The Case of the Switched Out Leather Bar T-Shirt

It's an odd feeling when you turn around at your local gay bar and notice that the bartender is sporting your shirt. Not the same Nasty Pig style. Not the same Nasty Pig collection of shirts sold only in the NY Nasty Pig store. No, your very shirt.

This happened to me just recently; and it made me go, Hmmmmm. How does a Leather Bar, bartender end-up wearing a shirt of mine? As far as I knew, I hadn't touched him, in the biblical sense. So how was beardy the bear bartender now sporting my hot t-shirt? There was a mystery at foot, and I was just the queen to adjust my glasses and turn into Velma from ScoobyDoo.

It was time to utilize, The principle  of Occam's razor. The theory that states that among competing hypotheses, the one with the fewest assumptions should be selected. Simple solutions ultimately prove correct. You know, that philosophical theory. So, I employed Occam's theory on The Case of the Switched Out Leather Bar T-Shirt.

As far as I knew my shirt was safely folded up using my Miracle Folder in my dresser drawer. But, after a long examination, and removing all doubt the that was my shirt, the previous assumption to the location of my shirt was clearly false. This was because, it was currently covering a burly bar tender. So...... when did my shirt leave my company? Months ago, when I "interacted" with..... the hot bartender in this bar.... But?? But?? Oh...

Bartender number one must of retained my cool Nasty Pig shirt after Nasty visited for a holiday. Then, in the interim the shirt traveled (without clearly being washed) onto Bartender number two. "The two bartenders, must be fucking!" I said out loud in my best baggy orange turtlenecked, Velma Dinkley voice. "Nah, they're not allowed to date each other. They'd get fired." The friend next to me offered, in alarmed response to me randomly pointing my finger in the air and blurting out such a non-sequitur. Turns out, after flirting with Bartender number one, my hypotheses was correctly proven.

I solved the case of The Case of the Switched Out Leather Bar T-Shirt. But, I lost a shirt, because I really don't want that shirt back now. 

Hold my Hand

On Twitter I follow HistoricalPics, an account the shares amazing photos from history. Today they tweeted this:

The skeletal remains of this Roman-era couple revealed the pair has been holding hands for 1,500 years.

That seems to be the most romantic thought. Holding hands with the one you love throughout time. 

I saw it as just needy. 

Behind the Times

Not to drone on the same topic; but, my days and nights have been filled with memorizing the changes to the Eropean map throughtout the Middle Ages. Yes, that means you'll find me at the gym standing in front of the free weights reading about the great papal schism of the fifteenth century. A dumbbell in one hand, my Medieval history textbook in the other. 

Yesterday, I had enough of the bickering Popes. As it was my day off, and a nice day, I dropped my textbook and went for a walk. As I walked around downtown Denver I found it amazing how the shops and streets are looking a lot like Christmas. I was disgusted at first because Thanksgiving is more than four  weeks away. Oh...... I checked my iPhone. 

It informed me that it's next week. 

How the hell did that happen?? 

Halloween was just five minutes ago? I guess that's why people had started to tell me they were heading out of town to go home.  Next week? That seems out of order. But, my Anthropology Professor did say something about not having class next week. 

I guess it's true. If you hang around the Popes for to long, they'll drive you crazy.  

Seven Years of StevieB

I'm having trouble believing that it's been seven years of the Nice To See StevieB blog.  Seven years ago today,  I began to post on the struggle of a full-grown man, coming to terms that he has a never-aging teen age girl trapped inside of him.

I do have to mark the occasion by saying that these years have been truly amazing. The blog has facilitated in bonding with amazing fellow bloggers and turning them into friends. Every year I celebrate my blog anniversary by saying, thank you.  Thanks for stopping by and reading my blog and for looking into my small corner of my homo-crazed world.  Seven years of blogging, sharing my struggles and fun adventures, thank you for stopping by for just a bit during your busy day.
I’m grateful for your time.

Seven years also marks:
The gaining of thirty pounds
The loosing of thirty-five pounds
Three cars
Three jobs
Eight strangely themed vacations
Four iPhones
Six different hair styles.
One thousand seven hundred four trips to coffee shops to write.
Two thousand five hundred fifty-six cups of coffee
Countless guys in the twenties robbed of their virginity.
Two gay cruises (has it only been two?????)
Four years of school

One thousand two hundred four blog posts

Let's begin year number eight looking forward to the awaiting adventures. 

The Franks Suck

I completely failed my History mid-term exam. Completely. Totally. I received my grade back and winced. 56%, that's an "F" no matter how you shake it.

I know why I received this grade. It's not because I spent the whole day before on a date in Boulder, although that didn't help. It was I studied the wrong things. I  didn't pick up on the subtle information laid down by the Professor on what would be on the test. For example; there was a map portion of the test,  a blank map of Europe was given and I would identify specific areas. Now, it had the possibility   of any era of medieval times.  From the tribal clans of the Gauls up to Charlemenge's empire.  I studied and memorized all realms, ages, territories, and changes to the European map throughout the decades.  All the way unto the last of the era of the Carolingian Empire; I forgot to study that. Guess what the map portion of the test was? Yep, the stupid late Carolingian Empire.

I sat there, glazed over. Attempting to remember how the empire was divided up after stupid Charlemenge died. Jerks. Naming their empires such stupid, hard to remember things.  I had to abandon that portion of the test. Which is why I got an "F" because of the stupid Franks. God I hate them, they just ruin everything.  Jerks.

So, that's how I got an "F" on my history exam. Not because I was spending time having fun on a date; it was the Charlemenge's fault for having so many sons that they split up the empire upon his death.