a couple of days early in Fort Lauderdale verses Miami before our cruise on the 15th. To enjoy Fort Lauderdale’s gay village. 

The Cabanas

Leather Inn

 Two Guest houses top the list, one The Cabanas Guesthouse and Spa lives up to its name and has a gay men’s spa. Complete with hot stone massage. The clothing optional pool is also a nice, and necessary benefit. The other B&B has a clothing optional pool as well. It’s a... leather themed guest house called the Inn Leather. Seriously. The glossy brochure highlights a real leather sling in every room. Patrick suggested I inquire if they are Corinthian leather. “Our slings are covered in a fine Corinthian leather.”  Well, it will be over Valentine’s Day... Nothing says “I love you’ like an in-room sling. Whilst the Spa is nifty, the Corinthian (as we’ll now call it) also has free WiFi, and a better spread for breakfast... for me.

With either choice there is only 9 weeks until I get to recline next to a pool. All naked. 

Sexy Men and Their Cat Twins

Click here: 

See These Sexy Men and Their Cat Twins in Hilariously Hot Photo Series

The Annual Christmas Rant

Ahh, December 7th. It’s time to gather around and listen to Uncle Steve’s annual Christmas rant…..

WHAT THE F*#K DO PENGUINS HAVE TO DO WITH CHRISTMAS!?!?

Have you seen the inflatable, glowing Christmas crap that everyone displays on their front lawns? Big billowing snowmen, elves, and insidiously happy penguins. Seriously, What the heck to penguins have to do with Christmas?

At night it’s quite a cute little scene. A winter wonderland all blown up and bopping around to the forced air whooshing up their butts. During the day it’s another story, driving through any upscale neighborhood it's a reenactment of Jim Jones goes to Christmas town. Dead, flat elves and snow people scatter the lawns like a mass suicide cult hit the North Pole. A massacre of merriment. One half-inflated penguin dragging its self off the lawn coughing out,  I only live in Antarctica and parts of South America why am I even here?

Aaaaaaaaaghh!”

Burn Out

Next Monday is my last day of class for the fall semester.  One more paper is due, then I'm done until late January.  There's only one problem. I can't finish my last paper. I just can't do it. 

My sociology class had a three page paper due every-other week all semester long. On the down week, one page "reading notes" were due. That means every week sine September I've done nothing with my free time but write about how horrible white men have screwed up this country. 

I AM. SPENT.  

The last paper is a five pager on basically the same topic. "Why I hate white heterosexuals." Okay, not really, but close. I have three pages done. The same three pages I've been staring at for awhile. Tonight I headed to Starbucks to finish. Done, complete! That way I'll have the weekend to relax. I successfully completed one paragraph. One.  The burnout is epic.  

I spent an hour shopping online for a used Jeep Cherokee Overland edition, chatted with Patrick, and continued to search for a gay B&B in Miami. None of which helped me finish my paper.  The one that's due on Monday. The one I'll be working on over the weekend instead of relaxing.