BOO!
It's HALLOWEEN!
Strange things happen on Halloween... for instance you might get a weird sense of deja vu while reading my site.  It might be the work of witches, but most likely, it's the fact that I've posted this before.  On the same spooky day, one year ago.  Enjoy it, boys and ghouls (I'm sorry for that last pun.)

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There is a pair of panties in the street in front of my house.

Just so you know, I live a in a great neighborhood.  It is a mixture of empty nesters and young families, all homeowners.  My whole subdivision is like that.  To my knowledge, there is nothing exciting that happens here.  It's a boring old suburb.  But this morning, I woke up, looked outside, and there is a pair of panties on the street in front of my house.

I'm curious, of course as to the situation that led up to the fact that there is a pair of panties on the street in front of my house, so I'm going to investigate.  By "investigate," I mean "make up a story and post it here on my website."  I'm damn sure not gonna TOUCH them or anything.  Eww. Eww. EWWWW!

So, I'm not sure how they got there.  I'll try not to lose too much sleep over it, but now I'm faced with a dilemma: who is in charge of removal?  Is there a number at city hall that I may dial and tell them there is a pair of panties on the street in front of my house?  I've looked in the blue pages... no such luck... apparently, I can have roadkill removed, but panties... those are MY problem, buddy!  Why do I even pay taxes, I ask you?  I really don't want to move them, but I don't want them to stay there, either, so outside I go, with a Ziploc baggie.

I'm not sure WHY I picked up a baggie, but I've found in this life, if it's a confusing situation, it always helps to have a Ziploc around.... so I have the Ziploc, and decide if I turn it inside-out and put my hand inside it, I can pick up the panties, and can seal them, and throw them away.  So I began walking toward the pair of panties in the street in front of my house.

WHOA.  As I got nearer, I discovered that whomever these panties belonged to had either a severe problem, or one HELL of a night.  I won't be very specific, but I WILL say that whoever left the pair of panties in the street in front of my house left a CONSIDERABLE amount of DNA on them.  I keep wondering if it's a Halloween prank or something, but as I told you, I think it was that hussy that lives next door with her nosy grandfather.

SO... to sum it up... I'm standing in the street holding a baggie, confused about what to do, feeling dirty, and I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but there's a pair of panties in the street in front of my house.

I finally got them up.  The operation required two plastic forks and a very large, stand up Ziploc baggie.  They were gross.  I hope whomever they belonged to got a good shower.  I think she (HE?!) needed it.  I’m keeping my eye on the hussy next door.  I hope I never have to do that again.  I still feel dirty.

It's time to...
Critique a (non)Random Web Photo!

Usually, I pick a random photo off of the web, but today, I'm using MY photo that I took at the Halloween Street Fair in Dallas.  It's just too tempting.  And yes, I know this is the second time I've made fun of pictures of older gay men.  I have nothing against older gay men in general, but it's all about growing old with grace, okay?

• First of all, if this is your grandfather, I'm sorry.  I'm not sorry that I'm posting his picture and making fun of it, you understand... I'm sorry for you.
• Love the cigarette with the long, graceful ash.  That completes the look.
• Those sandals?  Best part of the outfit.  And yet, they are still so, so wrong.
• Bike shorts, eh?  Interesting choice.
• Why did he let me take his picture? (probably because he didn't know what I was going to do with it!)
• Do you get the impression that he knows Jim Nabors personally?  Because I kinda do.
• "Well Shazam, Sergeant Carter!  I'm just going to Dallas for a few days!  Don't be sad!"
• Polka dots on velvet is a very nice look.  For somebody else.
• He is proof that the old adage "you can never go wrong with black" is not true.
• I will give him this: his lipstick matches the burgundy lightening bolt on the front of his shirt.
• "Andy, I'll have this here po-lice car all runnin' fine by morning!  Tell Opie and Aunt Bea 'Hey' for me, hear?  I'm just going into Mount Pilot for a little gatherin' of friends!"
• Let's just think about this for a second.  He woke up that morning, and PLANNED that outfit.  If that doesn't scare you, then you have a vast, empty soul.  Or perhaps this is your grandfather and you're used to it.

Everyone please have a great Wednesday, and I'll see you back here tomorrow.

Kurt loves loves LOVES to do laundry, and I fucking hate it. I therefore offered him a proposal: if he came over and helped me with laundry, I'd cook him dinner.

He agreed to come help with the laundry (geez I hate laundry!) as long as I promised not to cook for him. He said he ate earlier, but I think he figured out that someone who hates laundry is probably not a very good cook. God Bless him for coming and helping.

See, here's the deal: I have more clothes than most people. I worked retail for years, and they were there all the time, and also, I hate laundry (which I may have mentioned) and I've been known to go shopping to avoid washing more clothes (which I hate).

Kurt came over, and immediately started sorting. He gave me some tips and pointers so I assisted in the sorting of clothing, and Kurt didn't say anything as he went behind me to move things to the proper piles. He was amazed that I had enough red clothing to do one whole load of just red. I was sort of amazed, too, because I hate laundry (which I may have mentioned.)

AND... FABOO! The E! True Hollywood Story of Liza (with a "z") was on, and so we watched the whole two hours of tragic, heartbreaking, total weirdness that is Liza.

We decided to take a break from laundry (which I hate) because we were Liza'd out (much like the whole world, after the '70s, apparently) and Kurt wanted a Guinness.

So we went to this pub in my hometown and were delighted that we were not the only gay people there. We had a couple (okay, three) beers and then he dropped me off at my house, and he went home.

Big night of contrasts, eh? Laundry (which, by the way, I hate), Liza, and straight suburban bars. And I had a great time. Except for the laundry.

Well folks, THAT was a weekend.

I enjoyed every moment (almost) of my weekend, and I come back refreshed, renewed, and ready to start my Monday.

Except for the "starting my Monday" part.  Mondays actually suck more when you've just had a three day weekend where you had tons of fun.

My tons of fun (and a big part of why I went to Dallas this weekend) included the Oak Lawn Halloween Street Fair.  This is one of the coolest nights in Dallas gay nightlife, and I'm glad I got to be there.  I'm always amazed at the effort expended by people on their costumes.  There are lots of people out there that are MUCH MORE creative than myself (or have the money to hire creative people for them!)

Oh yeah.  I took pictures.  They are HERE.  Enjoy.

You will note a preponderance of drag queens, and men whose costumes seem to be designed to show off thier hot bods.  I'm not complaining, I'm just stating the fact.

My costume was a tshirt that said "We Are Not Amused." Yes, I apparently went to the fair as a Bitchy Queen.  You can imagine my disappointment when I noted lots of other people in Bitchy Queen costumes (and additudes).  Other popular costumes this year (as well as every year I've been) were Drunk Asshole, Really Drunk Asshole, Old Lesbian, Crusty Old Lesbian, and my favorite, WhathefuckisTHAT?! (There really should be an age limit on drag.  Shall we settle on the arbitrary number of 60?)

I had a great time, but I was tired, and so I didn't stay out long at all.  This thing gets so psycho crowded, you just can't move, and I get really weird in those kind of crowds, so I left before midnight, and went back to the hotel.  It was a ball.

SO:  Here are my some of my favorites:

• Most mismatched couple (hint: the guy on the left is not in costume)
• Couple that was just WRONG (please for the love of GOD don't go out like that again)
• Drunkest Drag queen. Ever. (ummm... that's not her car, and she was NOT posing for a picture)
• Okay.  This couple might me more wrong than above.
• Most effort and time expended for the least understandable costumes.
• Least effort expeded on drag, while still being presentable.
• This couple is wrong, too.
• And the best that I saw (drumroll, anyone?) HERE.

Have a great Monday!

Greetings from Dallas.

Texas is so vast that each city has it's own character, charm and culture.

And driving is different in each city, too.  Dallas is my least favorite Texas city in which to drive.

Dear fuckstick who sat in a non-turn lane, waiting to turn because you didn't plan ahead:

Maybe you can't help it.  You may not have your mirrors adjusted, and are unable to see the tons of pissed-off people behind you.  See?  That's me, four cars back.  I sure do looked pissed, don't I?  Perhaps it's because there is another left turn lane TWO BLOCKS AWAY and it would be faster for you to turn left up there, and go back than to do this shit you are doing.  You were already on my shit list when you drove in that lane that was closing until you got to the barricade, therefore making me wait while someone much, much nicer than myself let you in ahead of me.  And then  you pull this shit.  Fuck off.  I hope you get a rash in a bad, bad place.

Love, Tim

People are not as friendly in Dallas as they are in the rest of Texas.  I don't know why, but it's noticable.  Seriously.

Dear asshole bartender:

Just because you don't know me is no reason to serve everyone in the bar before you give me my drink.  I was coming to this bar before it was even legal for you to be in here, and many of my friends are still regulars at this bar.  You suck, and I hope you get a rash in a bad, bad place.  Actually, if the gossip in the bar is correct, then you DO have that already.

Love, Tim

I am enjoying this weekend however.  I'm staying in a nice hotel with a great view of construction cranes and... well, more construction cranes, actually.  But it's nice:

Dear hotel maid:

¿Por qué usted está golpeando en mi puerta en 09:30? Es lejana, lejos demasiado temprano para que usted esté aquí. Déjeme solo, y vuélvase al mediodía. Para entonces me irán.

Amor, Timoteo

Since I've been in a picture mood, allow me to show you this:

Sasha the wonder dog.

Isn't she cute?  Yeah, she is, but you don't have to live with her.  Trust me when I tell you that she's a royal pain in the ass.

Don't get me wrong.  I love, love, love her and all, and when she was very sick this year and had to have surgery that cost more than my own out-of-pocket healthcare this year, I made it happen.  I love this dog with all of my being.

But.

I don't know what in the HELL is wrong with her digestive system right now.  I'm considering donating her to the military so that they can use her to get Osama out of the caves with her foul, foul gas.  Yes, it's that bad.  No, neither I nor the vet knows why.  We've changed her diet.  We've restricted treats (much to her dismay).  We've purchased herbs for her.  We've prayed about it.  We've had to leave the room.  We've had to leave the HOUSE.  It's Issue Number One around here right now, and that's saying something.

I don't know if she knows she's doing it, but if she does, I'm thinking of training her to go OUTSIDE the doggie door and stink up the neighborhood instead of my house.  She knows to pee and poop out there.  Think about it:  I would never, ever have to fog for mosquitoes again.  Termites?  Not out THERE.  I DO have a fear of my plants wilting and dying, though.  But that beats ME wilting and dying.

Not that I ever DO entertain you.  But still.

Have a great Thursday!

Yes, that handsome little kid grew up to be me. Love me and my ball! You will note that my accessories are perfectly matched.  I was just born that way, you know...

I am really, really looking forward to my time in Dallas! I made my hotel reservations today, and have began to plan my time in Dallas. This is a cool thing: I'm taking a three day weekend. I actually leave on Thursday, and I'll get back around Sunday night. I get to go to my church in Dallas, and I get to see my sister and her family, and don't forget the street fair! Oh yeah, and Nordstrom. I need shoes, and we don't have a Nordstrom around here.

I know I've been boring to read this week. It's just one of those weeks, you know? Bear with me, though, because I'll have pictures a-plenty early next week. I know everyone likes photographic wonderfullness of my parties. If I'm lucky, I'll end up in a random hot tub or something!

Well, it's almost Halloween, and all self-respecting gay men in the world are putting the final touches on their costumes.

Here's where my confession comes in: I don't have a costume this year.

I had several costume ideas, but I didn't really want to spend any money on them, and frankly, I just don't feel like it.

This is compounded by the fact that I'm going to one of Texas's premier gay Haloween events: the street fair in Oak Lawn.  I shall be there without costume, and not be embarrassed.

Even though I'm pretty sure I'll lose my "gay card".

I MIGHT reverse my decision this week sometime, but don't count on it.

What a weekend!

I didn't domuch at all, and it was WONDERFUL. I got tons of sleep, and had a fair amount of fun, too, so... great weekend.

Much of my weekend was spent working on my new site, (of which I'm sure you are tired of hearing). I am in the process of importing my old entries (about 600 of them) by hand, and it's very time consuming. I have decided to repost an old entry today, because I read it this weekend, and it's good. Enjoy it, and I'll see you here tomorrow. This entry is also especially appropriate given that I'm going to Dallas next weekend. I'll tell you all about that later this week. Should be a fun Halloween weekend, though.

Originally published March 26, 2001

I spent the weekend around gay people. Even better, I spent the weekend in Oak Lawn, the gay part of Dallas. I know that since I am a gay person, this might not be entirely shocking, but it was different this weekend. For those of you who may not know, most major cities have some part of town that has a concentration of businesses and establishments that cater to gay people. I like such areas because when I am there, I don't feel as “different” as I do when I am in mixed company.

My first few visits to places that were predominately gay, such as community centers and (yes Mom) bars, were very freeing and liberating. I felt as if I had found my people. I still remember how good it felt to find a place where I belonged. If I thought a guy was cute, I could say so to my new friends, and they would agree with me, instead of running me out of town with torches. I learned a lot about myself, and what it meant to be gay. In short, I came out.

I have always liked visiting gay areas. The term "gay ghetto" is an anachronism. Since they are usually near downtown, the real estate in such areas has become very desirable and expensive. Contrary to popular belief, there aren’t just bars in such a part of town. There are plenty of those, but often a community center and a bevy of restaurants and little shops that sell things like highly attractive decorative accessories and tacky, tacky disco clothes. These shops and eateries are usually fun to browse and get in a good dose of people watching. Larger cities with populations over a million or so have grocery stores and chain retailers, usually a Target, in the gay areas. During the eighties, the rise of HIV and AIDS prompted the opening of doctor's offices, clinics and pharmacies in the gay areas. The more-pleasant nineties also saw the addition of gay-focused bookshops and coffeehouses, as well. In short, larger cities have a little self-contained community just for gay people and the people who love them.

When I lived in Dallas, I would sometimes catch myself not leaving Oak Lawn for months at a time. It was my home; my friends, job and church were all there. I had no reason to leave, so I didn't.

Last year, I moved back to my hometown of 15,000 people, and the closest thing we have to a gay part of town is my apartment. I miss my friends, but I didn't realize until this weekend that I missed Oak Lawn, too. It was nice not to have to watch what I say and do. I miss the unspoken camaraderie that exists. I'm not saying that life in Oak Lawn is entirely wonderful. In fact, there is a larger than average crime rate and it's not the cheapest place to live, but it was home for me and my friends. Some may say that increasing acceptance of gay people has rendered such areas obsolete. Indeed, there is an increasing trend to locate bars and businesses well into the suburbs. I think this is good thing, and I support it. But it's still fun to go to our own little de-militarized zone and hold hands with another boy while I'm shopping for tacky, tacky disco clothes and sipping overpriced coffee.

So here's the thing. Despite my interest in all things cool, and all things computer-related, I haven't ever used or played with the computer-related coolness that is the Sims.

Why, you might wonder, have I never, ever played with the uber-cool weirdness? It's not because I lack imagination or that I hate the concept. Nope. I've stayed away from the Sims because I'm certain that I would become addicted.

Not some benign addiction, either, like chocolate or Oreos or crack. Nope. I would be up until all hours of the night in my computer room, sitting in the luminescent glow of Sim-tasticness, peeing in the backyard because my bathroom is on the other side of the house, and then I'd begin to imagine green gems above the heads of people at work, and... Let's just say it's for the best that I've never ever installed it on my computer.

Don't even think I'm kidding, either.

See, I'm coming to grips with the fact that I get involved in stuff, and it can become all-consuming. Like this site. When I started it, I was constantly in my head about writing and traffic and site design and now I'm moving to my own server, so that's all starting over again and I really, really need to relax and realize I gave myself a big timeline for the move to my own server and I should just CHILL THE HELL OUT, because really, if I don't go to bed until 3 am, I'm the one that suffers the next day.

Or perhaps you do, because you have to read these worthless bits of textual strangeness.

Dude. I am become SO cynical lately, I can barely even stand myself anymore. Okay. I work for a non-profit that has chaplains on staff, and social workers and psychologist and many warm-touchy-feely people. I usually function among such people well, for I, too, am at times a touchy-feely person. Except I'm really not impressed with heartwarming stories. Especially when read aloud at staff meetings. And when I've heard them before, over and over again. And they are so contrived it makes me want to retch.

I care about people. A lot. I have a tender heart and I fit in well at work, but I really, really don't know how I'm supposed to react when they read that story about the developmentally-disabled kid playing baseball, and all the kids let him win the game, and that's when the kid's Dad saw God's perfection: in those baseball playin' angel's actions and deeds and blah blah blah howlongisthisdamnstory?!

And it's a cute, touching story. I can imagine reading it in a publication like Guideposts or getting it via email devotional or even hearing it read as part of a sermon, because it's kinda sweet and all. Except, that same story and I have crossed paths with alarming regularity in the past six months, and I'm really, really tired of hearing about it. Point made, retire the story. I think the entire nation has either read or heard it by now, and we should all move on to a cute and heartwarming story about... say... um... I don't know?! Kittens?

Anything but little Shaya and the damn baseball.

Well, it's midweek, isn't it? That was fast. Perhaps because I've just been so DARN busy...

We have a staff meeting today. Entire staff. Our staff is mostly women--out of around 70 people, only six of us are men. That has many, many implications. For instance, I will rarely, if ever have to wait to use the bathroom at work. On the other hand, if I stink up that area of the building, they'll know it's me, because I'm the only man who works on our floor. So that's dangerous.

Our workplace tends to be pretty damned emotional, too. Women tend to wear their hearts on their sleeve, which is not a bad thing, it just is how the world works. And then, they sometimes complain about this "PMS" stuff that I know nothing about, nor do I want to. I think that means "leave me alone." That's what I'VE taken it to mean, anyway.

So. The staff meeting. I got off on a tangent there, didn't I? Oh well... it happens to the best of writers. I'm getting to show off the new LCD projector and laptop to the staff today, and then, I'm going to have the arduous task of teaching people who don't know the difference between Excel and Word (don't even think I'm kidding) how to use PowerPoint. So that will be more fun that I wanted to have, but hey... such is life, right?

One woman at work who really, really is excited we have the new technology once gave an entire presentation on an overhead projector with the slides upside down. When we told her they were upside down, she adjusted the screen. At that point, we pretty much gave up on the visual portion of her presentation, and just dealt with the audio, which was about as goofy as you'd imagine. I am loathe to send her out there with a projector that costs three grand, but hey... that's life, right? No skin off MY ass if she breaks it, and she's got a rich husband, so I'm sure she'll donate a new one, right?

RIGHT?!

I am a person who tries to plan for every contingency and situation. That whole "Be Prepared" thing is the only thing I really got from the Boy Scouts (well, that, and I learned how to swear such that a sailor would blush).

If I wanted to, I could get in my car right now and leave for a weekend trip, and I would have clothes, toiletries and plenty of reading material for the entire weekend. Yep, I keep an overnight bag in my car at all times. It has really come in handy before, too! I enjoy having the things I like and need around me, and I go to great lengths to make sure that I'm prepared.

I think the whole "bag in the car" thing stems from the fact that I've spent much of my life living in the suburbs, yet living a very full life in the city adjacent. I grew up 30 mains north of Houston, and was CONSTANTLY going back and forth, and if I needed something, it wasn't like I could just run home and get it. I have a similar situation now: I live 30 mins from San Antonio, and 40 mins from Austin, and that's where I spend much of my free time. So I pack a bag in case I need anything.

I have often wondered if other people do this, but I don't think they do. I'm just weird, I guess. (and yes, that IS me in that picture. I was about 12 years old. No, I don't know why my pants are pulled up past my belly button. I think I was in an "awkward phase".)

Ever go out for the night with friends and not drink? Me either, until this weekend… when I decided that a little time off the hooch would do my liver (and waistline) some good.

So I arrive at the bar, and immediately, the bartender begins making my drink. Ah, Thomas… my good bartender friend who knows me all too well… okay. I'll have just one. It's early, and heck, I'm not going to be driving for… hours, right?

Cool. So I'm having my third drink, and I look at the dance floor, and there's this… guy?! dancing all by himself on the dancefloor. Okay… dancing overstates. He was sort of doing controlled convulsions. He was of another era… all into the whole 80s look. I sure do love acid-washed jeans with pegged legs! Also, he wore his sunglasses at night, so he could, so he could, keep track of the visions in his eyes… although I expect that the visions were caused by the little packet of stuff that the shady character in the corner slipped to him when he thought nobody was looking. Bah. Who cares? He's enjoying himself, so whatever.

As Thomas poured me my sixth drink, I noticed that the place was beginning to get crowded. I was beginning to to regale people with my (so-called) rapier wit when some of my friends showed up. They offered me shots, but I politely explained I wasn't drinking.

Schnapps sure is good stuff, isn't it? Like liquid candy. I sure do enjoy the cinnamon, even though it sometimes causes me to have what I like to call the Hangover of the Hot Damned because of the sugar, but you never think of that in the bar, do you? We had a nice conversation about our upcoming trip to Dallas for Halloween, and then before I knew it, I had had three. I'm so lucky to have generous friends.

Then, for some reason, I started to get woozy. I think it must have been something I ate, since I wasn't drinking.

I vaguely recall sending a few text messages from my phone to a friend in Phoenix, and then I visited my other friend who works in another bar. I explained that I wasn't drinking tonight, but he had already made my usual, and of course, it would have been rude, right, not to drink it? I never, ever want people to say I'm rude. I saw some other friends, who were very nice to me, and suggested that perhaps I should go home with them and rest. I have to admit that was a good idea, since I was for some reason still a bit light-headed, and my wit was beginning to lose it's rapier-ness.

Once I figured out where I was, I had a great morning… the whole hour of it that was left. My hosts were kind, and we all went out for brunch, where no matter what you've heard, I did not have any mimosas. I sure have a great time when I don't drink!

So because I've lately been the Bad Son who never spends time with his parents, I decided to spend time with Mom and Dad on Saturday, which is cool, because we had a great time. Mom and Dad are really, really cool people, which is what you'd expect, right, from my parents?

We had a great time, and got some great bargains, but I have some observations:

First of all, there's a brand-new, shiny store in the mall: Pottery Barn for Kids. My father and I both predict a quick death of this store because, as my Dad says, "kids that young don't know they are gay yet," and therefore, won't shop there. The whole concept DID seem a bit silly to me, but hey, whatever. Many gay folks are beginning to adopt, so perhaps Dad and Dad will enjoy shopping there. But not in San Antonio.

Dear retail merchandisers and buyers:
The high in San Antonio was ninety degrees on Saturday. I had a hard time finding anything that wasn't designed for the Arctic. Seriously, you should be aware by now that in Texas (and incidentally, Arizona, Nevada, southern California...) we are still experiencing warm, perhaps even hot weather, and we don't need wool cargo pants and sweaters that look suitable for a trip to see Santa and his elves. Thank you for listening, since I know many of the Gap and Banana Republic merchandisers read this site, and make business decisions based on what I write here.
Love, Tim

My bargain of the day was either the t-shirts at Old Navy that were marked down to $1.80 each, or the ten dollar clogs at the Gap. Either way, I got lots of stylish, affordable clothing for not a lot of money. Which is good, because if I'm ever going to get that car I've been talking about buying, I have to save some money. Apparently, there's no Money Tree, damn it!

I sure did have an interesting night out on Wednesday. In one night (and in one bar) I had, like, six gay bar stereotypes. Old black lady playing and singing the blues on a piano? Check. Men in leather harnesses with leather pants? Check. Stand up lesbian comedian? Check. Three dollar drinks that could strip paint? Check. Happy Hour buffet? Check. Beloved old bartender named Pappy, who looks as if he could captain a ship? Check.

I swear that's all true. I couldn't make that up if I tried.

A cool coworker and I decided that we needed a bit of time socializing outside of work, so I invited her to join me at the Austin Gay Leather Social, because it's early in the evening, and there's lots of good people watching. Also, most of the people there are my friends. Yep, my friends are mostly freaks. Thank God.

I had a great time, and was home by ten-thirty. Yeah, it was a wild night, but tame, if that makes any sense at all, which if you read my site enough, it does.

Damn... some people have some pretty messed-up bumper stickers on their cars.

I am not one to talk. My car sports an Apple sticker. Even though I don't currently own a Macintosh, I feel it's important to look as if you are open to new ideas, and the possibility of owning very expensive computers, which I am. Honestly, it just seemed like the thing to do when I put the sticker on my car in 1999, and hell, it's easier to have it than to take it off.

At least I don't have a sticker affixed to my bumper like the one I saw today whilst shuttling about my little burg: "Bitch Goddess" in an ornate font. I'm not sure that if you are indeed a Bitch Goddess that it's even necessary to advertise... wouldn't the other Bitches be able to find you? Would they WANT to?

What has me thinking about all this is that I'm in the market for another automobile, and I wonder what I'll put on it. I'm leaning towards NOTHING right now, but we'll see... if we are at war (what do I mean "IF"?!) I might put some peacenik sticker on there.

And what's with the fish? I swear, I saw an SUV that had two large little Jesus Fish, and three little ones swimming behind it. They must have made the day of the owner of the Christian bookstore... five fish on one vehicle?! That's... what... at least seven dollars worth? (favorite quote from a friend of mine: "Oh, look! That Christian woman is getting a chance to share Jesus with a police officer.")

Of course, there are the smartass people with the Darwin fish, which are funny as hell, but I'd never put on my vehicle because in my experience, the so-called "Christians" with the fish on their cars are the most dangerous kind... the ones with something to prove. I prefer to advertise my Christianity and spirituality with my ACTIONS, thankyouverymuch.

Let's not forget the gay stickers. How important is to show my Pride? (I think I fulfill that gay requirement by going to three parades a year.) I will admit that there was a time when I drove around with a rainbow flag on my car, but I decided that I didn't need a sticker on my purple Volvo with the fat man lipsynching and dancing to Whitney Houston behind the wheel. Call me crazy, but I think anyone who needs to, will know.

There has been lots of stuff in the media lately about morning-show radio DJs being incredibly inappropriate, and doing stupid pranks that cause them to lose their job. It has made me think about when I was in a morning show contest, which I won!

So the morning started out with men calling, complaining about how high-maintenance the women in their lives were. This, of course, prompted the women to begin calling, telling everyone about how the men in their lives were hard to keep.

Eventually, this turned into a contest to find the highest maintenance man in Houston. So of course, I had to call about my boyfriend at the time.

I actually went into the bathroom with the cordless phone, and live on the air, read the labels of all the little bottles of stuff (all 56 of them) and explained that his showers could go on for 90 minutes at a time (No, I don't know why I put up with that shit. I wouldn't now!).

I won the contest, and got a t-shirt and tickets to some concert, but I didn't get to go, because my officially high-maintenance boyfriend refused to go with me. He was really pissed at me for telling the truth on Houston's Number One Radio Station. Rightfully so... he was teased for months!

SO, I have this problem.

I was in a major discount store with a friend. Well, not really a FRIEND, per se, but someone I've sort of just met. I like him, and think he's a great guy, and I'm enjoying getting to know him and his partner.

So we are in an aisle that is not really occupied by anyone but the two of us, and I started to smell a horrible, foul stench.

That's right. My friend had, mid-conversation and while shopping, unleashed a silent-but-deadly upon the two of us. A very, very nasty one. Like, if you ate Taco Bell for lunch, and then Indian food for dinner. Yeah. That bad. I was stunned.

I mean, really, what in the work would he think I thought? There were two people there, and I knew I hadn't emitted a butt burp, and there were only two people there. Well, two people and noxious cloud of colorless gas. Ew. And also, Ew.

The kicker is that I'm by no means a fart prude. I think that a good healthy air biscuit every now and then is a good thing. I have been known to rip a few, too, but I usually know the people I do that to/with very well and usually don't ignore it. I make a big-ass (whoo! accidental pun!) joke about it, and we all have a good laugh.

So my problem is that now, every time I'm around him, I can't get it out my head. I live in fear that he's going emit more poisonous gas from his ass, and wither the flowers and frighten small pets around us. It's a valid fear, since he has already shown a predilection for doing so. It's a bad, bad thing.

If you want to know how my weekend was, you can read Friday's entry... I did everything I said I'd do, except I didn't get to go to my friends's party. This is what happens when you don't drive yourself to beer drinkin' festivals an hour outside of town. I sure hope they invite me next time... I'm really, really not flaky.

So anyway, once I determined it was too late to go to the party, I decided that I wanted to see Xanadu, because I hadn't in awhile, and it's important that you watch it often because it's so wonderful (the Gene Kelly moments) and so... horrible during the rest of the film. Why are they wearing roller skates? Why in the HELL is there an animation scene? What in the HELL were they thinking? The country music interlude in the finale... it goes on and on. Whatta trainwreck.

That being said, I think I'm going to order it for myself... it's so bad, it's good (kinda like Showgirls, or Flashdance).

SO... what is YOUR favorite bad movie?

The rest of my weekend was just as I said it would be. I'm relaxed and all that. Hope your weekend was as great!

It's been awhile, but... it's time to:

Critique a Random Web Photo!

Today's is almost TOO easy.  I found this on a personals site for gay men.  He claimed he was 55.  Make your OWN punchline about that.

• "Grandpa?  Why is the keyboard sticky?"
• "Fuck Bob Dole!  I am the Viagra GOD!"
• "No, really... I'd do Bob Dole... where is he?"
• "Do I look sexy in these glasses?"
• Jack didn't understand why his family stopped visiting.
• "We've secretly replaced Grandpa's clothes with kinky sexwear!  Let's see if he notices..."
• "My my... these trusses certainaly have gotten elaborate!"

Well, I did it to myself.

I scheduled myself a weekend that will make me crave Monday.

Okay, no I haven't... I could never be THAT busy! But here's what I have planned:

• On Friday after work, I'm meeting some friends in Austin for some Happy Hour.  It's somebody's birthday, but I don't know who, and that should last until 8 or so.
• After that, I have to get ready to register people to vote.  The changed my bar assignment to a nicer bar, which kind of sucks, because everyone knows me at the seedy one!
• Sleep.
• I have brunch with the Bears at ten, at one of my favorite Austin diners.
• Immediately thereafter, we are taking a daytrip to Fredricksburg, which is about an hour away.  This weekend marks the beginning of their Octoberfest.  Yum... sausage and beer... what more could a guy want?
• When we get back, I've been invited to a big houseparty.  Should be fun, I like the people I know who are going!
• Sleep.
• Sunday morning.  I should attend the worship services of my choice, but something tells me that I'm going to be attending Our Lady of the Sealy Posturepedic.
• There was supposed to be a Journaler's meeting on Sunday afternoon, but it's been postponed, because of JournalCon, etc... so I might attend chior practice at Our Lady of the Sealy Posturepedic, too.
• I actually just realized that I'm busy, busy busy for Friday and Saturday, but Sunday is free.  Anybody want to make plans?!  I actually could work some, too... we'll see.

Ahem!

Wha?! Huh?!  OH... Scaley!  I wasn't expecting you to speak to me.  It's been awhile.

No kidding.  You've been avoiding me, haven't you?

Just a little.  I was really good for awhile.  I weighed myself everyday as I was getting into the shower...

Yeah, I know.  I kinda wish my electronic eye didn't face up, actually.  That's a really weird angle to view you at...

ENOUGH of that.  Why do I have the honor today?

Well, I talked to the car, and he told me you went to Jack in the Box last weekend.

What's your point?

That shit is NASTY for you.  No WONDER I'm still sitting on my end since Friday when the cleaning lady put me here.

I KNOW.  I hate how she moves you and all my stuff around.  I mean, she's like the most passive-agressive...

We're sort of drifting off the subject there, aren't we?  What's up with this whole TrimTim situation?  Is it happening?

It WAS.  I mean, you know better than I do. Hell, you told ME!  But yeah, I've lost 35 pounds, but that was just the beginning, huh?

I was really proud of you, and I can't lie: it's much better weighing you when you weigh less...

So are you ashamed of me, Scaley?

Hey, I wouldn't bother you if I didn't care.  Just, like, um... weigh yourself in briefs or something, okay?

You really are my favorite appliance, at least in the bathroom.

Liar.  The shower massage tells stories.

Don't make me take your batteries out!

I have been accused of being shallow, but damn.  Here's the deal.  I bought this sort of self-assessment workbook thingie, because I don't dwell on my weaknesses enough... I need to write them down in a 20 dollar coloring-book-looking book.

So the book asked me to write down some reasons why I have parted ways with partners before.  Apparently, the goal of this exercise was to make me feel shallow and bitchy.  It did that, but it also made me laugh.  I KNOW you want to read this, right?

Okay.  That's what I thought.  I have dumped men because:

• their hair was too long
• their hair was too short
• they were too nelly
• they were too butch
• they were dumber than I am
• they were smarter than myself, and made me feel inferior
• too artistic
• lack of creativity
• psycho (more than a few of these, I'm afraid!)
• "too together"
• too wealthy
• pauper (and/or white trash)
• from a large family
• only child

I could go on, but you get the point.  I'm friggin' GOLDILOCKS over here, only, you know, I'm not blonde, and not a girl, don't make a habit of home intrusion, and I haven't found the bed that's JUST RIGHT.

I do like bears, though...

Until later, my webfriends...

My computer at home is acting up. It will work fine for a few days, then it will lock up, and then it will take a LONG time to reboot, and I'm supposedly Good With Computers, but I can't fix it,and it sort of pisses me off.

I am resisting my Inner Computer Geek, who keeps telling me that all I have to do is reformat the hard drive and reload the operating system, all my software, and then, of course, put all my stolen music and porn back on it and it will all be fine, but of course, I don't want to do that. I'm annoyed, however, because I know that my Inner Geek is right about this.

I think it might actually make my Inner Geek happy if I bought myself a NEW computer that was all shiny and freshly installed (preferably with an LCD monitor and a DVD burner) and then, I'd fully give THIS computer (which is faster than my websurfing and word processing needs anyway) over to the Geek and let him put Linux or some such geeky shit on this one. Would THAT make him happy? Oh yeah, you betcha!

However, my Inner Accountant has reservations about that plan. Everybody knows he's a spoilsport, though, and if I hadn't gagged him, he wouldn't have let me buy my new cellphone or the sleek Palm, or for that matter, the Weird Al Yankovic DVD (I probably should have listened to him on that one).

So far, underemployment has been the Inner Accountant's argument about keeping spending down. Now that is being resolved, and Inner Geek (aka Inner Gadget Freak) is starting to itch for some new... stuff. HDTV, anyone? They're under two grand! My cable company is broadcasting LOTS of it!).

Actually, IG (aka IGF) can keep wishing. I'm at a point in my life where I'd rather spend my money on more pragmatic things like sport-utilty vehicles and bar tabs and Halloween costumes. I guess actually, that's my Inner Gay Man. And folks, when it comes to all my inner personalities, Inner Gay Man ALWAYS WINS. Trust me on this.