Parking Lot

Sitting in the gym's parking lot, I had an amazing view of Boulder's Flatirons. The Flatirons are a row of jagged rock outcroppings in the foothills above this picturesque town. They are so beautiful it persuaded the first settlers to give up their trek farther west and settle down in the fertile valley that became Boulder. 

As I gazed at this majestic view, in my peripheral vision came a business man, dry cleaning in hand, crossing the expanse of parking lot. He didn't make an impact on me until he attempted to open the back door of his Lexus RX300 SUV. He quickly became exasperated that the door would not cooperate with him and open. His loud profanity broke the spell the mountain range held over me. He flung his dry cleaning wildly as he did that dorky straight guy angry dance. Mr. Business soon realized that the ubiquitous beige SUV that he was pounding on was not his, that his was right next to it. Happy with his Alexander Fleming like discovery he marched over to the other beige Lexus. At this point he had clicked his remote around eight-hundred times. Anyone within a mile could have seen that his uninspired SUV was on the next row, flashing away. I guess three people fell under Lexus’ fake luxury spell. 

I thought about getting out of my car and explaining that the second car he was about to assault was also not his. I stopped myself because I realized that this was his lesson for buying such an overly produce, lame, overly-hyped vehicle. The FlowBee of the SUV world. Instead, I watched the dance happen over again before he looked up to see the flashing headlights of his version of the brown box flash at him. 

I thought this event was a perfect analogy for  my work week. Me attempting to force open locked doors, jumping up and down to convince the doors to open, before raising my head up and finding the correct door that would open. 

I stopped staring at the mountains and went inside the gym to work out. 

Nice class, Bro

Summer of 2013. The summer of the ironically horizontal "bro striped" tank-top.  Although I loved the summer of 2013, and mocking the boys in their over-sized tank-tops, tomorrow, summer ends. Well, for me anyway. 

Tomorrow is the first day of my fall semester of school. Yes, it's back to school time for your little StevieB. Jeepers, where did the time go? It seemed just  like yesterday I was endlessly whining about how much I wanted my Spring semester to be over, and now school is starting again. 

I do have to warn you. I am taking a psychology AND a sociology class this semester. I warn you of this because I'm sure my blogging will take on a "college student taking a psychology class vibe." You have been warned. I'll apologize now. 

The reason I'm taking these two classes is completely due to the university canceling my super-cool, I-was-totally-looking-forward-to-taking history class with my favorite professor. Then the school called and said, "no one else wants to take that lame class and learn about the Seven Years War." So they cancelled it. Jerks.  How will I get all of my useless trivia about Anglo-French rivalries now? On the streets?! 

I'll attempt to move past this, somehow. If you need me, I'll be in class. Learning psychology stuff. In my tank-top. 

Kum & Go

This is the summer of my work day starting at five in the morning. I chose this schedule to get to work before all of my coworkers, in hopes to complete my daily tasks long before anyone else arrives. Also, I have really enjoyed getting to the gym in the early afternoon, instead of right at five o’ clock with the masses. 

I have to say, I really am enjoying this plan. Even if it means getting up at three o’clock and leaving the house just as my neighbors are walking up the sidewalk after a night out. The part of this plan I didn't account for was going to bed before it was dark out. So, really it's the summer of sleeping five hours a night.

Leaving the house before four gets me to my local gas station, the Kum & Go, just in time for all the predawn drama. Who knew a simple stop for coffee would include the involvement of small town theatrics the likes not seen since that Shakespeare bloke. 

The epic I'm referencing begins as I pull up to the front of the huge Kum & Go sign. This is when the curtain is raised on the same frumpy Hispanic woman, with two kids clutching onto her, searching through the movies on the Red Box machine. She may not have a face as she is always pressed against the ATM style movie renting box. I always say “Good Morning” to her terrified brood wondering who rents movies at four A.M. I never spend much time on this character, as I am always pulled to the story of the female cashier and her two boyfriends. 

Most days, the Ingenue is sitting cross-legged on the hood of her 1984 Oldsmobile, Cutlass Calais. I always marvel at its showroom condition. For her to be sitting on the hood. She daintily takes a drag from her cigarette as her multiple suitors attempt to woo her with their charm. As every day I pass by this story, and have learned that her husband is “away” for ten years, I have named her Penelope. Last week, I heard one of the suitors says, “you gots beautiful eyes...” Penelope, having heard all this before cut him off with, “I don’t want fake bullshit!” That Odysseus is one lucky man. 

This gas station inexplicably is also a staging point for every Chrysler/Dodge test fleet on their way to do a battle of high altitude mountain driving. With my coffee in hand, it’s not unusual to come out of the store to find a sea of Fiats, 300s, Darts, or even mystery vehicle dressed up in disguise in an attempt to hide new body designs. The technicians and fleet coordinators line up the cars like a platoon to be fueled. I stop and attempt to guess the newest changes to the car under all the cleverly layered bits of plastic. We’ll see in fall, when the new models are unveiled if I was correct. 

I love my daily personal ritual at the Kum & Go. I enjoy seeing the same characters playing their roles over and over. It begins my day, ready for whatever it may bring. 

Friday; however, was completely different. A cold and foggy morning, I pulled in the parking lot to find it abandoned. No renting of movies, no Dodge technicians, the hood of the Cutlass was cold and empty. As I moved from the cold dark, into the warm glow of the fluorescent lighting I spotted Penelope. Alone in the corner making egg sandwiches. No customary “Good morning!’ Just a glance up as I approached the coffee machine. As I met her at the cash register, and her ripping off of plastic food-handling gloves, I noticed she was sporting a Doctor Who themed hoodie.

“I like your hoodie” I cheerfully said. 
Silence. I swiped my card.
“You want cash back?” She said more to the front window than to me.
“No.” I said. Averting my gaze to my styrofoam cup. We finished by Penelope turning on her heels and returning to her work. I sipped my coffee as I slipped into the predawn foggy darkness. 

Other posts about the Kum & Go:
Soundwave 
Panic
Even with a Baby

Vacuuming Cat Shark!

When I first saw this video, I immediately thought that Patrick probably has done this ages ago...

Sky Fall

I have been lucky enough to see some amazing skies here in Colorado lately. 

The open space offers great view of the Colorado Rocky Mountains. 

 

Inspired Alignment

My dear friend, Tamlyn, has a Facebook group page called “Inspired Alignment.” This group is designed to deliver inspirational messages, and to engage participation around a daily topic.  Tamlyn encourages anyone who wants to share, to write about what they feel helps them live an authentic life. Normally I would steer far away from this type of “Woo-woo” touchy-feely stuff as it normally seems like a bunch of malarky. Yet the philosophy of this Facebook page is to simply share what works for individuals, in hope that it may help others. 

So what do I believe?  

I believe in growth, physical growth. After the work day is over, and I leave the office, the opportunity to grow as an individual presents itself as a choice.  Upon heading to my car, I have a daily decision to make. I can head home to raid the refrigerator and plop down on the sofa, I can head to my favorite fast-food place for my favorite burger, or I can take a small amount of my day and head to the gym. Even at forty, I still have this power that manifests itself as a lazy, self-defeating voice that thinks that heading home is the better choice. That a stop off at my favorite fast-food joint will be much more gratifying. As fast food equals happiness. This is when I say “NO” to that voice and head to the gym.

Why is the fear of succeeding so strong inside of us?  The fear of happiness. The fear of success. The fear that the other people working out at the gym are just better people? I talk to so many friends that declare they could “never go to the gym” as they would be judged as unworthy. They seem to be scared of what complete strangers may/or may not be thinking. The simple fact that you are at the gym, attempting your best to improve yourself, means you are on an even playing field. 

Another excuse that comes into my head, I also hear from others. The convenient excuse of time. “There’s just not enough time in the day to go to the gym.” I do; however, have time to eat cheeseburgers. More time than improving yourself?  Well, short-term, the act of eating a burger may be more gratifying, but...

“Those who think they have not time for bodily exercise will sooner or later have to find time for illness.”  -Edward Stanley, Earl of Derby (1826-93), British statesman. The Conduct of Life, address at Liverpool College, 20 Dec 1873.

Physical activity is what sustains us in life. To not work towards being physically fit is to welcome illness into your life. The tiny amount of time it takes, in respect to our allotted time on this planet, is minuscule considering the most important key to life is a healthy body. 

The act of bringing physical activity into your life is an act of over coming the fear of happiness. The fear of success. It in-fact empowers success.  The confidence that is gained by  meeting exercise goals, even small ones, can boost self-confidence. It also makes you feel better about your appearance. To feel good about your physical appearance is a right, not a privilege. Exercise is a distraction that can get you away from the cycle of negative thoughts that feed anxiety and depression. The instant gratification you get from food, sex, or liquor falls away because you are doing something positive to manage anxiety and depression.

Tell that little voice that keeps repeating that you aren't worthy of being healthy, that instead you choose to go for a walk. 

Swimsuiting

I have a bizarre love of portmanteaus.  This is when you use a word whose meaning is derived from a blending of two or more distinct forms. like Gaydar from gay and radar. Meaning that homosexuals put off radar signals at such high frequency, they can pop popcorn placed near them. 

Sometimes, portmanteaus are called "Frankenwords" due to the creation of unnecessary words. Like "Infotainment" meaning "information presented in a format intended to attract with its entertainment value" when simply the word didactic would suffice. Yet, this is the fun of the English language. To know the rules, then bend them. 

Today, I headed to the amazingly beautiful Fort Collins, Colorado to attend the wedding of a longtime friend.  In the last week I have completed all the obligatory pre-wedding invitee requirements. The suit was taken to the dry cleaner, shoes polished, and this morning a hair cut was checked off the list. I even remembered how to tie a bow-tie.  As I pulled out my "wedding suit" and slid the jacket on is when a portmanteau slid from my lips. Pathesad. Not just sad, more hopeless than pathetic. I was swimming in my jacket, a jacket that was tailor fit a year ago. "When was I that fat?" It was as if I didn't recognize my own self, a year later. 

All day I did the pose where you keep your hands in your slacks to pull the suit jacket back. Like a math teacher, in a lame attempt to look hip. This was in hope that know one would ask why I borrowed my Dad's suit.  I'd say that the act was swimsuiting. If that portmanteau wasn't already taken.  

Concretize

I've returned to an old love. 

Way back in 2005 I, like all homosexuals in America, fell in love with Project Runway. Time marched on and boring rehashes of the show lost me. The great idea of the show turned into a fashion  assembly line. Each season was soon predicable from the season before it. And after it. Soon it passed out of my gay world. 

Then I read a text from a friend about the new season. Season 324. I figured why the hell not, and since I couldn't remember the last time I actually sat down to watch a TV show,  I have been meaning to work TV back into my life. 

I have to say it is great this season. I'm not sure if it's just because I've been away so long, or that the updated feel of the show has me back to the original feel of the show. What ever the reason, I'm hooked. Oh, and the best part of the show still is finding Tim Gunn's "word of the day."  Last night was Concretize:  To make real or specific: "The need to simplify and concretize . . . was hardly acceptable to a mind fascinated by the . . . suggestiveness of ideas" (Arthur A. Cohen).

Take Me at the Ball Game

As part of my quest to do as little as possible, other than enjoy the summer, this week was a family trip to the ballpark. My annual voyage to see the Colorado Rockies at Coors Field. 

The answer is "A"

Do you have a favorite spot to sit in a ballpark? Mine is on the upper deck above third base. Even back in high school, when I would ditch class and take two buses out to the Houston Astro Dome (back in the olden days when it was Houston’s baseball stadium) I would sit in this area. This preference started because If you arrived at the Astro Dome at just the right time, you could score free tickets from the Dome’s management. As the owners of the Astros and the dome wanted to show the area above third base packed on the televised games. At fifteen years old, I cherished being out on my own, sitting above third base watching the Astros play. Ironically, it was during these games when I made it to my own third base.* I have fond memories of those baseball games under the dome. Let’s just say that the song "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" always puts a smile on my face. 

Even though this weeks tickets were freebies, we found our seats in the upper deck above third base, and settled in for a great night of baseball nachos and pretzels. With the summer night air, and roar of the crowd, my quest to enjoy summer to its fullest is well on its way. 

*Third base = anal

Lazy Days of Summer

This is my favorite time of year. Pride is over, and Independence Day has been celebrated. Now I can just relax and enjoy the summer without any plans. With the Homo-sex-companion-partner distracted with his new love, I’m free to do whatever I desire this lazy time of year. 

I guess it’s true, in what they say about the seven year itch. We celebrated our seven year anniversary with my partner falling in love with someone else. Being reassured that It is a completely different type of love, I now I find myself in a triad relationship. Not that I’m totally happy with the endless chain of boxes arriving from Amazon with presents intended for his new infatuation. 

It all started on Patrick’s visit to Denver, as Pac and I wandered down Denver’s 16th Street pedorite mall, I received an urgent call from the other half. He understood the importance of my time spent with Patrick, yet urged me to leave the fun and come meet someone very special to him. That was the day that changed our lives forever. 

As I was first introduced, I realized that I wasn’t really jealous of the way my partner of seven years gazed across the deep pearlescent of her ebony glow. I wasn’t jealous because it was a different kind of love entirely. No partner can satisfy all the needs and desires, to think one can, is foolish. So, this was the day I met Sue Ellen. Yes, like from the television show, Dallas. All of his cars are named after characters from this TV show. I believe I have blogged about Mark Grayson, in the past.  

Sue Ellen is an ebony goddess, 1968 Plymouth Fury. She now spends its days sitting in the Forney Museum of Transportation in Denver, yet she is never truly out of mind. The lazy days of summer, for me, are spent taking slow and sunny runs around Cheesman Park, and hours upon hours spent needlessly at my favorite coffee shop. No real commitments until the end of August. Whatever I’m doing to waste my time, I always know that he’s out there somewhere, on an deserted highway; with her. Yet completely safe in the knowledge that she get stored-away and he’ll come home to me. 

Swatch Me

Sashaying through the mall last weekend, I was covered in the glow that only comes from the purchase of a new iPhone. A long over due act, I was happy to finally bite the bullet and update from the 4 to a 5. Let's just say that I have a new love. Siri. My heart now belongs to her. Him. I love that my assistant is gender neutral.  

Playing with my new toy, I almost walked by a new, gleaming white storefront. I stopped in my tracks, turning my head sideways like a dog trying to watching TV.  "Is that what I think it is?" I asked Siri.  A frickin' Swatch store!!! The Steve squee was heard down at the food-court. 

I ran into the store, zipping from display case to display case. It was 1987 all over again. 

Upon discovering Houston, Texas' Galleria Mall in the summer of 1987 I spent an unhealthily amount of time (for normal fifteen year old) at the Dillard's cologne and watch counters. Part of this obsession was blown at the Swatch counter. I soon successfully begged my Mother into buying me a multitude of the 80's plastic brightly colored fad.  Well, Swatches and Polo cologne.  By the second month of my freshman year of high school at Stratford High, I was known as "Swatch Steve". Well, Swatch Steve, or stinky Steve due to my bathing in Polo cologne.  My left arm would be festooned with four Swatches. 

I settled on one watch, and after having to control the urge to roll her eyes, the sixteen year old sale associate handed me my precious. That's what she gets for working in a store geared toward materialistic forty year olds. Having to hear about the 80's fad and the fay boys that loved them. 

I will return to buy more Swatches. 

Steve Grand

I found this on Christopher's blog, here. Thanks turning me on to this video. Check it out:





Please follow Steve Grand on YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/channel/UC8rpx6f-tQMadgnbiCe1Rlw/videos

Rise and Shine

Starting this week I changed my work schedule to 5:00a.m. My coworkers and friends believe that I have gone insane, yet I am enjoying the change. It gives me three full hours by myself in the office. I can drink my Dunkin’ Doughnuts, Hazelnut coffee without fear of others usurping the office coffee maker, and I get most of my day completed before the normal day actually begins. 

Part of the decision was also based around the 24hour Fitness located down the street from my employment in lovely, downtown Boulder, CO.  It may be crazy that I am getting to work three hours early, just so that I can hit the gym at three instead of during the busy time of five, but it changes my workout tremendously. No longer do I have to modify my routine due to lack of access to a flat bench,

Just look at that clown! 

as are typically taken up by guys discussing next quarter's finical outlook on their creepy Samsung Galaxy phones, as they sport completely dry, $50 sweat absorbing tech shirts. Typically. Now I can camp on a flat bench, searching for songs on my iPhone, to my little sleepy heart’s content. 

I hope to adapt to the change of getting up at 3:30a.m. soon. Dear God, I certainly hope so. All the omnipotent power beheld within Dunkin’ doughnuts ground coffee, with its Hazelnuty fumes is the only thing getting me through this week.  

Weekend

This last weekend was all about friends stepping out into the future.

Saturday we joined the celebration of a friend, after an amazing and courageous fight against cancer, she celebrated a birthday and of being a survivor. It was one of those parties where everyone sits around the table, finishing each others sentences, and telling embarrassing stories from our collective past. 

The weekend also marked the first steps for a friend who is learning how to be an individual again, after so many years in couplehood. I realized, for the first time how incredibly brave, smart and fun this person, I'm glad to call friend, is.   

On Sunday I got the privilege to visit my friend, Michelle's house. Still under construction, it was a visit of possibilities. As I walked through the unfinished rooms it made me giggle about my friendship with her, coming from being girl who thought no one would ever have her, spending every Saturday night dancing with her gays at whatever club was popular in the 90's, to being a wife and Momma in her new house in the 'burbs. I danced with her all night at the club, now I dance with her seven year old...

Panic at the Kum &Go

I knew something was odd when I pulled up to the local Kum & Go and there were hordes of rednecks loading up their muddy trucks with cases of drinking water. I did pay much attention because they always do strange things at the Kum & Go gas station; like buying chewing tobacco, and "renting up thoooses mooovies on the Red Box." Little did I know the rednecks knew something I was about to learn. Our fair city was in the middle of a e-coli scare.

A random test of the local water system came back with a positive response to the e-coli bacteria. For the next 48 hours we cannot drink tap water without boiling it. So, yeah. Yay. 

In times of crisis, our government urges us to be prepared. I thought of this preparedness as I ate my slice of gas station pizza and headed over to the grocery store to stock up on sundries to get our household though the storm. The Department of Homeland Defense would of been proud. 

It was a mad house at the store. People were stocking up on water like it was never coming back. We Americans do adore a good mob panic. I rushed to get what was important to survive our trial...

The orange flavor is the best for brushing your teeth. Oh... The water on the left is for the dog. I'm not sharing my Miller Lite with him. Again. 

The 3rd of July

For some strange reason I have been just crazy waiting for tomorrow, the 4th of July. Yeah, it's America's Independence Day, with all the pomp and circumstance, but I have selfish reasons. A BBQ with the friends. 

I find as I'm getting older, that hanging out with my gang, my homo homies, my friends, is truly the best part of life. Tomorrow will be the apex of summer. Running around the back yard, eating too much food is what the highlight of summer should be. 

I hope you get a chance to really enjoy summer, soon.  Whether it's Independence Day for you, or just the next day off. Go out and sit in the grass. 

The Stevie Side of Sears

My Sunday was designed as a complete day of relaxation. Breakfast with the buds, a visit to see a friend’s new house, maybe some shopping before relaxing at my favorite Japanese noodle shop. The day would be capped off with laundry and cruising YouTube. This dreamy plan for the day; however, did not come to pass as the best made plans seldom do. 

Upon finishing off pancakes and agreeing to head over to see a friend’s house under construction; I hopped into my car to begin the long drive. As I pulled out of the pancake house’s parking lot I noticed a strange new light on my car’s dashboard. It was a warning signal with an explanation point inside a sideways letter “C”. “What is that?” I asked my car. It just sat there, glowing. Then I made the connection, it was my low tire-pressure indicator light. a quick check let me know that I had a nail in one of my tires. “There goes Sunday” I said to my car, feeling silly because I know that my car only under stands Korean. 

As it was Sunday, my dealership and other closed options led me to my local Sears Automotive Center. I too was surprise they were still around. Apparently they are the only game in town for Sunday auto repairs.  Since they are the only option, there was a three hour wait, just to get a patch on my tire.  Three hours... alone in a Sears Grand....on a Sunday...  phone on 10% battery...  I pulled up gym shorts and said out loud, “Let's do this!”

Three hours of playing with the flat screen TVs, lounging in Sears display beds (my skin was exfoliated by the 180 thread-count sheets), shopping for poorly made horizontal striped tank-tops, and mocking hideously dressed mannequins led me to lounging with snacks under the main gazebo in the patio furniture department. I had just gotten asleep in a lounger when my phone rang with the news that my car was repaired. 

All-in-all it was a very relaxing day. I finally got a replacement water filter for the fridge, and I had a really great nap.

Great Day

How did I spend this amazing day? Well, it started as my phone blew up with the texts and phone calls. Friends wanting to share the amazing news of DOMA being ruled unconstitutional along with California’s Proposition 8 being tossed out on its head.  It made me feel like this...

Reading the tweets, texts, and Facebook updates was the best part, my favorite was Moby, from The Moby Files blog, speaking of his boss letting him go early due to his excitement.  It’s like Christmas, the 4th of July, and everyone’s birthday all rolled into one great day. 

For me, today finally persuaded me to give in and acquiesce to a long held desire of the other half. It’s true. I gave in and finally hung his cow horns and caved-in converting one of the bathrooms into cowboy themed. Yee-Haw. 

Cake

I stood and observed this cake for awhile, never comprehending what it was supposed to be. When one of the bakers noticed my wrinkled nose, she asked if she could help. She too stared at the two mounds of icing. "They're... Two ice cream cones? She stated attempting to convince herself.  

New Car Itch

It seems that it is that time again. The last three years has just flown by, yet I’m beginning to get that itch, again. The new car itch. 

I honestly cannot believe it has been three years since I bought my car. The motivation in dropping my big Jeep Wrangler and going for a four-door sports sedan escaped me until I read my blog post from the day I bought my car. Gas milage. I was commuting 120 miles each day, and the knobby tires on the Jeep were giving me 14 MPG, at best. The last three years has been filled with 35MPG happiness... boring... grown-up, safe and responsible happiness.

I don’t want to be a grown-up any more. I’m thinking that my next Stevemobile, must have a quasi butch factor, four wheel drive is necessary (for all that skiing I do), and must be able to haul a load (like me), or pull a trailer. Being able to move a load is number one on the list because of all that firewood I chop Christmas decorations I need to move.

 I have my list down to a small list of contenders: 

Jeep Wrangler

Toyota Tacoma

Toyota FJ

Please leave your vote in comments, along with any vehicles you think I should look over. Considering that I’m going for “butch gay-boy realness” this time around.  

Pride Month

I stumbled upon this on my partners Facebook page. It was odd to find because he claims to be one of those, "I hate Facebook!" kind of people. It speaks to why he, and how we might all,  celebrate Pride Month.  As a wide reach of individuals that make up the GLBT community, it seems to be a call to arms for of why we really need to celebrate Pride Month. 

Pride is being oneself to the core, embracing it in the face of all others at all times. Pride is not being afraid to acknowledge any part of oneself; even within the circle of those supposedly like you! Pride is not forgetting who you are and where you came from, and especially those who's shoulders you ride upon. Those who got you where you are now and today. Pride is cherishing every beautiful, graceful, powerful, positive, fantastic, passion filled, negative, dark part of oneself; all of it.

Now It seems we are in danger of losing our community. The community that made Pride marches a strong force for change. Maybe because we might be more concerned with mainstreaming than in being who we were intended to be.... we are slowly but surely giving up that which makes us unique in our own culture of life....slowly but surely taming that which made us wild, different, fantastic, colorful, edgy, creative, brilliant, scary, interesting, weird, queer, elegant, intimidating, masculine, piggishly sexual, promiscuous, spiritual, respectful towards each other, underground, non-conforming, brave, rebellious, freeks, hot, progressive, creative individuals.

Oh yes, we are moving forward, yet in our strides to normalize our sexuality in the view of society, we may be in loosing our community.  Is this so we can live in the burbs in our washed out colored two story houses, drive our hondas, wear our khaki shorts and polos, feminize so we don't scare the straight men, traditionalize our way of living and having relationships, criticizing those of our own kind, if they don't live the "right" kind of relationship? We polarize ourselves between those who are hiv+ and those who are hiv- with great ignorance of how to live together through all of it. We have divided our subcultures against each other further than ever before, and diluted their uniqueness at the same time. Our youth have no connection to our more mature men and women. Destroying mentoring and guidance, or respect for those who marched when it wasn't a celebration, but an act of defiance. 

What is pride to me? Being a damn proud gay man, I reject the mainstream with my eyes wide open! I want my rights and respect in society just like anyone else, but dammit I'm not giving up being a mature, muscular, masculine, edgy, homo because it is innate as my color, my race, my being. I thank God for it everyday. My soul will continue to love all forms of gay, my beautiful lipsticks and butch lesbians, my drag queens, bears, leathermen, transgenders, my homo friends with kids and hondas, my oversexed homo friends, my swishy friends, my butch men, all of it, all of it, all of it. Don't you dare, don't you dare try to adjust the color of all of it! Don't you dare try to normalize or whitewash it......I want it all. That's pride, loving it all. Happy Pride everyone....get out there and be yourself and offend someone!

I’m a Delinquent

Seeing it’s been so hazy due to the entire Rocky Mountain range bursting into flames (like me after four beers...or me in a furniture store...or me in a 4x4 parts store) the smoke from this years “burn-fest” has wafted down to Boulder.  This has driven my OCD of having a perfectly clean windshield/windscreen into high gear. 

Yesterday, leaving work, I began my endless ritual of grabbing a perfectly folded micro-fiber cloth and my aerosol can of window cleaner from my trunk to polish my car’s glass. As I sprayed a white zig-zag of foaming cleaner across my glass I heard a scream.

“Stop that!!! I’m calling the police!!” Somebody stop him!!”

I turned to see a woman desperately dialing on her phone. Mid-fifties, wearing age inappropriate workout pants. Never saying a word, yet giving her a sideways Suzanne Sugarbaker glance; I began to wipe the cleaner from my windshield. 

“Oh... I thought you were tagging...vandalizing that car...”

She turned to her phone and began explaining to the 911 operator her about her failings as a dutiful citizen. Then she just wandered away into the smoke, the bedazzled word ‘Juicy’ disappearing into the mist. 

Only in Boulder, CO. would someone thing the “tagging” is perpetrated by a gentleman in Eddie Bauer. 

Too Darn Hot

The conversation on everyones lips this week seems to be the heat. Since it’s June, it's surprising to everyone that it gets hot. This is also the time when the Colorado Mountains start to spontaneously combust. They should make the Rocky Mountains out of sturdier stuff they're just going to erupt into flame anytime it reaches 100°?

This also means that it's the season for the first page of Facebook status updates to composed mostly of iPhone shots of car’s dashboard external temperature displays. Here's a typical list of my Facebook updates...

It’s 100°
Wow! 101°
Seriously! LOL 97°
99° That’s Hot! : )
Moby is heading to the gym
100° Burning my ass off. 
Someone make it not be 100° right now. 
Look at this cat! It’s seating in a kitchen sink. 
Mr. Summer, please not let it be 101° for Pride this year. 

We all know it’s hot. We all have the weather app. Your just giving me visual camouflage between my true mission on Facebook. To look at fluffy cats doing “crazy stuff”, and Moby’s abs. 

This got me thinking... I’m going to take a series of photos in October of my car’s temperature display. Then I’ll start posting them in June of next year. “Wow 47°!”  “Geez! It’s 52° today?” Yeah know, just to shake it up a bit. 

Down Time

This week I’ve had the opportunity to enjoy four days away from work and adult responsibility. The only schedule I had to keep was going to the gym and remembering when Adventure Time was scheduled on Cartoon Network. 

Yesterday a friend came over in the morning for an “all day” season/series 7 Doctor Who marathon. He only lasted 7 episodes before his brain (and writer hatred) started to boil. Leaving me to finish the remaining 7 episodes with just me, nachos, and the Shar-pei. Let’s just say that the dog doesn’t care for Steven Moffatt. 

With all this down time I’ve also taken to become a stalker to a fictitious television character on Twitter. 

The 1” square photo on Twitter indicates that he is a slim, trim British lad of proper breeding. As I have a massive thing for slim and trim British lads, I quickly became a stalker fan. The gentleman being complete fictional, truly had no barring on the level of my desire. Apparently. I started to follow the tweets of this British lad (or whom ever tweets as this trim, educated specimen) I soon found myself in the embarrassing situation with a crush on Sheridan Bucket. The proper, well bred son of Hyacinth and Richard Bucket. Yes, that Mrs. Bucket.  From the five year, 1990’s British television program, Keeping up Appearances. 

Yes, I know it would never work between us. Me being a forty year old male of dubious background, mostly comprised of flesh and bone. Sheridan, only existing on Twitter, and my mind, is most likely being a sixty year old married woman living in Bedford. I believe I might need to seek treatment for my anglophilia. 

Maybe all this down time isn’t such a good thing. Structure is what I apparently what I need. 

Tokyo Symphony

Ready to Cruise

Upon a Miller Lite infused conversation, during Patrick’s last visit, we decided that it was time for new gym bags. Thirteen-hundred dollar gym bags. 

In some sort of cosmic fate “I’m your density” type of thing, the next day I get the super hero like call from the BFF Frank... “It’s time to cruise.” Soon we assembled on a conference call and dialed the number to RSVP Vacations. Don Ofstedal a Guest Sales Coordinator for RSVP Vacations took our call.  The latest cruise through the Caribbean had just opened for booking hours earlier. “Hi Don, there’s seven of us on a conference call, we all need cabins on the 9th floor of the Divina Caribbean cruise.” 

One by one, we claimed our cabins by laying down our credit cards. Like the Ancient Spartans participating in the rights of becoming a man during the ritual Helots Killing, we slaughtered our next vacation. 

Just 9 months to go until our new gym bags. 

Nerd Boy

I know I have an idiot grin on my face. It's  just that I'm so unreasonably happy to have my picture taken with a Police Call Box. 

Nerd boy. 

Sunday was Comic Con day in our fair city. And after standing in line for three hours, we got in.  The three hour wait also meant we missed Colin Bakers (the sixth Doctor for all you "norms") speech. It was okay though, I stood at the autograph line and stocked him from afar. This was after I followed a warren of Banes around the convention center. Who knew face masks would a turn-on? (I did.)

Escape to Beaver Mountain

Hi there, what’s been happening?

I didn’t realize it had been so long since my last blog post. After school ended I just went into non-think mode. In case you were following along at home I got a “B” in my Philosophy class. Taking my long held 4.0 down to 3.8. I’m okay with this, because at least I tried. That big ol’ Queen of philosophy, David Hume would be proud. If he felt I existed which I don’t according to him, but I digress. So did my 4.0.

Hey! Did you hear that fellow blogger and all around funny person Patrick came to visit me? I can’t really remember when Patrick and I started chatting. I think we first started to bond (as all good girlfriends do) over a weight-loss program for the iPhone, Lose-it. It was that or my constant blogging about Puma running shoes. 

For the record, my love of running shoes is not a fetish, I just like running shoes the way Viktor likes Louis Vuitton. Long story short, we started texting. Thus began one continuous conversation since... Apple released that iPhone 4 with the non-functional antenna.

Patrick uses his iPad to locate Beaver Mountain
on our hike in Rocky Mountain National Park

The strange part was finally meeting a close friend, one who you share everything with, face to face. The strange part was that it wasn’t strange. He summoned me to his boutique hotel, and I walked in to his room as if we have hung out a countless number of times. The conversation flowed.  A funny and warm conversation that only comes from friends that have truly bonded. A conversation that didn’t end until we had to say good bye. Then we just started texting again. 

The weekend went so well we decided to plan another get-together. Well... to buy $1,300 gym bags together anyway. 

Camp

Now that the late Rocky Mountain snow has turned to rain. My thoughts turn to the summer and my favorite activity, gay camping. It’s gay, because it’s fabulous. 

This time of year I begin to look forward to some weekend get-aways up in the mountains. Quick weekend camping trips, with a tent, a fire, and all my cool camping technology. Gay camping is, for me, about the propane cylinders and electric ignition on the camp stove, the lanterns with the fragile asbestos mantles, and all those bendy fiberglass poles for the tent. I believe I enjoy the folding camp chairs with the extra large cup holders just as much as the rugged, pine forest and rock cliff encrusted scenery. 

You haven’t camped until you do it with a gay who truly enjoys his 15 piece, blue speckled enamelware cook set. It’s like All-Clad, for an open fire. This year I’ll be enjoying my new matching enamelware coffee percolator. 

I can’t wait for the first chance to get out and truly rough it. Lying under the stars late at night, listening to the campfire slowly burn out. The feel of the sleeping bag and 700 thread count camping sheets loosely wrapped around my naked body. Completely back to nature. 





Check out my Tumblr page for my camping themed photos at ntssb.tumblr.com

http://ntssb.tumblr.com

One Week Until I Stomp out my Exams

One paper done. One last paper to write before my exams next Monday. I feel like this....