That said, I am unable to contribute to the Stick Man contest. I've become quite fond of so many bloggers and had hoped to offer up a tribute to them. Such is life. This old dog just cannot be taught the new fangled tricks needed to enter the contest.
I can't wait to see what everyone else has come up with.
Smooches, air hugs, and chaste hugs to everyone.
Prolific quote of the day:
"He must have had a magnificent build before his stomach went in for a career of its own." - Margaret Halsey
Some days I want to just choke the living shit out of the early bird and let the worm go free.
More coffee and I'll be fine. I hope.
1. what are the regulars on your grocery list?
skim milk, Baked Cheetoes, sharp cheddar, Fat-Free Saltines, organic spring mix salad greens, Kibbles n' Bits, Peanut Butter Toast Crunch cereal, Cocoa Pebbles cereal, Marlboro Lights Box
2. what is your real middle name?
3. what song brings you back to your childhood, and what is the memory it brings you back to?
THE HOUSE SONG - Peter, Paul and Mary - This song reminds me of when my sister was still living at home and her friends would come over and we'd all eat Charles Chips potato chips from the can. I was maybe 5-6 but I remember well dancing around to this song and helping paint flowers on my sister and her friends cheeks with eye liner. (They wanted to be hippies)
4. what does the headline on your local newspaper say today?
Well, my stupid paper carrier didn't bring me a paper today so I have no idea. I did check the news in Yahoo and it was "BUSH/CHENEY RESIGN UNDER PRESSURE" ...oh wait I'm dreaming...
5. who was the last person you kissed?
Gee, it was either my mom on the cheek or my honey on the cheek.
Proud American Couple - She is in her 60's. Tall, heavy set but not fat, dyed red hair, and bright red lipstick over tight pinched, straight lips. He is thin, a bit shorter than his wife, and looks weary. Not weary as in lack of sleep weary but in the sense that he hs worn down and has given up.
Mrs. PA and Mr. PA wear matching I love America t-shirts. They are white tees and the words are spelled out in what else but red, white, and blue. She sports a wooden country-craft necklace with matching earrings that are miniature wooden blocks in red, white, and blue that spell out America with wooden US flag blocks scattered in for fun. Her earrings are the flag blocks and she keeps turning them to make sure the flag shows straight on.
Mrs. PA is wearing jeans (I guarantee they are American made) and a red, white, and blue woven leather belt. She wears sensible white sneakers and carries a fabric shoulder bag with a US flag on it. I bet her panties are are also red, white, and blue. She never smiles and her husband looks scared of her. I believe she hits him in places so we'll never see the bruises but I know they are there. As I mentioned Mr. PA is much smaller than his wife in height and weight. He wears the khaki slacks and white sneakers that his wife had picked out for him while he was in the shower. His clothes are loose on him but clean and pressed. Mrs. PA would never allow Mr. PA to leave the house or hotel looking wrinkled. It wouldn't be appropriate. His undershorts are probably boxer style bought 3 to a pack for $6.00 and she starches them. I bet he itches in his special place because of the starch.
Mrs. PA is the kind of American that orders and eats "Freedom Fries". She would make a point of saying it loud enough when ordering that everyone around her hears her say "Feedom Fries". Mr. PA could care less if if they are called French fries but Mrs. PA would have a fit if she heard him so he fcalls them Freedom Fries too. Except when she isn't around. Then he orders French Fries and he he says it very loudly so everyone can hear. Except Mrs. PA.
Mrs. PA loves Rush Limbaugh because he is a great American. I doubt she understands much of the political issues Rush talks about but she listens and nods her head in agreement because Rush is right. Mrs. PA thinks George W. Bush is the second coming of Christ because her Southern Baptist minister and Rush say so. Mr. PA really has no opinion except that his wife believes this and he will not go against her beliefs if he wants to keep peace in his home.
Mrs. PA drives her American minivan to Walmart, her favorite store. When she gets out of her American Minivan she checks the rear bumper to make sure that her "Support Our Troops", "I (heart) America", and "Bush Cheney 04'" stickers are still there. Rush Limbaugh said that Liberals will take your bumper stickers off your car because they hate anyone who supports America. Mrs. PA is always on the look out for America Hating Liberal bumper sticker thieves. She doesn't worry about it too much in Houston because most everyone there loves America. But like Rush says the Liberals are sneaky and show up in strange places. Even Walmart.
So Mrs. PA and her timid little husband were originally sitting about three rows across from me in the terminal. I couldn't help but but notice them because of their very smart Patriotic outfits. I watch them (her mainly) because she too is people watching and I want to see who she finds interesting. She makes disapproving faces at women in business suits because she believes women would be home with their husbands and no traveling with work. She frowns when a young mother threatens her screaming toddler with "time-out" because Mrs. PA knows that time-out will make the child weak. What the young mother needs to spank her child if she wants him to be obedient. Mrs. PA looks mad when an obviously affluent Asian couple walks by with Louis button luggage. How dare those foreigners flaunt that designer suitcase in front of her. When one of the obviously gay couples near her starts laughing she whispers something to Mr. PA and shakes her head furiously. Those people have no right to be happy. What could they possibly laugh about? They will dies from Aids which God will give them and they are making a mockery of her own marriage. She whispers again in Mr Paso ear and he slowy..weakly nods to appease her. Finally, an interracial couple sits only one row away from her and Mr. PA. This is the final straw. She stands up grabs her cotton shoulder bag (along with Mr. PA) and marches walks across the terminal to C 15. In her Proud American Mind she knows that God does not want her to sit near homosexuals or people who marry outside their own race. She is a good American and I bet if you ask she tell you as much.
Safe and secure from the evils in C 17 she can happily wait for her plane to get her home to Texas. The only thing Mrs. PA has to worry about now is whether some anti-American Liberal has stolen one of her beautiful bumper stickers off of her American minivan.
Anyway, so for 4 1/2 hours I had little to do but read, drink Coke, go back and forth through security and outside for a smoke, and bitch about the delay. Poor T was probably ready to strangle me. I tried really hard to be a loving and supportive boyfriend. I kept my sighs, eye rolling, cursing under the breath, and toe tapping to a minimum so as not to annoy T. As you can guess I do enough of that at home...in the car...so T deserves a break occasionally. I can be a really impatient, high maintenance bitch at times but I'm working on that. A Xanax, a glass of good wine, and a ciggie usually brings me down a notch or two. However, when faced with a major flight delays, cheap wine (at $8 a glass), limited smoking, and very few BPTWIA the line between being my normal bitchy self and and all out fucking nightmare bitch is a fine one.
I am proud of the way I behaved. T didn't sneak off to change flights (or destinations) on my ass and I don't think I offended anyone, security didn't haul my ass out o the street, and I managed to entertain myself by creating a brand new club: WTFWTTC (What The Fuck Were They Thinking Club). This opened up a whole new world of people watching and I will report later on my top ten WTFWTT members spotted at gate C-17 JAX.
Chaste hugs and air kisses from San Fran,
Honrary Member IBHECWHWYC
(Hey, it's better than Rotary)
What I was doing ten years ago:
I was living in Atlanta with my wonderful T . We would have just moved into a lovely flat and I was preparing to tackle another major renovation of an older apartment complex near Emory University. At that time that's what I did as a career. I managed, renovated, and helped sell apartment complexes. I made very, very good money doing this. Quite honestly I was extremely good at what I did. One of the best in the business at that time I imagine. At the time I was still a wild young thing at the time so on any given night after work I was usually in bar drinking, snorting something, dancing, surrounding myself with beautiful people, and being "fabulous". I was one of the pretty ones who lived for the moment and lived to see and be seen. While it was fun at the moment it was also rather sad. Looking back I couldn't have been very happy or I'd have spent a lot more time soul searching... doing something productive. I can't say I regret much of anything I did as I wasn't hurting anyone (other than myself) and everything one does in their past makes them who they ultimately become. But I'd love to have some of the money today I spent back then on party favors. (My wardrobe would be even more fabulous!) I was one of the lucky ones who didn't didn't end up in a glamour rehab facility or lose my boyfriend because of infidelity. No, I always knew when to stop the party and always remained faithful in my relationship. I cannot say the same of some of my friends at that time. Some of the beautiful ones didn't fare as well as I did. It was sheer luck on my part.
5 years ago:
I was now living in Florida. I had just closed a VERY unprofitable gift shop and art gallery I owned. I was strangled with debt, depression, and despair. A sibling was involved in a very nasty separation that ripped the family apart -- this went on for 3 years! I lived next door to a reprehensible family whose goals in life were to ruin the property value of every other home in the neighborhood. The husband was the Latin version of Fred Sanford. His wife was a screaming bitch. Their poor children had no choice but to be obnoxious and tacky. Oh, how I hated these people. I could devote an entire blog to what miserable excuses of human life they were. Needless to say this was the lowest point of my life. I still can't regret it though because it was part of the life process that molded me into who I am today. It sucked getting out of this rut but I damn sure learned how to appreciate the little things in life during this period. My whole outlook on life was changed and for that I am grateful. In essence I grew up.
1 year ago:
I was knee deep in brilliant new project that I adored and still adore. I was working with people who I respect, admire, and enjoy. My talents were (and still are) being utilized and I was beginning to thrive emotionally and financially. One year ago T and I were living in a rental home (far away from the neighbors from hell). We'd sold and made a wonderful profit on the first house and were blessed to be building in THE neighborhood in THE part of town. Mind you it was not without problems due to hurricanes every other week and countless delays in the building process but it was SO worth the wait.
I spent the day going back and forth to my home office to read blogs :-) I've become acquainted with some bright, wonderful people via blogging and I love checking their updates. I also got the final spray tan before the SF trip, watched Big Brother 6, finished a book (romance of course) and didn't pack a damn thing which means I have to do it all today before we leave. Crap.
5 snacks I enjoy:
Baked Cheetos, Fat-Free Premium Saltines and sharp cheddar, Peanut Butter Toast Crunch cereal, Cocoa Pebbles cereal, Little Debbie Swiss Rolls
5 songs I know all the words to:
Coal Miners Daughter - Loretta Lynn, Windy - The Association, Wild World - Tea For The Tillerman, Bizarre Love Triangle - New Order, I Will Survive - Gloria Gaynor
5 Things I would do with $100 million:
make substantial donations to various charities (the Democratic Party being first), make my plastic surgeon even wealthier, buy a home up North to escape the heat in Florida, write..publish..and promote my own novel, invest to keep it growing
5 locations I would like to run away to:
(vacation would be more like it) London, Rome, France, Denmark, Russia
5 bad habits I have:
smoking, not exercising enough, biting my nails, procrastinating, drinking too much caffeine
5 things I would never wear:
socks with sandals, a wife beater, pants so baggy my underwear shows, gold teeth, cheap cologne
5 Biggest joys of the moment:
my T, going to San Francisco (today), my mom being alive and well, a great new hair cut, a perfect tan (spray on of course)
5 Favorite toys:
my T, a remote control, the internet via my new computer, my shower massage (don't ask), a stuffed bear my Lab plays with (just he's just too damn cute with it)
(This line stolen from Doris) I tag...Anyone who is reading this! Think about doing it, it really isn't so hard and was actually fun :-)
Our friend, I'll call her Muffin, who does our spray tans just dropped by the house (she's also a neighbor) with iced mocha lattes. One day it's ice cream, cookies, or Chik-Fil-a brownies and the next it's coffee. I just have to say how much I adore this woman. She is the quinessential southern belle gone bitchy. Fabulously attractive, funny as hell, and has a perfect set of real boobs (she paid for them) that you give you a hug all on their own. She'll also cuss you up and down if you piss her off and you'll never even know what hit you. (Only a true southern woman can pull that off effectively) Anyway, when she got here T was just getting out of the shower and still wearing his towel. Modesty being his middle name he has to run and get dressed in what I call his uniform -- khaki shorts and a Polo. HELLO? She does your spray tan so she's seen almost as much of you as I have.
So Muffin has conned me into doing a society calendar she's putting together for a cancer charity. Yes, yours truly will be a calendar boy. I have been assured that all my goodies will be completely covered (along with 10 extra pounds -- OK bitches 20 but who's counting?) and it will be down with the up most taste. So she says to me, "All the matronly society women are going to be in this calendar". Is that supposed to make me feel good.... Matronly? I know most of these woman having served on some board with them at one time or another (every good B.O.D. needs the token gay man) or some fundraiser so it will be fun I'm sure. I just hope nobody tries to bitch-slap me into serving on some damn committee again. I will gladly write you a check but my cold calling for donations days are over.
Back to SF: This is by far one of the most beautiful, liberating, exciting cities I've had the pleasure of visiting. I've a close friend (a former roommate) who lives in Pacific Heights who was our unofficial tour guide last trip. At present he is in the hospital recovering from knee surgery so it's safe to presume he will not be leading us down Lombard St. this visit. This will give me the opportunity to see inside his flat. Last trip he wouldn't show it to us. This time he has no choice if he wants to see us. He has always been impossibly messy so I cannot wait to see first hand if he's still living like a designer bag lady. Rest assured I am taking a camera. Blackmail among friends is the sweetest.
I guess there are two morals to this post:
1) A boy needs to wash his wood regularly if he wants to keep it fresh and clean.
2) Morning wood could be embarrassing if the neighbors notice it before you do.
I am a bad gay man. And I apologize to my gay brothers across the world.
Look for a book review on this site soon. A book, mind you, that doesn't involve a woman with a secret and the man she will predictably take into her lonely bed for a night of writhing passion and overdue heated release.
Long story short the "slight" accident was my mom being sideswiped, flipping her car, and her crawling out of the car. "She's doing fine", says fire rescue lady, "but she won't go to the ER to get checked out". I'm all like, "This is a 80 year old woman who was flipped in a car and you're calling me to tell me that she won't go to the ER? Are you serious?" F.R. lady tells me that so long as she's coherent they can't take her against her will. "Ok, then. You tell her I said she better get to that ER. Now." This banter went on for 5 full minutes until I get the phone-nod from F.R. lady that she agreed to go. Jesus....Enough already!
I call my baby and we head take off. We get to to the ER and she's OK. Some abrasions, a slight concussion, but her car is totaled. The police arrived at the ER with the incident report one told me that was she not in an SUV she'd not have survived. Then they ticketed her for failure to yield. She was crossing traffic and cut in front of someone. As if this isn't bad enough this is the THIRD accident in less than eight months she's had. She was cited on the first one....and now the third one. She literally got her car back from accident number two like a month ago. The police were very gentle with her when citing her. I mean how could you be mean to a little old lady on a stretcher in an ER?
Lady officer tells me that with three accidents in less than a year mom is likely going to be dropped by her insurance. Then she proceeds to tell me that my mom may even have her license revoked. The doctor tells me that in the CT scan that there is evidence of a stroke. It looks old but it's there. He also said that if everyone over age 40 were to have a thorough CT scan that as many as 4 out of 5 people will show some evidence of a slight stroke. I never knew that. Apparently, it happens as we get older and we don't even realize it. The brain feels no pain. Whoa. Nothing but good news.
She's home now and doing fine. Naturally, she's shook up but she's already talking about what kind of car she wants to get to replace the one she's just crashed. I am so not looking forward having the "you may lose your right to drive" discussion. She is a very alert and smart lady but if Johhny Law tellers her it's over then I have to believe she'll accept it gracefully. She isn't going to want to risk her own life driving and beyond that she would never want to risk harming someone else. But boy is my life going to change.....
Watching a parent age is a privilege and a bitch at the same time.
Your Political Profile
|Overall: 30% Conservative, 70% Liberal|
|Social Issues: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal|
|Personal Responsibility: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal|
|Fiscal Issues: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal|
|Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal|
|Defense and Crime: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal|
Fearing the worst I see Bush, in yet another fit of grandstanding, decides to pre-empt the scheduled shows so he can blab on and on to the world about what he and God think about the situation in London. I for one don't want to hear this man utter a single word about this. Now if someone without an ulterior motive or one that possesses sincerity wants to address this tragedy then I am all for it. But Bush can offer nothing to console the injured, dead, or their loved ones. Nor can he offer hope for a solution to this madness. All he can..will..ever has... offer(ed) is the same self-serving, pious, and utterly annoying bullshit that he always has. For once in his history as a miserable excuse of a non-President I wish he would do the right thing and just shut up. If he'd show a shred of decency and not try and turn this attack into something he can use to raise his public approval (synonymy: scare the shit out of anyone listening/watching) or placate the asses of his GOP (God's own party) sheep I might gain some respect for him. ........... grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr............
In the event that BB6 is interrupted I have two choices: 1) If it's a rational person updating on the attacks I will listen eagerly for details. 2) If FlipperDick imposes, again, I'll have to look for a Punky Brewster rerun. Lord knows it would be more informative and far more believable.
Added 7/7: Dinner was great. BBB6 got off to a mediocre start but I'll keep watching. And George Bush did not violate my personal space. I will say this once and only once so listen up George, "I admire you for not saying anything stupid or arrogant yesterday. You set a personal record for yourself." See? A Liberal can say something nice about George Bush.
Back porch is all cleaned. Turns out only 1 fern was causing all the trouble and I moved to a nice (undisclosed) shady location in the rear yard. The others, a different variety, look damn fine so they are welcome to stay put. What started as a simple sweeping and dead-heading of plants turned into a 3 hour affair with my plants. I repotted about 4 more. Fertilized, cleaned up stems, dead leaves etc... and then moved the porch around. Martha Stewart would be proud.
Needless to say the laundry hasn't made it to the cleaners and I've not made it to the market so there will be no home cooked meal coming outta the kitchen. No sweat off my back as I'd rather eat out. It's weird. When we lived in our old house with the tiny galley kitchen I cooked all the time. Now that we're in the new house with large kitchen that we painstakingly & collectively designed I don't want to cook as much. I much prefer just looking at it as opposed to getting in there and doing something.
Oh, just found another blog to read: A Life of Sorts. Ben doesn't tan, dance, use hair product, or take kindly to having bitchy queens telling him to stay out of their village. He does, however, play pool, adore his girlfriend, and have body hair. He also has a brilliant way with words and kept me reading his blog for a good 1/2 hour. Seems like a pretty cool sort of guy in a super-NON- metrosexual way. Check him out.
OK, it's all about me again: Being the metrosexual-homosexual that I am I confess to owning more skin and hair care products than a person has a right to. I'm a whore for new vanity products and if sounds too good to be true I'll usually buy it. My recommendations for the day are (drum roll) The Body Shop - Tea Tree Oil Nose Pore Mask and Nexxus Therappe shampoo. After my day (ok - more like 3 hours) of grueling labor I was feeling not-so-fresh so I spent a good hour getting the skin and hair in shape. Nothing like some man-pampering to get life back on track. Besides, San Fran is exactly one week away and I gotta be looking good now in the city of Angels and hot men.
I am damn determined to get something done around this house today. I've been off the office schedule for 6 days now and have accomplished nothing. OK, I did do some shopping with my mom, I went to the gym (once), saw two movies, re-potted 3 outdoor plants, and folded a load of clothes. Not very productive for 6 days. I am going to turn over a new leaf starting today (my hubby will crack up when he sees this -- one of our favorite jokes "turning over new leaves" -- he even thumb tacked one inside the TV closet in my office and deemed it Pookies New Leaf. (How weird am I? Jesus!) Anyway, I am going to clean the back porch. It looks likes a Hospice for dying ferns back there. I am going to get all the shirts/slacks to the cleaners (no lie when I say the bill will be $150) . And God as my witness (in my best Scarlett O'Hara) I am going to the grocery store (which means I'll be eating out tonight -- every time I load up the frigde I take T out for dinner) Yay!
Tomorrow marks the beginning of BB6. Even knowing that this show is probably 50% scripted I am totally hooked on it. My beloved T and I have a good friend coming over for dinner and to watch this first episode. In all likelihood this will lead to a small group of us who'll meet on Thursdays (eviction night) to wine, dine, and whine. Thus, the beginning of theBB6 Supper Club. I was planning on making a fabulous little chicken dish --- thinly pounded breasts lightly browned in butter, stuffed with wilted spinach, artichoke hearts, and toasted walnuts, and topped with goat cheese, and baked to perfection. Then, our friend announces that she doesn't do chicken! Please tell me other than the die-hard vegetarian a person that doesn't eat chicken? Well, God love her, she is a meat and taters kinda gal so that's what she's getting. I'm doing a roast and by it will be amazing.
We leave next Wednesday for 8 days San Francisco and I have done nada to prepare for the trip. I need to make an appointment for the obligatory pre-trip highlights (more vanity), grab a few smart new outfits (this means something that makes me look slim), dig out and clean up the luggage, and finally I need to call the hotel concierge to confirm special requests (and by this I mean A/C turned cold prior to arrival, ice in room, car service, dinner reservations, etc... Thought I'd add this in case someone thought I was asking for our room to be lined in plastic sheeting and special services from a "masseur" -- I'm not that kind of a boy)
Yesterday I was surprised to find that two people have linked my blog. In my best Jonathin Antin -- "I can't believe" (insert tears) "that this is happening to me. Like one day I am this guy from nowhere and today I have two people hooking up my blog (more tears). I'm like so choked up" Add some more tears and a whole lot of drama and ya get the drift. Of course I am probably a lot more sincere than he is. The guy actually broke down when he saw his "product" line in it's new packing for the first time. "I have bar code. I really have a bar code" Jeezus! Anyway, I showed my man the blogs that hooked me up (no, I didn't really cry but I am very touched). One is a buff, sexy as all get out, super intelligent guy from NY. His posts are very profound and if ya look at his profile he has the most beautiful eyes. The other guy is another epitome of my prefect man (now my T is the only man for me but I can damn sure look) He is funny, built the way I like em' (like a real man dammit -- like my own hubby), and also super intelligent. Hubby couldn't help but agree -- these two guys warrant a Paris Hilton "That's hot" and a Pookie65's, "Hell yes I would!". Thanks guys.
President Bush, during his stop in Denmark before heading to the G-8 summit, said Wednesday he will not select a Supreme Court nominee based on his or her views on abortion or other hot-button political issues. And Tom Cruise is the most rational, sane person in the world.
Enough of my banality for one day. Send some love to everyone ya meet today, folks.
The contestants will start in Alabama, travel over to Georgia and on to South Carolina.
From there they will head up to North Carolina and over to Tennessee.
They will then proceed down to Mississippi and Louisiana.Finally ending up back over in Alabama.
Each will be driving a pink Volvo with New Jersey license plates and large bumper stickers that read: I'm Gay, I'm a Vegetarian, NASCAR Sucks, Go Yankees! Smoking is for Idiots, Hillary in 2008, Deer Hunting is Murder, and I'm Here to Confiscate Your Guns!
The first one that makes it back to Montgomery alive, wins.
If we could only push a little button and fast forward time...... better yet if we could another little button and rewind time..... Hell, it wouldn't matter. There are some really naive little people who would do it all over again regardless of what they've learned about him over the years. "By Gawd he's a Christian...he's a Republican... he supports Family Values.....and that's what this country needs" -- Suddenly I have an urge to quietly vomit.
Anyway, to me this picture represents hope, promise, and a new America. And it's only in 1294 days away...But who's counting?
Background: We built and moved into our new home in 2004. At the time it seemed like such a good idea to have all the walls painted a neutral Khaki color. Afterall, everything goes with Khaki and it actually looks good with my skin tone. However, after almost a year of "blaghhhhhhhhh" walls in our bedroom I am ready to actually do something about it. If money were no object and my ego would allow me (I have a background in interior design) I'd hire someone to come in and just get it over with. That said, I am not willing to part with the $$$ or my pride at this point. This means I just need to get off my ass and get the ball rolling.
Each night when I go to bed I lay there and look around thinking, "God this is a boring room". And then in the mornings I wake up and stumble across the dogs (who are usually sprawled right where I need to walk) thinking. "This really, truly is a boring room". Then I make my way to the kitchen (which is fabulous by the way) for my morning coffee. At this point I have forgotten all about said boring bedroom. It irks me that I can't decide what to do in there. Every other room in our house looks pretty damn good if I do say so. So why the mental design block in the bedroom? Is it a sub-conscious thing?
Who knows. Whatever the reason this room bothers me so much and whatever the cause for my lack of vision something is going to change. Soon. Otherwise, I am going to send my color blind husband to Sherwin Williams and give him carte blanche. A bright yellow and orange bedroom may be just what I need. Either that or some mirrors on the ceiling and a sling.
What gives with the uninformative news release regarding Natalee Holloway? From the sounds of it they have a confession or a body. The three young men are charged with murder and that about sums it up.
Aids spreading faster in Asia than ever. Is there an end to this disease -- ever?
Military deaths up 1/3 in the past year.