Levi Johnston,

you disappoint me.

Don't get me wrong, you've got more gutso than I to go in Playgirl even partly naked, or mostly naked, or all naked but not showing 'the goods.' But still, that photo set just didn't do it for me. I mean, surely you know that Playgirl should really be called Playgayguys, right? Well, anyway. I wouldn't kick you out of bed, but somehow I was expecting more. More definition? More personality showing? Sure, sure, I expected more of 'the stuff' but I get it, didn't want anything that would embarass your kid later. But still, you look a lot better with clothes on. I mean, seriously, dude. You look better with clothes on. With clothes on, I got to imagine a body that was lean and ripped. With clothes off, you're just hairless and young. Pretty, yes. But no more so than thousands of other guys your age.

Waiting for these pictures and finally getting them reminds me of a quote from Star Trek:
"Having is not so pleasing a thing as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true." ~ Spock

Hotel Horny

I've had so much travel sex on business trips over the years, that I somehow start to get horny just walking in a hotel.

There I was today, going in a hotel right here in town for a meeting with a lady I've known darned near a decade, and I just naturally got horny. Strangers, hotel clerks, the sound of a hotel bar, it all adds up and makes me horny.

And right by the lobby phone, there's this guy. I wouldn't say he was the best thing ever, but I was horny and caught myself blatantly looking at him and checking out his. . . appearance, let's just say.

He had on a wedding ring, pressed khaki pants and tan colored dressy cowboy boots, and some type of nylon golf pull over thing. His legs were spread wide and I just couldn't help but find it appealing, that wide leg spread of his with those pressed khaki's and cowboy boots. Mmmm mmmm.

And if the damned Blackberry didn't make a loud noise every time I take a picture, there'd be a pic of him on here. But I have looked all over the settings and can not for the life of me get that sound to turn off!

I shoulda bought an iPhone!

Slept

I slept so good at my Mom & Dad's house last night. I always do. I don't know why. I just enjoy climbing into that bed and going to sleep.

It's not like a bed I had in childhood or anything (I don't think it is anyway). There's just something that can be very calming and safe about being at your parents house, I suppose.

$50, a full afternoon, and one big fight

just to get one channel n a new digital antennae at MyFella's.

Thanks so much, television world's conversion to digital signals.

$5 and 30 miles out of the way

to watch my friend's daughter play in a high school basketball game.

See in the distance the team sitting in the chairs? See the one at the far right whose not even in uniform? Yeah, that's her.

See the guy to the right? Total hottie. Strong tan legs with thick wiry black hair on them. Cute face. Checking him out on the fly.

But still, I gotta talk to the Mom about better planning my excursions.

Camille

I'm in love with a lady named Camille Collins.

Camille's alter ego and I met several years ago through a mutual friend. He's a heck of a nice guy. By that time, Camille had gone into retirement with just a very few public appearances.

Last night, she was part of a "retro" night at the night club where she performed. It's now a str8 bar, and I guess the new owner wanted a night for different clientele and is working to build up a Thursday night gay crowd. I got an email that Camille was performing at midnight, and just couldn't wait. I mean, I've waited near on 9 or more years. So yes, staying up til midnight on a weeknight was a bit of a stretch for me these days. I'm old, I admit it. I have the prescriptions to prove it.

But still, the lure of a drag queen is hard to resist for me. Always has been.

So there I am at quarter past midnight (gay time, you know they just can't start on time) and I'm loving every minute of it. Mind you, I'm working hard to just hang back. I'm almost 4 years with MyFella now and I'm not gonna screw that up. And honestly, much of the crowd was far too young and skinny for me. But still . . . there's nothing like a gay bar. The scent of all the men mingling in the air is a glorious thing. Oh, I had not realized how I miss it. Intoxicating. The furtive glances. The brazen open displays of arms and chests. The embraces man to man. The flirty stances. The not so flirty stances of those who make their showing as butch.

And then there's the performers. Camille was everything my heart and soul had hoped she would be. Extravagant. Brazen. Bold. Caustic. Flirty. From her first flowing dress, to the second appearance in the white body suit, to the Grace Jones solid black outfit in thigh high black patent leather Mistress boots. She was simply amazing, amazingly stunning, and all over the stage. Her lip syncing so perfect you'd swear she was singing live.

Oh, how I miss being gay! And oh how Camille was worth the wait!

Just wondering

why I keep having dreams that I'm a cylon from the Battlestar Galactica universe.

Great Aunt Ray

I miss you, my friend.

Angola Prison Rodeo

So several months back, a friend of mine found a magazine article about a prison rodeo in Angola, Louisiana. It's like the 45th year, and it happens every Sunday in October. There's an outdoor arena that seats like 7,000 and has an inmate hobby crafts fair.

So guess where I went this weekend? Yep - Angola!

So it was to be a friends weekend, but I wanted to do a little more. So I talked MyFella into going with me to see my favorite aunt and uncle. So we were kind of close-ish down there. Sunday morning the whole gang is up and on the way to Angola.

Rain or shine. No cameras or cell phones. And I hate that!

Oh, there came such a rain on our way as you have not seen. Rain just pouring down in sheets. Rain, rain, rain. And us way out in Louisiana.

But we make it - and it's everything we hoped it would be.

Except our seats sucked. They didn't just suck, they were lousy. About one inch away from just beng a scam they called seats. If you call and they tell you all they have left is "ground" that means with a effin hand railing in your face. And by in your face, I mean you can choose to have it at your nose, or lean under it and have it at the back of your head. Scam. But we paid for them and there we were.

Of course MyFella could hang upside down to watch a rodeo. And watch he did. Every minute of it. I really spent most of my time looking at the prisoners ~ uh ~ I mean the crafts. But we both had a good time.

We did learn that Angola, Louisiana is a long, long way from home. And it's best to just plan to spend the night somewhere. Because you're late getting out of there and it's awfully dark. And a long way from home.

But it's definitely something we would do again.

Text:

Her: Mary Johnson just told me what you said to Bill hoping he was gay - bahah

Me: I think Mary Johnson just told a lie. I have NEVER mentioned being gay to Bill. Never

Her: She said - when Bill was gettin married- he said to u - I have something to tell you - and u said -- 'that ur gay?'-- and he laughed and thought u were halarious

Me: (sent before the one above came in and was read) Bill made some comments several years back to me about his ex-wife's aunt possibly being Lesbian and I knew then not to ever talk to him about it.

I love Bill but I never.

Her: I see - i know u can't stand the b-- I just have to work w her

Me: He told me he liked his wife's aunt but that if he ever found out she was lesbian he would keep his kids from her. 'course that was over a decade ago and those kids are grown now.

But he did call me one day before he married this wife and since I couldn't use my regular line "you're pregnant?" I could have gone with "your gay?" So my bad for joking with him. I certainly didn't mean to imply I was coming on to him.

So you can tell Mary that explains why I never heard from Bill again so I guess we weren't friends after all.

He'll be the first one I had to write off. His loss because I'm great.

Her: No - not that at all - she said he loves u and think ur halaious - I am sure decade old opinion is not the same anymore -- she said he thinks highly of u

Me: I find it hard to believe Mary Smith said a nice sincere word about anyone much less me.

Maybe I am wrong - I am sure it's possible the adult parent Mary Johnson is different from the Mary Smith girl I knew in high school.

Me: And yes, I probably need therapy. (Laughing out loud real big)

Her: She did - really

Her: Ha

Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine!

The "school nurse" (family nurse practicioner at the employee health clinic where I work) and I have had a tacit agreement for the past several appointments. She tells me I'm diabetic. I tell her I am pre-diabetic with some full diabetic tendencies. She tells me she wants me on metformin, and I tell her to wait. The last couple of A1C's were at a particular level and we kind of agreed if I would keep it there, we'd be o.k., she and I.

Well, today I get home and the lab results are in from the last test. It inched up one tenth.

The note said, "I'm ready to start low-dose Metformin whenever you are TO PREVENT OR AT LEAST REDUCE LONG TERM COMPLICATIONS OF DIABETES."

Well. Fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine!

So I called the clinic and told them to fax a prescription to our mail order pharmacy, and "If they are at my house, I might CONSIDER taking them. But I'm not admitting to her that she's right."

"I know," he said.

So there's been this guy at work the whole time I've been there. Let's just call him Joe. Joe's a cute guy, in a brown-haired boy-next-door way. Lives at least an hour and 15 minutes away but said he likes where his kid goes to school so it's not worth moving any closer. Always speaks to people, always calls them by name. Because the nature of his job involves a lot of climbing in the ceiling, he can wear blue jeans every day and a polo type shirt. Honestly, his butt looks good in jeans. And like I said, he's super nice.

So the other day I'm coming in and he's going out and he stops me, shakes my hand and says he's gone. Got another job.

You're kidding?
No.
You're kidding?
No.

Seems he wasn't kidding. Had a good offer, our employer didn't counter, so he's on his way out. I told him I had worked for his new employer for 5 years and they head man was always very good to me, and I still have a few friends there.

Then I said, "So we're not co-workers anymore?"
He said, "No."
Then I said, "I hate to hear that. Because I'm gay, you're cute and I've enjoyed looking at you on the casino floor."
"I know," he said.
"How do you know?" I said.
"Because Angie told me one when when you walked by 'He thinks you're cute'."

So I promptly called Angie to relate the story to her and call her ugly names. She laughed. I laughed.

I'm gonna miss looking at him on the casino floor. Wistful sigh.

So a girl?

Email from MyFella: You are so the girl.. lol


The following was text you sent me... LOL

(Email from me, to MyFella, below)

I am totally excited.

Since I got a normal this weekend, I am going ahead and doing what I want to do, which is to try a hot stone massage. I mean, it’s all on the certificate, you know. So it’s fine to try something new.

Then Tuesday I am getting a pedicure. Last night I trimmed my toe nails just a little because they are kind of long. But you know I want to get my monies worth. So I didn’t trim them too much.

But I’m very excited. Very.

The Big Day

is here. How funny that I started celebrating on Friday night, and it's carrying on for 4 solid days. But today I turn 40.

I had lunch with two best pals at our Second Annual luncheon downtown at the Arcade Restaurant. And tonight I'm going to the Orpheum with another best gal pal to see A Chorus Line.

A good day. Good times.

Partied, Drank, Loved like a man half my age.

I'm not even sure where to begin. I'm not even sure words can describe it.

So about six months ago, MyFella decided he wanted to throw me a party for my 40th. I (not too aggressively) tried to talk him out of it. Then decided that some of my friends won't make it another ten years! So we went forward.

We knew what room and restaurant we wanted to use. I decided to use Evite because I didn't trust Facebook groups, even the private ones, to not let comments bleed out. And since we were paying for dinner, we needed to manage the invitations.

MyFella started scanning pictures out of my photo albums and emailing my friends for pictures. He confirmed the room and the menu. One of my best friends confirmed a flight in from Arizona. Another confirmed a drive in from about 3 hours away, and yet another from 4. Locals promised to come.

Then the big day happens. And truly, to have known about the party, I could not have been more surprised.

The DVD that he and his niece made came very close to making me cry. (My sister in law reports that even her husband got a little misty eyed.) The room was full of a variety of friends. The buffet was delicious.

The two biggest surprises of the night? A gal I love so much was able to get off work on a Saturday night to come - and she serenaded me 3 songs by acoustical guitar. I was speechless. Floored.

The cake, which we had agreed would come from a W-M that does very good cakes, was home made and hand decorated as Wonder Woman.

I can't even tell you the energy that MyFella put into this party. I can't tell you the joy from so many friends. It was a phenomenal rush that is carrying me over for days now.

The gift that keeps on giving . . .

He bought me a flat bed trailer. Diamond cut metal, you know what I'm talking about. "It tilts," he said. You know, so when you back up your 3 wheeler, it tilts down so you can back off. Then when you want back up, someone pushes the back end down for you so you can ride up then it levels itself with gravity and weight. (Probably something the Egyptians thought of first).

He even wants to paint it red. My response? "No. We're not putting a hitch on my brand new car, even if you paint the trailer to match."

It's a little bit like buying your Mom a vacuum for her birthday. It's slightly better, I suppose, because I'm going to read into it that he's planning on me being around that spot of land enough to need a flat bed trailer.

But I'm not hitching it to my new car.

Mrs. Ruby got her rings.

Which is a euphimism for Mrs. Ruby died.

Mrs. Ruby lived down the street from us growing up, in our little 1970's cul de sac neighborhood. She was as good hearted and enjoyable a lady as you could ever want to know. She lived in a modest sized 2 bedroom, 1 bath house that was built on the same floor plan as several of the houses on that street before they took one-by-one renovations. Her yard was always neatly mowed.

Mrs. Ruby had two sons older than us, I never really knew them except to know they were her sons. I don't recall them living there, so if I'm 40 they're . . . well, older.

Mrs. Ruby was also quite lively. Her living arrangement was the product of a divorce from a gentleman in town who had a fairly decent reputation. Mrs. Ruby once told my mother that the minute he turned 60, she was at the social security office filing off of him. Because you know, she could. So she did. I think Mrs. Ruby found special joy in knowing that his wife knew she'd done it. I love that story about Mrs. Ruby.

Our neighborhood was cut into a hill and a deep (or so it seemed) ditch ran down the back property line, with a board across it some places so the kids could access the hill. Behind Mrs. Ruby lived Charlotte and there was a board there. One day I was walking across the board and walked into a blue racer snake. It went one way and I went the other. Mrs. Ruby tried to catch me but I didn't stop til I was near home.

Mrs. Ruby also had a score of house helpers. It seemed perfectly normal at the time, and I think it helped everyone out. Mrs. Ruby took to a young lady, I don't know how she met her, but the young lady started coming over after school and helping Mrs. Ruby cook and clean house. I think Mrs. Ruby eventually employed several young ladies from that family. Looking back, I think the family was not well off financially. Not that I think Mrs. Ruby had much money, but I think the bit she paid them helped them more than it did her. And in doing so, helped her.

Mrs. Ruby in her later years went into a nursing home and her body failed her long before her mind. I think of myself quite poorly for failing to visit her. I'm not quite sure when she went in there, when the calls to my parents home stopped. Somehow I just never went. I should have been better for that, for a lady who watched out her open door on the children of the neighborhood for two decades. I should have made the time to go and see her. I was a good kid, I should have been a better adult.

If it crossed her mind when she got to heaven, she probably forgave me. But still I tear up. Thinking about the cooking fragrances in her home,her well kept yard, the sound of her voice on the phone, how Mom really borrowed "a cup of sugar" from her in a coffee cup.

She was the best.

Once a SPO brother, always a SPO brother.

I'm going to mull over 3 different titles in my head for this one.

"Don't be ashamed of what you've done, be ashamed of what you're doing"
"The gift was in the hour, not in the gift"
"The gift of brotherhood, 20 years later"

So 20 years ago I was in a fraternity in high school. That is probably a full post or three on it's own. But today's story is about this one guy with the initials D.G. So, D.G. and I were friends and he was a bit younger than me. Great guy, lot of fun. The kind of guy that always had a beat up truck and drove it hard, had a pack of smokes and beer. The kind of guy that would stand with you in a fight. . . and probably started more than one. Just your good, redneck kind of small town guy.

I probably haven't laid eyes on D.G. in at least 10 years, and even then just in passing at W-M. Some months ago I ran into his wife and she gave me his digits, but I did something with them and then couldn't really remember who she was - knew she had been related to him, but couldn't for the life of me remember how.

So this week he finds me on F.B. So we exchange a few posts and he tells me he has something from the frat days he wants to give me. So long story short, we exchange some messages, etc. and then today before I leave my hometown we meet up. It's the cover to a scrapbook we made for a contest one year with our national convention. All the pages out of it are gone. So I'm not really sure what to do with the cover. Honestly, I was a little let down by that, I had hoped the whole book would be intact. It was a perfect record of a year long since past. A year of brotherhood, friends, growth, etc. (like I said, a couple of posts on it's own).

But then the most amazing and wonderful thing happened - we stood there in the street in front of my brother's house and talked. And talked. And talked. And talked. In the sun. For an hour. And I found out things about D.G. that I hadn't known (or had just forgotten) in the past 20 plus years. Some old things, some new things, some scary things, some wonderful things.

It's hard to describe, but it's easy to describe, you know? I mean, all the stuff he told me about, that's his. That's not mine to post and blog about. But the experience of him telling, sharing, one on one with me. That's why 24 years ago I pledged that fraternity in that small little home town of mine.

And all these years later, there was an hour when the friendship was as strong as it was then, but this time between two adults. It was a really great hour.

So, what to title the post?

"maybe it was Mobile"

just doesn't have the same ring as Memphis. But there we were.

I was able to attend a work related convention and MyFella was kind enough to take off a few days and go with me. I was very thankful because, with all being about me, I did not want to make that drive alone. 6 hours there, a couple of days, then a drive to Biloxi and then a drive home from there. Gosh, Wednesday, the last day was a long freaking day.

If you find yourself in downtown mobile, pop in 3 George's. It's a locally owned ice cream and chocolate candy shoppe. You can see the big table with the marble slab where they roll out the chocolate. And you can sit at the bar and watch her scoop your ice cream into a metal cannister before putting it in the whirley thing.

Thank you, MyFella, for taking time off just to make me happy and ride along.

Don't stop believing

an open letter to the membership of my Rotary club:

Our club's founding president has suggested I be a renegade and change this year's closing motto to "Don't stop believing," the well known lyrics to the Journey song of the same name. When I found out the motto this year is "The future of Rotary is in your hands" I admit that I liked "Don't stop believing" better.

Don't stop believing is a better motto for our club. When I was a founding member some 12 or more years ago, I was fresh out of college and I thought it was a great thing to put on my resume. I never considered that a decade later I would return to the club and become President in a year and a half. But more importantly, I never considered the things this club would keep accomplishing – the maintaining of a diverse and loyal membership and some strong civic programs. We have in our membership real estate agents, farmers, bankers, government employees that represent the county to a variety of audiences in the fields of economic growth and convention and tourism, and several other membership fields. This diversity in such a modest sized club is very impressive. Just as impressive is our senior scholarship program and our own version of "No 3rd grader left behind" with our yearly dictionary drive. Plus we have a yearly food pantry drive and other drives to benefit deserving recipients. For over 12 years, the membership has kept believing in itself and the good that it can do in this community

Before this Rotary year began, I shared with the membership my dream for a successful year. It is my hope and goal for the membership to take seriously our individual commitments to the program and bring a wealth of speakers. I hope for a hands-on volunteer program. By necessity, I've had to add a fundraiser to my personal list, by membership agreement we are planning a membership drive this year, and by request of District we added a news letter. So far, I'm a home run on 2 out of 5 programs. And I'm thrilled with the success. This is the second newsletter of the year, and we have had some great programs.

Each of us has a belief in something. Perhaps a belief in a powerful and loving God, who can't really be seen or understood. Perhaps a belief in a loving spouse or partner who looks forward your coming home from work each night. Or perhaps it's a belief that if you keep trying and keep working, that the children will grow up strong and smart, the crops will grow, the bills will get paid and in general, everything will be just a little better than it was before.

I share that belief in my life in general, and in our Rotary club. We've got a strong foundation, and with a little work, the year will be even better.

Don't stop believing
Club Rotary President

3 Day

Took today off. I sure do enjoy a 3 day weekend. Drove up to MyFella's last night. I'm gonna do a little bit of running around this morning, get the oil changed, go to W-M, that sort of stuff. I'm hopeful sometime he'll ring me and we'll do lunch together at this little locals place that has a very good buffet on Fridays.

The buffet has homemade chicken strips. And one pan of cobbler, so if you get there and the cobbler's out, you need to take a bowl right then. Don't wait. That cracks me up.

Have a good weekend!

Song

"When you run with the Doctor, it feels like it will never end. But however hard you try, you can’t run forever. Everybody knows that everybody dies. And nobody knows it like the Doctor. But I do think that all the skies of all the worlds might just turn dark if he ever, for one moment, accepted . . . Everybody knows that everybody dies. But not every day. Not today.

Some days are special. Some days are so, so blessed. Some days nobody dies at all.

Now and then, every once in a very long while, every day in a million days when the wind stands fair and the Doctor comes to call . . . everybody lives." ~ Song

Dmitry Medvedev

why do I have a crush on you? Every time I see you on the news, I think of the Vin Diesel line from XXX, "The things I'm gonna do for my country."

Plumber of my dreams

This pic doesn't really do him justice. But that's probably a good thing. It's not real polite to put crystal clear pics of strangers on a blog. Oh but he's a handsome thing. Tall glass of water.

The smell of his home. . .

When MyFella pulled up Friday, I opened his truck to help them grab their stuff, and the fragrance of his yard and home washed over me in the nicest way. It's like the smell of a fresh breeze through old pine trees and over sun warmed gravel.

My hatchet is rusty.

So last night, I was cleaning up the apartment a little bit in anticipation of MyFella and Jamie coming this weekend. (MyFella is known to say "You used to clean up before I came. I guess the honeymoon is over." Now, don't get me to talking about his house.) So, I was going to go down to Noodle & Kitten's for a bit of grilled supper, but trying to put away a few things before I went, so I wouldn't be up so late.

And that's when it happened. My toes squished on the little throw down rug in the hallway, under that little silver rolling shelf. The area is set up for a washing machine, but I don't own one. So I've just got a little utility shelf there. The one I worked so hard on about a month back to clean up and throw away old stuff. Anyway, my toes aren't supposed to squish on the rug. So I knew something was wrong. Sigh.

I get to trying to figure it out. I pull the shelf out, I pat the walls and open the cabinets. There's no leak, none anywhere. And more odd, some of the stuff on the shelf is soaking wet, other stuff, mainly the top shelf, bone dry. It's just not making sense to me. I start taking things off the rolling shelf and my tool box, closed and latched, is FULL of water. Dingy brown water. And I still can't find any container of mine that has opened and leaked, and I can't find any leak in the wall or ceiling.

I've called the property management co. and gotten the answering service, and a minute later they call back with Chris. I happen to know Chris because he is that crazy D.J. that my old landlord let throw a lawn party the last year I was there. That landlord used him for maintenance work around there and he was a total cutie. Much more cute without his beard, but still cute. (He also has a great story about living in a haunted house on Central and having a roommate RUN out of the house, fall down on the lawn and NEVER go back in the house again. Chris had to move the guys stuff out for him.) So anyway, Chris calls back and about that moment, water comes POURING out of one of the washing machines pipes in the wall. Soapy, warm water. Lots of it. Lots and lots.

Chris says he is sending someone over, which annoys me to no end because. . . . well because I always thought he was hot and I want to look at him. I figure I'm missing dinner, I've got a washing machine's worth of water in my floor, ruined stuff, a dozen towels in the floor, and the least I could do is get a look at Chris.

(and in the mean time I've run upstairs and gotten them to turn their washer off. They seem like real nice folks).

So about a half hour later, there's this TOTAL HOTTIE coming out of the work van. Tall glass of water. Nice cheek bones, brown hair, Carrhart work pants (I go weak in the knees for Carrhart pants). Really, makes Chris look kind of like the plain brother in comparison.

Aside from looking good, which was rolling off him in waves, he really didn't do anything at all. He said they would come back today to auger out the pipes, the drain pipe must have gotten stopped up somewhere lower than where their pipe connects to mine (though MyFella said there SHOULD have been a cap to prevent backflow to me). He went upstairs to do what I already did, which was ask them not to run the washing machine. (I wanted to be annoyed at his lack of doing anything coupled with him actually doing what I've already done – but since that square jaw and brown hair was talking to me, I forgave him.)

So then I had some serious o.c.d. and cleanliness issues rolling through my head. My floor in that hallway was covered with someone else's dirty wash water. My possessions in the hallway were soaked. Including all my tools. So there was some serious time spent with Windex and the Wet Jet Swiffer last night wiping off the stuff that was salvageable. Throwing other stuff away. I tossed those towels onto the bushes outside, nothing else I could think of to do with them.

Then looking at all my tools floating in a bath of someone else's dirty water just about sent me over the edge. Plus I know water leads to rust. I was just unhappy. Dirty water rust on my tools (what's left since I think Joe from the old apartment "acquired" a bunch of them, but that's years ago now). So I get a bucket of hot soapy water, dip them all in it, dip them in rinse water, lay them out to dry on a towel on the coffee table, then sit down and spend an hour spraying them down with WD-40 and rubbing them good. I couldn't think of anything else to put on them because the only oil I have is cooking oil. So I'm putting WD-40 down on my pipe wrench, my hatchet, my hammers, my screw drivers, etc. The blade on the hatchet already discolored, so I was none too happy about it. The pipe wrench, turns out, was stiff enough that I think it was already trying to rust up before the water bath. So it got lots of WD-40 and I opened it up completely.

The tool boxes got a good washing and drying, and eventually laid all the freshly oiled tools back in them. This time with room to spare because some old junk that was in them I just threw away.

And after all of this, late at night, MyFella calls and I tell him what's going on. This morning I mention that I want to rub down the hatchet again but want to be careful with Jamie at the house this weekend, so I had closed up the tool boxes and put them under the coffee table. After all of this, you know what his main comment is?

"Why do you own a hatchet?"

True Blood

Oh, Ryan Kwanten, you would love me if only you knew me.

Going home,

You know what I don't understand about going home?

I have slept in that bed many times. Over many years. I lived there for darned near 30 years. I have my own toothbrush and stick of deodorant there.

But somehow, I still get up and spend the day at work thinking, "I can't wait to get home tonight" like I've been somewhere on an overnight trip.

Makes no sense.

"the way we were"

The nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time, "You look exactly the same." It was nice to hear, from someone who knew me a long time ago. It was a lie, but he said it with sincerity in his voice. I could almost believe him, and maybe I did, for just a moment. It was a good moment. With this blog, maybe I can remember the moment, hold on to the memory of seeing an old friend again.


Ah, enough of the memory and longing for a time gone by. Here's the good part - Said by a friend I probably haven't seen in a decade or more, who happens to look HOT. Great butt, big package, flat tummy, firm chest. I wanted to love him and hate him at the same time. His FB photo's had implied he'd held on to his hottiness. But up close, he has. He's got some weird issue with his hair. But still, he's hot. (Yes, I know he's got a flat tummy and firm chest because in my consumate gayness, I managed to cop a feel during a hug. So there.)

His sister, too. Gorgeous, like always.

Back to the memories:

Way, way back in the day, I had a bestest pal around town, a girl pal. I can pin point the exact moment I met her. Well, I can recall how we met, she says she knows what day. But anyway, after about 10 years of hanging tight, she and I had a falling out.

I thought she would call. I thought she would show up for my college graduation. I thought I would hear from her any day. It was ten years later that I came home to my first apartment in Memphis, pushed the answering machine button*, and heard her voice say "Happy Birthday." I kid you not, I slumped against the wall and slid to the floor.

Anyway, since then, we've tried to talk and keep in touch. Sometimes we do so much as spend a weekend sending texts trying to figure out if we'll see each other, only to not see each other. Then two years ago she called and said, "I made you dance with me twenty years ago, I'm making you do it again" so I was her date to her high school reunion. Though we've talked since, we hadn't seen each other since.

Then her father died this week in a tragic accident. Sudden, unexpected vehicle accident.

I was torn over what to do, when to go home, how much to "be there" for her. I mean, I knew I would be there for the visitation and the funeral. And once there was a time I would have been by her side throughout. But that time was long since over. Long since.

There was a moment standing beside her last night when it felt like I could take my old place again. No one else was standing there. I would wipe away years with a blink of the eye.

Then the moment passed, and I knew so had our time. At least in that way, the way it was, or to sing the Karen Carpenter song, "the way we were." **

But, as funerals do, they bring together old faces and I've seen old friends. There's the comment "Why do people only do this at funerals?" I considered staying for the luncheon, I knew there wasn't anything going on at work. But I think somewhere deep inside, I just felt like the time had passed. I did what any good former best friend/pseudo boyfriend would do. I quietly went away.

She asked me to go to the family lunch at the church afterwards. I could have. It might have even been nice. But that's not what happened, not quite what felt. . . right?

Anyway, in spite of the circumstances, it was good to see old friends. And better to see one in particular who is gor-geous and a total hottie. It felt good when he said, "You look exactly the same" even though I know it's a lie.

It was good to remember "the way we were" even if it was only for a brief moment.

Lesbionic Attire

* Uh - someone who reads this blog regularly might recognize herself in passing in this post. I'm not saying anything, I'm just saying.*

Typical lesbian dress: OK. When I moved to the Big City, my very first two friends in the city were a lesbionic partner two-some. I actually met them just a few weeks before moving up, and they were super super great to me giving me just sort of an anchor of friends.

The lesbionic partner two-some broke up years ago. (Not that you couldn't see it coming when one partner kept going to an ex's house "to get money for the insurance.) Some people didn't like ex-Partner S, but I did. And I think I said so. But I digress, because that's not really the point of this blog.

This blog is about lesbionic dress.

(You know, I really don't understand lesbianism. I don't understand why anyone would want to sleep with one woman, much less two together.)

So, I only run into Former Partner S occasionally, usually at Pride, which means just once a year. But I am reminded of what a good friend she was, and the first night we met at work, and the first night I drove up to the Big City and they took me riding.

So anyway, at Pride this year, "S" was in a karaoke competition to raise money for Pride. And she got up on the stage and belted out a version of "You can reach me by caravan, cross the desert like an Arab man, I don't care how you get here, just get here if you can" and I swear to you I thought "For someone to sing to me like that, I would cross the desert." I just did not know she could sing so well. Had no idea.

But here's what she's wearing that day. And I swear to you, as I sat in the concert last night watching Melissa, I thought "For all the show this is, I swear I could be watching S." Surely a rock star could have pulled off a stronger look than a karaoke competitor at a small city Pride competition.

Melissa Etheridge

I saw her in concert last night. I'm a huge fan (both physically and in terms of c.d. ownership and memory of lyrics). I've been looking forward to the concert for weeks now, and at the last minute (like literally, walking into the showroom) scored floor seats. (Not that there's very many bad seats in this venue, they were pretty much just handed to me).

I'm gonna tell you the best thing about the concert - her voice is spot on. Perfect. There's no difference between the voice on the c.d.'s and the voice in concert, which tells me she doesn't need any dubbing or working over like all those modern day little flittery sensations. Perfect.

I'm gonna tell you what I didn't like, and it's just a personal preference, not reflective of the concert quality (which was superb) or the recording artist (who is phenomenal) or the crowd's overall reaction (which seemed to be highly enjoying the show).

To me, "up close and personal" in that "unplugged" way translated into "without a band" really just means kinda "dull and dull" to me. It's not my favorite style. Not gonna be.

Now, the audience (every lesbian within driving distance. I met one who drove 5 hours for this) loved it. A big crowd of 'em rushed the stage and stood there the whole night like adoring sycophants (I have wanted to use that word for a long time, but it's hard to work it legitimately into a sentence). And I can't say I blame 'em (the adoring sycophants, not the creator of the word sycophant who didn't take into account how awkward it would be to use). I mean, she's a great singer/songwriter/piano player (who knew?)/guitarist. And like I said, that voice is spot on.

My biggest problem with it? Uh, why I gotta be better dressed than the rock star? Puh-leeze. If I wanted to see ANOTHER lesbian wearing a man's dress shirt hanging open around a t-shirt, I could have just gone to supper at any of a dozen restaurants in this part of town.

Honestly? A man's shirt. Please.

Quote

from my friend Gregory. I just thought it funny. He said it like it's a well known legend or old wive's tale, something we would have all heard as children.

"It's bad luck not to tip a drag queen" as he put a dollar in her jar.

If you ever meet my friend Gregory, you will love him. He is unashamedly himself, he is always planning big, and he is fighting loyal.

An example? My employer, for the first time ever, had a booth this year at the local Pride. A small group of homo's pulled it off in about four days, so we were glad just to have what we could manage. Gregory went to the basement of his division and dug up all kinds of old give-aways so there would be something fun going on, while a couple of girls handled the registration paper work and banners, etc.

Gregory had gone to Sam's Club and filled up two chests with ice and Cokes, Diet Cokes, bottled water, Capri Suns, etc. and bought snacks for us. Mind you, it was 100 degrees and no one else thought to do this. But Gregory did. When I asked if he was going to try to expense it back to the company? "No, I'm just so glad we're doing this."

Later in the day, he was convinced by next year we could have a two-tier float complete with d.j. in time for next year's parade. "Gregory, . . . . " I just didn't know how to finish the sentence. Then "I bet there will be ten more corporations here next year." because we were there along with Nike and FedEx (who have been there for a couple of years). Gregory's dreaming big and thinking we can help pave the way.

My second fave Gregory story of the day? Gregory has an outside voice all the time. All.The.Time. Inside doesn't matter, vicinity doesn't matter. He's on 'broadcast.' So somebody from Pride is taking pictures and Gregory is right next to me saying something. "Gregory, you're yelling in my ear."

"SORRY!"

then he tells the photographer something else.

"Gregory, you're yelling in my ear."

then he tells the photographer something else.

At this point I give up, with an inward smile, and just hope the photographer gets done and moves on.

Photo blog

It's probably a good thing this pic is so blurred. This total hottie in his perfectly pressed seer sucker shorts with an uber hottie girl had just finished gnawing a finger nail off. I thought I should go buy him a burger or something.

Story for the day . . . .

so it's been incredibly hot today and I've been out in it. But I felt giddy like a sugar high, so I forced myself to take a brisk walk.

Now, there's this couple, two guys, that seemed to live akross the skreet from me (yes, I spelled it that way on purpose) that are often taking their walk about the same time as I. Usually we pass going in opposite directions. The other night I gave some greeting and one replied something with a "sir." When that happened, my mind immediately had the bitter impact of my friend "Red" who does not care for a "ma'am" and I knew good and well them boys are as old as me. But anyway . . . tonight we ran into each other at an intersection going the same way. Only one of them was carrying a twin sized mattress. Just the one, not both. His partner was strollin' along beside him.

I said, "I've seen yaw walking some nights just like me. I just gotta tell ya, I would pick up a hand-weight or something, but if you're picking up furniture for your health, you just go ahead and lose more than me."

They told me their names, let's just say Guy 1 and Guy 2. Guy 1 was carrying the mattress and Guy 2 has a broken rib. Guy 2's mom stays with them sometimes and it's a one bedroom apartment so she just makes a pallet on the floor.

I've already offered once to help while we're walking and he's talking and I offer again. He says "Do you mind?" and I said, "Not if I offered twice. If I only offered once, I didn't really want to." So I help Guy 1 carry this mattress. As I tried to figure out how to hold it I said, "How do you want it? to which Guy 1 replied "Anyway as long as it's rough." A few seconds later Guy 2 said, "He didn't catch that." I said, "I did." Guy 2 said, "He's being polite." Really I had a smile on my face, it's not like I've never said anything like that. But it was just sort of funny, you know, the situation.

Just a split second after tossing it over my head and it landing on my hair, I thought "WHERETHAFRUCKDIDTHISCOMEFROM?" and I said, "Did the owners look clean?" (not entirely sure what his frame of reference would be) and he said, "It came from the fire station." To which I thought, "Well, I'd do any of them. So it's o.k. Besides, if they did have freaky sex with some uniform-chasing girl, they probably had sense enough to check her for cooties, right?"

So I help them (him, 'cause there was no them doing the carrying) take it to their house. You can't tell from the front it's duplexed up. Just about in front of Chick-Filet (a'comin soon) someone stops on Union Avenue to take a picture of us! Guy 1 said "You see some crazy stuff" not realizing the irony of his words. I said, "You see everything in Midtown, and sometimes you don't realize you're it." I'm sure we'll pop up on somebody's FB later tonight.

Up to the back of the house we walk in the kitchen and from-my-mouth-to-G-d's-ears there's Guy 2's mother laying on a pallet on the kitchen floor right up next to a 6 person dining room table laid out with a table cloth and gold gilded china. The kitchen has a fireplace left over from who-knows-what-original construction and they have stuffed every square inch with collectible Barbie dolls (cartoon princess versions like Cinderella are all I can remember at a glance) and the whole room is just vibing QUEEN! I mean, who sets out a china in a one bedroom apartment with a tiny kitchen? Come on.

Guy 1 tells the mother to get up a couple of times and as she's slung down on the floor on a cordless phone she has to end her call to pop up. She seems to be in perfectly good health. They lay the mattress down right there. And I pop out before they offer to show me anything else.

I know, I know, I should have been strong and just a demanded a tour. But I was just sort of experiencing sensory overload in the kitchen alone. I don't think I was ready to handle any other rooms.

Honestly, the two guys seem very nice. I hope I'm right.

One Sentence

I love that website/blog, whatever. This posting is too funny.

Ruby Soho

Apparently, getting absolutely smashed, calling him between pukes in the public bathroom, falling asleep on the street and waking up in his bed filled with mud was romantic only on my side.

tags: ex-boyfriend drunk alcohol fake hope [add]

2009-06-14 17:29:06 / Rating: 39.5 /

Extended Dance Remix

On my way to MyFella's house tonight, I popped in some of my old fave gay c.d.'s. I used to say that I loved any song when a gay guy took a 3 minute song and stretched it into 12 or 15. And even better when the intro is 5 minutes long, like Toni Braxton's Spanish Guitar. But I digress, the point is, I forgot. . . . and the music made me remember.

Young, or at least younger. It was '99 when I moved to the city, 10 years ago would make me 29. Still fairly skinny. The gay club was right down the street, at least one of them was and it was arguably the better club. Two sides, one for drag, one for dancing. Seemed like they remodeled every six months and switched sides.

Sweat, the long dance remixes. The way to hold your water bottle in your hand while you danced. The real skinny ones putting tucking their shirts in the back of their pants. The way the bass beat rumbled in your chest and the lights moved in rhythm. Sweat and the smell of it. Lean boys on raised up platforms with glow sticks twirling in their hands. Sweat and the smell of it. Familiar songs redone in extended mixes. A look from a guy across the way. Sweat and the smell of it. The strangers bodies pushing against yours. The guy is closer and his body takes the place of theirs. The pulsating rhythms push your bodies together and your sweat mixes, sweat and the smell of it.

I sometimes left the club as the sun was coming up and would sleep until noon. And if the dance was right, you could feel almost as good as having had sex even if you hadn't.

Oh, how I had forgotten. And how I miss the nights when I stood in the dance floor and let the music lift me, move me, make me. How I could lose myself in the crowd and the lights and the smoke.

I miss being young and gay. But at least I had it. It was mine for a while, right down the street. Many a night, many a weekend, many an over priced cover charge.

Carrying the gay masthead (no pun intended)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hi Gang,

Thanks for all your help thus far in jumping starting our GLBT community involvement efforts. I'd like to begin to formalize the process with this meeting. My goal is to establish (1) a set schedule of events in which we could participate, (2) specific marketing opportunities, and (3) a regular meeting schedule. Please bring any ideas or materials that you may have and please invite anyone that I may have missed - this isn't designed to be solely a marketing committee. I'm looking forward to meeting with each of you.

Have a great weekend and let me know if you have any questions before then.

__________________

OK, first of all, what makes him think I'm gay?

OK, quit laughing beotches!

But seriously ~ Uh, hello, and WTF?! I mean, seriously?! I just open my work email, and there it is, an appointment for next Tuesday for the GLBT Marketing Team?

OK, seriously. Now, I know I'm not in the closet. Just this past Wednesday I made mention to me and MyFella wanting to see a well known entertainer, who happens to be lesbian, who is performing in the area soon. But it's not like I am some sort of gay leader at work, or gay . . . WHATEVER? I mean, I just friggin' work there, for crying out loud. And everybody else mentions their wives, boyfriends, whatever. They don't get put on some committee without anyone even mentioning it to them prior.

See, it reads to me like he thinks I knew this was coming. I have a suspicion that one of my pals told him to put me on it. But this is my deal - this guy is MY boss and I meet with him TWICE A WEEK, on Tuesday and Wednesday. You don't think he had any time this week to mention it to me?

I'm sure Gregory "put this on me" as they say, or as they said in Talladega Nights "Don't you put that on me, Ricky Bobby." I'm sure Gregory did, without a thought. "Put Mike on it. He's gay too!" Just wait til next time I see him. I'm going to tell him his belt doesn't match his shoes. That'll get him.

OK, and if it's not designed to be solely a marketing committee, then what is it? What else is it designed to be?

But honestly, you know what really is annoying me? I'm mad at myself. These people use the Outlook Calendar function faithfully, and if you don't have something at that time, they think you are open. And I have a luncheon meeting in the city with an association on which I sit on the board, so now I have to either tell the boss or tell the association. So I'm mad at myself for not keeping my calendar updated.

Two positive things: The busier they keep you, the more you feel like your job is safe, even though that's false. The meeting is over lunch in a buffet restaurant that is pretty good.

Another positive thing? I AM gay, and I'm good in bed.

Just something interesting

that MyFella showed me today.

Civil War Discovery

and going through some old archives and libraries up here, we found an amazing discovery - that our grandfathers served together in the Civil War! We even found proof picture positive!

Wednesday on vacation

MyFella woke up early this morning sick to his stomach. I've run 'round and picked up a Sprite, saltines, and Dramamine and loperamide.

Jamie and I took a drive this morning and ended up with a delightful surprise luncheon with a sorta friend that I met through work. A doll of a young lady, just a pretty pretty brunette who works up here in the tourism business.

Came back to the hotel and MyFella is still out and groggy and still having bouts of it. So I gave him some more pills and Sprite. I think I'm gonna get Jamie up to go for another ride. So point sitting here.

But on the plus side, here's a pic or two.

"Did someone pee in the water?"

the little girl said when they evacuated everyone out of all the pools because of a threat of lightning from the clouds.

Jamie, MyFella's little brother, is having a super blast on his vacation. Today we spent all day at the water park. (Hint ~ take cheap flip flops. The hot concrete will bite your feet by the end of the day.) He especially enjoyed the simple inner tube float around the park, and then we found a children's area with some small small water slides that were great fun for him. And honestly great fun for a lot of people too grown to be on them.

Not sure about the evening meal tonight. Last night we went to our fave place, The Pottery Cafe. Maybe we'll find a second fave tonight.

Pigeon Forge

Vacation day one! And day 10 in a row with MyFella. All is good.

Week

It's going to be a whole week together. I spent the weekend at MyFella's house, and this week he has a seminar or something in town. So it will be 7 straight nights together.

Post Secret: Predictable and Becoming More Common

but funny just the same.

3 Day Cake

This cake recipe is taken from Noodle's mom. It's a 5 day coconut cake that is refridgerated and you continue to add the sour cream icing over a couple of days, absorbing the moisture and sugar. Phenom!

MyFella and I were going to make it together for a family reunion he has today, but our schedule didn't work out to be together this weekend. So he's made it. It's absorbed the icing on the side so it looks a little bare. Since you have to make the icing up a night in advance and leave in the fridge, there's not any more to cover it. But it's his first attempt to make the cake.

This cake is crazy good. Crazy. Good.


______
Recipe below for those interested:

5 DAY COCONUT CAKE

ICING:

16 OZ SOUR CREAM

2 PKGS FROZEN COCONUT (THAWED)

2 CUPS SUGAR

DAY 1

MIX SOUR CREAM AND SUGAR. ADD THAWED COCONUT.

LET FROSTING SIT IN REFRIGERATOR OVERNIGHT BEFORE USING.

DAY 2

COOK 1 BOX OF DUNCAN HINES YELLOW CAKE MIX AS DIRECTED FOR

2 LAYERS. LET COOL COMPLETELY. SLICE THE 2 LAYERS IN HALF TO

CREATE 4 LAYERS. PUT CAKE TOGETHER, ICING TOP OF EACH LAYER,

PLACING CUT SIDE OF EACH LAYER UP TO ABSORB ICING. STORE IN AN

AIRTIGHT CONTAINER IN THE REFRIGERATOR. (NOTE: THE CAKE WILL NOT

LOOK VERY PRETTY RIGHT AFTER FROSTING.)

DAY 3

THE ICING WILL BE SUFFICENTLY ABSORBED TO ALLOW YOU TO DRESS

UP THE CAKE WITH A FROSTING KNIFE.SPREAD THE COCONUT EVENLY

OVER THE TOP AND SIDES OF THE CAKE.

SERVE ON DAY 5 OR 6

( I SAVE A LITTLE OF THE FROSTING TO DRESS UP BARE SPOTS )

Hard Working Eye Candy

First I had this blog posted and later realized that I had pictures of him with his face showing. That may be a bit rude. (Ya think?) I mean part of me says "You're working shirtless looking like that in Midtown? Surely you know some gay guy's going to drive by 3 times, right?" Then I decided to just redo the post with pictures of him from this angle, so his face isn't front-on shown. From every direction, it's pretty.
____

This little piece of eye candy is working across the street in the lot this morning. I normally appreciate a much more beefy man. But from an aesthetic point of view, this is pleasant. And he is tanned, dirty and hard working.

P.S. Yes, it's just a little bit stalkerish of me to have taken a photo of him. Don't be so judgemental.

Cumberland Presbyterian

The building had set empty for a while, I didn't even realize it was empty. I thought it was a church, and after a while the huge "for sale" sign set in. Then it started in the papers that the offices of Cumberland Presbyterian had moved to the new "East" part of the city and the land had been sold to Chick Filet.

If I understand it correctly, the historical preservation society talked Chick Filet into leaving up the front most part of the building as a facade. It seemed a good idea at the time. Such a beautiful building. But now it's looking like the husk of a bug that you find on a tree. Just a pale, empty shell. No life. And what was once beautiful is ugly in empty comparison.

Peruvian Pepper of Death

Apparently if you're 11 and really only want cheese pizza, the tiniest bit of a supreme pizza can illicit the physical response of going to the bathroom to "wash my mouth out 7 times."

1.	Peruvian Death Pepper	51 up, 9 down
	A hellishly hot pepper that puts all other peppers to shame. Probably close to the 15 or 16million scoville units, if not more as it is mythical in nature. Can be seen in a Garfield Comic strip, as Jon and Garfield have a hot pepper eating contest with Garfield being unable to stomach the Peruvian Death Pepper. Heh, you think that tabasco sauce is hot? Try this PERUVIAN DEATH PEPPER!!!

Stereotypically Gay

This little piece of eye candy is working across the street in the lot this morning. I normally appreciate a much more beefy man. But from an aesthetic point of view, this is pleasant. And he is tanned, dirty and hard working.

P.S. Yes, it's just a little bit stalkerish of me to have taken a photo of him. Don't be so judgemental.

Star Trek

(spoiler alert, don't go any further if you have an interest in the new movie and have not yet seen it)

"Canon, in terms of a fictional universe, is any material that is considered to be "genuine", or can be directly referenced as material produced by the original author or creator of a series. Basically, something that is "canon" means that it is something that "actually happened" in that fictional universe. An example of something non-canon is a fan-fiction; a fan fiction about a particular story is not "canon", as the story in the fan fiction never actually happened in that fictional universe."

The more I think on it, the more I continue to have a problem with the movie's extreme deviation from canon, especially in the area of Spock.

In this movie, we are led to believe that Spock chooses to undergo kholinar, as he did in the original (now "prime") universe. Yet Spock chooses to have a romantic relationship with Nyota Uhura, who is a cadet while he appears to be a teacher or instructor of some sort.

Since the from-the-future-Romulan ship only came through some 20 or so years prior, and had contact with only one ship, it is extremely doubtful that it was able to undo generations of genetic coding leading the Vulcan people to Pon Farr, which is essentially "horny every 7 years." Yes, yes, Spock is half human. But we are led to believe that he underwent successfuly the kholinar ritual.

His planet has not had access to the ship from the future. The Vulcan genetic history was not rewritten. It's easy enough to say that the lack of lives on the destroyed Federation vessel could have affected his involvement in Star Fleet and he somehow ended up responsible for the no-win scenario. But to say it took out the success of Kholinar and the establishment of Pon Farr is a stretch.

In addition, the character flaw of having an affair with a cadet under his guidance totally changes the nature of who Spock is and was and will be.

The business person in me, the real person in 2010, understands that the objective of this movie was to secure new fans for new cash flow and "life" in the franchise. I applaud the writers for a fantastic story and the whole crew for a well done movie. But did we have to destroy the foundation of a character in doing so? Are we supposed to destroy the established foundations of entire species to get new action-movie fans? Toss out everything a trekkie ever loved about a Vulcan?

Come on. You went too far, and you know it.

Out of the mouths of babes . . .

tonight I kept the little ones. If you read Noodle's blog, it's Sass & Spyder. An 11 year old and his younger sister.

I suggested a brief craft project, nothing more than using permanent markers to decorate two plain coffee mugs, one for each parent.

Spyder decided to do the father's, and used some symbolism. The word "Dad" and the words "I hate work" and "I love coffee" started it off. Then he decided to add a few drawings of things that exemplify "his dadness." Such as boxer shorts and a striped tie.

His little sister offered up this tidbit: "sleeping, tooting, eating, that's what dad likes" and the son followed up with "He does like to sit on the couch. He's lazy."

You know I wrote that down so I could remember it later and put it in a handy-dandy blog.

No,

I haven't abandoned the blog. (For the 5 or so readers out there ~ lol ) I just tend to blog when I'm thinking about something. And I guess I'm not thinking so much lately.

My 40th birthday is coming up in a few months, so MyFella and I have decided that he is going to surprise me with a birthday party. It's going to be great fun. He's already picked out the restaurant and reserved the room (alas, for the type of party he wants, my favorite "Molly's" just won't do ~ they don't have a private room or the option to do a catered menu) and chosen the menu. It's going to be at a local bbq restaurant. And stealing the idea from a friend's birthday party, he is going to allow attendee's to read a poem honoring/roasting me. He'll be sending out a "save the date" soon (as soon as I get him email addresses) and asking for any photo the attendee's want to email for inclusion in a power point. It's going to be a super great time. I'm going to be utterly totally surprised.

We're having to take off this weekend, though we had plans to spend it together, I've ended up with several other things coming in and we decided it's easier to take off this weekend. For family obligations he's not able to come here.

I can't think of much else to say.

Star Trek

I am having trouble with my thoughts coalescing into one cohesive opinion.

Worth seeing? Absolutely.
Will I go to again? Maybe.
Will it take watching it again to wrap my head around it? Probably.
Did I love it? Emphatically yes! I think so?

O.K. Remember that with the exception of TOS, I watched Star Trek first hand, first run. And my youth wasn't so far removed from TOS really. I was in Jr. High for The Motion Picture and high school for The New Generation. I've seen canon first hand. Canon is important to me.

This movie is so far removed from canon that you can't even describe it. Further more, certain story line choices with Vulcan and Amanda bother me to no end. I do not like those decisions. Emphatically. Strongly.

Additionally, the concept that the universe is so changed due to Nero's i. . (wait, if you haven't watched the movie, stop reading. Right now. Seriously.) . . . due to Nero's interaction is predicated on his entry (re-entry?) into the time line at a certain point. However, visual effects would indicate that technology, etc. was vastly changed before (? ~ oh time discussions can be so difficult) Nero's reentry.

Changes in the Vulcan time line, hence Spock's time line, should not have been so drastic, either, as they were outside the established (canon) course of events. But anyway -

the movie could not have existed without Spock. Original Spock. And truly, the Kirk character esconsed in our minds with Shatner would not have been appropriate. Besides, Kirk's arch nemesis being the foil gets old plus Kirk died in that wretched power ribbon movie. Ugh.

Anyway. Nimoy did a fabulous job with Original Spock and made it all possible. And for that reason, it works.

The writing is excellent and the action scenes great. But I am still having trouble wrapping my mind around continuity questions.

________

I think maybe I wish that instead of reimagining the universe of TOS, that they had taken the script and modified it to be an addition on the existing universe, i.e., a ship and crew after TNG, Voyager, DSN, etc. Pop it forward another 50 years and somehow write characters with the same depth and breadth, and give them a fresh start. With the new look of the technology and the excellent writers, it would not have been hard to do.

____

You know, Battlestar Galactica reimagined themselves, but they were in a totally different situation. There had been no "real" or canon continuity since the original show. So you could and you should reimagine it and get it going. But Star Trek's not like that ~ fans have had an entire universe to build on since the early 80's, or at least since '87 when TNG came out.

I applaud the ability to capture a new audience. And genuinely I love the new movie. It just deviates so far from canon. Vulcan and Amanda just break my heart! I probably could have gotten over everything else but Vulcan and Amanda.

___________

Love, love, love Ben Cross. Always have. Since he reprised Barnabas so many years ago. He did a wonderful job as Sarek.

Love, love, love Wynona Rider as Amanda. I'm not sure her make up covered up her youth, hard as they tried. But still, I loved her. I dislike their choices with her. But that's that.

Uh, anyone who loves the new Kirk should take a good look at Nero. Total burly hottie.

And oh, way to downplay Karl Urban's total hottiness. Completely forgot that I want him as a possession.

And what the'ell did they say Uhura's first name is?

Best

Best t-shirt seen today? "Future trophy wife"

Best songs heard at the Malco? 80's favorites "Dancing in the Sheets" and "I wear my sunglasses at night."

You're doing it now, aren't you, humming in your head "so I can, so I can . . . " and then wondering what the'ell those next words are.

Star Trek

Gosh, I love that man of mine! This t-shirt was waiting for me in the mail today, courtesy Bad Fly T-shirt gurus.

MyFella sure knows how to sweet talk me.