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....

DFTBA

I spotted this on a drive down 6th Avenue in Denver.

http://dftba.com
http://www.youtube.com/user/vlogbrothers?feature=watch

Breakfast Time

I rarely get to eat breakfast, even if it's one of my favorite things to do in life. I completely enjoyed myself this morning, before heading out for a stress filled day.

Flash-back Fairy

In an attempt to find a photo for Flashback Thursday, I started to look for a picture of me at the 1993 March on Washington to mark the twentieth anniversary. I did not find any photographic proof to my participation in  the March on Washington as of yet.  I did; however, stumble upon this....

Okay.... ask me no questions... I do remember being very comfortable in those boots. 

The I-45

I decided to get a cold this week. Yesterday was spent in a NyQuil induced haze. This is probably why I had a dream last night I was eating breakfast at Lucky's Cafe, in Dallas. Nothing strange or dreamlike, just sitting in a window seat eating. It was awesome. I had the I-45. I always dream of chicken-fried-chicken when I'm sick.

Adventure Time!

Wow. I always wondered what Finn would look like if he were real...

Tee-Shirts

In the countless number of essays I have been writing for school (this week is a three page paper on how the French started Vietnam, or ‘nam if you were there) I have developed a strange addiction. Internet tee-shirt shopping.  It’s strange because I stopped wearing graphic tee-shirts since..... around here....

It was an escape from school work when I started dropping shirts left and right into the online shopping cart on 6DollarShirts.com, then they started showing up at my door. Upon opening the plastic shipping bag, and a quick once-over they then quickly get tossed into the laundry bin or taken to work to be thrown in the employee lounge. It’s an odd habit. 

This week this showed up...

Followed by this...

6DollarShirts.com will be bummed when my semester is over. 

Tea for Steve

Over the dinner table my friend Michelle announced that she would attempt to give up Starbucks for a month. An amazing feat for a woman that announces her daily arrival at Starbucks on Facebook. A daily treat for her, and a great check-in for Facebook friends. When she announced this change for better health, the wheels in my head started to turn.

That hot pink Tupperware pitcher,
behind the "sports drinks" and soda...
is my tiny stash of iced tea. 

Could I really give up my four daily helpings of Diet Coke? 

The life giving elixir that brings sun shine to my day, yet also brought a little padding to my middle. We all have read the articles on how diet coke isn’t better than regular sodas. In fact it may be worse. Tricking your body to release even more chemicals to absorb the unnatural chemicals directly into your fat cells. 

My self-declared challenge was to cut out the cola, and switch to iced tea, the real stuff, un-sweetened. Although at some restaurants I'm finding that I do have to drink the strange powdered mystery tea. So far, so good. 

Ready to Roll

I purposely positioned my bike next to the door I use every day to leave the house. This is to remind me  the ease of grabbing my bike, and going for a ride. This week; however, has been rather torturous in the bike riding department. 

Colorado has decided to not give up on winter and wants to keep the snow cranked up for a long as possible. Winter in Colorado is the Norma Rae of seasons. Monday I was the only student to show up to my American Civil Rights history class due to a massive snow storm. You would think the professor would cancel, but I guess he gets paid by the Microsoft slide show, so I sat alone in class and watched grainy photos of President Johnson, as I listened to Professor Nerdbear speak about President Johnson’s response to Dr. King’s response to Vietnam. It’s difficult to text during class when you’re the only one in attendance to a history professor verbally decipher the Lemarchand's box that was Johnson civil rights policy. On the way home from class I drove through 7” of snow, thinking how ready I am to put LBJ behind me and go for a bike ride. 

Yesterday it snowed again. Yes, it is April. I am chomping at the bit (as President Johnson used to say) to slap my bike onto the back of my car and head out for a long bike ride on the Platt River biking trails. 

The Gay Flag

As I walked through the hotel lobby during my recent stay, I once again got the nod. That knowing affirmation that two men share when, in passing, they notice the signal that states that something is different. The subtle symbol of the elite club that sophisticated and distinguished gentlemen share. 

The modern day gay pride flag, the Atlantis cruise bag. 

If you’ve experienced the Christmas day like feeling of returning to your stateroom on the last day of your over-priced gay cruise, you know what it feels like to find that another Atlantis gym bag has been deposited, like magic, in the middle of your cabin’s bed. A collective squee can be heard miles out to sea as countless queens find their new gym bag has been left like a Santa filled stocking.  


From that point on, you carry your bag like it's Louis Vuitton. This is because in retrospect, it cost as much as a LV gym bag.

A smile. A nod. Maybe a “I have that bag” can start countless conversations. 

A Clowder of Christians

As I enjoyed breakfast at the hotel this morning a group (what do you call a group of Jesus freaks?) of costumed "Jesus' journey" cos-players entered. In full caftan and polyester robedness. Who new Christ stopped for a night at a three star hotel in Santa Fe? Ironic, horribly rude, and left waffle bar trashed.

Treat thy neighbor's waffle maker as if it was thy own. Take only the cream cheese thy need - so others may enjoy its creamy goodness.

-The scripture of continental breakfast.

The Light in Santa Fe

I remember a gay comic, back in the 90s, speak of Santa Fe, NM. “The light, the light you can paint... you can create... yet everything in the town is fucking brown adobe. Can you imagine getting and drunk and telling the cab driver, ‘I live in a brown house.’” Somehow, every time I return to Santa Fe I forget that every man-made structure is covered in brown adobe.  You can’t locate a damn gas station due to it looking exactly like a high-end art gallery, which looks exactly like the capitol building. Brown adobe. 

The latter day spring break road trip; however, is not spoiled by this south-west camouflage. As the dog is colorblind, he doesn't seem to mind the monochrome colors. 
I have successfully eaten every meal covered in New Mexican style green chili. breakfast? Covered in green chili, better. Lunch? Yup, smoother that in south western chilies. 

The only time we’ve stopped the green chili parade is for sopapillas covered with ice cream. After the road trip, I’ll need some major gym time. 

Love Rugby

Have I mentioned lately how much I love rugby? I can't put my finger on exactly why I love rugby so much...

Rugby

I love rugby almost as much as I love road trips. That's why today I grabbed the dog and hopped in the sedan with friends to head down to Santa Fe, New Mexico for a latter day spring break trip.  It's a quick, five hour jaunt. The land of howling cyottes and green chilies await.  

iLost

This morning I awoke bright and early to shower and head over to Hall of Justice. You may think your suspicions that I’m a superhero are proven correct. Alas, It was not that type of hall of justice, it was my county justice center, and I was reporting for non-superhero duty. Jury duty. Boy did I get looks walking in with a cape. 

You might find it interesting that it turns out I have a gripping bias against men who get drunk, toss their children into the family sedan, and drive around town sans insurance and drivers license. For my prejudice against this type of person, I was dismissed. However, as I sat in the courtroom, and the lawyers attempted to find some of my fellow jurors that were pro driving children around after getting liquored up sans legally being a U.S. citizen, my civic duty waned and I started to ponder things.... 

Where the hell did my AppleTV remote go?

I bought AppleTV a while back and installed it in the bedroom, I haven’t watch broadcast television since. At some point I couldn’t find the shiny, tiny, silver remote given to operate the miricale of our modern age. At the crushing point of not finding the sliver remote, I just downloaded the app and started using my iPhone as the TV remote. It’s awsome using my iPhone as the remote, most of the time I’m texting Pac while watching the tube anyway. Multitasking. As the prosecutors asked questions I counted up how-many times I’ve changed the sheets since the remote was lost. Eight. So six weeks ago? 

Where the hell is my AppleTV remote? When I get home I’m going to squeeze the dog and see if the channels change. 

Lights

This morning I should be writing yet another paper on the argument over Dualism or Materialism. Basically, do you exist as a pile of nerves firing, or as a being separate from your physical body. Although I respect philosophers and theologians arguing over this question throughout the ages, personally I’m just in it for a passing grade. 

Instead of absorbing the “spirit -v- body” connection, I’m blogging and eating cold pizza. That’s a “blogreader -v- tummy” connection. 

I’m very excited for this semester to be over. Not just because the hot wrestler that sat in front of me in history class that refused to wear underwear has stopped showing up to class, it’s the amount of stuff on my “to-do” list that’s getting pushed aside due to the huge amount of papers I’m writing this semester.  

 One thing waiting for me to stop writing papers is the light above the sink. A new light was bought to switch out the 90’s Melrose Place realness and install a new Mad Men touch of realness. The left fixture is the 90’s disk light (let me know if you want it: I’ll send it to you) and on the right is the late 60’s chrome job. As you can see they’re halfway installed. This is due to the call I received last week in the middle of class from the homo-sex companion partner; he calmly stating that his attempt to install the light went horribly wrong. Now, I fix. 

As soon as my struggles with writing about Dualism are over, my manly chores can resume. Assuming I make it through my philosophy class. 

London Calling

At three this morning, the LED shaving mirror I have hanging in my ensuite shower started flashing wildly. For what it's worth, and you don't need to believe this, when someone I know passes away, lights around me flash. I don't really believe it either. So there's that.

As my battery operated light flashed in morse code style, it was easy to think that it was a just a short. I finally dragged myself out of bed to rip the flashing mirror from the tiled wall. As I made my way from the bedroom, a question of what I was doing with the mirror and why I was standing in the middle of the room, flashings lights on and off came from my sleepy partner.. . Because that seems normal.

Since I was awake, I showered without shaving, and drove to work. Listening to Larry Flick on the car's radio, I heard that former Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher had died. Maybe she was flashing to apologize for being a jerk to the GLBT community.

*insert tongue into cheek.