I'll Ink Myself

I’m totally going to get a tattoo. Really.




I said this once to a friend once who quickly rolled their eyes. I was then told that there are three types of people, ones who will never get inked, ones who are addicted to getting tattoos, and ones like me who keep saying that someday they’ll get ink done.



I guess in life everyone has their perpetual to-do list. The list of things we procrastinate about. Mine is a long list that begins with getting a tattoo, stutters around having a torrid affair with an Aspen ski instructor named Luke, whitening my teeth, volunteering at Denver’s GLBT Center, and flashing my dick on that London Eye Millennium Wheel. You know, stuff you would totally do if you just didn’t have to wait for the dishwasher repair technician, or have dinner with one of your less popular relatives.



When the day comes…really sometime soon… I’ll make the appointment and get that tattoo I speak of. I even know what I want, it’s not like I’d spend hours flipping through the photo catalogs just to say “yeah, I want a barbed-wire arm band, but make it unique. Something that represents my soul.” Or maybe some Chinese characters that some said means “Hope” but looks like Combo #2 Beef with Broccoli. Unless I could get 健怡可樂 on my forearm, that would make ordering at my favorite restaurants so much easier.



So, since most people who get tattoos do it just to show off that they’re all deep thinking persons of the universe I guess I’ll do just that. The unutterable name of G-d.



Having to read a lot about the big bearded guy upstairs I kept finding mentions to the power in writing his name in permanent form. The Hebrew translation cannot be written in any permanent form, it is forbidden unless strict rules are to be followed. Thus, it must not be destroyed nor altered but hallowed. Even though it’s acceptable to white the name on a computer, as it is considered non-permanent I hold the concept with so much respect I’d rather link to the page with the name on it. Although when I do finally get around to getting my tattoo there will be a lot of explaining to do during that part of the night out at the bar when guys start comparing ink.



“What is it?” The random guy screams over blaring Beyoncé.



“It’s the Unutterable name of God” I’ll scream.



“Udders of God? If you can’t say it how’d ya tell the guy to ink it?”



Since I’ll get this on my external oblique or Apollo’s belt I slowly lower my shirt. “It’s Hebrew for I think I’m all deep!”

Diner Talk

I sit alone at the counter. I’ve sat alone at this and other counters like it since I was old enough to drive.

For me, this is my most guilty pleasure.

When life becomes too much, or maybe I’m on top of the world I find myself seated at the counter of my local Japanese rice bowl, teriyaki quick dining restaurant. Sitting at the bar I enjoy the ritual of rubbing the frayed wooden chop-sticks. The slowly working my way through a chicken and rice bowl covered to entirely way too much pickled ginger. Doing this somehow puts the magnetic lines of the earth’s axis back into proper alignment.



All my grand decisions about life are plotted and re-plotted out here. My failures dissected and examined for their meaning and direction. My accomplishments are added to the listed Excel spreadsheet in my head. Each column growing slowly with each visit to the counter. Each Chicken teriyaki bowl somehow marks the passing of my life. Upon the passing of my Step-Mother and visiting with my Father in Boise I discovered that the old man did the same thing. Just with pancakes and coffee.



I most certainly don’t need to be alone at the counter to click the beads on the abacus. It just mostly works out that way.

Can’t Stand The Rain

It’s pretty much rained everyday for two weeks now. Around three you can spot the dark clouds roll down the mountains. If your office window faces the great Rocky Mountains like mine does you can watch as the rolling thunder clouds pour over the continental divide like Mount Doom spreading darkness over Mordor.


Yesterday was not different. Beautiful sunny skies helped me with my chores of GRL or gym, run, laundry then the lighting moves in and start the evening cycle. Since this is a daily occurrence you’d think I‘d learn and stay the flack home. But, no this is when I decided that driving around the tiny fictional town I call home would be a great idea.

The thunder and lightning started as I drove down Main Street. The dog, who was more than happy to sit in the passenger seat decided quickly that my lap would protect him from the thundering booms. Hail started to pound the hood of the car as I pulled into the covered parking lot of the local gas station/pizzeria/cell phone/Quinceañera dress shop/stereo/liquor store. The Shar-pei that was more barnacle then dog and I waited out the storm. This is when I saw the sign.

Hot Pizza. It kept flashing on and off right in front of the car. Yes, it would be dinner yet I could utilize it for another purpose. Dislodging the barnacle I dashed in my flip-flops to the store. Then gently strolled back to the car after my purchase of a flat cardboard pizza box umbrella.



The Shar-pei and me in dryer times



The Chinese Shar-pei has been bred over two-thousand years. Part of their breeding resulted in a complete fear of water. You won’t find the waters in the port of Shanghai teaming in feral Shar-pei (s-es-ezeese-ezzzes)



I thought of this only after adorning my pizza hat, grabbing my dogs leash and bolting up the drive way towards the manor house. I quickly was jerked back by a wrinkled boat anchor. This brings us to our protagonist’s final scene. Picture it: Stevie B. running up a wet driveway in flip-flops, a pizza in his head and carrying a thirty-five pound angry Chinese dog.

My life as it has been lived with dignity.

UNDER CINCINNATI

Well the ticket has been purchased. The mid-summer vacation will be the type where you go with your homosex partner to visit their old college town. Visit their old friends, eat at the old haunts and walk the campus again. The entire time with you agreeing, “Yes, this is the best chili ever eaten, No you can’t believe you worked in that random building.” The green lawns I be trudging upon will belong to the University of Cincinnati Conservatory of Music. In Cincinnati. The Cincinnati in Ohio.

The above paragraph may come across as sarcastic yet, I myself have dragged people across cities reminiscing upon the Good ‘ol Days. I once talked a flock of Mos into driving around Stratford High School in Houston, Texas to show the exact spot where fellatio took place between me and the Quarterback. When told that you’re driving next to a park where in 1995 Ty Herndon was arrested for exposing himself to an undercover cop, I understand it would be hard to feign interest.

On this trip there will be a large consumption of Cincinnati Skyline chili and Graeters ice cream. Yet I’ve discovered something that will make me burn off the calories consumed by eating bowl after bowl of chili infused copious amounts of cinnamon, cheese, onions, and spaghetti.

Abandoned subway system.

As you well know I love to dig around abandoned and dangerous urban infrastructure. Cincinnati built a subway in the very early twentieth century then ran out of money to finish the project. My idea of a vacation? Take tours of the abandoned rat infested subway platforms in the Ohio humidity.

I’m one A-list gay.

Other then the big, annual camping trip next week there’s nothing but work for the Old StevieB. Nose to the grindstone work.

THE 5th OF JULY

The Fourth of July weekend always has its own flair to it, a more relaxed summer vibe. The weekend started for me at a long table in a Chinese restaurant as the friends decompressed and set the tone for the upcoming three day weekend.

Saturday began with the ubiquitous trip to Home Depot then over to BFF Carl’s house to help him move furniture around. In the process of changing the living room in to the dining room, Carl likes to sit fifteen down to dinner at a moment’s notice. Before you could say Antique bone china it was time for a night hanging out at a local pub.

A night at the breaded boy bar equals a quiet easy starting Sunday of coffee and potato pancakes. This was followed by Puma and flip-flop shopping. By the time the thermometer reached the high 90s it was time for Beer Bust with the bears.

Yes. That is the BFF Carl in the background. Yes. He is doing that on purpose. No. I have no earthly idea as to why.

The Fourth was marked by the huge annual BBQ at BFF Frank’s house. It was a nice way to relax and enjoy the day as the heat subsided and the massive amounts of food and beer were slowly consumed. I made a couple cherry pies, finally giving up my high pure butter standards I broke down and made the crust with lard. The choice yielded the best crust I’ve ever baked.

Today is back to the spreadsheet game. I did however; go for a long run around our tiny village this morning to help burn off the weekend of over indulgence. Every street corner was littered with the burnt out shells of fireworks and scorch marks from long dead glowing snakes

JULY 4th WEEKEND

The calendar marks this as 4th of July weekend here in the states. This is our independence celebration to commemorate casting off the shackles of our Native American overlords and declared a free nation. True Americans mark this day by making delicious meals of buffalo and corn, not maize and shooting off fireworks to scare the evil Indians back to their palaces in Utah. Sorry, I told myself I wouldn’t cry….

The homosex community celebrates the great battles for independence by stripping down to cargo shorts and flip-flops and drinking a lot of beer. Well, at least I do. And no Mother Earth loving first nationer is going to stop me. On Monday the 4th I’ll attend a BBQ over at a friend’s house. Frank will be grilling pork spare ribs. We’ll sit around just wishing they were buffalo ribs.

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THE TIES THAT BIND

Jim over at Jim’s Stuff Blog talked today about his stuff. More precisely his closet, more precisely his ties. Jim posed the question “What’s in your closet?” I thought I’d answer.

I was about to say that I don’t own a lot of ties. Although I did have jobs in the past were I was required to wear them. Then I stopped and examined the photo. The flowery monstrosity was from back at University when I would dress in that tie, white dress shirt, threadbare ripped jeans and combat boots. This was to coordinate with my Flock of Seagulls hair.

Second from the left is my first Giorgio Armani. This was purchased for a wedding in 199something…. Big silver was for my commitment ceremony with Dalton.

I guess I hold on to things more than I thought. So, what’s in your closet?

DINING OUT FOR STEVE

Ever have a weekend where you dine out for every meal? From Italian themed buffets to Texas themed steak houses this weekend was about the food.

As much as I try to avoid chain restaurants that was this weekend’s theme. Especially Friday when we dined at a massive buffet designed with a Tuscany meets Vegas feel. The perfect place to go when you spent your Mom’s money on the prom limo and don’t really like your date. We lucked out because there was a transgender group sitting next to us, fifteen middle-aged ladies trying to navigate the endless rows of Italian cuisine filled chafing dishes in polyester. They’ve driven trucks for years yet can’t master a sensible three inch heal. One looked around when I greeted her with “Good evening Ma’am.”

A late lunch at PF Chang’s was my goal for Saturday. The mega corporation trying to look like a humble Chinese village that is PF Changs is another restaurant that I love and hate. I can only go between the hours of two and five. Any other time and it’s akin to eating Asian Fusin on a subway platform. Off hours and it can actually be a great experience. This was the point of my weekend where I rekindled my love affair with Japanese beers.

Sunday was time for some real authentic Texas steaks. Texas Road House is as Texas as Texas gets. And it doesn’t lose any of its appeal knowing that the corporate headquarters for this Texas institution is Louisville, KY and even if it was years before they actually opened up a restaurant in Texas they still know how to treat you right.

Now it’s back to my eighteen-hundred calorie diet. Then I’ll try to burn off the entire weekend with a long cleansing run and pushing plates of another sort at my mega corporation gym.

SUMMER time

I love the last weekend in June. Summer has arrived, it stays daylight until 9:30PM and I can walk the dog in just a wife-beater and gym shorts and enjoy the summer breeze. The jasmine in my mind. It has been blown.

Last night I met up with friends and sat in front of the local gay coffee-house until it closed. Sitting out on the patio I watched the night slowly overtake the trees in the park. As the little squares of light flickered on up and down each floor of the high-rises surrounding the park a real wave of contentment washed over me. Then just as I was in the wave of summer happiness I thought: Only seven more questions in the Blog Challenge.

T-minus seven is a repeat. This explains why there were sixty-four questions in the blog challenge, just repeat a couple, no one will notice. So, again A talent: I gave a lame answer to this question back on number thirty; I’ll give another lame answer this time. The last beer bust at our local bear bar I showed up sporting a skin-tight 2xist tank top, a white UnderArmour baseball cap, and khaki cargo shorts. I could tell it looked great because there was a much bigger built guy wearing the same thing down to the cap and shorts. Showing up wearing the same thing as a much better looking guy is a talent, of sorts. Not that I care about much about that, just throw me in a worn-out T-shirt and cargos and I’m good to go. This, of course will be the uniform of late June shorts, threadbare T-shirts and Pumas.

THE MEN OF TWITTER

Every Monday the blogger over at BosGuy, a great Boston centric gay blog site posts his choice of THE MEN OF TWITTER. It’s a list of guys that catches the eye of this sports loving Bostonite. For some crazy reason I was picked to join the list of amazingly hot and charming guys.

Please check out Bosguy at BosBuy.Blogspot.com and follow him on Twitter at @BosGuyand #MenOfTwitter Maybe you could thank him for giving me this honor. Or you could ask him what the hell he was thinking.

I personally would like to say thanks to for the great mention. I can now call Mr. Brown my 8th grade track coach and let him know I made something of myself. I’m sure then he would start to follow me on Twitter @Nice2CStevieB

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Pride

I am only eighth questions away from finishing the sixty-four question blog challenge. I’m as shocked as you are. Question number fifty-seven is “Tell us about your best friend”.

This question has come up perfectly after a weekend of spending amazing quality time with friends. A beautiful weekend enjoying the friendships around me. Yesterday was the second day of Denver’s gay pride festival; this is marked with a huge parade down Capitol Hill to Civic Center Park. I was amazed by this in the terms that since I was dancing with my shirt off into the early morning hours I actually got to stand on a street corner with “that gang I run with” and watch the floats, float by.

This is when I was introduced to a straight couple attending the parade for the very first time. Attending any gay event for the first time. When chatting with Becky and Tom I found out that they had three kids and lived in a nice suburban house in a nice suburban neighborhood. They wanted to come to the festival to help celebrate and mark an amazing day. The day that Tom would come out.

Tom recently retired from the US Army after twenty-five years and as a couple decided it was time to live a complete life. It’s funny how everyone has their coming out stories. I felt honored to be there and share this couple’s first step in publicly acknowledging their new step in their marriage and lives together. Later in the day I got to spend some one-on-one time with Tom, he is a career Army guy through and through and approached his coming out and beginning to date with Army trained dedication. A “this is my military separation date this is when I no longer keep secrets” approach to the situation. With Becky, his best friend at his side.

This made me feel grateful for the best friends I have in my life. Tom is lucky to have his wife and best friend push him to live a full life. I am lucky to have friends to keep my life full.

CHILLAX, IT’S FRIDAY

I think I’m mellowing with age. Situations that would drive me over the edge not that long ago now barely make a blip on the radar.

One of the good things about living in a small fictional town is that the gas station on main street doesn’t feel the need to climb up to the sign out by the street and change their gas prices. This means that I can fill up my sleek sports sedan for around 25 to 30 cents cheaper than anywhere else. This is made cheaper if you also buy a car wash. Me? Wash my car? Well, okay. Although the last three times I’ve filled up the car wash was broken.

Yesterday I went to the gym and then stopped by a friend’s house to watch an Ina Garten TV marathon. On the way back to the ranch I stopped for petrol and car wash. Or should I say, petrol and to sit in my car madly punching a code into a sneering and complacent kiosk. This afforded me the opportunity to meet Brian. Well, his name tag said “Brain” but, I’m sure he meant Brian. The brain then set about explaining that car washes are difficult to operate and maybe I wasn’t up to the task.

So here we find our protagonist. A gas station attendant with a tattoo on his forearm reading “Born Fwee” [SP] is letting me know my place in the world. Suddenly I was overwhelmed that I was underwhelmed. The ego was happily in tune, the testosteronieness was chillaxin. I left the store knowing that a possible conflict instead produced a Diet Coke and a MoonPie.

Turns out that yes, I had been entering the code wrong.

 

THEORY THURSDAY

I have had one continuous text message conversation since December. A never-ending conversation with Patrick from Pac’s Pad. Sure it pauses for awhile while jobs, relationships, and sleep gets in the way, when our hands don’t have steering wheels or chicken wings in them the conversation continues.

The latest turn has been about people liking you. The need to be liked to be more specific. I can very easily fall into the behavior of wanting needing everyone to like me. No, affirming me. Like Lisa Simpson jumping up and down begging for someone to grade her.

“Affirm me, grade me! I’m ever so good.”

I don’t kid myself that writing to you everyday isn’t part of this, yet it is also the counterweight. I’ve started taking a quick photo of myself right after waking up, walking the dog and pouring coffee. No shower, no comb. It’s a simple way to explain to myself WYSIWYG, What You See Is What You Get. Well, that’s the theory anyway.

WEDNESDAY TO WEEKEND

This weekend will be Pride in my fair city. The time of year when my BFF, Dalton asks “Isn’t pride one of those deadly sins?”

I guess that’s a rhetorical question because he asks me while I’m putting on my Daisy Dukes and multi-colored ring necklace. Okay, I don’t own Daisy Dukes or the ubiquitous ‘90s gay pride accessory. I do however, like the pride parade and party afterwards.

This year I’m excited because I get to hang out with a guy I’ve been building a new friendship with, George. We plan on dancing to my friend DJ Gary Givant who will be spinning at a club that has brought in Cazwell. Good times.

This weekend will also mark the high-water make of how much sunscreen I use throughout the year. Yeah, mostly naked Steve. Well, besides the pride rings and Daisy Dukes.

'TIL TUESDAY

Every New Yorker coming to town says the same thing. “Take me to a Mexican restaurant!” Corvette, my first boyfriend (yes, that’s his name) said that with the enthusiasm of a kid walking into Disney land with the goal of meeting Mickey.

We met at La Loma in the Highland; he sauntered in swinging a Louis Vuitton overnight bag and wearing combat boots. He hadn’t changed one bit. We then spent hours telling the tales of our lives since high school. He was involved with the real story behind the movie Party Monster, lived above a fisting club and at some point, as you do, started working for Madonna. The typical NY dream.

After eating an enchilada plate smothered in green chili and dropping Corvette off at a local vinyl record store it was just enough time to have a run in the park then meet Jim from Jim’s Stuff blog for dinner. However, the report I thought I had completed for work last week came back to haunt me. No run or nice dinner with Jim. Today will be spent indoors slaving over a hot spreadsheet. The wonderful weekend of meeting and cavorting with good friends as just a memory.

MAN ACHE MONDAY

Today is back to the grind in the Excel spreadsheet mines. This was the weekend for meeting great guys, Robert, Jim, an entire gay bike club, an elephant… Today I get to go to lunch with my high school boyfriend. I’ve written about him before, how we dated our senior year of high school. Completely clad in Z. Cavaricci or shredded Levis we shared a locker, hair gel, and a love for Siouxsie and the Banshees. What else did a high school romance need?

Now he lives in Brooklyn and owns an Elvis Presley themed Tattoo parlor/hair salon. Apparently he spent the 00’s doing Madonna’s hair for her tours. At lunch I’ll make sure to touch his hand, so then you can touch me and you will have touched someone who touched someone who once touched Madonna.

SAUCY SUNDAY

I’m off, up, and out early again today. I’m hanging out with buds at the Colorado Renaissance Festival. Yeah, that’s what I said. A ren fair? Didn’t we have an industrial revolution to get the hell away from the over production of turkey legs? Although the barbaric pillaging I’m all about. I support a culture based upon forcing a foe into surrendering his booty. Sorry. It’s early.

I’m also going to the “no deodorant zone” to meet Jim, from the Jim’s Stuff blog. He’ll be sporting a kilt. Let’s hope there’s a breeze.

LET’S GO SATURDAY

Today I’m off, up, and out early. I’m meeting up with friends, Carl and Jenna to go explore an ancient Army and industrial supply warehouse. Besides looking for tetanus, I’ll be helping Carl seek out robot parts. Carl builds robots. Not the “kill all humans / can’t understand the concept of love kind, the art kind.

I live for getting dirty in warehouses.

RELAX, IT'S FRIDAY

I worked hard this week to close down the corporate office and set up the logistics of working in my gym shorts. I really hate when my work interferes with my blogging.

Today was a huge exhale in my world, one last trip into the office to help a project close down. Before I knew it was time for lunch and the quick drive downtown to meet the famous blogger from Blobby’s Blog. In town for work he graciously made time to meet me for lunch. He was witty, charming and all around just a great guy. I was immediately smitten by his warm demeanor.

After a great time getting to know this nice guy and fellow blogger it was time for the weekend to begin. Until I received a phone call from Fuzzy, the homosexual life companion partner.  He has taken the cruiser out for a ride with the local gay biker group and now they were hungry. Very hungry.

Soon I found myself following a large group of gay motorcycle enthusiasts to a gay biker BBQ. Which of course included a stop of Whole Foods for a wide assortment of pasta salads.  Let’s just say that you’ve never had an in-depth conversation about rims jobs until you’ve had one with a Harley rider sipping on a Riesling.

So, let the weekend begin. I get to meet Jim from Jim’s Stuff blog in town for the Renaissance Festival and I have a lunch date with my high school boyfriend in town from Brooklyn. This weekend will be about making new friends.

STEVIE B IN HAIKU

Stevie B.

In gym shorts

Drinking coffee

Wonders what the day will bring

Starts with Porn and Twitter

GYM TALK

“Get a spot?”

I heard this request yesterday at the gym. As the overbuilt muscle was directing the request towards me I stepped up to the incline bench. I’ve been in this gym everyday at the same time with this same guy. Yet I had no idea who he was, due to my lack of social skills and philosophy of get in, get done, get out. He struck up a conversation whilst pressing ungodly amounts of iron down to his chest. Together a couple more reps were pressed out then with the bar back in its holder then overbuilt muscle struck up a conversation.

After a couple of minutes of discussing the gym and other routine topics he stated that he had me figured out, either I was a get in, get it done, get out guy or a raging asshole. I retorted that I was both and had him figured out as a Sociology Major at DU, but apologized if I’ve been ignoring him.

I always ignore everyone at the gym, going back to high school weight lifting class. This is primarily because I don’t want to be perceived as “that gay guy that leers at dudes”. I acknowledge this is because I stick to my own business and it’s a gym, not a bar. But am I really still forcing upon myself self perceived homophobia? Am I still caught in the loathing of being perceived as an effeminate fairy? When I was young it was self-preservation. One wrong look and I could get pounded. Now I out weight most guys.

I guess at this point I could be a little friendlier. I can also release the survival skills I built in high school.

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SUMMER BEGINS

I feel that summer has finally arrived. This sense of utter summer happiness was brought along by a couple of things this weekend.

For the first time in my life I went for a run without my shirt on. Just stripped to the running shorts and took off. The sprinklers in the park drenching me with potable water and summertime bliss. On Sunday I attended my first beer bust of the season at The Denver Wrangler, our local bear bar. As I stood there enjoying the kick-off to summer I enjoyed the utter enjoyment of standing in a sea of cargo shorts, sleeveless T-shirts and stupidly expensive sunglasses.

Oh, yes. There was the annual trip to the mall to buy summertime sunglasses. Then spend the remaining summer trying not to sit on them. This season I will try to protect a very cool pair of Gucci shades from not getting destroyed. Wish me luck.

If you need me I’ll be by the pool with my work laptop, guarding 300 bucks worth of Gucci from getting scratched.

MY DAYS WITH PHIL DONAHUE

Towards the end of seventh grade I received my first real bike. A bright orange ten-speed. It was amazing, my first “grown up” bike and my first step into being a teenager.

I road that bike everywhere, spending hours listening to the whirl of the tires and clank of the gear changes. On a warm evening weeks before school let out I was riding on a rural highway when I heard a truck come up behind me. The next thing I remember is waking up on the side of the road.

I was in the hospital for several weeks with a broken leg, arm, and missing skin from torso and back. Even parts of my head where scalped. I would spend my days watching the traffic move on W 16th street in Greeley, Colorado. This was followed by a hot summer at home in a leg and arm cast. Home bound watching the three channels of local TV.

I don’t bring this up as a tortured Steve story, but more as to explain the reason why I have a low tolerance of spending my days at my house. Sitting on our twelve foot long sofa watching Phil Donahue on our Montgomery Wards nineteen inch television I decided I was going to get out on my new ten-speed and never spend another day sitting at home. And I’ve never did. Spend another day at home or get another ten-speed.

This week marks my first work at home week. Sitting at my desk doing exactly what I’ve always done, yet. At home. All day. I’ve also scrubbed all the grout, cleaned every inch of baseboard and the dog is freshly bathed. I think that I need to change the way I think about being home all day. That it’s not about being trapped and home bound it’s “cocooning” it’s uncapping my creativity used up by a commute.

Is Phil Donahue still on?

GOODBYE RAT RACE

It’s official.  The word has come down that my office is closing. From now on I’ll work from the comfort of my well-appointed home office.


It’s strange; I’m spending this week beginning to miss my office already. The 50 mile each way commute, the over priced café in my building’s lobby, and even the co-workers that constantly come into my office when I’m trying to blog work.


I’ll get more work done with just the dog as an office mate and with the extra time and gas being saved I should be ecstatic. I’m finding that I’m regretting the push for the “remote office” idea. The routine of going into the office and sitting at my desk is probably what I’m going to miss. Well there is the free Starbucks coffee.


I guess changing the habitrail in my world is harder than I thought. But a couple of weeks, blogging working in gyms shorts I’m sure I see no other way to blog work. If I could only get my dog to make coffee.

HOLIDAY HAZE

Happy Generic Undisclosed-bank /Government/ Memorial Day. Hopefully you’re off today. Off so you can enjoy laying out in the park and cookouts with friends. I’m spending my entire holiday weekend in a warm Vicodin haze.

It was on my calendar for a fortnight, circled so I wouldn’t miss it: ORAL SURGERY. I really didn’t think much about it. I’d go get my jaw chipped into then a light lunch followed by the gym. I have never claimed to be smart, but when the phrase “jaw reconstruction” comes out of your Dentists mouth, plan some special time just for you afterwards.


Since my date with Dr. Just-for-men, I’ve been in a nice Vicodin glow. My diet has consisted of orange sherbet, french baguettes and Runza. And I’ve really enjoyed the feeling you only get from petting a dog backwards on his back.


Here it is Monday. The happy haze that only generic equivalent drugs can bring into your world is subsiding. The feeling that you can run longer and harder on a Sunday morning then you’ve ever done before is replaced with the sore feeling of regret. “Why did I go for a run yesterday?” Comes into my sore yet rock filled head.


But now it’s Memorial Day. The day that the US remembers its war dead. I’ll visit long gone loved ones and thank them for coming into my life. Then chill out in the park enjoying the last bits of pain killer buzz, then head over to the annual cookout. And enjoy watching everyone else eat solid food.




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RUNNING

It’s been one year since I committed myself to running. Do more than talk about good health, but actually put puma to pavement.

Other then the obvious being losing twenty-eight pounds, I’ve also found a new hobby, a new mindset, and a new outlook. It’s funny how something as easy as putting on running shoes and just moving forward down the path could help me… move forward down the path.

“Everyone who has run knows that it’s most important value is in removing tension and allowing a release from whatever other cares the day may bring.” – Jimmy Carter

What can’t President Carter do? Sorry, I probably think about Jimmy Carter too much. Thank God, my Armband iPod holder came in the mail. Now I can fill my brain with Robyn and stop thinking about Jimmy Carter.

AT THE CAR WASH

I like to give a big thanks to the gentleman at the car wash that yesterday tried to give me a car that wasn’t mine. It really helped my ego thinking that you would assume that me, the guy sporting running shorts and a zombie cupcakes T-shirt would drive a Lincoln Navigator with 26” rims and custom naked lady embossed window tint motif.

When the 5’02” gentlemen with the flat brimmed cap still adorned with the “official” NFL hologram tags felt threatened that the “total sick” Navigator with the custom build kicker boxes might go home with someone else, hilarity ensued. Upon explaining that it was just a mistake by the car wash staff member and I would never threaten the relationship between a man and his ride this then meant that we were buddies. Buddies that explain the HUGE amounts of money put into customizing your ride. We then bonded over his 26” chrome spinner rims to my polished Italian wheels. What can I say? You bond with your fellow man at the car wash.

My new bestie gave me a fist bump and as we both pulled out of the car wash, me in my sports sedan with the spoiler and him in his Lincoln SUV. He gave me a little toot on his horn. That sounded like polka.

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ROAD TRIP

I’m craving a road trip.

I’d like to get out on the open highway and drive for hours upon hours. One of the good and bad things about living in a square (rectangular) state in the union is that you can just jump in your foreign-made car and drive for hours without stopping.

There’s the Devil’s Tower in Wyoming, made famous from the Close Encounters movie. Or there’s the Sand Dunes in the four corners region.

I guess it could be a simple as a drive to Fort Collins for a Runza and a beer.

WHAT WOULD MICHAEL PHELPS DO?

I’m having one of those weeks.


The type were the laundry stays in the overfilled hamper, where the delivery guys start calling you by name. I’m not depressed or even just lazy, far from it. I guess you’d call it “cocooning” in the bedroom with the dog and the Mac Book.

This week has been about relaxation. Maybe it was brought on by the rainy Seattle-like weather. I’m really liking the indulging in quality Steve time. But if the dog asks tell him it’s all about him.

Last night, on my belly buying music from iTunes in the middle of the oversized Simmons Beautyrest I realized that un-plugging is fine, but I haven’t been for a run all week. This is when I turned to the dog and asked:

“WWMPD?”

"I wouldn't say anything is impossible. I think that everything is possible as long as you put your mind to it and put the work and time into it".

-Michael Phelps

I don’t think of myself as an athlete by any means, I do however believe in the characteristics that great athletes personify. That remodeling behavior is how we as humans learn. Also I’m so entirely in love with Michael Phelps I’d listen to anything he had to say on the subject of training. Although I see myself in my next life as one of the guys on the college swim team, in this life I just want to last for more miles when running.

Having a couple days to hang out in the bed with the dog and a box of Pizza Hut is fine. Putting running shoes on and hitting the trail is where I need to put my mind.

MUST SEE TV

Sometimes things you love come in surprising doses.

An example of this for me is television. It’s quite possible that the DVR was invented just for me. I can record just the shows that  intrege me and block out the world of popular media.

One of my favorites is a Japanese animated series called Ghost in the Shell. This obscure show is only broadcast on the weekends around 3AM and since there are only two real seasons there’s only a handful of episodes to watch before they are re-run ad nauseam, like Rupaul’s Drag Race sans the whimsy.  This week I’m beginning to fall in love again. And it’s amazing…

If you dig overly complicated story lines and Japanese anime, put this show on your DVR.

So why am I bringing up a long dead, obscure Japanese cartoon today? Well besides that it today’s blog challenge question it’s also an allegory for what’s been going through my head this week. 

In relationships just when you think you’ve seen every episode over and over you tune in and find something completely new. You fall back in love with the same show from years ago.  That’s just when you want to see what happens next.