The Glamor of Air Travel

I have Southwest airline miles in my account and they are burning a hole in my pocket. Not Literally of course, but damn it! I want to go on an airplane somewhere. 

I check in on my Southwest airline credit card frequently, and watch as the flight miles mock me. They know I can't fly right now, so they tease me and my grounded status. Yes, I know it is possible to fly domestically right now, but I can't. This is due to the lack of self-control of my fist meeting the nose of anyone I might happen to come across not wearing a face mask. I mean, if you cry it's your liberty and personal freedom to not wear the mask in public then it is equally (and just as much a right) to personal freedom for me to breakout a couple of your teeth with my left fist. If  a person feels so powerfuly drawn to stand up for their agency as an american, I have a balanced right to send them away in an ambulance.  I jest; obviously, but this is also why I can't fathom taking a vacation right now. Having to make my way through an airport with an unchecked and uncontrolled (on the federal leverl) virus, it's not possible. 

I have started to make plans for October and Atlanta Pride. To hangout with Patrick and have him meet Brian, the action-packed, super-cute boyfriend. So, there is that. By October I assume we will all be on mandatory COVID vaccination shots. And we'll be weeks away from saying "President- elect Bidan" Soooooooo, I guess I should cool my credit card points yearning. I mean, I guess I could buy tickets for 2021 Dragcon in LA; whenever that is? By then we will be saying "President Biden sure fucking saved us, didn't he?!"

No Selfie Control

I’ll admit it. I have no selfie control. This year the term selfie was added to the Oxford Dictionaries* online site where it is defined as "a photograph that one has taken of oneself, typically one taken with a smartphone or webcam and uploaded to a social media website."* Something that gay men, and fifteen year old girls, have been doing since cameras were invented. 

If there is an empty room, with a mirror of relative cleanliness, I’m gonna start pumping my biceps to snap a picture. Patrick, of http://pacspad.blogspot.com fame and I have a text history that is a jumble of self-archetyped, self clicked modern kodachromes. followed, typically by “yeah, wear that shirt...” 

Typical "I just ate nachos,
look at my belly"
gas station selfie.

Yet even with my endless bathroom self-aggrandizing turned vaingloriousness, I have one rule... check out what is around me in the room. One slip-up and a snapshot in someones bathroom will lead to years of the image having a huge red circle pointing out the rubber fist that blended so well with the decorative soaps above the commode. 

That is why I was puzzled by a post on OMG Blog. Former One Life to Live actor, and openly gay, Scott Evans has the same fondness for selfies.  The photos do reveal all, so don't follow the link if you are at work. OMG Blog.  Yes, he’s hot, but my first impressions was on how filthy his bathroom was. He couldn’t kick the gym shorts behind the door? really?

I always take windex to the shiny surfaces before I snap.