Thursday, June 29, 2006

Smell ya later!

Kev and I make great travel companions- a fact that was not lost on either of us during our Prideventure this past weekend. We rarely, if ever, fight, we amuse ourselves to no end, we eat the same shit, like the same type men, but most of all...

We can fart in front of each other.

Not only do we secretly delight in grossing the other out with our fetidness, we actually find it highly amusing. Even the act of blowing up a bathroom can make us laugh deliriously.

This last Pride weekend was no exception. After much imbibing and several meals of protein and spice, our poor bowels were simply ravaged. Even on the way down, I started the ball rolling in the MINI with what I thougth was a 'shart'. It was a false alarm though, as it was just the sweat in my crack making me THINK that i had let a bit more go than anticipated.

At one point (Saturday afternoon I believe) my farts were likened to "a dirty egg salad sandwich left on a hot car seat". (Nice similie Kev-Kev!) While I found Kevin's farts to be more reminiscent of what you would get if you fed a horse oats, alfalfa, and chicken curry.

Either way- we killed off the better portion of the scented candle that Kev had brought for 'just such occasions'. Raspberry delight can only do so much.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Pride 2006: A Saga

The above represent some pictures from Pride in Atlanta (2006). Kev and I had a good time with no fighting (or throwing of any boots or other objects across a room).

FRIDAY: We drove down to Atlanta in 100 degree teperatures- with Jack's top down. (Jack is the name of my bright yellow and black Mini Cooper). Girls just want to have fun, I suppose, but the fun stopped when Kev started getting a sunburn. And I was serious about the 100 degrees. I watched the car temp indicator go up by degree increments and I would give Kev reports. "Its 96." "98". etc. Because of this, our taints sweated so much that the armorall from black, pleather seats had soaked into our shorts giving us a nice sheen. It was truly grody.

On the way down we were passed by some guys in a car and I thought they may have looked over. I said to Kevin, "You think they were gay and headed down for Pride?" He looked over at me and said, "Chris, there were four guys...................... in an InFINiti!" The way he said the infiniti part (like its a gay car and I should know this) made me lose my shit for like 20 miles. And the rest of the weekend I used it --- with varying lenght pauses--- for comedic effect.

Turns out the guys WERE gay, and the guy driving was a guy Kevin is interested in and ended up sucking all sorts of face with at the Eagle on Saturday.

Our bootleg hotel -- Day Inn--- was really in the hood. Very cheap, but also very seedy. The lobby smelled of old cat litter and chinese food. The temperature difference between the lobby and the first floor was a minimum 20 degrees. All the ceiling tiles in our room were warped, etc.

Plus sides of the hotel included the attached waffle house (never used), the scary man who stood in his doorway drinking and staring at us, and the fact that the hotel was 2.5 miles from all of our destinations in Atlanta.

Friday night was Woofs and Heretic. Two bars that were really cool. Woofs is a sports bar for sports bears. VERY hot men inside, and very friendly. That's where I met Walter (from NC) and coaxed him into coming to Heretic. He did and we made out furiously on the dance floor. I was quite trashy. Heretic is a dark, divey, dungeon of a dance bar but cool and dark and fun with good music. We had fun there, and that's where Kev started his flirtation with Big Bry (guy from the Infiniti).

OH- there was a big wind storm that blew through Atlanta on Friday afternoon late. It took out the main stage at the park, where Kimberly Locke was set to perform. I think that the stage was taken out by Kimberly herself during a sound check, and the wind was merely blamed for this.

SATURDAY: Park day. We got up in good order and made it to Piedmont Park before noon. Spent 4 hours walking around the park, chatting, drinking, literature perusing, survey taking, and generally soaking up the rays. I tried to masturbate a blowup dog; Kev made out with a big inflatable lube bottle. It was a busy day. We were definitely thirsty spies by the end of the day (another scorcher!)

That night was the Eagle. Where I wore a harness. ANd an arm cuff. It was all very slutty and surreal. I'll post some more pictures (maybe). I put in the picture of me from behind in the harness, which I believe is my best side as it does not involve my chest or stomach. The harness DID get me a lot of attention, and many many offers. And some suck face time with random strangers. And I may or may not have been invited to go home with a couple and their out of town 'friend' for a pool swim, a jacuzzi dip, and some fun. And I may or may not have accepted said offer (much to my chagrin).

Note about the Eagle. It started pouring rain about an hour before we left for the bar and didnn't stop much the rest of the weekend. And it was heavy rain, too. We got soaked running from the car to the bar, but since I was only really wearing jeans, it didn't much matter.

SUNDAY: Parade day. It dawned gloomily, and got worse. Basically the parade went on, but right before the start a HUGE bolt of lightning struck close to the route and the thunder was deafening. All the fags cheered of course. Then the rain started. FAT rain, a la Forrest Gump. Serious fat, heavy rain. Then it stopped for about the first 1/4 of the parade people. Then the sky opened up and it fucking poured. Of course DJs were playing 'its raining men' and everyone was dancing and just not giving a fuck at that point. It was insane. Kev got soaked and his cell phone died. And his shoes smelled like they died.

Sunday night was back to Woofs and the Eagle. Not as much fun for me (no harness this time) but Kevin did enjoy making out with a leather daddy and getting his leather pit smell on his fingers. OH, and then he made out with a redneck guy that wouldn't give me the time of day. Boo, that whore!

I am thoroughly convinced that nobody talked to me on Sunday either because (a) they saw how whorish I was on Saturday or (b) I was wearing my glasses. And bears and leather guys don't make passes at guys who wear glasses.

MONDAY: Back for home- in nothing but solid rain.

Hot man haiku #8

Zinedine Zidane
Oh man would I love to see
You and Beckham fuck.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Pride Casualties...

Ok- I am writing this quick post so that people don't think I've 'gone dark'.

Kev and I survived our 2nd Pride experience in Atlanta. There were only a few casualties; the list is as follows:

Earrings (1)
Pair of sneakers (1)
Performance stage (1)
Razr cell phone (1)
Bead necklace (1- at least)
Possible friendships (2) nothing to do with Kev and I
Self-esteem (1)
Tops of feet (2)
Chafed taints (2)
Rotted bowels (2)
Olfactory senses (2)-- see above
Hotel Lobby (1)

That's the short list. This does NOT include the numerous costumes, floats, tiaras, wigs, and leather items lost or damaged during the torrential downpour during the Pride parade on Sunday.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

1 em cada 10 argentinos é gay

Ok- and THIS one for Pride too. I think the gist is that 1 in 10 guys are gay, and the guys around the room start trying to 'degayify' themselves. I think its funny.


In honor of gay pride weekend, I feel I have to blog this commercial. I have always thought of it as brilliant advertising. Plus the boy toy's are HOT!

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Stalker Greetings: a division of Hellmark

Does it count that I feel slightly dirty posting this?

Ok, so several years ago (like 3) I started sorta seeing this guy. Nice guy. Rich. Good dick. All the usual good stuff. Unfortunately he ended up being WAY more into me that I was into him.

Story of my life (to date).

When I started to cool things off a bit, he kinda turned 'stalkerish'. Calling all the time. And we're talking messages like in the movie "the Cable Guy".

"Hey- I got a call, but it didn't show up on my caller ID. Just wondering if it was you. Call me." Shit like that.

AND I got the wonderful card (left at my door) one night. This was after he 'popped by' one evening around 11:30 pm just to see if I was ok, because I hadn't returned his phone call. I was in bed (alone) when he rang my doorbell. I'm serious when I say this: if anyone who reads this ever dates me, do NOT pull this type of shit. It is the absolute fastest way to get me to run for the hills.

Anyway, back to the card. As you can see, he put in a lot of time doing the X's and O's. And the little drawings represent 'scenes' from our dates. I got a nail in a tire at one point, but because I have 'run flats' I am evidently smart. Also, there is a scene about farts, and a scene in a restaurant where i order something low carb. OH, an my personal favorite is the one showing two stick figures in bed with one saying "hurts" and the other saying "feels good".

Was he SERIOUS with this? C'mon! Who draws this stuff?

I am not a sentimental kind of guy. I don't tend to keep cards or anything like that. In fact, i was convinced that I had pitched this one a long time ago. But I found it buried in my piano bench abotu 4 months ago during a cleaning binge.

I guess I thought I could get some mileage out of it. After all, how many stalker cards does one get in a lifetime?

Hot Man Haiku # 16

David Sutcliffe-- wow!
Tasty piece of 'man candy'
Let me suck on you

Tuesday, June 20, 2006


I am one happy boy today!

Carolina DIDN'T shit the bed as I was predicting, they found their game again, and they done brung IT!

Even after being robbed of a goal in the first period, The Canes managed to tough it out and seize the cup. Which was the way that it should have been, all things considered.

I know that the Oilers were an 8th seed, and were the "cinderella" team of the season. And naturally I would have been rooting for them in ANY other Cup (because I'm an underdog kinda guy). BUT- look at the 'Canes roster. Brind'amour who had played for 17 years- no cup. Wesley- 18 years, no cup. Hedican- 14 years, no cup. And Doug Weight. And gosh... others. So many great veterans that had played so long without getting their name on that precious cup.

Until now.

Cool things about going to the Cane's games: it is NOISY. Loudest arena in the NHL. Decibel levels over 112 when things get going. And the crowd is always rowdy- like a college crowd. They take their cue from all the college basketball in the area. Its very fun.

And last night that place was IN. FUCKING. SANE.

Congrats to the Carolina Hurricanes! I'm very happy.

P.S. my boy Eric Cole who was out for most of the season (with a broken NECK, not shoulder) played in games 6 and 7! He's back. He made a difference. And I'm gonna gay marry him someday.

Monday, June 19, 2006

Clay or k.d.??

I find this image disturbing on so many levels. When I see this picture, I seriously think its k.d. lang.

Its the hair. I mean, is he TRYING to disavow his gayness? That hairstyle (and color- my GOD the color!) is definitely a step forward on the 'straight' path. Jebus! Next there'll be photos of him rug-munching!

Someone seriously needs to go 'wonder twins' on his ass. Form of some 'ice shears', shape of a gay hair dresser.

Really. Must we all be subjected to this?

The Joy of Bear411

I have finally discovered my 'peeps'!

Of course I'm a regular "Johnny come lately to the rave party" when it comes to discovering some of these gay male internet sites. I mean, I started years ago on AOL- and then progressed to ( if you ask me). Then more recently I stumbled upon men4sexnow (how trashy am I?) and (how EXCEEDINGLY trashy am I??)

All of these sites are ok, but I always felt like they were lacking something. The guys on them didn't necessarily reflect the types of guys that I like or want to chat with and most just want the one thing (or two things...) However, I still have maintained this glittering seed of hope every time I long on that I will find my future ex-husband. Yet this hope was on life support and fading....

And then this past weekend I discovered Bear411.

All I have to say is: finally, guys that don't shave their chest hair! Bear411 is chock full of normal guys. Regular guys. GUY guys. Guys who drink beer and watch sports. Guys who aren't so body conscious they will turn down your request for a pizza and movie night so that they can spend 3 hours at the gym maxing out their glutes.

Of course, I have a bit of a dilemma brewing. I am not sure that I qualify as a 'bear'. I'm 6 feet tall and currently hovering near 200 lbs. I do have a hairy chest, but that's about it. Technically I think I'm like an otter (I can swim on my back and crack open clams on my chest) but I'm not furry enough. I don't think I'm a cub (I think of those guys as being either under 30 or under 5'9". Am I a wolf? don't know. I think Kev came up with the term "Squotter"-- squirrel and otter. Is THAT what I am? If anyone has a category for me, lemme know.

Anyhoo... this weekend I got to chat with a lot of decent, NICE guys on the 411. Down to earth and friendly types that didn't start off by asking me for my dick size. And I even chatted with men down in Atlanta and got a few phone numbers for Pride this coming weekend. I may actually even call some of them when Kev and I are at the park wandering about getting drunk.

And so, to all the guys that said I should check this site out, I say a hearty thank you. And if it this site turns into a crapfest like all the others, I'm gonna go Squotter all over your weenie asses!

Saturday, June 17, 2006

Pride Checklist

Kev and I are anxiously awaiting our trip to Atlanta for Gay Pride. I went last year with him and his partner. This year, even though its just us, we are gonna have a kick ass time. Kev's already been networking with men down there, and we have tentative plans to meet up with some rugby players in a beer tent (yes, i'm pre-drooling right now!) He also has been chatting up a bartender at Woof's. We should be well taken care-of by the time we finally get there.

In preparation for our trip, I have a checkoff list. It looks a bit something like this:


Hotel Reservation and verification
Car serviced
Car washed, waxed, and cleaned
Cut hair
grow goatee
get swimsuit
get camo shorts
TAN- or at least even up the farmers tan I'm sporting
three pair of jeans
1 pair motorcycle boots
1 pr. flipflops
2 pr shorts
3 tanktops
Red Sox sleeveless T
British sleeveless
1 pr boxers (to sleep in)
2 t-shirts (white)
2 t-shirts (black and grey)
Harness (yes I have a harness)
Leather cowboy hat
1 baseball cap
1 military style (russian proletariat) cap
Cell Phone and charger
Digital camera
nose hair trimmers
dental floss
moisturizer (aveda for men)
shampoo (aveda- scalp benefits)

Anything else I figure I can buy there. Or steal from a trick's house.

Friday, June 16, 2006

A Shitty Date... Again.

I am a bona-fide loser magnet.

Did I hear an astonished gasp? I can almost hear you whispering amongst yourselves, "Nah. It ain't so!" He's fun. Handsome (nee woofy!). Sarcastic. And possibly (to use a woefully underused term from Mean Girls) 'fetch'." But alas, its true.

First let me define the term. Loser (loo'zhur): n. (der. sanskrit 'lusara' meaning to scrape away with a stick) 1. not a winner 2. a person with no dating merits (aka scrub) 3. nerd with no hollywood transformation possibilities 4. someone who has misplaced something such as common sense, etc.

My losers tend to fall into a few categories. First, the 80 year old man. Evidently I am VERY attractive to the Tampa Bay set. Second, the 40-something with no job. Third, the stalker.

My last date was with a stalker.

Now, I'm not stupid but I am subject to flattery. And this guy (we'll call him "Bob" for that's his name) said I was very cute. I think he even used the word "hot"-- which had I had my thinking cap on, I would have picked up as the first red flag.

The online chatting went relatively well, and his picture was decent (albeit old). I did the math and added 4 years to his online age, and about 20 lbs to his picture- and with all that I still thought he looked decent enough to meet.

And so I agreed to a coffee date. At a neutral location between our respective homes (see? I can be smart).

When he walked up, I realized I should have used the 'new math' and added about 60 pounds to his picture, and about 8 years. But no matter- I do like the beef. And he still had retained some of his ex collegiate football player build (huge legs!) Oh, and he had a hairy chest, and was fairly masculine. Blue eyes. All things in the plus column.

Negatives: bad moussed thinning hair that was swept back. not a good look. on anyone. Bad southern accent. Penchant for staring at my crotch.

And so his date began. I would've said "our" date, had he not spent the first 15 minutes ranting about his ex-best friend Christopher that he just had a run-in with in Ft. Lauderdale during their vacation that he just got back from but it wasn't really a vacation because Christopher made him insane by hitting on him every few minutes and trying to get him to sleep in his bed but that just wouldn't work because Bob just wanted friendship and then the woofy neighbor starting hitting on Bob and it pissed Christopher off so they had a fight and then neighbor and Bob went to get BBQ down the road.....

You get the idea. I swear the man has mastered circular breathing because he did not stop for one second during his diatribe.

Then it went on to the "what do you do" conversation. I told him about my boring job in 5 minutes. He told me about his in 30 where he dropped such names as Patti Labelle, Lee Greenwood, Jim Valvano, etc. The names thudded about like so many toads from a apocalyptic thunderstorm.

Then we discussed likes. He mentioned that he enjoys comedy movies with Whoopi Goldberg. And that's about it. Oh, and he LOVES the movie 'Sordid Lives' which I hate. He hates star wars and has never seen a Harry Potter movie-- mainly because of the religious connotations.

He's a church-goin Baptist. Every Sunday. Uggh! I am decidedly NOT Baptist.

Then hobbies. He enjoys travel and lounging on a beach. I can't sit still on a beach for more than 10 minutes without going crazy.

A couple of the red flags that went up during the conversation: when he talked about his friends and how he couldn't wait for me to meet them. Or when he talked about travel and said, 'We should plan a trip to Key West...". I'd known him for one hour at that point.

Then the coup de grace....

We got up to leave (and go our separate ways), and as we start walking- he drops something. Or more accurately, something drops from him and proceeds to roll on the ground and under an adjacent table. I see it roll and stop, and it is without a doubt a rubber "O" ring... a cock ring! His cock ring had fallen off, slid down his shorts leg, and then rolled away from him.

He retrieves it saying (I shit you not), "Hmm, I wonder what that was? probably something off the bottom of the cup." Then he fakes throwing it in the garbage only to shove it in his pocket.

As I'm driving in the parking lot for the exit, my phone rings. its him. He just wants to call to say he had a great time and is looking forward to our next date.

He calls me 4 times on Saturday but only leaves a message two times. Then he calls me twice on Sunday.

I don't return the calls.

Then he calls me twice on MONDAY while I'm at work (he's leaving messages on my cell phone). I finally text him back and let him know that I got ALL his messages and that one would have been sufficient.

Long story longer- I called him on Monday and told him that this wasn't going to work and that I just didn't see it going any further.

I'm glad I don't have any pet rabbits so that I can come home to "hossenpfeffer suprise".

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Cavaliers Brass - Chorale by Richard Saucedo

Love the sound! I'm such a HUGE geek about this stuff!

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Cavaliers Drill - Inside the MACHINE

Ok- This is the time of year when I turn into a big geek! I love drum and bugle corps, especially the Cavaliers (I marched with them in 1989).

This gives the viewer a bit of a taste of what its like to be on the field marching the drill.

First show of the season is FRIDAY.... GO CAVIES!

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Amendment to Be

This is a perfect example of why the Simpsons is so fucking brilliant.

Hot Man Haiku # 3

Demi-God Steve Young
Too smokin' for fuckin' words
Oh, I got your milk!


I inherited my parents 'rabid sports fan' behavior.

I got this along with my brown eyes and my penchant for tulle window treatments- Thanks Be to mom and dad. My parents have been known to literally throw things about a room during a bad moment in an Iowa Football or Basketball game. Shouting at the t.v. was just part of living on any given saturday.

And now I do the EXACT same thing- but with my teams (Northwestern anything, Carolina Hurricanes, Pittsburg Steelers, Indy Colts, anyone who plays Duke in basketball, etc).

I have been avoiding watching any Stanley Cup games because I KNEW this fact about myself, and I didn't want to suffer. But last night (as we are in the nadir of tV season) I flipped on Game 4 of the Cup.

Oh my GOD- it was a bit of a nail biter for me. Even though the 'Canes went up 2-1 in the second, they didn't look sharp. Edmonton was outskating them and hitting them HARD. It was an ugly, defensive game. That and Carolina got a ton of penalty minutes- for really minor shit. A lot of hooking calls. BOO. That's just 'goin for the puck'!

So, imagine me sitting naked on my leather couch (I was getting ready for bed during commercial breaks), clutching a pillow, shouting at the TV in the final minutes of the game getting my insides all twisted up and my heart pumping with adrenaline.

I get so emotionally invested in sports teams its not funny.

And I'm rooting for the Hurricanes, because (a) I live down here and go to their games, and (b) I had season tix a few years ago the last time they went to the Stanley Cup.

The last time I was actually in the arena for the triple OT game versus Detroit. It was absolutely INSAAAAAANE! And a heartbreaker to lose.

Brindy and Co come back to Raleigh with the chance to finish it out on Wednesday. Let's hope they bring home the Cup! They really do deserve it this year.

Monday, June 12, 2006

Auntie Em! Auntie Em! Its a Twister!!

I'm convinced that my friend Kev and I were in our very own Twister sequence on Saturday night.

I went to visit Kev so that we could journey to the Eagle in Charlotte on Saturday evening. It promised to be good, with some Colt studio models there, and it was also 'biker weekend'. We were excited.

We hop in Kev's 'stang, and begin our drive. It was a very muggy night, and we could see flickers of lightning to the south- which just happened to be the direction we were driving. The flickering got much more intense the closer to Charlotte that we got. It would have been beautiful to watch, had Kev not informed me that he doesn't trust the tires on his car in heavy rain, and he also just doesn't like to drive in downpours.


Miraculously, the weather held off until about 10 miles outside Charlotte. Then the rain began. And it was like the rain in the movie Psycho, where the wipers won't clear it off the windshield.

At about 6 miles to our exit, the wind started going nuts. The rain was coming horizonally across the interstate, and people were pulled off left and right. Still we forged ahead at about 15 miles an hour. For another 1/2 mile or so. That's when it started hailing and things got a bit hairy.

The lightning started striking ferociously all around. A bolt or so every 10 - 15 seconds. And VERY close by- like inside a mile. Almost no lag between flash and boom. We were frantically flipping through AM radio stations to find a weather update, but the lightning was making the radio crackle and pop with static. It was so dark we couldn't really see much, the rain was heavy and the wind was blowing debris across the interstate. A pine 'branch' blew across the interstate right in front of our car.

Kev is going less than 10 miles per hour at this point, and we are sort of in an open spot of land between interstate exits. Kev had just asked "Should I pull over?" when the lightning struck. There was one flash in front of us by maybe 100 yards or so, and then not 5 seconds later a second BRILLIANT flash hit about 25 yards to our right. The second flash blew something up, and white sparks like fireworks flew in every direction.

In that instant I had a "Twister" flashback to when they are on the farm and the tornado is bearing down on them and the sparks are flying by the grain silos.

"Go! Go! Go!" I yelled.

Kev punches it and we hurry to the next overpass area. He can't see because the rain is so fierce, but I see that we are next to a tall embankment. "Pull over here!" I shout.

We stop the car, and are listening to the storm rage about. Cars are simply stopped IN the interstate lanes at this point. I'm watching out the side windows to see if I can see anything coming. Kev and I undo our seatbelts and discuss exit strategies-- the ditch to the right of the car will provide shelter in case we need to bail out.

The wind is strong enough that it begins to shake his mustang, and it feels like the car shifts a little. Kev says, "did you just feel that?" Yes, I had felt that.

After about 5 more minutes of sitting, the weather abates some. We decide to press on to the next exit and get off and wait for a while. We make it there without incident.

After another 10 minute wait, we proceed into Charlotte and to the Eagle. Once we get into Charlotte, the rain stops and there is no more storm, just lightning flickers in the distance.

At the Eagle later, Kev and I joked about our Twister moment with some of the men there. "Cow" became our catchphrase... along with "Another cow... no, I think that was the same one."

I think we were a bit lucky, actually.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

Cool things about my house

I love Gardenias.

The flowers are gorgeous and delicate and so very fragrant. The smell is exotic to me- it makes me think of botanical gardens and tropical nights and things like that.

Coincidentally gardenias are also my mother's favorite flowers. All of her corsages when she was a teenager were made of gardenias. Most likely her love affair with them was passed down to me, as I listened to her romantic stories surrounding the blossoms.

One of the coolest things about my house in North Carolina is that I actually have gardenia bushes in my yard. I had no idea that I did when I bought the place;I am deceidely NOT a gardener. But I did know that my house was previously owned by the State of NC's extension horticulturalist or something like that. He did the cool plant.

I am the only house with them in my neighborhood, and really the only house that I've seen in Durham with them. My 'hey neighbors' actually get friendly when they bloom, so they can mooch blossoms and cuttings. I oblige them gladly.

This year the weather has been perfect (excpet for the brief hailstorm) and my gardenia bushes are just going to town! They are so laden with blossoms the branches are being pulled down at unnatural angles. In fact, I can't even get onto my deck to my kitchen door because the blossoms are bent over the steps.

Currently I have many vases of the blooms in my house (kitchen, piano, bedroom, bathroom) and STILL the things keep blooming. I even took a small bouquet to my piano teacher on Friday.

This is probably my favorite time of the year at my house-- no AC needed yet, gardenia frangrance wafting though my houe, my lawn actually looking decent but not yet needing cutting every 6 days.... ah.

If only these two weeks could last all summer.

Thursday, June 08, 2006

Hot Man Haiku #47: Adam

Patriot Kicker
Hero of the Golden Foot
Let me tap your ass

To catch up...

I. GO CAROLINA HURRICANES! They spanked the Oilers 5-0. Ouch!

II. Sad that Blogger was down yesterday.

III. I'm starting a new repeating segment on my blog called "Hot Man Haiku". I will post one shortly.

IV. I may have contacts starting Saturday. I'm giddy about the possibilities for cheap sunglasses!

V. We have an Indian guy at work who's last name is Kumthekar. He prounounces it "Cuhm-Tay-Car". So you can imagine in the south (when people page him over the intercom) it sounds just like "Cum-Taker". Funny.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Go Hurricanes!!!

Ok. Gotta give a shout out to my beloved 'Canes! Woo HOO! They snuck past the Oilers last night to take a 1-0 lead in the Stanley Cup finals.

Of course, true to form, they played like turds until the third period, when they finally decided to 'turn and burn'. I swear, they cannot win a hockey game in the first period. Its like they have to spot the other team a few goals, and THEN they decide to play.

Maybe its fun for them. Kind of like "Hey, y'all tired yet? Huh? Legs getting rubbery? Hmmm, ok then. Now catch THIS!"

Oh, and the picture is of me and one of my favorite 'Canes named Eric Cole. Not only is he smoking HOT, but he's super nice and a great player. Almost rookie of the year (he deserved it!) he was a big part of the team's success this year until he injured his shoulder.

(Psst-- Eric. I'll take care of you and help rehab that shoulder! Call me...)

I got the photo op during a "Skate with the Canes" charity function. I skated up to him and am fairly certain that my gushing went something like this: "I absolutely love watching you play! You're fearless and you crash down the ice like mad! Its incredible and you should have been rookie of the year."

He smiled and thanked me and shook my hand. Then I asked for a picture- we were mid-ice at the time. My gurlfriend Sheri was standing off the ice in the corner with a camera. When he found out where she was, he's like, "C'mon!" and he dashed for the corner.

Then he put his arm around me for the photo. I about melted into the faceoff circle.

Get well, Mr. Cole. Can't wait to see you in action next year!

Simpsons Unplugged

I happened across this video clip. And being such a simpsons fan, I had to include it. Best thing Danny Elfman ever wrote (it rivals the jetsons theme!)

Monday, June 05, 2006

I want to gay-marry Sandra Day O'Connor

I'm sexy, I'm cute! I'm popular to boot!
I'm bitchin', great hair! The boys all love to stare!
I'm wanted, I'm hot! I'm everything your not!
I'm pretty, I'm cool! I dominate this room!

Who am I? Just guess! Guys wanna touch my chest!
I'm rockin'! I smile! And many think I'm vile.
I'm flyin', I jump! You can look but don't you hump! Whoo!
I'm major, I roar! I swear I'm not a whore!

We rule and we lead! We act like we're on speed!
Don't hate us cause we're beautiful well we don't like u either!
We are Justices! We are Justices! ROLL CALL!

Call me Big White!
I'm Sca-Scalia!
S S S Souter! Roar!
Dude, it's Roberts!
I'm Long Dong Thomas! Yeah!
Just call me Ginsberg! O!

I sizzle, I scortch! But now I pass the tourch!
The ballots, are in! And one boy had to win!
He's perky, he's fun! And now he's number 1!
K-kick it Alito! Sca-Sca-Sc Alito!

*Music introducing Alito*

I'm strong and I'm loud! I'm gonna make u proud!
I'm Sca-ScAlito! Your right wing Alito!
Let's, go, Supremes! We are the Superemes! The mighty might Supremes!
We're so terrific! WE MUST BE SupremeCourtJustices!

(I so want to see YouTube do a Bring It On clip with the justices!!!)

Ok- the Bring It On reference aside, I am in love with Sandra Day O'Connor. She's BOTH of the 'f' words: fabulous AND fierce! And after reading about her speech on March 10th of this year at Georgetown University where she showed her claws, I am more smitten with this kitten than ever!

Quotes from her speech:

We must be ever-vigilant against those who would strong-arm the judiciary.

Such threats pose a direct threat to our constitutional freedom. I want you to tune your ears to these attacks ... You have an obligation to speak up.

Statutes and constitutions do not protect judicial independence - people do.

It takes a lot of degeneration before a country falls into dictatorship, but we should avoid these ends by avoiding these beginnings.

She basically called out the current administration and said we are teetering on the edge of a dictatorship. Finally, someone with real power saying these words.

But wait. This speech was given after she retired from the court. And it wasn't covered by the press. And her comments were swept under the rug and neatly patted down. There's no live coverage of this speech available. Only an NPR account of it really exists, and the piggybacked accounts of the NPR account.

How sad is that?

Sandra and I are now planning to move to Toronto, get married, and then open a small B&B. Or at least we should be planning it.

Saturday, June 03, 2006

robot dance

I happened across this video and was blown away by the second kid's moves! Fuckin' incredible...

Friday, June 02, 2006

Dream Sequence

You gotta love fucked up dreams!

This morning I had a real doozy- sort of Alias meets College. Very bizarre and I remember it very vividly, which only seems to happen when I am very tired and hit my snooze alarm in the mornings.

And now for the dream...

I am in a forest clearing, walking with an older guy who is dressed like the crocodile hunter (or a Banana Republic catalog circa 1985). As we are walking toward a picnic table in the middle of the meadow, he starts relaying a story about recent bear attacks and how the people got out of trouble by doing the old "playing possum" technique. I look over at my companion and see that its Macguyver from the TV show. So he's gotta be right about this, right?

As we reach the picnic table that's when we hear it coming. The bear. A big, brown bear is barrelling down on us. Mac yells at me to lie down and to keep still. As I'm getting down (in the shadow of the picnic table) I remember thinking "should I be face up or face down? Face up I could see what's happening, but face down would be more protective..." so I drop on my belly.

Mac is standing on the picnic table- evidently immune to the bear's attack. I have my eyes closed, but I can hear the bear right by me. It starts to sniff around my face and neck- its breath all hot. It keeps making those bear 'chewbacca' noises. Then it paws me severely and starts pulling me toward it. I am being dragged along the ground, still with my eyes closed.

That's when Macguyver says "This isn't working- the bear needs a distraction if you are going to live! As soon as you are clear, get to safety!" So he takes off running for the edge of the forest. The bear roars and gives chase. I pop my head up and have a ground-eye view of the bear lolloping after Mac (in his cargo shorts). I have just enough time to see him make it up to a deer stand in a tree when I take off running.

The next thing I know, I'm in my childhood house. Evidently it was right at the edge of the field. I know the bear is now following me- so I go to my room and close the door. Unfortunately the door is now only 5 feet tall, and consists of iron bars. Like a prison cell.

I clang the door shut, and the bear is right THERE! It howls at me and starts shaking the door. The door pops open a bit, and I run and slam it closed again. The bear takes a swipe at me with his claws through the bars of the cage. It narrowly misses evicerating me. I know I have to get out of the house- so I go to my north window and start opening it.

I pinch open the latching mechanisms on the storm windows and open them. Then there's the screen. I push out the screen and start climbing through the open window. I give one more backward glance to the door in my room, and Macguyver is standing there. He yells "RUN!" just as the bear gets to him.

I'm out on the street and its winter. Snow is drifted everywhere, but packed down in the streets. Its a strange neighborhood in a strange city. Very old, brick apartment buildings and such are everywhere. The streets are dark because its evening and the streetlights don't seem to be working. For some reason I know I'm in Russia somewhere, but I don't know why.

I go to the first building, through the vestibule, and to the first floor apartment. I start pounding on the door with a flat hand crying "Let me in! There's a bear after me!"

I hear a party going on inside, and someone saying, "hold on, I'm coming...". The door opens and I am face to face with a very stern, very STARTLED looking russian man. Dark hair, goatee, dark eyes. He grabs me by the front of my shirt, pulls me inside the apartment, and slams the door and locks it.

I can see the apartment- its nice. Very spacious and loft-like with a floating staircase in the middle of the room. There is a fancy cocktail party going on and the guests are preoccupied. His wife (mistress?) in a black evening gown looks over and says, "Is everything all right?" He tells her that it is and she goes back to entertaining.

Russian dude pulls me to a dark corner under a second staircase and starts to interrogate me. "Who sent you? How did you know I was here? Who SENT YOU!" I'm freaking out now, because I know that I have never seen this man before in my life. I keep telling him my story about the bear and the chase and this was the first place that looked safe.

He pulls out a big, serrated edge hunting knife on me (Rambo style) and holds it to my stomach. "Who sent you!" he keeps repeating. He is very agitated and I am wide-eyed in fear at this point. I just keep saying "I don't know what you are talking about!"

He then pushes me hard into the corner and I stumble and fall down on my ass. He runs out to the middle of the cocktail party, brandishes the knife above his head, and says, "What I do I do for my country!" Then he drags the knife across his throat.

Everyone looks on rather nonplussed. Down the staircase comes his son. He finds me in the corner, and says "Lets get you out of here." So we hop in a car with three of his friends and drive around the city.

I'm packed in the back seat like a sardine with two russian guys (late teens or early 20's) and they don't speak a word of english. The driver (the dead guy's son) tells me that we are going to another party.

We pull up short at another block of flats. "Cool, aren't they?" he says as we start to pile out of the car. It looks like a ramshackle building that has been grafitti painted to look like an Italian villa.

We all go inside, and the party is on the top floor. Everyone welcomes me, and I immediately go into 'party mode'. I start to dance to the music and flirt. There is a cute russian couple- the guy looks at me with murderous eyes. I smile back, and then turn to his girlfriend and say, "Strasvitsia maya malenkaya koshka!" and give her a quick peck on the cheek. She giggles and I walk away smiling toward the bar.

The dead guy's son says, "Let me fix you drink. I know what you want- a jaeggerbomb and two shots". I didn't even know they knew what a jaggerbomb WAS in russia! It takes him forever to mix the cocktails up. While waiting I start looking around the room. It has the characteristics of a college dorm room. The ceiling is gabled and there is a Northwestern Lacrosse poster on the wall. I point this fact out to a very drunk russian boy who's sitting on a couch in the middle of the room.

The couch is full of girls and guys in different poses, but for some reason I start talking to him. He is blonde, blue eyed, and has a huge, red mouth. He starts speaking, but its all in russian and I don't understand a word. Very drunk, slobbery russian, as he starts talking like he has no lips and spit keeps pouring from his jaws. I keep trying to tell him in broken Polish that I don't speak russian. The girls on the couch laugh and tell me he doesn't speak english or polish. They then jabber at him in russian to relay my messages.

I go back to the bar and my drinks are ready. Dead Guy's son hands me the still swirling jaeggerbomb. It isn't the right color, but I figure this is just a russian variant. He grabs one of the tequila shots and toasts me. "Dosvidanya" he says as I tip the drink into my mouth.

He watches me drink it. Then we mosey to the couch and sit on the edge. The music is playing loudly now and my head is swimming a bit and he leans in and says, "And now you tell me about my father." I can smell the tequila on his breath and his face is dancing in front of mine.

"I don't know anything, I swear!" I tell him. "Oh, you know something. And you are going to tell me everything I want to know. What you drank was really a sodium penthathol bomb."

I begin to panic a bit because I don't know what I might tell him under the influence of the drug. I honestly don't think I know anything and I keep telling him that, but my words are getting slurred. He just keeps smiling at me and waiting...

... then I woke up.