Not surprised by the GG....

You're Blanche!



"I'm single, I'm free on Saturday night and I can arch my back until my head touches my heels." You're Blanche Deveraux -- that's French for "Blanche Deveraux" -- the round-heeled daughter of a moonshiner named Big Daddy. You've done every AARP-card-carrying man in Miami and have have a handcuff-endurance record ("My personal best was 32 hours, but then I had a playmate.") Your best line: "You know what goes great with Champagne? Me!"




Which Golden Girl are you? Find out now!

Reading is Fun and Mental!

Today's show is brought you by the latter J, as in Jaded!

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am essentially a lazy person. I do throw passion and effort into things that are important, but on the whole, I'm not one to throw a lot of time into mundane tasks. As such, I'm not a particularly tidy person. Pair that with a roommate who is also not so tidy, and you get a messy apartment.

But that's not what I'm wanting to talk about. It's about me! It's all about me. You don't like it? Get your own fucking blog! The whole concept of putting thoughts onto the internet is one of self-absorption to start with, and in my case just a little organization. I've said all this before, so it doesn't bear repeating.

I'm going to use this particular post to point you in the direction of a few things that I read on a regular basis. We'll start here, with this particular post. If you don't look at another link in this entire entry, just read these words. I think it's one of the more elegant things that I've read. It's about the reality of the lifestyle as a whole. He hits on a lot of truths, and I did feel a bit of a sting when I read it the first time, because there was a lot of application in my own life. Above link is to one post; the whole shee-bang is here: IMNOT2BZY

Todd kinda rocks--I admit it, I'm a fan.

Another person in my list is Riley. I like Tom's journal because it's a summary of his day. It's like reading an autobiography in a way. People that allow others to enter their lives are pretty special, and earn my admiration. Although I don't know him particularly well on a personal basis, I think Tom has the potential to be the most "real" person I've encountered.

Moving along in the lists of people that I actually know that might be of interest to others, there's the dynamic team of M&M Mike qualifies to be my oldest friend. I've talked about him earlier, and I just love the boy! His charming wife Monica has also moved into my collective conscious as a dear, dear friend. Of course by listing them here, I'm hoping to shame them into writing more. It probably won't work, but what the hell. Can't blame a boy for trying.

In Rent, Mark Cohen laments, "How do you document real life when real life is getting more like fiction each day?" My dearest friend Arion does a fair job of it, and I always enjoy reading his words. I met him online (Yahoo, as I recall, so it was truly random) in the late 90's, so he qualifies to be an old friend by online standards. Because we met in such a random fashion, it was Ari that made me believe in fate bringing people together.

That pretty much sums up the blogs of those I know (or at least pretend to know) There are a dozen or so that I look at on a regular basis. These are random people that catch my eye for various reasons. Topping the list is this Mo from Boise. Idaho is of course is my stomping ground, so in some way, it will always be home for reasons of argument. Whether I could ever live there again is a point for some argument, but I do have to say that I enjoy myself whenever I travel to the native soil.

I don't know this guy, but damn isn't he cute? This guy isn't as cute, but his words give me a virtual hardon. Of course, no list of blogs would be complete without a little political commentary or a nod from a famous person, her support team, and a drag queen just for the diversity of it all.

There you have it. That's what I look at on a regular basis, blog-wise, and all because of my inherent laziness! Yay me!

Pissy.

What's more irritating than being in a pissy mood? That's right, people who feel compelled to take you away from yourself. As a friend once so cleverly said, "I'm not Mary-fucking-sunshine 24/7."

Truer words aint been said. I'm not in a good mood for various reasons, and thanks, I don't need to be cheered up. I do not require a smile, nor should I "buck up" so you will feel better about yourself. People who smile all the time need to reduce their dosage of Wellbutrin, Celexa, Prozac, or whatever the fuck you're on.

It's not natural to be happy all the time, contrary to what the American pharmaceutical industry might want you to believe. People get sick and die. Jobs and careers are flushed down toilets. Friends are betrayed. Bad things happen to good people. It's all part of the life thing, and it's not all daisies and puppies.

That lobster you ate last night is shit today. Last weeks roses are compost. Youth withers to age.

Lesson to be learned? If someone tells you they are pissy, be supportive, but not invasive. I'll call you if I want to talk to you; I have no qualms about doing that, and in the same vein, if someone phones you at 3am to talk, you have the responsibility as a friend and human to listen. However, it's not your place to tell someone to smile because they might bring you down. That's self-centered.

End rant. No comments.

Todd on the mind

Everyone has a seminal singer. That one individual that defines your life, or at least a spot in your life that makes us what we are.

For me, it's Todd Rundgren. Yes, it's an off the wall choice, because he wasn't much of a singer, and he had a great face for radio. I think that's the attraction, though. I was never a twink (more on that subject later) so I never identified with that image. My singing was mediocre as well, so someone who could carry a tune, but not well had a special spot in my heart as well.

"Hello, it's Me." That's my song. Go listen to it and get back to me. It was the great hit that he both wrote and sang. Todd wrote a shitload of songs, but like my other great hero, Harry Nilsson, he left the vocals to someone else to do. That's not the song on my mind right now, though.

I'm in a strange mood lately. Mostly for reasons that I don't feel much in the mood to divulge now. Let's just say that life ought to be defined by one of the great quotes from the movie Brazil:

"We're all in this together."

I've said that more than once, and I really believe it to be true. Without each other, we flounder, do the fish out of water thing, etc., and life pretty much reeks of heavy suckage.

But I digress just a little.

Oh, what the fuck, I'll keep digressing. (you don't like it? Get your own blog and bore others) The other great line from Brazil is: "You won't go anywhere in that suit."

Back on tack, however is the reason I'm fussing over Todd today--a Faboooo song he scribbled down--goes something like this:

Pay your price, a ticket to paradise.

I can't stay here anymore,

and I've looked high and low

I've been from show to show to show

If there's a shortcut, I'd have found it

But There's no easy way around it

chorus

Light of the world,

shine on me

Love is the answer

Shine on us all,

set us free

Love is the answer

Who knows why?

Some day we all must die.

We are all homeless

little boys and girls

And we are never heard

It's such a lonely world

People turn their heads

and walk on by

tell me it's worth

another try

chorus

Tell me are we alive

or just a dying planet?

What are the chances?

Ask the man in your heart

for the answer

When you feel the pain

when you've lost your way

when you're all alone

when you're far from home

when you're down and out

when you're hope has run out

when you need a friend

when you're near the end

We have to love each other.

That's it--we have to love each other. We have to be nice to one another, because if we don't do it for ourselves, nobody is going to do it for us. It's like the self-esteem thing--if you don't love yourself, how can you expect someone else to love you in return?

Twink

Falling back with the whole self-love thing, I've been running across a lot of people lately who are really miserable, and it makes me sad. Some are unhappy because they want something that isn't within their grasp, some because they don't feel good about themselves. A small group because they are unwell (either physically or mentally.) It makes me think of a conversation that we had last night in the gay.com chatroooms. {You'll find me there often. Say hi.} The subject was the word twink.

As previously mentioned, I never was a twink. According to Bob's Unabashed Dictionary, a twink is an adjective describing a somewhat shallow, definitely vapid youngman who believes his own PR, no matter how inflamed it might be. Twinks are absorbed in their selves and generally ignore the world about them, unless it involves another twink, and definitely only twinks from the right side of the tracks. They obviously move in cliquish packs and refuse to associate with anyone outside of their age range (which would be 18-23...Maybe 25 if good hair and a better body is involved)

All in all, twink is a derogatory term, I'd say. In the same way that I can use fag as a term because I happen to be homosexual, and some can use nigger because they are of African descent, twink can be used as a pundit. Nothing wrong with that, say I. Nonetheless, we had a nice discussion about the word, with a couple of men who are honestly young enough to be my sons. One of them describes himself as a twink quite proudly, and he probably is. He certainly matches the age criterion, but that's about it. He's polite enough to hold a conversation (in his words: "I don't like most people I meet, but I continue talking to them because it's rude not to.") His ability to compose his thoughts separates him far and beyond people in his age range and it certainly splits him from the land of the twink.

End rant.

My message today is simply love each other, because we're all in it together. Twinks, old fucks such as myself, fat, thin--it really makes no difference. Just be nice, and impeach Dubya.

Condom-sleeza Rice is the Secretary of State? Man, we are so fucked.

Sorry seems to be the hardest word

Check it out.

Robert's Rules

I've been thinking quite a bit recently. That's a good thing, because not many people think enough. I've decided that in my (mumble) years as a slightly ostentatious fag, I've amassed a cute knowledge base. It's not as large as the Microsoft KB of useful useless information, but nonetheless, it's decent.

My topics are far more utilitarian, and they do have a better applicability to life than "limitations of the FAT32 system in XP."

(Yes, I've read it and used it recently)
(No, don't ask)

With no further adieu, these are things I've learned:

• People won't change to suit you or your core beliefs. They might make a minor modification for a short-term goal (such as getting laid) but core values are like "family values" and the attraction to SUVs. These things are indefinable but strongly held. Waiting on someone to change is akin to teaching a pig to fly--it only wastes your time and irritates the pig.
• People don't really change over time, they only become more the way they have always been. Some totally wacked out chick said that. Ayn Rand maybe? If so, it still doesn't change my opinion that she is truly evil.
• People that treat service workers like dirt really aren't nice people. I have worked in service (in a way) and I've seen people that treat other humans like shit for no particular reason. It's very sad, and there's no reason for it.
• Go with your gut instinct. The brain only mucks things up. Where the brain goes, the heart oft follows. I tend to over-analyze things, which leads to me coming to conclusions that are often incorrect. Universally, in retrospect I should have just listened to my first instinct and been done with it.
• Addictive personalities, whatever they may be, breed addictions. Accept the limitations and press on with your life. Too often, addictions are merely replaced by other addictions, so no real progress is made. When I was at my low-down lowest, I was offered a job as a disease counselor in a methadone clinic. The position was sweet, and one that was right up my alley, but the clientele irked me. Methadone is not too much more than state-sponsored heroin addiction, and I haven't seen a great deal of progress made in that field.
• The internet breeds antisocial behaviour. That said, FXB is history. The boy really is a clueless individual. Go back up to that gut instinct thing that told me he was totally wrong for me. See? That's why he got called "Future Ex Boyfriend." Besides the fact that he's not a particularly happy person leads me to believe that for a ltr, he's REALLY not right for me, but probably appropriate for someone else. However, for a short term thing (which truthfully is what I need right now)...Well I'll just say that FXB is totally fuckable and leave it at that.
• Coffee pot etiquette tells a great deal about a person. The person who leaves a mess of sugar and creamer is probably too consumed in their own affairs to be bothered. The person who cleans without provocation is probably codependent. Person who makes a mess trying to use the "fresh pot" while said pot is still brewing (especially when a new pot is sitting on the burner next to it) probably will fly at the least provocation. The polite boy that dumps the grounds, makes a clean pot, and doesn't quibble about drinking coffee that's more than 2 minutes old is a team player, and probably quite dependable.

FXB defined!

e.e. cummings didn't use upper-case letters, and for this short statement, i won't either. instead, i'll say that the boy who thought that he was fxb isn't. i would be interested to know if this unidentified boy reads this. if so, do call ;-)

i'll die a thousand deaths when you do, but i could use the laugh.

Dark Chocolate

I've oft said "I like my drinks bitter and my boys sweet. Fact is, I just prefer bitter things. It's always been a thing I've loved--quinine in tonic water, Campari, dark chocolate--the list goes on and on. Even things that should properly be sweet (cheesecake, f'rinstance) I prefer with just a taste of sweetness

I'm polishing off the last of the very very good dark chocolate that I brought back from Switzerland. I've maintained a secret stash in my drawer at work, for those moments when it just gets to be too much. People accuse me of not sharing, but I don't recall seeing that in my job description. After all, I do keep a bowl of candy on my desk, and you're welcome to it. Furthermore, I'm a pushover--lots of people know that, and some even take advantage of the fact. I'll occasionally even do things that are detrimental to my own well-being so that someone else will be happy. Mind you, that's not too often, and you had better be a gooood friend to expect that kind of treatment.

Still, what is mine is yours. I'll always share what I have with a friend. However, I won't give cash to homeless people, because I don't condone drug use. Plus, I don't consider homeless people to be friends, regardless of how chummy they might try to be to me. I know not all homeless people scrape their pennies together to purchase something illicit, but I do notice that they keep "Irish Rose" locked up in the ghetto stores. I also see intoxicated homeless people and know that the inebriation had to come from somewhere. Really, I'm not stupid. If you want to do drugs, great--get a job that does not require a "whiz quiz" and buy some.

I'm in an odd mood today and I can't quite identify why it is. The weather is beautiful--the sun is shining, it's probably close to 14 degrees and it's just a stunning autumn day. I started the day with unbridled optimism, but it's slowly sinking and I am feeling a tad powerless to change it. I will, though--it's too fucking pretty not to. Besides, I know that in a few short weeks, it will be over and the wretched Indiana winters will begin with its ice and despair. The colour will drain, and a very different beauty will wash over the landscape. Something austere, yet still pretty. I think the thing to do is to make a call I don't want to make, then toss myself into repairing this pit. (I'm a bit untidy, and roommate is a slob as well.) I think I'll also enjoy something in the "comfort food" column. Perhaps a run to Greenwood for hot Krispy Kremes. I know--gross, but they make me happy. Little circles of fun! Wheee!

Ilove my blog. In these few short sentences, I've actually made myself feel better. How awesome is that? Now, if I can only keep some asshole from fucking it up before I go out again.

funny side note--the spell check on this thing doesn't have blog in it!

Emotionally bankrupt and morally deficit

Well!

A few notes of interest, and the creation of "Bob's universal disclaimer." First off, there has been a great torrent of interest about moving to Canada. I often jokingly said "If Bush is re-elected, I'm becoming a Canuk." It's happened, so perhaps I should look to the neighbour to the north. In a way, I've always been a "Canadaphile" of sorts, but I'm not sure that emigration is the appropriate move. I happen to like being an American, and despite it's failures in appointing effective leader, I hold on to the belief that I truly wouldn't be happy elsewhere in the world.

Traveling is such a broadening experience, and everyone should do it. That's why every American should hit the road and see what another culture is about. Everyone should experience the opinion of a Non-American. Every American should understand why the US is listed among with North Korea and Iran as a threat to global security.

I digress--it's all about Bob! Dubya can get his own fucking Blog.

I met Good Sex Guy for a social activity, which was actually very nice. We had cocktails and conversation, which was not a typical activity for us. Granted, I've talked with GSG, but our encounters normally begin with the taste of his tongue and end with conversation. This time it was reversed. He looks good in clothes ;-) We chit-chatted about various things, including the boy that he's "seeing." (as opposed to "dating") which led me to think that I wasn't going to swap spit with the boy.

Whups. Wrong-o! I asked GSG if I could be his mistress if he did begin properly dating this boy. Apparently, that's up for discussion. Heh. Unfortunately, I don't shtup married men, so if he do start dating, I'll gracefully step back and wait for a break-up. Of course, if that should occur, I'll begin the interview process for a new GSG, but I have to say that the replacement will have some mighty tight competition. GSG is hot, but I've probably mentioned that already.

There's another boy that has garnered my interest that I'll call GF. He's the reason I've developed a "Universal Bob Disclaimer."
"Hi, my name is Bob. You will think I am unlike men you have met before. You will also think I am very kind, but do not mistake this. Do not fall in love with me."

That sounds like an incredibly conceited thing to say, and an amazingly self-centered way of saying it. It sounds like men are falling all over themselves to be my lover, but it's happened before, and it's happened recently. GF is a friend, and one that I dismissed as a romantic interest some time ago. I think of him as a brother, not a lover. To have sex with him would seem incestuous. Much like my brother, I have no desire to boink him. So, with tears and just a little drama, I heard all about it.

Therefore, I'm emotionally drained today.

O, Canada!

It's over, and I'm mad as hell and I can't take it anymore!

*tosses television out a window*

Oh, that's a combination of SCTV and various other influences.

I digress. Last week had various spills and thrills. Of note would be the Minneapolis excursion. I travelled with a chum (TG) who had a very busy agenda. Consequently, we didn't see much of each other. Aside from an occasional glance and short descriptions of our days. We did have a short shopping time at the store I'll always remember as the "Mary Richards Department Store" (it was formerly Dayton's where MTM threw her beret in the air in the opening of her show. It's now a Marshal Fields.)

I also had a semi meeting with "FXB" among others. It was pleasant, and uneventful. I'm holding onto the belief that he's not so interested in me. He's still a nice boy, and I'd still like to develop some sort of relationship with him, even if it's not romantically inclined. Would dating him be an option? Maybe, but I need to feel something closer to him, and it's just not there. Maybe I should be an optimist and say "maybe." I can't do that right now. I've got a need for a "rebound guy" right now, and not a relationship guy.

In that light, I'm meeting "Good Sex Guy" for cocktails later at an undisclosed location. Apparently Naptown harbors a piano lounge that I've somehow missed. Must rectify that. In the mean time, I'll gorge myself on comfort food, and make a note to discuss "Lilly Guy" in some depth. He's really more special than I thought.