My allergies are totally screwing with me this week. My eyes look like I've been crying and I can't breathe through my nose. Yep, this week, I'm a mouth-breather.

I don't think I'd mind if it weren't fucking with my sleep, but it is. I wake up several times during the night because I'm so miserable. Apparently, people breathe when they're asleep. Who knew?

I could take Sudafed, but that's guarenteed to screw up my sleep. That stuff makes me wake up every one hour and twenty minuites, all night long. I kid you not.

It's no wonder people get addicted to Afrin. Seriously.

Well, I leave work today at noon (or thereabouts) and am heading straight for Dallas, which is around five hours or so north of here.

I'm not looking forward to the drive, but I'm looking forward to seeing my friends. I recieved word last night that some really good friends of mine are going to be there this year, when they didn't expect to be. This makes me very giddy.

Y'all, there is further proof that I'm getting gayer by the day. I am going to be gone three days. Seventy-two hours. I have THREE suitcases in my car, not counting my manbag, laptop and two hypo-allergenic pillows.

Costume changes, you know.

When I go to parties like this one, I change clothes on average of once every three hours or so. Seriously. And a lot of that is leather stuff, which isn't exactly lightweight or portable. Oh well. It's all in fun, and I wouldn't DREAM of packing lighter for something like this.

Last time I was in England, I packed for a month, and I took one suitcase and a backpack. Amazing.

Additionally, I woke up this morning and found out that it was going to be colder in Dallas this weekend than I thought. Do YOU think I packed light, or do you think that packed semi-slutty, revealing clothes? Yeah.

So I had to repack before work. This is going to be one heck of a trip. Of course I'm taking photos, and will post selected photos in the next week or so. Fun, fun!

Have a great weekend, y'all.

I am so lucky, y'all.  Migraines are wonderful!  Head pain so severe you want to die!  Sensitivy to light rocks!  (Maybe I can justify making work buy me an LCD monitor because of the reduced eye strain?)

I'm actually going to go see my doctor next week beacuse the Imitrix isn't working well for me lately.  I don't know if that means my headaches aren't migraines (the thought has crossed my mind), or if I'm just lucky that way.  Either way, this sucks.  I usually have one migraine a year, and so far in the first quarter of this year, I've had three.  That (as my Math Wheels Turn) works out to one a month, and that blows.  Really.

Whatever the case, it had better clear up tomorrow.  On Thursday, I travel to Dallas for the Texas Bear Round-Up.  I know I just got back from a big gay party, but what can I say?  It's that time of year.

In other news, I am meeting with an advisor and putting together my advanced directives, and that includes designating a medical power of attorney that will make decisions based on my wishes should I not be able to express them myself.  I personally feel that this is something that everybody should have.  Maybe I'm just a big ol' control freak and want things my way.  It is, however, my right to have things my way when it comes to medical decisions that affect my quality and quanity of life.  And since I've already had one near miss, I don't want to risk it.

Well, we can't say we didn't know it was coming. They kept telling us, and kept telling us.

We prepared. We sent tons of men and women who were barely in their twenties thousands of miles from home and backed them up with bombs and planes and guns and some of the most kick-ass technology in the world.

I personally prepared by attending a few protests, writing letters to people who can decide such things, and by praying. Despite all that, however, I knew that it wouldn't make one shit bit of difference to our currently selected president, so I made more practical preparations as well.

No, I didn't buy duct tape. Since many television networks (including Mtv!) said that we would be subjected to wall-to-wall war coverage, I began to be more liberal with the record button on my TiVo.

My theory at the time was that I wouldn't want to watch the war coverage, so I should record hours of the Travel Channel (corporate motto: VEGAS! VEGAS! VEGAS!) and HGTV (Homosexuals and Gays TeleVision). So I did. Three hours of my precious sixty hours of recording time is dedicated to The World's Most Amazing Bathrooms! Yeah. Fun.

And then this coverage started. With the exception of the biased news networks (Fox News, I'm looking at you...) we've had increased coverage, but not exactly non-stop. Turns out that advertising dollars are more important than jingoism. Who knew?

Also, I'm finding that I'm watching the coverage. It's amazing to me that they can get live video from a battlefield. Seriously cool. And scary.

And it turns out that much to everyone's suprise, this is a real war! The Iraqis are fighting back! Taking prisoners! Shooting people execution style! Who KNEW?!

We totally aren't just kicking ass and taking names, you know? I think the shock and awe portion of this war has been that the enemy was going to FIGHT US! [i]Quelle suprise![/i]

I've made my position known about this topic, so I'll shut up now, but please, pray for everyone over there and pray for a swift end to this horrible mess we've gotten ourselves into.

Sometimes, you just shouldn't even bother.

The A/C in my Volvo hasn't worked for some time, and in Texas, that means that the car is about six weeks away from being unusable.

Seriously.  Like, I would have to take a change of clothes for each stop along the way, and it would be cooler and more comfortable to take a bicycle, or perhaps put myself in a commercial oven and have a truck take me where I want to go.  My car gets HOT, and no way to cool it off in Texas?  Useless.

So I took it to a highly reputible mechanic, and he confirmed that indeed, when you flipped the switch, there was no air blowing.  Using his super-technical mechanical skills, he determined that my blower moter was out.  Thanks, Dude.  Price?  "Well, it IS a Volvo.."

Uh huh.  So I scraped together the funds for my repairs (thanks, Mom and Dad), and I gave the go-ahead.  Yesterday, I got a call from him, and he told me that there was ALSO a "bad relay." 

Bad Relay?  Turns out it was actually some electrical part that costs well over 150 bucks, and he was NOT talking about the time my swim coach made me swim backstroke at a meet in high school and the other teams lapped me during my Fifty Meters of Backstroke Hell (I SUCKED at backstroke, y'all... who wants to swim on your back where you can't see where they are going?  That's fucked up).  I was also informed that I was not getting my car back yesterday.  Life is SO much fun!

So today, when my mechanic called me, I was really excited, because I just KNEW it was all fixed, and I would be able to drive in refrigerated goodness in no time at all.

Or perhaps not.  Turns out I have a "hole in my core."  Don't know what the fuck that means, but I'm out of money, so for the next month, I'll have AIR blowing in my car (a vast improvement) but it won't be CHILLED air unless I have a Slurpee in front of the vents (a method that is both ineffective AND expensive... just like our goverment).

Am I upset?  Not really.  It won't be "fuck you" hot for at least another month, and I'll perhaps have a new "core" by then.  And if you feel sorry for me, don't.  I have no car payment, and haven't for years.

Well, we've made it halfway through the week.

This has been the sort of week where you go to work at eight, and workworkwork, and look up at the clock, and it's only ten-thirty.  Time seems stretched.  I think it's the stress of a looming war that's getting to me.  Or something.

Today, I decided to take advantage of one of our cultural diversity brown-bag lunches (I was telling Abbycat yesterday about how touchy-feely my office is.  This would be a case in point, wouldn't it?).

The topic for today was Buddhism.  I know just enough about Buddhism to be intrigued by it.  I know that almost without exception, I find people that I know to be Buddhist to be kind, non-judgmental, centered people.  I can certainly use more of THAT in my life.  I found the seminar interesting, and am definitely going to read more about it, because I'm one of those that wants to understand all I can about all sorts of things.  But you probably knew that about me, didn't you?

Some of my friends are more organized than I am, and in an attempt to organize their little clique (of which I enjoy hanging about,) they sent me a master calendar for the rest of year, complete with parties and festivals and bar runs they hope to attend.  I put the ones I'm able and willing to attend on my calendar, and then I put all the appropriate JournalCon dates on there, and I took a look.  Damn, I'm busy!

I'm booking up fast, folks.  If you'd like some Special Time or really any time at all with me, you'd best contact me to make an appointment.  Because I am that important and special.

I'm GOOD enough, I'm SMART enough, and goshdarnit... PEOPLE LIKE ME!

Thanks for all the comments and emails about GG.  We moved her home (she had been in a nursing home) and has been made comfortable.  She's where she wants to be, and she's being well taken care of... she has a nurse with her 24 hours a day.  We should all be so lucky to go this way.  It sucks, but death is going to be on HER terms.  As a hospice employee, I can't tell you how much that means to me.  I'll keep everyone posted, okay?

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Y'all... being single SUCKS.  Sure, I have good friends and family around me a lot.  I am not lonely.  I actually often find myself double or triple booked socially.  I could whip out my cell phone and put together a dinner party with little effort, adn we'd all have a faboo time.

But every morning, I wake up to an empty bed.

People like me.  A lot.  And there are even people who think I'm Hot Stuff (or at least pretty darn Warm Stuff).  But every morning, I wake up in a queen size (of course) bed all by myself. 

I know part of it is my unwillingness to comprimise.  I am PICKY PICKY, because I've settled before, and I won't be making that mistake again.  I know that it's also because I am not totally comfortable with myself... I sometimes forget how great I am, and get shy around people, and don't pursue the way I should.  I feel unworthy.  I know it's silly, but that's how it is.

Back to me being picky.  The man I want to live my life with (whom I don't think I've met yet) will have the following qualities:

• He will have a warped sense of humor like mine.  He will think my puns are the wittiest ever said.  He will understand when I call the brother of the transexual "Before."  He will find this hilarious.
• He will love doing laundry, or have sufficent resources to hire someone to do said laundry.  I don't mind scrubbing commodes, but washing clothes sucks.  If he can cook, that's good, otherwise, he'll have to enjoy eating out.  I am not domestic, and he will have to find this endearing.
• He will do his best to humor me while not being condescending.  I will do the same, I suppose.
• The sex we have will blow each other's minds.
• He will allow me to do little things for him, but won't expect them.  I will do my best to live up to this, too.
• He will have a car (trust me, been there, done this one!)
• He will not blow his nose at a dinner table.

Are we beginning to see why I'm single?  Yeah, I thought so.

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Hey... Texas Folk!

Does anyone know where fat, slutty women buy their clothes?  I need some 28W trashy clothes for a party I'm attending.  Any help would be appreciated, and also rewarded by photos! (Has anyone seen my shame?)

My beloved great grandmother appears to be in her final days, and it's ripping my heart out.

On Saturday, I took several hours away from my friends to go see her. It was really nice, because there wasn't anyone there. It was just the two of us, and she was pretty darn lucid, and we had a wonderful conversation.

We talked about when I was a little kid. We talked about when SHE was a little kid. We talked about how she taught me to dance the Charleston and the jitterbug. We talked about when I was a little boy and used to stay at her house. How I used to lay in bed with her and have her read to me. We talked about her hotcakes. I told her I'd never had hotcakes that good before or since. She told me they weren't that good, and my memory was failing me.

I told her she was always so beautiful. Her response was, "I guess so... in the eyes of Tim." She IS beautiful. I know women thirty years younger than she is who would KILL to have skin as soft as hers. Estee Lauder and Oil of Olay work, people, and she's proof.

As other family members arrived, I ran out of time, and I had to go. As I walked down the hall, I heard her voice, clearer and louder than it has been in months, say "Goodbye, Tim!".

I cried for almost an hour on the way back to my friends.

My parents and other family members are with her now. I will join them shortly, and very very soon, we will say goodbye to her one last time.

I'm trying very hard to keep a normal schedule. It's hard to escape the grief when you work at a hospice, but I'm managing to stay buried in my work. I was okay all week, until I tried to call my mother, and my dad told me that she was at the funeral home, making arrangements.

I got off the phone, and I put my windows down so the wind would block out my sobbing. We're going to lose her, and my world will not be the same without her.

There's more, but I can't write anymore right now. I'm at a loss for words. Damn... death IS powerful.

Well, I'm back. It was a great weekend, as I'm sure you can imagine. I attended LUEY, which is basically a big bunch of parties where 1000 gay men (990, actually, but who's counting?) spend the weekend acting like horny teenagers with no inhibitions. It was lots of fun, and I'm looking forward to tell you all about it... tomorrow. I'm TIRED folks. Also, I took photos, and they will be posted sometime late tomorrow. Thanks for waiting, and I'm off to bed now.

Wow.  What a weekend!

On Wednesday, I'm heading to Houston for LUEY weekend.  I can't say that LUEY a weekend full of debauchery (because my mother reads this) but it, um, sorta is.  I always have a good time at LUEY and I don't go for the sex and stuff as much as I do to socialize with my friends.  I have friends from all over the state, and of course they all converge on Houston this coming weekend.  So I'm going to see my friends.

This past weekend was the Chain of Command run in San Antonio.  It's also a bar run (events and cocktail parties at different bars) though on a much smaller scale.  I had a lot of fun, and spent it with some good friends, and got to know several acquaintances better, too.  Not a bad time at all.

I took lots of pictures.  If you are offended by bare asses, don't go look at them.  You have been warned.  And I have given Google the term bare asses to guide people to my page.  I will not rest until every creepy Google search leads to this page.

Ahem.

Anyway, because of LUEY, I might be a bit scarce here toward the end of the week.  Don't worry, I'll post when I get home, and there will be more pictures.  Pictures that will likely make those pics look tame.  Or not.  I may just sit around my hotel room this weekend, visiting with friends.