IPHONE WAIT

Day three of “IPhone wait.” I’m strong, I can do this. It’s just a phone that’s back ordered no big deal. Just a bountiful, sinewy, piece of technology that will improve my life with its shiny buttons. Oh, so many buttons. I love them so, the way they call to me. “Press me Steve! We’ll make you happy!”
It’s just day three. My phone will come in anytime now. At anytime Mr. Gayatt&t will call me on my old icky-God-I-hate-it phone and let me know that Apple and of course Jesus wants me to be happy. Yes, I said it! Jesus wants me to have a new IPhone.


Have I mentioned yet that the backorder on my IPhone may take up to ten days? Long wait for Stevie!
This weekend was my BFF Carl’s birthday party. His Homosexual lover threw a huge bash for him. During this party and several glasses of Grey Goose I realized two things. The first is that I’m a “complementary drunk” that is to say when I get drunk I walk around a complement people. I walked up to Joe and gushed about how I liked his shirt, then every article of clothing on his hard chiseled body. Later I was found talking another friend on how his new tires look “really striking on his Honda. “ The Second is that without counseling and maybe a Lindsey Lohan rehab I could quite easily become an IDick.

Mo-Mo

Fuzzy and I met his parents for dinner this week. This is of course a normal part of being a man-friend but the whole “having dinner with the in-laws” thing is still a little new to me. I wouldn’t wish my freaky ass kin-folk on my worst enemy, well maybe “W.” I honestly would rather shove a incensed squirrel down my pants then spend time with any of them. So when I hear that others actually like to meet for dinner I’m a little skeptical.
Since I come from a long line of Mormons that can be traced back to Mr. Josef Smith let’s just say they are not the most fun at parties. The whole “dead end to a family tree” is documented painfully in our Family lineage book somewhere in Utah. Every couple of years someone somewhere, meaning my Mom sends the boys on bicycles after me to track me down and ask me once again about my “wife and kids” so it can be documented for the temple.

Why you ask am I bringing this shit up? It’s Colton Ford’s fault.
Yesterday I was on the treadmill. Bouncing along to Colton (That’s what I call him, along with My Colton) as in “Leave my Colton alone” when yet another friend says “He’s hot and all but Stevie He can’t sing his way out of a paper bag!” Yesterday I’m on the treadmill and I got a little carried away with my Colton by pulling back on the headphones while dancing. This dropped my IPod onto the Jetsons’ like spinning surface shooting it at the woman behind me. The woman wearing the BYU shirt.
Damn! I expelled in a deep and manly voice. She quickly helped me up as I had jumped doing some-sort of half pike mid-air twist to matrix my IPod. At this point she sniffed me out as a Mo. That’s a Mormon, opposed to being a Mo as in “homo” which yes, makes me a Mo – Mo. She then threw her talons into me. I quickly stammered about cutting off my toe off and having my shoe fill up with blood then hobbled off. I’m sorry but I’m not going to “out” myself as a Mo (not a mo) to the Mo-girl I just launched my IPod at. Seriously!

I NO

I was pretty excited today. Today was the day I went to get my new IPhone. Yep, you got it my brand new, shiny, sexy, Oh-my-god IPhone. Did y’all know that they were back ordered? Yes, back ordered.
I came very close to kicking “Shcott” the bubbly AT&T sales gay in the shin. “What do you mean they’re not here? I said my voice cracking like a guy down at the strip club being told that “Ginger” his favorite is out with a bad STD.
“Went to get me an IPhone but they said No, no no. “
I’ve got a little piece of paper that says”IOU one IPhone.” You can call me on that if you like.

Car Sleeping

I have finally found my people. The interesting and mixed group of us that spend the lunch hour sitting in the parking garage. It’s a strange little congress of us that sit quietly our cars whiling away the lunch hour. I noticed today that we as a people congregate in one little corner of the garage. Like the “fours” did in the shipping containers in I robot. For some unexplained reason we group together, maybe for protection. Maybe to just stay away from the “Let’s go out to lunch together” people. God we hate them. They just ruin everything. “Hey, let’s all go out to Bennigans together, then I won’t put in enough money.” So unified we sit. Personally I sleep while listening to endless IPod David Sedaris audio books. But it doesn’t matter, some listen to talk radio, some just while away watching the clock slowly click away until 1PM. Earlier this week I heard a muffled “It’s time to go back.” My first thought was to roll down the window and scream “some of us are trying to sleep!” Like we’re in some sort of car Barrio. But quickly realized it was just the brethren helping the common good. So stand tall if you waste your lunch in your car. Then recline the seat and doze.

GYM UPDATE

I have finally got back to full weights, I’ve completed arms, shoulders and chest without my left shoulder trying to detach and try to kill me. I have shortened my reps on chest just a bit to “play it safe. “ The best thing about having a sore shoulder was that the only thing I could do while Fuzzy was bouncing the bar off of his chest was crunches. Tons of F*#$ crunches, I now have the hardest abs I’ve ever had. And if they weren’t covered by Taco Bell blubber you’d see them. But, they are under there trust me. On Sunday we went to lift and Fuzz decided to wear his Dolly Parton Tour T-shirt. It did look a little odd Dolly’s face stretched out of shape across his massive chest but it kind of was fitting with all the surgery that Dolly’s face has seen.
Through the work out we spotted this huge muscled bodybuilder. You know the type; he really should be May in the Colt calendar. Half way though dips he maneuvers up to Fuzz like a Battle ship turning to take on the Japanese and Says “Oh…My.. GAWD!!! You went to see DOLLY?!?!” At this point little hearts and unicorns started to float about his thick neck and thick head. I shot a look to Fuzz full of “thanks for ruining our three-way shower jerk off session!” And then quickly ran to the other side of the gym. But apparently Dolly fans are as thick as thieves. They chatted no doubtably about their love for dolly while I pushed off another set of F*$#%$ crunches.

Dora hittinz on my man

I finally realized what Fuzzy was doing in this picture from Thanksgiving.
Getting sexually harassed by Dora the Explorer. I thought he just really liked the TV.

What I overheard today coming from the next cubical.
Look! Look out the window! Geese! A bunch of Geese.
Wow, that one’s really fat. I think she’s pregnant.
Me. Uh, what?
She gonna be a momma Goose soon.
Me. Uh, birds lay eggs.
Yeah, and she looks heavy she’s gonna deliver soon.
Me.
That would be amazing to see.

To go along with the killing children theme I found this:

Googled this today:


I couldn't stop laughing. Wrong. So very wrong.

Brideshead Revisited

Fuzzy and I went to see a movie over the weekend. This may not sound like much but, I have not gone to the Cinema since Dalton and I saw Ghost In The Shell in 2004. Yeah, I hadn’t seen a movie in four years. I just had other things to do, that and I don’t have an attention span. But, I knew that I had met my match when Fuzz told me he hadn’t gone to the movie in three years.
So why the sudden the trip to the Cinema house? It was 105 degrees in Denver. We ended up seeing Brideshead Revisited. Waiting four years between movies I have to say it was worth ending the dry spell on Emma Thompson. For an “Oh dear.. Let’s discuss the changing of the sunlight upon the manner’s glen.” Type of movie it was quite impressive. Although, through the first half of the movie I kept thinking I remembered the antagonist from somewhere. Then it hit me, he’s the guy from the Pet Shop Boys!! Or at least he looked like him.

The remainder of the movie had me rolling over and over “why would the singer from the Pet Shop Boys be in a Costume drama? Well, it wasn’t him but damn. What a great career move that would have been.

Liftin'

Fuzzy and I have this weird habit of needing a bench at the gym right when every frickin' muscle head has decided to pump an extra 20. Why does 24hour only have 3 flat benches?

Fuzz my man, cannot change his habitrail so if it’s time to bench nothings gonna change that. So, we wait. I have seen a lot of bulges that I would have missed, so it’s not all bad. One afternoon we noticed this guy who we now call Forest Gump. He got this name because he likes to sit on a bench and talk to people about his life. This day he was apparently signing up for a Time-Life book series via his cell. I think that Fuzz may not have appreciated that excitement of getting, Great buildings of the World due to Fuzzy walking up to him and explaining that his cell phone was going up his ass if didn’t get it off the bench.

This came up in conversation today when I realized that my shoulder strain has faded enough to start back at my heavier weights. Man I hate straining muscles. You have to baby yourself and just wait while your traps start shrinking away. Today I’m going back to normal weights, wish me luck.

So I get this E-mail from my buddy Carl:

In case you didn’t know - Wikipedia sets us straight!
Bacon grease, also known as bacon drippings, is the grease created by cooking bacon.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bacon_grease#Grease

~Carl

Uh….thanks? In the interest of promoting bacon awareness. I thought I’d share this with you. Don’t ever say you don’t learn anything from wasting your time on my blog. Mr.

Republican Foreign Policy

In this day and age there’s really is too much debate and confusion about America’s foreign policy and our leadership roll in the world. I’ve been tiring to understand the mind set and philosophy for years. I have finally found one person that can explain this phenomenon easily. Who knew the answer was with Eddy Izzard all the time.
Take a look….

WWCCD

I just warning you! If I have to see one more political commercial I’m heading up to the bell tower with a high powered rifle. Picture this, It’s 6AM this morning I’ve got coffee, a bowl of Captain Crunch . The Shar-pei and I are hanging out on the couch, we’re waking up by watching the morning news. Upon a commercial break EVERY commercial was political in nature. I don’t need politicians in my Captain Crunch, it’s fake enough on its own.
It’s only July and I think the only way I’m going to make it to November is with the DVR. That and “interest groups” very rarely buy air time during The Venture Brothers.
But that’s not the point!
This may have something to do with the Democratic convention getting ready to come to Denver. Three days of Democrats in Denver. Thousands of “protesters” are going to converge on downtown Denver August 25th-28th. And I have to ask why are they protesting Democrats? I thought that Bushies were the ones that started a useless unnecessary war just to appease their father?
I can see the protesters now. “Stop the healthcare reform now!” “More money to big corporate oil!”
See what happens when you mess with Stevie’s Captain Crunch. He gets all grandstandie. I have to keep reminding myself, WWCCD?
What would Captain Crunch do?

Voila!

What I overheard today coming from the next cubical.

Vi-0-la? Steve why did you send me an E-mail signed Vi-o-la?

Me. What?

Who’s Vi-o-la?

Me. Do you mean.. Voila?

No! you wrote Vi-o-la! (I wrote voila)

Me. Uh…... yes it’s my new pet name for you. Voila, Viola.

JEEP TIRES

I put new tires on the Jeep last week. I have to say that Discount Tire did a great job. I finally up-sized my tires to honkin huge manly Jeep tires. Woof. Grrrrrrr, woof. Now I look as if I’m ready to go off road, but this really means that I’m gonna drive shirtless around Chessman Park over and over. Now I think that the service offered by Discount was pretty great. The next day they sent me an e-mail asking how they did and I let them know what a great job they did. It’s been a week and they have quickly turned into the trick that won’t leave.
They have sent one or sometimes two e-mails every day since we tricked. They started off pretty fine, the “how was our service?” Then, “next time you need us please call.” They quickly turned to “Please… Steve think of us! Discount tire loves you Steve, do you think of us?“

Today’s e-mail went something like:
Your beauty is beyond compare,
With flaming locks of auburn hair,
With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green.
Your smile is like a breath of spring;
Your voice is soft like summer rain,
And we cannot sell tires to anyone but you, StevieB.
StevieB, StevieB, Stevieb, StevieB Please don’t go elsewhere just because you can.

So, Okay so they kinda sounded like a Dolly Parton song.
It was fun we put knobby tires on my Jeep. But that was all. Nothing more.
Damn it, don’t cry!
Really, I’ll call you again but when I need you. It was just tires.
Thank God for the spam file.

BMB Conundrum

That big muscle guy from Sell This House hit me up on Big Muscle Bear. Apparently he was going to be in town and was inquiring about the best gay gym in Denver. I just started to weep openly, how can I admit that Denver has no frickin gay gym. It’s like admitting that you have never watched Steal Magnolias, or have never been a gay cruise.
I watched in slow motion the death throes of Broadway Bodyworks, the bestest gay gym in the world. Sad to see the muscle-heads running in circles “where do I go to lift heavy things?” As I approached the Tax notice on the front door I remember yelling,
“Stevie Mad, Stevie Smash!!”
I’ve gone to 24 ever since, like an exile from Lenin’s site.
So when I read the notation from the A&E slab –o-muscle, it just brought this up one more frickin time. I would have responded with a helpful note…… if I had not of read it 2 weeks after he asked. But that really is beside the point. Really.
So if you’re coming to town hit me up, I be more than happy to tell the great things Denver has to offer. But no, we don’t have a gay gym. Stop asking already. We…we have to lift with…....straights!

I got gas

I would like to say that we live in a picturesque Colorado Mountain town. But the reality is far from that. The towns claim to fame is 8 Mexican restaurants and that hundreds of Japanese Americans were interned there during WWII. Put that on a tourism website.
Gas in Denver has reached $4.10 a gallon but in Denver’s hinterland it’s around $4.00. There are four gas stations in town, two of these are on opposite ends of the main “drag” both are at $3.82. What a frickin seal, right.
Fuzzy finally came out and asked why I kept driving past the You Pump It (makes me giggle every time) down to the new Kum and Go (more giggling.) Well, I said “their pumps don’t work.” He had a long pause while slowly turning this around in his head. “Why wouldn’t they work for you?” I responded with a DUH tone “they don’t have credit card swipers.” Fuzzy still kept a low, even tone.” You know that they’re older pumps you have to go in and pay.” Still not picking this up I responded “Go in and pay? That doesn’t sound right.” He then explained to me about this stuff called cash. People use it to purchase goods and services. He then inquired if I approached Coke machines with my credit card and just repeatedly jammed my plastic into any hole. “No, that only works with you. “ I calmly retorted.

Geek Dream

I woke up this morning after having a nightmare that the Cybermen were slicing me up. Man, I gotta lay off the DVR so late at night. I'm dreaming in geek.

Canada Time

What I overheard today coming from the next cubical.
What time is it in Canada?
Me. Uh, What?
You know, what time is Canada time?
Me. It’s always Canada time.
Steve! Tell me. Oh… they’re specific time.
Me. Yes, Canada is very specific about its time.

Jesus and Diet Coke

There’s this odd little room at work tucked next to the Woman’s restroom. This appears to have been a break room for a long dead mortgage company. This is also happens to be the only place where the Coke machine can survive. It’s kind of sad to see this soda machine whirring away its youth in this forgotten fluorescent break room. All alone but for Hermey.
Hermey is the creepy guy who sits in this room during the day and eats his brown bagged lunch. I call him Hermey because he looks like the elf that ran around with Rudolph. Of course 40 years later, his dental practice forced to close after Santa allows a Comfort Dental Franchise to open up at the north pole. His dental practice gone he took a temp job in Denver. Every day I run in grab my Diet Coke before he can say “I used to be a dentist.”
Yesterday I was going to grab my “big brown bottle of yummyness” when he started to speak to me. “Sir, do you know what time it is?” I stopped “yes, it’s about 1PM.” then he stammered “Sir, do you know Jesus?” OK….. So this is where on the Discovery Channel they explain the “fight or flight" response. The prey decides either that Diet Coke is worth fighting for or they need to run to save their cute, fluffy tails.
I kind of thought this would be funny. But mostly it happened so quickly I didn’t think it through. But just as he asked me this I stared at him a bit, then screamed “JESUS CHRIST” threw my arms up and ran from the room like my hair was on fire.
Not one of my best moments I agree.
Funny yes.
The only bad part is that I can no longer drink soda, that and as I ran from the room like MacGyver running from a critical warhead I ran into my boss coming from the Women’s restroom. I simply explained that all they had was Dr.Pepper.

I thought I broke my IPod today. As I got into the Jeep ready for another great commute across Denver I grabbed my IPod and plugged it into its holder. Later down the road I picked it up to change from Madonna to an Audio book when BAM! The IPod’s display was toast. This put me into a tail spin that David Sedaris’ new book wouldn’t pull me out of. I realized that this was the sign I needed that it was time for me to get the new IPhone. When I pulled and parked at my destination I pulled off my sunglasses and pulled out the IPod. The screen was fine. Okay, maybe it was just an early morning thing.
At lunch I plugged it back in and again quickly saw the damage. What the fuck is going on here. Just then I looked the display on my radio. It was hosed too. I stopped at an intersection to piece this together. That’s when I screamed. MY SUNGLASSES! I had just bought new shades. Polarized sunglasses, in polarized glasses horizontally polarized light is blocked by the vertically oriented polarizers in the lenses. They react adversely with liquid crystal displays (LCDs.) The problem with LCDs is that when viewed through polarized lenses from a certain angle, they can be invisible.
I’m glad I found this out, yet I lost my built in excuse for an IPhone.

Squirrels, natures little speed bumps

The other day I was behind a girl just waiting my turn when one of her friends came up on her left and surprised her. I could not hear what they were saying but I started to image they were talking about how long it had been, how great it was to see each other and if the girl in front of me had ever followed through in her plans on invading Poland to establish the master race. Ya know, stuff like that. They were chatting for a while and I was mesmerized when I realized that they like me were on the highway during rush hour traffic in Denver.
That’s when I proved my theory that there are two types of people. The “look-a-round and talk to your fellow motorists” people and the “Don’t look at me I’m driving” people. I happen to be in the don’t acknowledge me camp. Yes, I may have the top off the Jeep and have Madonna’s Hard Candy blaring, shirtless doing that side-two-side dance thing but I’m not looking over so you don’t either.
My friend Jeff was a “car cruiser” and I HATED this. He would roll down the window and start hooting and woofing at a hot guy next to us. My response was always “Do you think his wife and kids in the back really appreciate your advances?”
The Girls seemed unaware that traffic had pretty much disappeared in front of them all the way to Speer while they were chatting. These were that type to own pink Razors, T-backs with gem stones spelling out juicy or crispy and the type that talk loudly to each other in a movie, or westbound I25. Die you hateful Moo cows.
Why do I curse like a Sailor until I get behind the wheel?
Soon I tapped on the horn but this was interrupted as “I want to rip off your jaw and piss down your McMuffin hole.” I did the “hello! Drive! There are other people in the world” hand motion. And with that Ms. Tragic hair zipped off in her 13 MPG Durango. Madonna and I went back to our duet. Past Park avenue I saw a bumper stick that read:
Squirrels. Natures little speed bumps.

Dallas

I was walking down the sidewalk to our house coming home form work. As I crossed paths with my elderly neighbor she smiled and looked at the bouquet of flowers in my hand. “Making up for something?” She said knowing that Fuzzy and I live two houses down. I started to respond when she said, “ Your both still going to go the hell ya know!”

Two things went through my head at this point. One is that Fuzz feels bad that I refer to her as “the used vacuum cleaner bag.” The second being that I call our house SouthFork. Yes, after the show Dallas. No, not because it looks anything like the white ranch house that Sue Ellen pined away for. This is due to its geographical location to the city. You would have to be a Super-duper hyper gay nerd to actually know the geographical relationship of Southfork ranch to Dallas. I am just that gay.

In 2003 I convinced Dalton to go on a tour of Southfork ranch. This met with same response as if I said I wanted to cover him with blood and walk out into Galveston Bay to feel around for sharks. But at least at Galveston Bay we would get some sun. When we arrived at Southfork I casually noted that the weather was just like in Winds Of Vengeance. Dalton casually noted that if we made it out of there I should conceder myself dumped.

Just in case you didn’t already know, Southfork ranch is about 25 miles northeast of Dallas, as is our house is from Denver. Which makes it hard sometime to consider myself a gay-ghetto gay. What with the commute and all, but still if the man friend wanted us to sell our cute little bungalow and move to Castro, boystown or Chelsea it may take me about a nano-second to grab our flat screen tuck the Shar-pei and run. I was thinking of running out of this burb as the words the vacuum cleaner bag were still blurting out at me sunk in. “You need to find Jesus, young man.”
My response was “Who do you think the flowers are for?”

COPS-V-500 thread count

We were a little late getting up and around this morning. As Fuzzy works on Sunday mornings and his boss is Jesus it’s not proper to be late to work. As we were rushing around I stopped to make the bed. I was smoothing out the sheets and aligning the pillows properly and I heard “come on baby, we gotta go! The bed will be here when we get back.” I know but what if the TV show Cops break in while we’re gone and film our unmade bed.” As this fell from my pie hole I realized that this was actually a serious concern to me. My entire adult life I’ve been walking around with the fear that if my house was messy a second rate TV show would barge in and film it. I don’t think I could life with the consequences of Cops filming my wrinkled sheets.
This just might be a step away from lining up my drinks in the refrigerator. Have you seen Flipping Out? Jeff Lewis, Wow wack job. I say that thinking that he probably does not have a persecution complex for coffee cups in the sink.
On Cops there are prostitutes, drug dealers and car thieves and I hardly do any of those things, but still want to feel tough so keeping my bed made will keep me on the right side of the law. That’s how I roll.

Words to many to read.

So as normal I’m at on the phone with Carl cruising through the blogs. “Have you read this blog yet?” “Yep, Try this one yet?” “Funny hu, how about that one? no, cool.” Soon we found ourselves on a blog about pride and started to read. Quietly I heard Carl start to repeat “Words to many to read. Words to many to read. Ahhh pictures.“ Everyone needs a Blog buddy.

Judy Tenuta and Splenda-ritas

I think the highlight for me on gay marriage in California is that I’ve discovered that Judy Tenuta is an ordained minister. Well she is, but of her own church and of her own religion. It’s called Judyism, yes it’s pronounced Jud e ism. Like Judaism but with tequila instead of the Talmud.
Now I could think of no better way to get hitched then to have Judy call you “pigs” throughout the touching if not scary ceremony. I suddenly feel as if I not ready to get married.

I’ve discovered a new drink, a Splenda-rita. All the happy, happy joy of a Margarita but none of the sugar. Now that’s how I know that the terrorists have not won.

Denver pride '08

It was pride week in Denver, the time of year where you celebrate your gayness by marching in the streets in front of the evangelicals holding damning and misspelled signs. And apparently running into every ex-boyfriend you ever had. Like Jim who wondered up to me and in a drunken stuper and let me know that He has my dishes (from 1993) Ahhh Pride. Denver throws a huge party on the hottest day of the year to celebrate. I’ve been to many cities that have moved their parades to evenings or even later in the season just to accommodate the melting drag queens, but in Denver, you’ll find the hardiest, toughest and smelliest Drag Queens around.

We did what 30 something Moes do, we watched the guys on the parade floats and wondered out loud if we were ever that skinny or that slutty. Then we did the loop around Civic Center cruising naked chests and avoiding the aforementioned ex-boyfriends. Trying to eat a funnel cake and still look hot is not so easy, but I think I pulled it off. And just as our forefathers gays did before us we then marched back up the hill to the Wrangler for beer bust. The Stonewall riots instilled within us the right to stand shirtless in the sun and drink warm beer. All in all it was a pretty great pride.

This weekend was also our anniversary (How cute they met on Pride.) Fuzzy and I went to the Cherry Creek Grill for a romantical dinner. It was great, although the highlight was when Fuzzy was deep in romantic talk about us when I coughed and spewed a tiny little piece of cornbread across the table onto his new shirt. So as he continued about the strength of our relationship I stared at a huge stain growing on his chest. “Yes hunny, we are like a gay Marie and Pierre Curie… but I just spewed food onto you. Happy Anniversary.

I almost forgot to mention what happened to “the silver spoon.” Well, I must say I really loved the great advice, but I thought the best thing to do was to come clean about stealing antique silver literally and figuratively. I first coached myself with “Yes, I did steal your grandmothers silver….. but your Pecs are huge today.”
One morning when Fuzzy looked particularly sleepy I took out the spoon from its hiding place to start the conversation that “Yes, I did steal your grandmothers silver.” As I turned to speak, Fuzzy was playing with Harley the Super-Shar-pei, scooped him up and quickly bonked heads. The dog staggered off into the dinning room and Fuzzy had to sit down for awhile. I just put the spoon back.

Hamburger Mary's Alfresco

They say that Denver is behind “real cities” by up to five years. I began to believe this, since I left Dallas I’ve lived without a lot of things that I believe are essential to being a slim, trim modern gay guy. This weekend however we’re starting to be a major Mo city. Yes, Hamburger Mary’s is opening their patio. I have not chilled on a Big Gay Patio since I wore Z Cavariccis. Well, maybe not that long ago.
I think of myself as an eclectic kind of gay, I just may be the last Mo in Denver to really like the Eagle. Sorry, It’s a great bar. I get great service and cool freak watching. While everyone is whining that is “Not good enough.” They will soon being whining that there’s not a Leather Bar in Denver.
Use it or lose it.
But back to the patio, Denver needed a real gay patio bar. Now ya might be thinking “But Steve.. JR’s has a patio?” Okay fine, whatever.
I have to admit that I hate JR’s. this is mostly due to the time spent in the real JR’s in Dallas. Let’s just say that there was a bartender that had my credit card number memorized.
But just go hang out at Mary’s and you’ll love it. It is like living in a real honest-to-goodness big gay Mecca. You can sip on a Martini, then walk down to the Wrangler and get your Bear on. GRRRR!
Next thing you know and we’ll get a gay coffee house, real gay Bingo and then sometime after that gay marriage.