not especially new jams

First of all I'm going to thank Grumbles for turning me onto this band. Grumbles is not his real name, but it is a nickname I gave him in my own mind because it's the name I came up with one day, probably after mimicking his often impossible to decipher voice.

Grumbles (full version Grumbles the Bear) is a decent guy with whom I worked for a short time at the gpub. He's a tattooed punk sort of guy who likes to fight, but he's such a decent guy and loved to call me Rainbow Bright. Believe me when I say that if Rainbow Bright is the best you can come up with when thinking of something gay to call me then I'm so not insulted, but I do empathize with the lack of gray matter, and besides, Grumbles is just a decent enough guy.

And now on to The Swellers and the video I posted. I would actually rather have found a different song, though I do like this one, but I really only picked this one because all the other videos I ran across for other songs had fairly high suck factors, being mostly live shit from someone's digital still camera. If you want to hear that then go search for yourself, but I offer you this video, Bottles, a song as lovely as any with a video that's a least fun to watch. You could also just go to their Myspace and listen too. That's probably easier.

more nothing than not

One more week has slowly slinked past and nearly away. I can't say that I did anything especially productive, didn't move myself to any better sort of place, no enlightenment or zen. I did walk around a number of messes in the floor, and I have made several pizzas and a few dollars. I've likely drank my weight in PBR and High Life.

I don't remember when I last posted, but I do remember having some grand ideas about what was coming, that I was going to get back to being a better blogger. I can say that this isn't something I did so much as very much consider.

I really need to pay off a couple of bills that are collecting dust, but I also need to sit down with Momma and discuss those bills because she's been in the one in charge of knowing what was happening with them for so long that I'm almost scared by the stack of them.

I also need a new phone. Mine is a nearly four year old Razr that was great once upon a time, but time has taken it's toll, and it's slowly dying the way only a phone can. At least twice a day I have to turn it off and wiggle the sim card about ever so slightly. One of the pieces in the hinge is quite willing to slowly work its way out if I talk on the phone for more than a few seconds. My voice mail has turned itself off at some point. I remember setting it up, and I remember getting messages, but now I have people complaining that the voice mail box isn't set up, so they couldn't leave me a message that time I didn't hear the phone ring or couldn't get to it quickly enough.

I won't be making this entire post about my inability to post or about my sad little phone. I've obviously now made it about both of those things, and I'm quite content to let it be. I also need to mosey down the hall to a certain room where I can go and find a certain relief, but we don't really need to go into the details of me having to go number two for the second time today, but since the need is there to actually go, I will leave you scratching your heads and wondering why I even bother posting sometimes.

But at least now you know. Also, I won't be editing, so comment and make fun of my misspellings and poor word choice. You know you want to.

unsure

I'm not sure exactly when it happened. I've been slowly spending more of my going out time at a gay bar. It's the one closest to where I live, and I generally like the place. It has a great neighborhood bar feel about it most of the time with the usual weekend drag shows and the crazy but lovable mc whose songs I have to admit I prefer to those of the regular drag queens.

I have nothing against drag, but it's part of gay culture that I both understand yet still don't quite care about. It just isn't really my thing but in an okay way.

As I've slowly begun to become a regular at this place I'm starting to feel both more and less comfortable. When you are a stranger and the new guy the other guys can be a little put off by you. That I once went in and had a drink with a friend who is also friends with one of the bartenders seems to have helped. This particular bartender has remembered me and even my beer of choice for the past several visits.

In addition, some of the other regulars seem to have grown more comfortable and have begun to talk to me more. This has been helped at least a little by an encounter with another regular who is not much liked by most of the staff and other regulars. I know what he did to get my defenses up, though it was mostly a benign incident, but I'm really not sure why the others seem to dislike him so. I do take it as somewhat of a warning that so many people have issues, but I'd also like to think I can think for myself.

The day before Valentine's day I ended up at the bar fairly late at night. A couple of people made attempts at talking to me, and one of them I have been friendly to in the past. Another was the weird guy from above while another was a nice enough person for whom I have no interest. Another guy bought me a beer, but he wasn't the least bit talkative and not even a little attractive to me.

Here's a nice time for a brief tangent. When I was in the closet the last few years I was so thoroughly in and in denial that I refused to even consider anything that might bring the gay out. I didn't look at or check out guys, I didn't consider them in a way that might help me discern what my type was or even if I had a type. As I'm now out and thinking about these things and noticing guys I find attractive I'm coming to understand that I do sort of have a type, but I don't allow myself to work solely within the constraints of that.

Having said all that, the last guy I talked to on the eve of that horrid holiday is a guy I've talked to a few times since. We've sort of talked on the phone and texted several times. We've hung out quite a bit, and I've hurried home from his house in the morning in time to get Momma somewhere she needed to go.

And making the tangent less of one, I think about this guy and types. I kind of like him, but there are weirdnesses that aren't bad so much as things that make me think. He isn't a guy that I would initially consider my type, but there are things that attract me to him, and we've enjoyed the time we've spent together. My plan is to take things slowly and make sense of things as opposed to the way the cute ex and I rushed headfirst into whatever it was we had.

Oh, and he's slightly older than me, somewhere in the vicinity of three years. It's a big break from the twelve years between me and the cute ex, who was younger. As far as the ages go I imagine mostly I'll feel closer in age, but then one considers the difference in the amount of time we've been out, and that tends to make me feel so much younger. I'm actually happy to have a moment (or more. Who knows?) with a guy closer to my age, though life seems lately to throw me into friendships with people younger. I realize how little this actually matters, but it's still something to think about if nothing else.

And I still have posts in my head. I actually have a couple of other things to write about. I nearly threw everything into a big catch all of an update, but I quickly realized how tiresome that is. Actually it's tiresome for me. I throw all sorts of shit into one post and use up too much blog fodder. Then I don't write for a few too many days and don't give myself this outlet for further thought and consideration of the things in my head and life.

So I'm done with this for now. I'm also getting texts from a certain cute man, and at the moment I'd rather give him my attention rather than this blog. Of course there are also the kids. They need a good hollering at probably.

stinky me

There's some sort of theme running through my days that seems to involve me needing a shower but not always getting to it. I know I need to do it, and I want to be clean. My hair is all kinds of hell and grossness.

Yesterday I fucked around on the computer for too long and just ate away my time. Today I've gotten our taxes done (I hope) and efiled (I hope) and am now waiting twenty four hours to see if the IRS accepts them.

You may remember Momma's name issue that we've had around this same time every year. The Social Security Administration and the IRS always decide at the last minute to give us hell about their inability to have understood what she was saying when we got married and she changed her name. Last year was the year that someone at the SSA finally explained the problem, and as far as we know it's been fixed.

We should be getting just enough money to catch up on our bills, and if we are really lucky and have been good boys and girls maybe there's tattoo money in there as well.

Remember last time we talked when I was stretching my ear? Yeah, well I went too far too fast and ended up tearing the inside of my ear hole a little. I had to back off and go back to my most recent size. Hopefully Sunday will be a lazy day and will see me being patient-ish with the other ear. I'll get these bastards fixed eventually.

Is this update enough for you? I still need that shower, and I'm one cigarette and about a third of a cup of coffee from getting in there. I can't wait to be clean, to scrub the stench of work off myself in time to go back to work and get more of that stench back on me.

And it hasn't been a week or more since my last post. See? Maybe we can do something with this after all.

? to zero in hours

I hate everything I write lately.

It's not that there aren't drafts sitting around waiting to be deleted, because there are. But that's the sad fact of it that they really are going to be deleted.

What did I used to write about? What were those things that made me laugh or steam or just gaze into space and wonder?

My day? I went to the mall. I thought Momma and I were going to figure out something about our phones which we both need new ones of. It turned into her staring lovingly at the iphone. Then on our way out, I wanted to stop at the punk/goth/cavern like store at the mall. I know that their body jewelry is cheap and momentarily effective, so I wanted to stop there anyway, but then I saw the thing in the front window with the tshirts about the thing that Momma's boyfriend loves, and she mentioned earlier that his birthday is soon. What better gift for him, and I get to look at the next size up ear somethings for my ears.

And on rereading/editing I feel the need to point out that I didn't get Momma's boyfriend a gift. I merely pointed her in the direction so that she could please her man. And then she went and had to look at every single tshirt in the half off section in the back, and suddenly the boys see candy and want some.

Either way I got some decent looking tunnels for the ol' ears, and by the time I go to bed tonight, one of mine will be up to a zero gauge. I'll be uneven in that respect for a short time, but by the end of the week I'll have both ears up to zero.

That's really not even that big, for what it's worth, but it's big for me. This is one of those random things I wanted to do years ago, one of those things I put on hold for whatever reason. And I can't even tell you one good reason to stretch my ears other than I want to. I like it. I know better on several levels, especialy at my age. It doesn't make sense.

I'm actually spending the night jumping a couple of sizes. It's a bit more work than I was expecting, assuming my ears were more ready to stretch than maybe they thought, but the job is nearly done. The taper is slowly finding it's way through.

I'm sure that's enough story for tonight. I'm tired of backspacing over words to get to the misspell, so I need to stop typing. I'll let you all know how things turn out.

white

I burned myself at work tonight. That in itself is not surprising. It's the nature of the beast that this job is.

No, the thing about this particular burn is that it turned white, like a frozen kind of dead white.

I was making a shrimp alfredo and accidentally tossed one of the shrimp out of my pan. I went to grab it with tongs and managed somehow to touch a tiny part of my thumb, maybe a half inch long place near the base of my thumb, against one of the pointy parts that are the part of the eye of the stove that holds the pan above the flame.

I actually thought about googling gas burners and/or eyes or whatever it took to figure out what the pointy parts are actually called, but I did in fact not do that. I chose not to. Anyone reading here is welcome to tell me the name of the pointy part, but I can't guarantee any sort of prize.

And the point isn't prizes but that the burn turned white. It did not blister as I'm used to burns doing, though now, a few hours later, it has finally turned into a blister. But at the moment it happened, and then for the next couple of hours, it was just this weird looking white, almost like that bit of frostbite on a ruined steak you just found in the refrigerator.

That's my story for the night. It's at least a little interesting to me, and I know that the people to whom I told about and showed the burn exhibited signs of being mostly nonplussed. I can only imagine how moved you are right now.

oh really

Though I'm sure no one noticed, I haven't been online in a couple of days. Momma and I got a little behind with paying Comcast, so they took our internets away. Momma placed a call, and the nice man gave us the web so she could give him some money, and now we are back.

And what did I miss? Did anything exciting happen? So far I haven't checked any of the blogs I read, and I haven't actually signed into my google reader at all yet. I checked my email then went straight to Facebook and then Myspace.

I had two friend requests at Facebook, my father and a lesbian friend. I know that's no big deal, but it's funny to me sort of. Facebook was going to be the secret family place where I didn't tell anyone about the gay. I broke that rule today.

One of my brothers set his status to say he was listening to Abba by choice. The first comment he got in answer was a simple Q to which he replied with the word secure. I of course added a Q? to which he replied that his friend had called him queer.

Of course I knew that the Q was a suggestion that my brother's sexuality should be called into question because he was listening to Abba, but I did have to point out that I am both queer and secure and don't listen to Abba. As I mentioned to him, to me, being called queer is kind of like mentioning that I wear black shirts, though in reality I choose my shirt on a daily basis. The only choice I made in regards to my sexual orientation would be acknowledging and accepting it.

Yes, that is a bit much considering someone I don't even know who is a friend of my brother put a Q in answer to his Facebook status, but where's the fun in life when you don't challenge people once in a while.

And finally, the whole point of it all is that I've finally admitted on Facebook, if in a tiny and barely noticeable way, that I'm gay. I wasn't going to do that when I first got on Facebook, but more and more I'm tired of not being honest about it. I don't like for people to not know, because it's so much easier to just let people know that I'm gay so that I don't have to feel like I'm avoiding the issue.

The moral I suppose is that people are still going to use words descriptive of homosexuality as insults, but when I see it I'm going to call you on it. And you don't even have to be gay to play along. All you have to do is let them know that you have a brother or sister or son or parent or friend who is gay, and then you can ask them what negative thing they are suggesting about being gay they think applies to the person you care about who is also gay.

Wow, I turned a blog post that began as an update into a sermon. I guess that's what happens when you turn all uppity fag on people.

frikkin tired

I ran my ass off today trying to keep up with the vultures at the bar scarfing down the free pizza. The weather brought everyone out to the square, and the happy hour was hopping.

I made the big batch, the seven pounds of flour batch, of dough, as that's the most our shite mixer will handle, and it's the amount I was told was a good number of pizzas to make. For what it's worth, we get eighteen doughs out of that size batch.

My day started well enough. I got the dough made and portioned and went to the bar to set up the pizza stand and get my cheese and produce. I went back to the pizza cube (that's what the regular guy calls the place we make the free pizzas) and chopped my veggies and set up my station to make the pizzas.

I do them two at a time, and I can usually almost keep up with the demand. Today I could not even pretend to keep up. I was slapping out pizzas and fast walking them to the bar, and not until I took the last two pizzas did I get there fast enough so that the previous two were not completely gone.

I did make a buck forty five in tips though, so it wasn't all worthless time. Of course the vultures could have dipped into their tight little pockets a tiny bit more than they did, but why bother being grateful for free pizza?

Fucking vultures, ravenous wolves, drunken bastards or whatever they are. Ingrates I calls 'em.

Actually, I may call the customers all those things, but it's a fucking job, and it beats the shit out of so many things I could be doing. But fucking tip the pizza bitch once in a while already. Shit, do they expect me to drink on my own dime?

sometimes shouldn't even look

Why do we do things we know are not good for us? I'm not talking about those activities such as drinking too much or smoking. I'm talking about those things that we know are just going to bring us down but aren't especially unhealthy.

My example, and the reason for this post involves the damned Myspace and a picture I could tell I didn't want to see.

Okay, a little history is in order. In early November of last year I was in what I thought were the early days of a beautiful relationship. Everything was great if perhaps a little quick. I had a delightful boyfriend who really seemed to like me, and I was slowly (quickly) falling in love.

November came, and Momma threw a birthday party for a friend on a Monday night. The weekend prior was spent without the boyfriend as he'd decided we needed to "do our own thing" for a couple of days.

I feel I've pieced together what really happened and have decided that he met another guy and wanted to go be with him. He called me the night of the party, the night he was supposed to be back in town to meet and hang out with me. He was stuck out of town and would see me as soon as he could.

Another day or so passes, and he's finally back in town and asks for a ride from work. I pick him up, thinking the best thoughts, happy to see him. He draws away from me when I try to hug and kiss him, and I start to realize something may not be quite right.

We need to talk, so we go outside where we can smoke, and he tells me the first story about why we can't be together. Sometime later, after he leaves, we talk again, and after some prodding he tells me a different story. A very few days later his status on Myspace has changed from "in a relationship" to "single" and then suddenly back to "in a relationship," and there are new pictures of him and another guy.

So the story I piece together is that I've been dumped for this other guy, and here's where the slightly unhealthy part comes in. I see tonight that he's got a new picture up, and I go to his photos to look at it, and it's actually a very sweet picture of him and the new guy. But instead of seeing sweet I see a place I can't ever be again, shoulders on which my head will never rest, arms that will never embrace me again the way they once did.

I was actually almost in a good mood before that. I've been fighting the depression most of the night, and I was even almost ready for bed. It doesn't take much to throw me off the rails lately, and now I'm almost afraid to go to bed.

I'm tired, but I don't want to lie awake yet again reliving what should have been, thinking about what was, picturing what is. I really need sleep, and I want to go to sleep, but I know myself too well.

homescholing or parenting?

We had a fairly busy weekend of friends and kids over to the house with some small amount of friends and kids crashing out and spending the night. From all of that one child remains, the three year old son of some good friends.

Our weather is beautiful today, and the boys are all outside playing. I stood up a moment ago to find a window to peak at them through, a quick check to be sure they are okay.

As I located them in the backyard, I could tell that the three year old was upset about something. I watched then as Big Brother, my ten year old, squatted down on his knees and pulled the three year old to him. Big Brother gave him a hug, and the three year old sat on his knee for just a moment.

With no one around to say anything, to suggest he do so, my ten year old just caringly consoled a three year old. I smiled and was proud of him. I'm always proud of him of course, but this one moment I had to think that something we are doing is right.

don't wanna work on nothin

Now for the idea that needs to germinate and grow into actions.

I was up late one night, no surprise there, and I was reading through the blogs of gay bloggers in my reader. The next day I tried to retrace my steps through the blogosphere, but I couldn't recall where I'd started, and I didn't then want to open up the history window and spend time tracking it all down.

From a blog I read I think I went to the comments and ended up wandering through links to blogs to comments to further blogs and links, and eventually I found myself in a nice enough part of town but one in which I didn't know anyone.

Someone mentioned the search for "the one," and someone else suggested that this was a problem too many gay men have, that they are too often too busy searching for "the one" and don't ever spend time doing anything else.

The idea was along the lines of spending too much time at the bar trying to hook up, or spending too much time at the gym trying to look good, or spending too much time on clothes trying to impress. None of these are necessarily bad things to do, but to do just this little bit and to spend too much time on this and nothing else is not a great idea.

The suggestion was then made to stop looking constantly for "the one" and spend time making yourself a better person. Wait for "the one" and while waiting work on yourself. Discover what it is you should be doing instead, whether it's a hobby or self improvement or . . .

And this is the idea that's been in my head, not quite germinating into something I can work with, but sitting there, waiting for me to stop my own endless cycle of the bar and the beers and wishing all those cute boys would stop being straight and notice me.

And what am I doing about this? Nothing as of yet. I don't know where to start. Actually, less late nights, less fallen drunkenly asleep on the sofa, still wearing my clothes. Fewer days starting toward noon where I drag myself awake, force myself upright only to waste my pre work hours facing into the light of the computer.

There are ideas of things I should be doing, writing more, cooking like I mean it (like I used to), working with the boys. I should probably find a way to exercise semi regularly. I need to pay the library off so that I can become a regular there again. The homeschool group is languishing, and I can't even remember the last time we met up with any of our old hs friends. Honestly, I'd love to start baking again, though it was never something I did enough to actually make into a habit, but there was a time not so long ago that I was actually making decent bread and getting to know my baking.

I also need a shower, but I'm not sure if I can work that in between laundry loads. I'm sure I can, and I'm sure I'll be running to the car to get to work with my hair a little damp. And speaking of hair, it needs to be trimmed and soon.

And there's my need-for-self-improvement blog post. I'm quite certain that I've written something at least a little similar fairly recently. It probably sounds like the kind of thing I might have said. There's a short somewhere between knowing and doing. There's a part of me that recognizes how much easier it is to suck down a few tall boys and make it all better, though there's also the recognition that comfort inside a rut is no way to live.

Finally there's the part that keeps enabling myself. It's the part that is always handy with an excuse, a little of the ol' "it's too late today. You already have to do this other thing, and you have to be at work in just over an hour. Check your email one last time."

my hand is stiff and a little sore too

Yet another day rolls by, and I have nothing much to say. The sun is finally out, and the weather is warming slightly. We still have much of our snow on the ground, which is a little unusual.

We do seem to accumulate a similar amount of snow at least once per winter, but in the past the first bit of sunshine is usually enough to melt it away. With the freeze we got just after the majority of the accumulation it became too solid to disappear.

Once again it's First Friday which, coupled with the temperature, will most likely assure us of a busy night. Once again I fairy the pizzas till evening and then back to the kitchen. I'm scheduled volume tonight, though given the possibility of busyness at the business, I may end up closing.

My life is becoming a bit of a cycle. My lows aren't as low lately, and I'm away from the house much more than once upon a time when it felt like I never left the house. But I'm not doing anything much to make my life better. I end up at the pub, drinking the cheap beer.

More often than not I'm hanging out with someone or someones, but as often it's people I run into at the bar. Yes, that is exactly the kind of thing a bar is great for, but I need to make plans and do stuff with people because we intend to.

I have a post I almost think about, one that I'd love to have brewing in my head so that I could write about it. The ideas behind it are great ideas, but I've barely let myself really consider the things I'd need to do, and I've not implemented anything that would set me on the course I see I need. It's all very mysterious when worded so ridiculously, but really that's as much as I'm willing to say right now.

And that is that. I know how excited you all get when I've written something and how dashed on such inconsolable shores you then feel when it's nothing but this sort of tripe. I have no excuses.

rah rah pizza fairy

Currently I'm waiting to go to work. I'm also waiting for Momma who is at an interview. Better yet, she has the job and is on her way home from the interview. If she is unable to make it home in time, the plan is for her boyfriend to take me to work and watch the kids for a bit.

Today I begin my life as a pizza fairy. There is a guy who makes pizzas in the kitchen where I work, but they are actually the free happy hour food for a bar nearby. He is going on a month long vacation, and the duty to make the pizzas has fallen to me.

So, every week day for the next month I go in at my usual time in the afternoon, but instead of going about my usual prep and line work I get to make a batch of dough, set up the pizza station and make pizzas for the first three hours of my day. Days I'm scheduled at the regular job I will then clean up the pizza prep area and clock in at the usual job.

I'm also working the next six days, so between the two jobs I should make a decent if tiny bit of money. Also it will be fun having something different as well as being able to not quite be in the regular kitchen while still getting to participate with my presence. You have to love being in a kitchen to appreciate that.

And finally, I have to admit that, I think my taking the pizza fairy duties is not a bad way to get in with the family enterprise. I like these people, and I like their businesses. I like the gig, and anything within reason that I can do to cement my place and my money making ability is worth looking into.

So, job interviews and additions to jobs can only be good. As with anything in life, we can't really know where these things will take us, and I can wish for the best for Momma as she interviews, and I can go in and make good pizzas before going back to my own kitchen in time to bail people out and help clean their messes. Maybe my next job addition involves cleaning up the nearby bar on an early Saturday afternoon as they get ready to open. Fuck, I'll take it!

Oh, and the pizza fairy thing is because the current pizza guy is gay. Of course we have to point that out, but it's a benign jab, and I'll happily be the pizza fairy. I'm secure enough in both my manliness and butchness as well as my fairyness now that you mention it.

tv reviews? srsly?

The L Word. I watched it tonight. We, meaning me and the boys, went to a friend's house, and the boys played in a different room. I didn't catch anything too racy, but neither of them would be especially interested a lesbian soap opera anyway.

I have to admit that part of me liked it. I honestly missed more than I saw, and I never had a chance of figuring out too much what was going on as far as the group dynamics they were trying to portray. But something about knowing they were all a big bunch of gay people was strangely nice.

The dudes? Yeah, there weren't really many at all, but it's the least I'd expect, and at least we weren't all douchebags, just the ones that would have been douchebags anyway. We do show up as the bartender sometimes. And anyway, the only dudes in the house were either me or my children, for what that's worth. The chicks weren't in huge abundance either, again, for what it's worth.

And then we came home to peanut or almond butter crackers and milk followed closely by bed. I'm now the only one up. I seem to be thinking thoughts of bed myself, but I seem to have gotten my second wind, that point where I stayed up just so late that I'm now awake again.

And now I'm blogging about the lesbian soap opera. I may have mentioned not hating it, but I can't (refuse to) admit to too much love for it. It was a bunch of chicks for fuck sake! I mean, nobody loves the gals more than me. They're my homies, but nobody wants to see them make out. Nobody wants to watch a bunch of chicks in a show about them wandering around being catty about each other.

Okay, I did actually kind of get drawn in over the course of the hour. There was a point when a friend called, and I went to a different room, but I got the gist of it, and really, the only reason I was drawn in at all was that they were gay. I would of course prefer to see a bunch of unnaturally hot guys wandering into each other and going to work and out for drinks, but that's just me.

Will I watch it again? I can't say. I'd be willing to hang out with my gay friends and watch a gay show. I don't get to do that nearly often enough.

broken gaydar

Have I mentioned my faulty gayday? I know I have because my lost post, mere moments ago, mentioned a particular cute blond boy that I'm so unsure about and may almost have a crush on.

He really is absolutely adorable, and I'm certain I mentioned that in the last post, so there's no use going into it here.

The sad truth is that I think that most gay people have some sort of sense that we call gaydar that helps them find others. I'm certain I got the lemon gaydar because it doesn't quite work.

It could be part of my late coming out. Maybe because I went so long without using it it got rusty or just never got the online updates. I'm not sure. I'm not saying it never works, but it never works in a way that has any benefit at all for me.

At this point I'm actually certain my gaydar is so faulty as to have caused me to miss out on actual gays around me. Instead what I get is crushes on straight boys who act in such a way as to cause the gaydar to give me the early alert, the possibly gay signal.

Maybe through active use and through getting out and around other gays I can scrape the barnacles off of mine, and maybe I can learn how to use it enough so that eventually it becomes useful. I really don't know, and I'm not even sure that's possible. Maybe I just really did end up with the lemon gaydar. That would totally suck, because even with the gay agenda handbook I'm not finding any repair shops for gaydar. I'm just going to have to learn to live without it I guess.

not really trying

What an interesting week I've had. And no I'm not going into details. Nothing really great happened, no love life type shit, not reaching plateaus of understanding or self betterment. I didn't land a cherry new job with great pay and benefits or win the powerball.

What did I do? I worked and hung out at the bar. My day off was spent, at least three hours of it, training to be the interim pizza fairy when the full time pizza fairy is in St. Thomas for a month, the bitch.

I got laid, about which we'll agree not to talk, but honestly, there's nothing to discuss there, and all I really got from it is some sore thighs. You don't want to know.

Also, I ended up at a late night, after hours party from which my friend's boyfriend was asked to leave. I did the guy thing where I insert myself between two factions who may or may not insist on the situation ending poorly. I didn't expect a fight, but when you been a drinkin' . . .

Also, however briefly, I did have pleasant words with the absolutely adorable blond boy I keep happening to see. I'm not especially taken with blonds or with long hair, and he has both. And he is, as mentioned, absolutely adorable. I have no idea if he is gay because my gaydar is faulty, but I think I might get a bit of a feeling, but I also realize my penchant for having crushes on straight boys, so there's an even better chance that he is not gay than that he is.

I made a small amount of pot last longer than is natural or normal, but given my economic situation, and given that I have not been getting pot lately, I'm not at all surprised that I could make such a little bit drag out for such a long bit. I'm saving the last barely any for after the boys are in bed later tonight.

Also, I'm debating the invite from a friend to join her and possibly (oddly enough) some lesbians for an L Word viewing party tonight. I'll have to lock the boys in the back room apparently because of the sex scenes, and perhaps I'll lock myself up back there as well. Who really wants to see a couple of chicks going at it? Ugh! Actually, if I go, and there is a fair chance, the boys will probably be happy to mostly stay in the back room and play. I'll make sure they take some toys and/or a book, maybe some drawing type stuff. I'll hang with my lady fags and watch their stories with them.

And sadly, that's what it takes to get me to post anymore, random shitty update about my lack of life. So what have you been up to?