Random Sunday posting

Just a couple things to chat about this sunshiny Sunday morning.

The tree in the picture is called a 'Crepe Myrtle'. Its a very gay tree, yet it is omnipresent down here. Nearly every house has at least ONE. This one is mine. Most are this lovely magenta/fuschia color. But there are varieties in lilac, deep purple, light pink, and white. You hardly see the lilac colored ones; they're my favorite.

In central NC there is even a big gay event called "Crepe Myrtle festival" which is basically like an 'evening with friends' fundraiser. It started as a large outdoor barbeque, and grew into a huge festival thingy. This year, I believe RuPaul was associated with it in some way.

I tend to avoid the festival and the bars that weekend. And its not that I don't support the fundraising activities... because I do. I just don't support the twinkfest that it has become. I mean, just LOOK at the tree's name for christ's sake. It should tell you exactly what type of people it attracts. (P.S. I didn't plant it, it was already there in my yard).



SECOND, and more importantly, is the picture of the shoes. I love me some shoes! I even say this in my 50 Things list. I am truly a shoe-whore. I've even been known to blow creepy old businessmen just to get a better look at their Cole Haans...

So yesterday I was doing a bit of bargain shopping (at Marshalls) and I found a pair of Ben Sherman shoes-- IN MY SIZE! They were the only pair there too. I took it as a major sign and snatched them right up. They fit perfectly, and completely fill a niche in my cadre of shoes. I was missing a nice, brown suede shoe with a hint of color and hipness. These shoes are perfect and I cannot wait to wear them (probably this fall or next time i go out).

Devil at the YMCA

I'm a big 'ho.

I know, I know... shocker. But I have to talk about my near naughtiness at the YMCA the other night.

After I work out, I always sit in the sauna. Usually alone, sometimes with fat, old men-- and sometimes with 'players'. And as much as K-dog won't believe this statement, the majority of the time all I do is stretch and meditate (a little). And sweat, of course.

However, this past Wednesday there was a nice looking, 30-something, married guy (red hair, good shape, big dick) who just happened to be hanging about the wet area. "Hanging" being the operative word. And quite honestly hovering around for far longer than the typical apres-workout relaxation time allows.

I mean, I think it was pretty OBVIOUS what he wanted, given the fact that he showered like 5 times, and then kept heading back to the sauna/steam room area.

I first noticed him during my shower after my workout. I was already at one of the gang-shower heads when he rounded the corner from the sauna. He whipped off his towel and I swear he had a 'semi' going on! It was impressive enough for me to take notice immediately. That and the fact that the soaping and rinsing of 'it' took more time than a guy usually spends on himself-- at least in public.

So what do I do? I naturally follow him to the sauna after my quick rinse off. I sat next to him. He's sitting on a towel, bearing all his goodies, and covering his head with a small towel. He's bent slightly forward, making a small attempt to hide his engorged member. His penis is actually visibly throbbing a little. I know this because I was unabashedly staring right at his crotch.

Because he's married (I swear, a wedding band is like an aphrodesiac to me!) I decide that I'm going to tease him a bit and see what develops. So I casually unwrap my towel while stretching and uncover my own chubby. (Yes, I have a slight boner at this point- thank God we're the only two in the sauna! Man, I'm a whore!)

I can tell he's looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He's torn between trying to cover his erection and just giving me a full show. I can see his legs and stomach quivering a bit-- remember that nervous shake you got the first time you had the possibility of gay interaction? When you first saw another hard man and knew you could be actually touching it and you desperately wanted to but you were so shy and didn't know how to take that last step and plunge into the abyss?

Yeah, you know that feeling... we all do.

He went back and forth between the shower and the sauna a few more times whilst I relaxed in full frontal nudity for him- occasionally touching myself in a highly inappropriate mannor. Especially given the posted YMCA 'code of conduct' rules. THe whole episode probably went on for like 20 minutes, with neither of us speaking a word.

The whole thing was so cute and exciting- yet sad at the same time. And while a quickie in the sauna would've completely hit the spot, I just didn't have the heart to torment this man any longer than I already had.

The last time he came into the sauna, I stood up (naked), grabbed my towel, and before he had a chance to sit down, I deliberately brushed my already diminishing woody past him on my way to shower up and leave.

I figure the casual contact gave him just enough ammo to jack off with later-- in the comfort of his own bathroom at home while his wife slept peacefully in the next room.

I Shaved My Head Last Night

So last night I got a bit bored and decided to mix things up a bit. I figured shaving my head would do just that.

I've done lots of different things with my hair in the past. Grown my bangs down to my chin (college). Buzzed it. Flat topped it. Parted it (middle and side). Bleached it blonde. Dyed it black. Mohawked it. FAUXhawked it. Spiked it. Slicked it. Moussed it. Shagged it. You name it, I've done it.

Except shaving it completely off.

Until now.

A couple thoughts on the shaving of the head:

Its not as hard to do as it looks.
It takes awhile to do it.
There's LOTS of stubble spots.
It feels odd to have the razor running over your scalp.
It is insanely difficult to shave behind and right at the top of your ear.
Its oddly liberating.
Wind and water passing over my scalp now give me a funny feeling 'down there'


Of course, now I think I look like a bizarre Andre Agassi or one of those evil Dr. Hugo doll heads from the 70's. Perhaps a cross between the two.

This is gonna be fun for awhile. Plus its gonna freak out my bitch of a boss.

Hot Man Haiku #1

He is my straight-crush
Blue collar, redneck who flirts
Dude, I'll give you head

I'm in Love!

His name is Grzeorgz Krzesniak.

Its pronounced like Zshaygorzsh Shezneeack for all those who can't pronounce Polish words / names. In durham, everyone at least knows how to pronounce Coach K's last name, but it sure the hell doesn't LOOk like 'shesheffski'.

Grzeorgz (greg for short) is visiting our plant from Poland (obviously). We have a sister manufacturing facility there. Evidently our sister plant is manufacturing hot men in addition to automotive components.

Greg is blonde and blue-eyed (naturally) with a great smile and a fantastic personality. He speaks english very well and has that adorable slavic accent when he speaks (aspirated'h' sounds, th prounounced like 'f', etc). Every time he speaks I fall further in love.... (sigh)

The best part about him is that he can joke in English- a sure sign of comfortableness with the language. And he feels comfortable joking with me as I try to speak to him in Polish when I can (I know very little) and I am constantly joking (i.e. flirting medium) with him.

In addition to already teaching me the requisite swear words, he told me the four words for ass today. Evidently they have four slightly different versions for four different sizes of ass. Tiny baby ass = dupcia, small ass = dupeczka, medium (normal) ass = dupa, huge ass = dupsko.

The whole reason this came about is because I asked if they had gender specific terms for boy-ass and girl-ass... like if I had to say I'm gonna kick your ass (ja copa va dupe) is dupa masculine or feminine. I also asked if you were checking out a girl, what term would you use.

So that's why the four terms- and he used his hands to gesture as to the size of each. And then we laughed-- because he knows I work in a lab full of women.

And the asses of these women?

Dupskos. Totally.

The unbearable lightness of being Evil...

Kevin and I went to the Raleigh Bars on Saturday night.

Ew.

Decidedly low on 'talent', if you catch my drift. It was a weird night for both of us, as we had not actually been to the bars in Raleigh for 2 months. In that time they had turned a one-way street into a two way street and re-angled all of the onstreet parking (which fucked up where I always park!) and the big straight bar "Jillians" in the midst of the gay area had closed. Other than the gays, it has now turned into a freaking ghost town... tumbleweeds and all.

Good news though- we watched Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion before going out, so we were ripe with quotes. My new favorite to use on Kevin is now, "You are just as cute as me. And in some cultures, maybe even cuter."

So- first stop = Flex. The one Raleigh pseudo-leather bar. Evidently it was 'wet bear' night (redubbed wet carpet night by yours truly). There was a kiddie pool for sitting in if you stripped down to undies. Oh well, my commando self just couldn't get in. Darn.

While standing around and chatting with a few friends, Kevin and I were assaulted by a short, gay bear cub. We had just finished talking with a friend of Kevin's from Atlanta when this guy comes right up and says, "Hey! Welcome to Raleigh! Sorry you had to see our bars tonight- its pretty sparse in here." Kevin and I just sort of look at each other, then at him. Then he clarifies things by saying, "I was listening to your conversation earlier- aren't you guys from Atlanta?"

It was readily apparent that he was one of those shorter guys with the overcompensating personality. S.M.S. (short man syndrome) for short. Sometimes it manifests itself as a big chip on the shoulder. Sometimes as a bizarre, try too hard, clinging personality.

Kevin and I got ourselves a Cling-On.

Kevin, being the nice guy he is, starts chit chatting amicably with the guy. Kevin explains that he is from Lexington, NC and has most assuredly been to the bars before. After a few more minutes he turns to me and asks, "So where are YOU from?"

I'm wearing a bloody YMCA of Durham t-fucking-shirt. So I deliberately underline the 'durham' part on my chest and simply shrug my shoulders.

Evidently this guy took my disinterest in wanting to verbally spar. Not good. So he starts railing on Durham (crime, drugs, gangs, etc). I am actively not listening (looking at kevin, looking away, etc) and then a good song comes on. So I start to groove a little- for Kevin's benefit. Sometimes I dance like a fool to make Kevin laugh. Its fun for me and it keeps my 'roger rabbit' skills sharp.

Little man sees me do this and then says, "Oh! Because he lives in Durham boy thinks he can 'buss a move'."

I've had enough at this point so I look at him and say, "Well, seeing as how I'm from rough ol' durham, instead of 'busting a move', you should be more worried about me busting a cap in yo' ass."

He then says that he's not worried because he's from 'Fayetteville' (Ft. Bragg, soldiers, etc). To which I reply, "Oh. Fayetteville- where they hold their M-16's sideways when they off someone because it "looks cooler that way"." air quotes and all.

I'm through with him at this point, so I go grab another beer. Kevin is thoroughly enjoying himself. Little man stays and chats with Kevin a bit more and starts asking questions about how long we've been together, etc. Kevin has to correct him on this. I let them chat a few more minutes, and then Little Man makes his retreat when I come back after getting a new drink.

Cut to CC's, the next bar. Kevin and I are there and we dance and have fun. They played the new Christina Aguilera song-- it thoroughly rocks! But then after awhile, Little Man resurfaces (groan).

Kevin and I are at the bar when he pops up like a garden gnome and starts talking to us again!! This time he opens with something like, "Well if it isn't the cute guy and his angry friend from durham." He's standing there grinning like an idiot. So I feel I have to reach into my high school bag o' trix.

I look down on him, cock an eyebrow, hold the disdainful look for about 3 seconds (just long enough to be uncomfortable) and then slowly turn to Kevin (turning my back on L.M.) while saying, "So.... I got some new clothes at the Gap the other day. They're really cool, you'll like them."

Tip: The whole Gap clothes thing is designed to be an insignificant conversation 'spacer' while completely turning your back on the person you want to blow off. If you are truly evil, you can have a conversation ABOUT the person you want to dis while they are right there. I hadn't reached that point yet.

L'il man chuckles and says, "Figures. You LOOK like you would shop at the Gap."

I sigh audibly, turn back around, look at Little man with an appraising eye. He's wearing that Guinness Hat and T-Shirt combo. So then I turn BACK around to Kevin and say, "So... I just got this beer hat and t-shirt combo thing at Target for 5.99, and I thought I'd wear it to the bar tonight because nothing says festive better than wearing a matching hat and shirt..."

After this, I excused myself to the bathroom. I'm adept at the 'slam and exit' thing.

Little Man and kevin spoke more after I left the second time. Evidently L.M. accused me of being very 'protective' of Kevin and reiterated his view that Kevin and I are dating.

And here is why I love Kevin. He turned to L.M. and said, "We are not dating. We are just good friends. And he isn't protecting me at all-- he just really doesn't like you. At all. Really."

We didn't see our Cling-On the rest of the night.

Kah-plah!

euphemisms for vagina

Ok, I'm gonna keep going with this theme- mainly because coming up with all the terms makes me chuckle (sometimes inwardly, sometimes aloud). Today's list is for 'vagina'. Can you say that? Very good.

Pussy
Twat
Cunt
Slit
Gash
Piss Flap
Meat Curtains (personal fav)
Axe wound
Red snapper
tuna taco
fish taco
bearded clam
fur burger
beaver
hootenany
vertical smile
fuckhole
velvet furnace
box
muff
quim
squirrel

My poor penis!

Have you ever chafed the head of your penis? No? Well then, you have definitely been missing out, let me tell you.

The reason for this post is basically to serve as a guide-cum-warning to all those who may do some sort of sporting activity out in the heat and humidity during the summer.

Last Saturday and Sunday I played outdoor volleyball. I played several hours each day. It was very hot and very humid. Saturday I was smart, Sunday I wasn't.

When playing runny, jumpy, divey type sports out in the humid weather, short selection is key. On Saturday I wore a pair of running shorts made of that new tech wicking fiber shit with a built in pouch/liner thing. They worked great! Just enough support, wicked away moisture from my crotch, etc. Everything was dandy.

On Sunday, however, I opted for my new pair of surf shorts. Basically they were those rubbery feeling, velcro-fly, lace up, long swimsuit shorts that you can buy at Target. These particular shorts were the green and white Guiness shorts.

(side note: these were going to be my "lucky" shorts as I fucking ROCKED the v-ball court. seriously. rocked it)

So the beginning of Sunday went well, but toward the end of the day I started to feel a bit sore "down there". But I just HAD to play one more game. It was three on three and it promised to be a really good game. Plus if I left, it would unbalance the sides. So I stayed (and we won). But after every play past point 10, I was having to pull my shorts away from my groin.

When I finally got home and stripped off the swimsuit, the head of my dick was as red as rudolf's nose! It was awful. I couldn't touch it at all; it was just as if I had gotten a rug burn on my cock.

I figure I need to wash this and start putting on soothing lotion. THe shower was excruciating, but nothing compared to the moisturizer I tried to use afterward. My buddy K-dog (stageright-stageleft) had given me some of this aftershave balm to try. It is all natural and has aloe and shit in it and the stuff has never once burnt my face, even after the most severe shave.

I actually cried out in pain when I put this crap on my dick. It BURNED! After I quick rinsed off every last vestige, I put on some neosporin + pain, and then sat around my house naked for the rest of the night.

The subsequent days were spent neosporin salving my dickhead, and wearing snug undies to keep any movement 'down there' to a bare minimum.

Today I am back to my ol' commando self, but I did notice after my shower this morning that my penis is actually peeling now.

The moral of the story: If you don't want your dick to get sick, stick with dry wick.

Hot Man Haiku #41

Damn, Mister Reno
Yell my name and flex those guns!
Power is so hot!

One Deposit, One Return...

Preface: I can't believe I'm going to write about this, but its been several months now, and the healing has begun...

I had an accident (of sorts) at work and it was really embarassing for me.

Realize that I am the guy who doesn't get embarassed by much. Ever. I have even threatened- albeit in a joking manner- to leave a turd in a urinal in the front office bathroom in order to express my displeasure with our current work environment. That said, what happened was not on purpose and I am only now laughing about it.

I have a favorite stall at work, as I'm sure everyone does. It is stall #1 in the less-used bathroom on our production floor. Its the 'cozy' stall- not the capacious 'handi-capable' cubicle. I like it because it is decidedly the stall less travelled, its well ventillated, and the noise from the shop floor covers any embarassingly loud, ahem, personal moments.

Unfortunately, a couple months ago it was out of order. Some disgusting fucker(s) had not only clogged the damn thing, but then also managed to dry-dock a massive log in the bowl. The crap just festered there, with the barest covering of tissue, thus polluting the bathroom entirely- much to my digestion (and olfactory) dismay. A 'do not use' sign was put up- as if it was really necessary- and I found a new location to do my business.

About a week later, I revisited my favorite stall and Lo! No 'do not use' tag and no dry-docked submarine. I rejoiced inwardly, and then outwardly by christening the bowl. My bowels were in an unfortunate state of turmoil that day, and things weren't pretty when I got done. I think it was a seven wiper. Anyway...

When I flushed, the horror began.

Because I work in a factory, the toilets on the floor are the industrial 'puppy flusher' variety. You know the kind, where the air pressure in the vacinity noticably drops during the flush due to the enormous amounts of suction. That day it simply wasn't the case.

Evidently the toilet was NOT fixed. The flush was weak and I watched as the bowl filled in slow motion; the befouled water gently rising to the top edge of the porcelain. I frantically jiggled the chrome handle, but to no avail. You just can't stop those industrial toilets once they get going.

"Please stop! Oh, please, please, PLEASE!" I was quietly chanting. And then just like New Orleans, the water crested the rim and started to overflow.

"SHIT!" I yanked up my pants and hastily was trying to fasten my belt buckle while backing away from my anal blasphemy. Floaties were streaming down the sides of the bowl and forming an ever-expanding cesspool on the tile floor.

I burst out of the stall and didn't even wash up. A quick look confirmed that nobody was in the bathroom at the time, so I made a hasty (yet nonchalant) retreat back to my office. Even though I am pretty sure nobody saw me leave, it still felt like a complete walk of shame. I had not only defiled my favorite stall, but I had simply walked away from the mess!

Needless to say, I avoided that bathroom like the plague for about 3 weeks, and each time I passed it I would hang my head in shame. Occasionally I would see our housekeeping crew working in there and I would feel an brief, yet intense stab of guilt. What must they have thought when they saw it? Oh, the humanity!


UPDATE: Its been a couple months now, and "Swirlie" and I have made up. She's working just fine again- up to full strength, even. But every so often when I think about it, I do a 'test flush' before sitting. If I don't feel my ears pop, I quietly leave and find a new place to make a deposit.

Euphemisms for "Large Member"

To continue along my frayboy vein (pun intended) I am including a list of alternate terms that can be used to describe an enormous penis-- or sometimes just a regular penis. I think these are good substitutions for those bottoms (and/or women) to shout when they are really getting the meat thrown to them...


Fuck stick
fuck meat
fuck pole
fuck rod
cockflesh
Donkey Dong
Python of Love
Fat fucker
Cunt Wrecker (my personal favorite)
Horsecock
Horse meat
beercan
schlong
hot sausage
tubesteak
wonder worm
whopper
big mac
moby dick
Gonad the Destroyer
sperm whale
Big Daddy
dick
steel rod
blue veiner
love missle
night stick
cum chucker



As always, feel free to add to the list! I like to increase my vocab.

The Manse

Ok, so this is the front of my father and stepmother's new house in Iowa. What you don't see here is the back side that is two stories of mostly glass windows. Its very prairie style with stone and leaded glass windows, hardwood floors (not just any hardwood, its this brazillian mahogany or something) with slate inlaid INTO the wood, etc. Big stone fireplace. Big windows. 20 foot ceilings, etc. Its pure excess.

And also included is a picture of my step brother. Looking all thin and fit and triathelonish. Styling in his Oakley white sunglasses. He's such a metrosexual...

Jem and the Holograms - Only The Beginning

I LOVE Jem!! Almost as I love the drag queen "misfits"!!

Euphemisms for "Anus"

I delight in learning new, disgusting terms for the mundane. Mostly because I have humor mentality of a fratboy.

This should have been obvious from my eponymously titled blog. But I'd like to further explore terms for the anus (or rectum) especially when it is used as a sexual area. Here's a short list of terms that I have compiled (and/or created), and if you have any to add, I'd love to hear them!

Butthole
Asshole
Shitter
Starfish
Ol' brown eye
Pucker
Man-gina (of course)
Dude-erus
Boyslit
Man-pussy
Man Purse
Buttcunt
gay-gash
slot machine
slot 'B'
mud slide
Stink Tube
Chocolate furnace
hershey highway
gay-doh fun factory
frosting bag
cornhole
rosebud

Supermarket Rant

First of all, I grocery shop about every two days.

I am NOT one of those people that can make a huge detailed shopping list, spend an hour perusing the aisles, load up a cart and then be set for a month. Instead, I'll swing by the store and get an armfull of needed things whenever I need them. Much as I did the night before last.

Before I get started you should understand that I have two grocery stores to choose from. Food Lion (closer to me, better produce, hotter checkout boys) and Kroger (bad smell when you walk in, has auto checkout stations). The evening in question I chose Food Lion.

I had 7 items (sandwich stuff, icecream, soda, water, etc) and had spent a grand total of 5 minutes in the store acquiring said items. But then I hit the checkout lanes.

The first lane I went to the guy told me that he was actually closed and I would have to choose one of two remaining open lanes. One had a huge line, and one didn't. I grunted at him, picked up my 7 items, and then opted for the short line.

I was behind a woman with two canned items, who was behind a middle aged woman who was having her big cart rung up. Big cart was nearly done, so I figured it would be a quick wait.

But no.

The lone checkout girl completely finished ringing up big cart... AND BAGGING her stuff for her. And then the woman whips out her checkbook and agonizes over the total. It has been 5 more minutes of waiting at this point. Big cart FINALLY finishes her check and hands it over. Then the cashier says, "Ma'am, I need to see your driver's license."

Big cart stares at her for a minute, then starts fishing around for her wallet. I look over to the first lane that I went to and Lo! The guy had reopened it and taken several customers through already. It was at this point when I lost my shit. I just had to say something- and so I did.

"Um, ma'am? Here's a tip. In the future, if you know you are going to be paying by check, why not start filling out all the information WHILE the checker is ringing up the food? That way you only have to fill out the amount. And while you are at it, have your license out and ready, because you know that the checker will need to see it. Not only will it make everyone's life easier, but it will also avoid WASTING ALL OF OUR TIME!"

I got a VERY indignant look, a harumph, and she pushed her cart out in a blaze of glory.

The woman next in line smiled at me. She was paying with a debit card and had the thing down pat.

Then it was my turn, and the register started beeping madly. It was indicating that it was out of receipt paper. Which the cashier had to replace before ringing me up. And after my diatribe, she was nervous and couldn't get the paper to feed. Several more minutes passed before she was up and running again.

"Sorry 'bout that" she squeeked while ringing up my 7 items.

Bloody karma.

Hot man Haiku (Redux)

Oh! Foolish Zidane
Headbutt??? What were you thinking?
Wrong head and wrong butt!

The movie "Crash"

Yes it deserved the best picture nod.

How can I say this, being a gay man and therefore predestined for the 'rah-rah, go for Broke(back)" camp? Well, I happen to like multi-character dramatic movies with difficult subject matter, that's why. So Nyah.

Seriously, Brokeback was a good film. A twisted, romantic love story that was very drowsily paced. Like "in the bedroom" or whatever that marissa tomei movie was called. BB was enjoyable and sad and beautiful and the characters were well done. But it was a bit slow.

Crash was not a movie on my list to see. It never sounded all that good to me, really... and ok, so I was pissed that the gay film didn't win the academy award. Sue me. Be that as it may, after viewing Crash, I can definitely see why it won best picture.

I liken the movie to "Magnolia" minus the self-righteous monologues.

We stumbled across this movie in 'cable land' when I was at my Dad's house this past week. He has a million movie channels, and as we were browsing, I saw 'Crash' listed. None of us had seen it (and it DID win best picture, after all) so we turned it on.

It was really damn good. It has multiple characters and storylines going and intersecting and everyone is a racist in some way. Blacks, whites, persians, hispanics, etc. All had some sort of grudge against the others. There were moments of pure hatred, moments of violence, and moments of extreme kindness.

Oh, and the music is gorgeous. There is a sequence in the film where action is happening on the screen, but the score is in the forefront rather than in the background. The music is etherial, with a woman singing in some middle eastern language, and the music forms a beautiful counterpoint to the drama unfolding on the screen. Absolutely gorgeous cinematic moment.

Honestly, Crash is a really REALLY good film. Definitely a must see (after 'An Inconvenient Truth' of course...)

Notes from the Underground

I have safely returned from Iowa and am firmly ensconced in North Carolina again.

Whoopee.

Some things of note:

My stepbrother competed in the National Triathelon championships (amateur division) this past weekend. It was held in Kansas City. He got first in his age group and third OVERALL! Very proud of him. I'll post his picture in a few days.

I did absolutely nothing during the whole week, except that I did manage to do an 8 mile run and a 5 mile run. I haven't run 8 miles at one time in about 7 years. Man did my hips hurt later!

Dad wanted to take me to explore the "east village" in Des Moines. Its an up and coming 'trendy' area (read: gay) with lots of cool shops and cafes and things. Well, I found it extremely humerous that when we finally parked the car on the street, we managed to park DIRECTLY in front of Des Moines only gay leather bar-- the Saddle. How funny!

Went car shopping with the 'rents too. They ended up deciding on the AWD Volvo S50 wagon. Or whatever it is. I tried to tell them that a Volvo is just a Ford in iron clothing, but they had already made up their mind.

Ames gets Retarded

So while being stuck in the middle of Iowa, I get to see the drama of the National Special Olympics unfold. Yes, the NATIONAL version is being held in Ames, Iowa. And YES, there has been some drama.

Shortly before the games were to begin, one of the Ames papers printed a guide insert containing ideas about what to do while in Ames. The section's title?

Ames for Dummies.

Yes. Some writer came up with the idea to use a takeoff on the popular "for Dummies" series of instructional books. For the special olympics athletes and their families. And this passed through the editing staff. And got to print. LOTS of copies in print.

I must admit, I did laugh at this-but only in a horrified way. Like how can a series of people be so stupid not to catch this? Or worse, how can a series of journalists think this little double-entendre is funny and acceptable?

Heres the article:

www.desmoinesregister.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060630/NEWS/60630017/1001

Reasons why I love Flash Gordon

I am a Flash Gordon freak.

And I'm not just talking about the movie from 1980 with Sam Jones and Timothy Dalton-- although that's a major reason why. I love all things Flash. The golden era comic books, the Alex Raymond art style, the futuristic vision with art deco flair, etc.

I collect the stuff, in fact. It is the ONLY thing I collect. I am decidedly against collections and clutter. I am not one of those gay men that collects mardi gras masks and ceramic kittens and hummel figurines and tea cozies and has every square foot of their house displaying the shit 100% of the time. I have friends like that- and their 'collectiions' make me nauseous.

My house is therefore not cluttered except for dirty dishes, newspapers, clothing, unpaid bills, beer bottles, etc. You know, regular guy clutter. But for the Flash, I make an exception.

Anyway, if you haven't seen the 1980 movie in 20 years, I highly recommend a review. Especially if you are a gay man. Not only is it the good kind of campiness, it has some of the best costuming. And if you are into leather at all, the hawkmen sequences will give you a chubby.

Seriously. The leather bondage gear that criss-crosses all those musclebear chests is insane! And HOT! I gotta find out who did the costumes for this gem....

Mad Max

So I'm stuck in the middle of Iowa for a week. With family.

But it could be much worse. See, my father and stepmother completely used up my entire inheritance in order to build a fancy house in my hometown. Ok, so its really more of a small mansion, than a house. Its very pretty, and very cold but there are certain niceties. Like a jacuzzi. And a 60" tv in hi-def.

Tonight was a vegitation night in front of the plasma god. And one of the movies that we watched was none other than "Mad Max beyond Thunderdome".

I have not seen this movie in a decade- yet I could recite the lines from it verbatim. "Ain't we a pair.... raggedy man." Gotta love Tina Turner in a silver fall and a chainmail nightie. With shoulderpads!

And honestly, that movie is a flesh feast! There are more bondage and leather fetish costumes in that movie than in anything else I can recall. And the men are all hot, half naked, and have aussie accents. It is no wonder this movie made such an impression on me as a youngster.

And that boy who was the leader of the "waiters" out beyond the nothin'.... phew! His hard body and his little loincloth.... I still got wood while watching it!