Moving Day!

The 'gina has left the building!

Almost.

I'm switching things over to wordpress today, so please visit me there.
And yes, this means that all you lazy manginas out there are now gonna have to update your blogrolls with my new digs name:

www.manginamonologues.wordpress.com


Yeah. Shocking that the name wasn't already taken.

Thinking of a new blog...

I know people are going to say that I'm copying Kyle from over at stageright-stageleft (now atomicpop!), but I'm not. I'm just a bit bored with the 'gina. And blogger. And things in general. Plus all the cool kids are changing to wordpress... and the slightly more nerdy are creating their own websites from scratch.

I'll be scamming off wordpress, thank you very much.

Every so often I need change, so I'm gonna do it. I've actually been toying with the idea for over a week now. And I tried creating a rough cut over at wordpress, but I'm not happy with it. Plus my mac and wordpress are having a bit of a tiff, and wordpress keeps shutting down my browser (safari).

What a pisser!

The name of my blog may change, but I'm still up in the air a bit about exacty WHAT I'm going to change it into. Or maybe I'll keep trusty, ol' mangina and just reformat the thing.

Dunno.

But what I do know is that strange things are afoot at the Circle K.

Bizarre Ass Dream

Ok- so this morning I had an extended dream sequence that involved me being sent to prison for exceeding the window-treatment weight at an event that I had planned. Evidently I had gone over the limit by 2.6 kilograms, and was summarily imprisoned for 5 years... no parole. There was no trial- I was just hauled off.

Highlights of the dream include:

My parents watched me get carted off to prison. Their main concern that they yelled to me as I was being taken away in cuffs was, "How are we going to explain this to the family??"

The prison was actually a converted hotel that was attached to the hotel where I was hosting the event. (It was a campaign fundraiser for something). Very Nathan Petrelli in Heroes, with streamers and crepe paper and balloons and some seriously fabulous muslin window drapery.

My cell was really a hotel room that was very 80's decorated with jeweltones. It had a window that looked out on the city (I think it was Des Moines). My room was up on the 12th floor.

While sitting in bed, all distraught from being jailed, I called this guy Brian (an actual, rather creepy guy I work with) for comfort at 12 am on the night of my imprisonment. He was understanding but distant, told me everything would work out, etc...and then I realized that I shouldn't have called him so late and woken him up. I apologized and hung up.

Stanley Tucci was in a room right down the hall. He was giving me the lay of the land and telling me which guards to avoid and which rooms as we walked the halls. He was wearing a wifebeater and I remember that his advice was really solid.

I watched the guards bring in two asian hookers-- they weren't wearing any pants and they were lifted in on plush chairs.

The "room" I was to avoid was the guard's "fun room". One of the guards (another actual, kinda cute guy I work with) had a kink where he liked to be blown by asian hookers while pretending to flyfish. He even had the rod and reel and was casting across the room while wearing hip waders and nothing else.

That's MISTER snotty faggot to you!

So here are my new glasses. Whaddaya think?

Ok, I lied again...

About a couple things, actually.

(1) Although I AM in love with Joey Fatone, I am MORE in love with Rufus Wainwright.

(2) Although I DO plan to get the Rogue Traders album, the album I wanted even MORE was Rufus's "Release The Stars".

I took a half day off work in order to prepare for a completely relaxing 3 day weekend (technically now 3.5 days). Its funny that I still ended up working a 45 hour week and took a half day. (I know people work more than that, but I sure as hell don't like to and when I do I feel I can bitch about it).

Anyhoo- with my half day, I went to the mall and picked up a few essentials. I got new glasses (after about 3 years), I picked up the book "Son of a Witch" (sequel to Wicked), and I got the new Rufus CD. Which I'm listening to as I type this.

And crushing on him even more.

After hearing the first song only, I know that even if the rest of the album is crap I know it will have been worth the 14.99. I cannot express how much I LOVE the first song (Do I Disappoint You). Its sheer brilliance!

The rest of the album has been VERY good so far-- I'm on like track 6 or so.

So in love.....

New Favourite Band

My new flavour-rite group is the Rogue Traders.

I haven't actually purchased a CD in about a year- as I prefer to download selected tracks via iTunes with my iTunes Christmas giftcards. But this group may warrant a full-on album purchase!

Granted I have only heard fragments of two of their songs, thanks to Old Navy commercials (ew! does anyone STILL shop at Old Navy??) but me likey what I've heard. They are deliciously dancy / alt-rocky.

I do love dance music that doesn't SOUND like club dance music.

Ok, that's a bit of a lie. I also love me some 90's house diva vocal kickin' club dance music. But only because that's when I came out and its the music of my gay youth.

Anyway, I'm looking for the Rogue Traders to blow up in the States-- thanks to 30-second commercial snippets of their brilliance accompanying strutting, bikini-clad women and boardshorted HAWT menssss.

Oh, and yeah, I did go ahead and download the ONE available track on iTunes already. But c'mon! Put the whole album on iTunes for allah's sake!

MiniJake Update

MiniJake just came to my office at work for a quickie... quickie Meeting, that is. (Damn!)

He is so flippin' cute, its nauseating. And hell, every time I see him I find myself with 'lust in my heart'. Its really quite distracting; he needs to go back to school.

Today he sat in my office and we talked about a project he's working on for the summer. He was wearing those fucking, tight jeans again (and a little navy blue polo shirt!) The boy has a tight little body on him, too.

Even one of my favorite employees commented on MiniJake's jeans today. She said, "Lookit him in dem tightass jeans. Mmmm mmmm. I should aks him if I can borrow that 79 cent I can see in his front pocket."

I nearly lost my shit on that comment!

Anyway, because the chair he was sitting in (in my office) just happens to face my desk-- well, I may have also looked 'down there', too.

I think he's worked for UPS before, because his package was nicely wrapped and well presented.

Sigh.

Anyway, so as we walked out onto the manufacturing floor, I held the door open for him so he could get in front of me. I held my breath, looked at his jeans tag for a size... and it was one of those new pair that doesn't have the size printed on it.

Shit.

Can I be a loser?

Pride festivities are but a month away, so I've started my campaign to lose weight. Because as everyone knows, you can't participate in Pride if you are indulging in gluttony and sloth at the same time!

Also- everyone knows that Pride is all about looking good and being thin. Pride is not for "fatties" or "average joes" or even for friends who want to hang out and "just have fun". No, Pride is only for people who are hot. Being thin is 'hot'. And when you are hot, you can chat up other hot pridegoers and bask in each others respective hotness. And then sneak off to do the nasty in a porta-john.

But I digress-- mainly because I'm hungry and cranky.

Yeah, I'm doing my own version of Atkins. Basically eating broccoli and tuna until I drop 50 pounds. Pluses: meat and veggies are healthy. Minuses: the gaseous clouds produced by the meat and veggies are highly toxic.

I may do weekly postings of weight loss (gain?) a la Kelly. But at this point, I'm almost too big to get on a scale.

Well, to get on a scale and not cry anyway...

I've got a secret....

I'm in love with Joey Fatone.

Completely in love with, head over heels for, have lust in my heart and am crushing on Joey. My feelings for him bubbled over while watching "Dancing With The Stars" for the past couple of weeks. I just love watching him perform.

And when they show him goofing around and being a ham in those 'behind the scene' vignettes--- well, my heart just melts.

And my jeans get tight.

You see, its the fact that he's basically just a big kid. I absolutely love guys like that! The men who are always joking around, being big goofballs, trying to make me laugh, etc are the ones that find their way to my heart.


I also like him physically. He's beefier than his twinky, Nsync bretheren, and I love the beard look on him. Plus- I gotta say I love his eyes when he smiles. Men who get that type of crinkley eyes when they smile just bowl me over.

Yeah- I know what everyone is thinking. I'm a big ol' gurl writing about Joey like this. But I don't care who knows anymore.

I'm out and I'm proud.

And I love Joey Fatone!

Hello Titty

Hello Kitty breast exam. Enough said.

Jihad Jesus

I love adulterating already adulterated images stolen from a google search. Its one of my secret joys. I think I'll start posting more of them.

This one is "Jihad Jesus". And really- who WOULDN'T Jesus Jihad?

At some point, I'm really going to have to do a "Jews for Jihad" picture too.

Weekend Recap (plus and minus style)

Friday Night: bike riding and dinner with big dick boy (BDB).

Pluses: got excercise, had good ethiopian food
Minuses: conversation was stilted, some behavior was awkward, sex not even on the table


Saturday Afternoon: shopping with friend Kev-kev

Pluses: found potential new eyeglasses (D&G), bought cheap shirts, picked up new cologne at Aveda
Minuses: Kev-Kev didn't find anything, D&G glasses are expensive and I didn't have my prescription with me


Saturday Night: gay bars with Kev-Kev

Pluses: $2 domestics at the leather bar, lots of Kev-Kev's friends were out, two of Kev's friends want to sleep with him, there was NO beareoke singing, I met a guy
Minuses: Kev got hit on by an asshole, low amount of talent present, ran into Kev's ex, I nearly missed out on meeting the guy because I was chickenshit


Saturday Night part 2: the guy

Pluses: plays drums, played football in high school, ex band director, LOVES drum and bugle corps (marched in one), cute, good kisser

Minuses: Lives 35 minutes away, works insane hours, breeds chihuahuas, recently out of a 3 year relationship, still lives with ex


Sunday: worked

Pluses: none
Minuses: don't get paid for it, pissed away most of Sunday, missed gorgeous day

Noone Mourns the Wicked

The woman who made my life an absolute hell for the past 9 months at work is leaving, and I can't say I'm that broken up about it.

She honestly was very difficult to get along with. Sometimes nice as pie, sometimes absolutely cruel and sadistic. All that was missing from her was the pointy hat and the green skin (I swear to Buddha she had a broom and a crystal ball stashed somewhere in that office!)

She was famous for working my last nerve- on just about a daily basis. On a lot of points I would actually agree with her philosophy-- but then she would take that philosophy in her iron claw, crunch it up tightly, and then insert it into one of my orifices. My biggest pet peeve was that she just wouldn't listen to me when I would offer suggestions or alternatives. It was her way only, and she made sure you felt every inch of 'that way'. And she wasn't my direct boss, but she sure acted like it with all the delegation she directed at me.

I can't tell you how many times I wanted her to get her comeuppance. And now she is.

Oddly enough, I do have a kernel of guilt about her leaving. I don't think it was a decision that was entirely her own-- and our department probably had something to do with that. DId I give her enough of a chance? (Yes, I think so). But in a twisted way I think her departure is a shame.

I work in an intensely 'good ol' boy' environment. It is predominantly white male, with narry a woman or person of color in sight (except for Indians--but they only get to be engineers). And no fags (Allah help them if there were an honest to goodness homoxule working there!)

I am a big proponent of diversity in the workplace... and where I work isn't so diverse. At least in the upper echelons. And mid-echelons. And my group.

Now the only problem I face is... what's going to take her place?

Hot Hunk Haiku #1001

Ultimate Fighting
How fucking tough is THAT shit?
Donkey-punch me, stud!

MiniJake Update #2

Ok- so MiniJake has on THE TIGHTEST faded bluejeans today. They might be levi's (god willing) so I may get a glimpse of the tag!

We chatted together while walking down the aisle today (I was basically goofing with him about calling him for lunch but him not being available). This stems from an accidental phone conversation this morning.

I dialed his extension by mistake (truly!) and hung up immediately. He called me back and wanted to know why I called and what I needed (ahem!). I explained that, although he was quite charming- I hadn't called him on purpose.

He is so fucking cute! And so far out of my league it isn't funny.

Evicted.

Recently I discovered that I had a wee, sleekit, cowr'in, tim'rous houseguest. At some point, a mouse had decided to become my roommate of sorts.

I discovered him, when he ran part of the way into my TV room, looked at me, then ran back out and down my hall. Seriously freaked my ass out a little bit as it was most unexpected.

I named him "Philippe".

Now, I'm not too afraid of mice- but that doesn't mean that I want him living in my house, chewing up my walls, and running across my feet when I least expect it. I wanted Philippe gone.

But I also couldn't kill him.

I don't do 'death'. I never kill things on purpose if I can avoid it (exception: roaches and those nasty jumping crickets). In my house, spiders and all manner of other creatures experience a 'live and let live' attitude. Many times I'll catch my visitors and release them outside.

So I went to Lowes and purchased one of the 'live catch' traps. I was skeptical as to whether it would work-- with the spring loaded metal trap door contraption, etc it looked complicated and somewhat doubtful that a mouse would enter it.

I baited the trap and placed it in my living room (adjacent to my kitchen) and waited. I checked the trap for 3 days and nothing.

And then yesterday afternoon I got home, was getting ready to go work out and I thought, "hey, i'd better check the trap." I picked it up and lo! Philippe was inside!

So I walked the trap outdoors, away from my house to a wooded area in my neighborhood, and then slid the cover back. Phillippe was naturally scared (and stinky!) but with a little shake of the box he sprang out of there like his tail was on fire and his ass was catching!

I do feel a bit guilty now- as I am imagining Philippe moving from a nice, safe environment to 'the wild' where owls and other predators can get him. But I really didn't want him in my house.

Oh, and I've reset the trap- just in case there is a Philippe II.

MiniJake Update

As I was heading to lunch today, MiniJake was heading to lunch too. I sped up to see if I could see his jeans tag to confirm his waist size.

No dice.

But I DID manage to get TWO looks from him as I got into my car. I had an up front spot today, and he looked over once as I remotely unlocked my doors, and then once again as I was sliding in.

He even smiled at me.

(sigh)

11. Thou shalt not covet thy Co-Op

We have a co-op working for us at the moment who is just so cute you just want to... well... ya just want to fuck the daylights out of him!


His name is Jeff and he looks exactly like Jake Gyllenhall (if you shrunk Jake down by one-third). Seriously, the kid has the same dark hair, the same sad blue eyes, the same eyelashes for days, the same no-body fat. No stubble though- I doubt the kid can grow facial hair. Other than that, the kid honestly looks like Jake after a shrink ray.

Jeff (aka MiniJake) can NOT have a waist larger than a 28. Personally I think its more like a boy's size 14 but I can't tell for sure. And he wears those 14's snug and always has on a tight polo shirt. When I see him walking in the plant, I can't help but follow him (he's just so adorable!) Yes- he's adorable like a puppy.

A cute, fuckable puppy.

And I definitely get a blip on my gaydar from him- its either that or a severe case of metrosexuality. He is always very tidy and well kept. On the rare occasion that I do chat with him, I only have my flirting set to "medium" because he is still merely a child (aka a college student). He does find my childish antics (making farting noises with my hands) to be very funny.

He's such a doll!

Is it wrong for me to want to demonstrate with him precisely what the term "spinner" means?

La Mordida

I nearly forgot to write about how I narrowly escaped being thrown into a Mexican prison during my recent visit.

While traveling about the countryside in a minivan (the horror!) I used my Mexican chaperone for the occasional spanish lesson. I would read billboards as we passed (to work on my accent and pronunciation) and then translate it for him. If i couldn't translate it, I would ask.

On the way to Queretero, we saw a billboard that used the term "mordida". I wasn't sure what this meant and here is the definition: "LA MORDIDA, translation "the bite" is the term used for a bribe in this country. It is the traditional and customary way of getting things done."

The billboard was asking the good people of Mexico to 'just say no' to bribery.

The following day we head for Mexico City- the big, stinking, polluted, cesspool that it is. We passed through a toll plaza / checkpoint on the outskirts of the city (60 km from downtown and 2 km from our destination). As SOON as we are through the toll, we are pulled over by the cops.

Three cops approach the vehicle and some rapid spanish ensues. These were not the hot-variety state trooper cops we get in America either. These were some rode-hard-put-up-wet motherfuckers. The toughest of them all was a woman. There was an exchange in very rapid spanish, followed by some frantic searching for all the correct documentation for our company car (which wasn't present).

When the cops walk away for a brief moment, my chaperone fills me in. Evidently there is a law in Mexico City that on certain days, if your license plate does not end with the correct digit, you are not allowed to drive. On this day, we were "illegal" in the city. And naturally they let us enter the city limits before telling us that.

The long and short of it is the police wanted a 'mordida' or they were going to take us to jail and impound the car. This is when I started to get nervous. They wanted 2000 pesos (~200 dollars) or we were arrested. We had a grand total of 1700 pesos only.

As much as I fantasize about being gang-raped in prison by either Chris Meloni or a bunch of guys who look like the Brotherhood from the HBO show "Oz" (not Schillenger- the OTHER ones), I know that I really don't want to go to prison. I also know that the likelihood of the gang-rapists in a Mexican prision being hot, sexy, shaved-head, goateed and tattooed men is very small.

And lets face it, I'm too pretty for the type of men I'd get there!

Anyway, after an hour or negotiations, we ended up paying the cops most of what we had on us. One of them crawled into the van to help escort us back through the toll plaza.

Then we parked on the side of the road and had to call the people at the company we were slated to visit to come pick us up. It was all very upsetting and frustrating.

Plus, how does one fill out an expense report to recoup a "mordida"? I'm pretty sure there isn't a line item for 'bribe' on the form.

Nursery Rhymes

My parents had quite the sense of humor when I was little; one way in which it manifested was through the corruption of nursery rhymes.

Since I was their only child, I'm guessing that they thought of me more as a toy than a boy. So they chose to inflict me with their adult humor fairly frequently. One of their most cherished ways was how they 'adulterated' all the endings of nursery rhymes for me.

Here are the two that I remember most to this day:

Little Jack Horner sat in a corner eating his christmas pie,
He stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum and said,
"Yuck! There's a PLUM on my thumb!"

Little Miss Muffett sat on a tuffet eating her curds and whey
When along came a spider who sat down beside her and she screamed,
"EEEEEKKK! There's a SPIDER beside me!!!!"

Notice a theme?

Naturally these would be accompanied by the appropriate facial expressions, swatting motions, and general pantomiming much to the giggling delight of their knowledge-thirsty three year old child.

Oh, and I'm sure my parents secretly howled with pleasure at their cleverness, relishing the fact that their kid loved the rhymes but also smuggly loving the whole seditious act of smudging these historic ditties.

The problem with this should be obvious; I never learned the REAL endings to the nursery rhymes. I think I was twenty or so before I learned the real last line for the Jack Horner one. To this day I don't know the correct ending for Little Miss Muffett.

And people wonder why I'm fucked up?

Date Nite

I had a date on Saturday night--- but first let me tell you about 'game night' on Friday.

My friends here in NC occasionally host what we call "game nights". The primary purpose of game night is to get together and have laughs and drink and generally make fools out of ourselves playing party-time board games. The second (and more insidious) purpose of game night I am convinced is to give couples a great way of showing off their coupledom to their single friends... AND to create a social activity away from 'the bars'.

At said game night were the following people: BillnAustin (the hosts), StephanienGreg, RobnJonathan, FranknLarry, and Narissa and of course me. Narissa and I naturally get paired together on teams because we are single. I love her- as she is a sarcastic, smart, competitive, trash-talking (yet in a nice way), heavyset, heterosexual black girl (aka fag hag).

While playing the games and watching all of the (cr)happy couples I suddenly realized that I am the gay equivalent of a fag hag. Fun, and nice enough, but always single. What the hell am I called-- fag stag? fag gag??

Game night was fun, but also a bit depressing as everyone left in their respective coupleness to go do couple things.

Anyway...

So I got online and whored a bit that night after I got home. And online was a very nice guy with whom I started a chat. My age, stocky build, published music composer (wow!), likes rollercoasters, midwestern breeding stock, well educated, etc. Pretty interesting bait, so I bit.

Naturally he's from Michigan and only visiting.

We actually did the "phone test" that night and chatted for over an hour about a whole myriad of things-- not just sex stuff. We agreed to meet on saturday evening after he had finished work. Sushi was had (what better way for two fags to start a date than to put raw fish in their mouths), beer was had, and then I took him back to my place.

He shared some of his music with me (contemporary vocal stuff-- christian bent, but also classical in a way, i liked it) and I got up the nerve to share my music with him. He was insanely helpful by actually studying my scores and offering suggestions on percussion scoring/writing, notation things, and he also had ideas about possible things to add. He actually listened to it as someone who is a composer and who has studied film scoring as USC and stuff.

Then we shagged.

Well, not 'shagged' per se, but we made out with some 'lower' making out. But not much happened all things considered. He was tired. I was tired. We then watched "Night Listener"--which was kind of a freaky movie-- and then he left to go back to his friend's house where he was staying. At this point, I know he's on a plane back to Michigan.

A good date, but no future, which is fairly usual for me. We agreed to keep in touch, and I think it is a good thing for me to actually know a published composer- and not just for the free advice either. But mostly for the free advice.

Now its Sunday, and I'm back to being a 'fag gag'.

Go Meat!

I'm in love with the new Hillshire Farm ad campaign! The woman in the cubicle making the salad with her coworkers doing a very "bring it on" cheer routine in the background makes me giggle every time I see it.

There is a youtube version out there (or you can watch it here.

The lyrics go something like this:

Go meat, meat
Go meat, meat
Go meat, meat
That salad rocks! The best!
Make it easy at your desk
Its second - to none
Just add lettuce and you're done
Its crazy girl, I swear
There's so much stuff in there!
S-s-s-s-salad, yeah!
Ma-Meaty salad!
Why? Because you're hungry
You're hungry!
Yo momma says you hungry!

When I say "hillshire" you say "farm"
Hillshire!
Farm!

Go meat!


This shit cracks me up! I'm now going around saying "Go Meat" replete with the cheerleading arm thrust.

I'm so gay.

Hot Hunk Haiku # 6.02 X 10^23

Don't aim for his face!
Too pretty for a boxer
How big are your fists?

Fucking MEMEs

Yeah, I got tagged too. With the 10 Things About You meme thingy. I used to have a 50 things about me sidebar area, but I got rid of that. So ok- here are ten, slight-more-obscure things about me:

1) I occasionally have nightmares about tornadoes. My town was hit severely when I was 5, and it was a very traumatic experience for me. So much so that every time a storm rolled through (in Iowa in the summer, there are plenty) I would freak out. I eventually got to where I love storms, but I still have bad dreams about seeing a tornado coming at me and not being able to move or scream.

2) I once shared the stage with Ana Gasteyer from SNL. It was in college (we went to the same university) and it was during a comedy improv show. It was just a brief moment, but a moment nonetheless.

3) I fainted the first time I inserted a dildo. Yup- I was about 23 and I had gone to an adult bookstore and purchased what I thought was a respectable sized, anatomically correct, veined thingy. I greased it up with vaseline, set it on the back of the closed toilet lid, and tried to squat down on it. I think it was a combination of pain, nervousness, anxiousness, and sexual desire but my vision fuzzed out and I woke up a few seconds later on the tile floor with a bump on my head and a dildo in my ass.

4) I was academically dishonest in a couple exams in college. I tried to bring notes into an art history exam and a calculus exam. Neither cribnotes helped me much.

5) Worst moment in high school was when I learned that I wasn't selected to be a drum major of our high school band. And then overhearing my "friends" talking about it and being overly glad that I wasn't chosen. I went home and cried-- I was 16.

6) Best moment in high school was when I got to understudy the romantic lead in the school play because the lead got mono. He ended up getting better and I resumed my old role-- but after the play the director pulled me aside and told me that he made a mistake in casting. He said he never initially thought I could pull off the lead, but that I was by far and away the better performer and he was sorry I didn't get the chance to show that to the audience.

7) One of my most embarassing moments was when I accidently left my mom's playgirl out on her bed after "finishing" using it. I got a phone call and forgot to put it away. She found it out when she got home and asked me about it. Whoops.

8) The first time I came I was 15 and watching saturday morning cartoons (Superfriends). It surprised me and I started freaking out hoping that I had the chance to clean it up before my mom and dad woke up and came out to the living room.

9) I used to refuse to use any bathroom that wasn't the one in my house when I was growing up. During all of gradeschool, I never went to the boys bathroom. I held it all day until I could get home. This sometimes made walking home from school difficult.

10) I secretly try to touch the artwork in museums. I love to sneak a touch of a sculpture or exhibit. My goal one day is to touch the paint on a Van Gogh.

Well, I've scared off another one...

I seem to have a lot of trouble dating.

"Dating" for a night (or a few hours) I seem to handle with absolutely no problem- but anything much longer than a week and everything just sort of implodes. The most recent iron in the fire-- big dick boy (BDB for short)-- is cooling off rapidly.

It all started with the desperate 'booty call' that I placed shortly after my father and uncle had left my house. To be fair, I was very pent up after the weeks I'd had and needed some release. So I called BDB and left him a voice message detailing precicely how very pent up I was.

I didn't hear back.

Well- not until the email telling me that I had creeped him out and that all I seemed to want was sex and that wasn't him and he wanted more and if I was just all about sex then this wasn't going in the direction he wanted yadda yadda yadda. This coming from the guy who's every email to me has some sort of sexual innuendo in it. And also from the guy who has tried to poopstab me every time we're together- regardless whether I'm prepared for it or not.

Hmmmm. Methinks it was just the "I want to get out of this and this opportunity presented itself" email.

And then I went to Mexico and was out of the picture for a week, cooling things off even further. When we email or talk now, there is an awkwardness to it that wasn't there before.

No big whoop, though. I can deal. What's funny though, is that as much as everyone thinks I'm all about the sex, I much more tend to be the guy that loves to sit on the couch (with another guy) eat pizza and watch tv- with the occasional cuddle thown in. Heck, I only jack off 3 or 4 timea a week- its not like I'm "All Sex- All the Time" or anything. Of course not-alone-sex is a good thing, but after about 8 pm at night, I'm in the 'gettin' ready to go to sleep' zone.

My sex zone is definitely from about 3pm to 7 pm. I don't like sex early in the morning or late at night (unless I can be assured of plenty of uninterrupted sleeping-in the next day). Early morning I'm cranky and need coffee. After 8pm I want to watch TV and relax-- sometimes sex is just too much fucking work right before bed!

Oh, and waking me up in the night for sex is RIGHT OUT. I hate that- and its an excellent way for the 'waker' to lose an appenadge.

Another thing- I am a fan of the quickie. All the pleasure, none of the time... that sort of deal. "Me love you long time" sessions are ok for me on occasion, but once again-- a lot of fucking work. I'd rather do it three times in two hours with breaks than one, three-hour tour. I think BDB leaned more toward the latter.

Anywoo- after a few tentative emails and explanations of our viewpoints and a few brief phone conversations, I can tell its over with BDB. Not COMPLETELY over, but definitely in the stage of "I'll call you later" and then not calling later. Or ever.

Its a shame too--- the penis was rather nice.

Mortality

I came back to work today to discover that a guy that I worked with died last week.

Normally I am relatively unphased by death, especially when its the a death of a person with whom I am only generally acquainted in a work sense. Heck, I didn't even work closely with this guy, and whole weeks would go by without me even seeing him. However, this one hit me differently and I'm very distressed about it.

His name was Giles and I always had a bit of a crush on him. He was a definite redneck, handsome, worked in our toolroom and in maintenance, he was around my age, married, with a ton of kids (one of those uber-breeders). But Giles was always a bit different in that he was... well, he was just nice.

I mean ULTRA nice-- sweet even. Never angry or pissy, he would always be smiling, laughing, and joking around. He would joke around with you and make you feel comfortable, even if you didn't know him all that well. And I mean he was ALWAYS laughing, so much so that his nickname was "Jolly". No lie, everyone called him Jolly.

His laugh and smile were infectious. You couldn't help but just be pulled in by his twinkling eyes and his sort of giggle. I'll miss that.

What makes it so much more difficult to cope with for me is the way he died. He crashed into the back of a logging truck on a road he's driven a million times before. We have a lot of logging trucks down here-- old, crappy trucks that haul big pine trees to the paper mills. They naturally overload the trucks, and trees stick out the back sometimes 10 or 15 feet, with only a small red flag tied to the furthest point.

But this logging truck didn't have working taillights. And it had just pulled out onto the road, so it was going slow with its heavy load of trees, trying to accelerate.

Jolly crashed his car into the back end of the logging truck- with all the trees sticking out the back.

My stomach is a knot right now that won't untie.

Mural Mural on the Wall...

In Aguascalientes, we had the opportunity to visit the government office building during labor day. Of course nobody was working, but we were still allowed to walk around the building. The walls inside are all decorated by these murals depicting the history of mexico. They were absolutely incredible, with so many ideas and images all crowded together. Here is a sampling of what I saw.

The first image is religious in context, but also i loved the naked uncutness of the image.. ahem. The next image shows the rich being greedy and profiting off the backs of the laborers, with revolution lurking, etc.

Loved the Aztec dragon image.

There was also an entire wall of industrial imagery. This was a closeup of part of the manufacturing area-- i loved the whirling sparks.

If only I could remember the muralist's name.

Fiesta San Marcos

My trip to Mexico ever-so-fortunately coincided with their "labor day"-- which is May 1st. I thought this was odd seeing as how they have another holiday so close (Cinco de Mayo), right? As it turns out, May 5th is NOT a big deal in Mexico... who knew? Anyway, i digress.

I arrived in the charming city of Aguascalientes on April 30th. And not only has the town been celebrating their month long festival of San Marcos (April 15th to may 15th), the festival was in EXTRA FULL swing, as the next day was a holiday. My host took me to the festival to walk around. It basically takes over the entire center of town with bars and food stands and beer and cheap goods and carnies and beer and carnival rides and music and dancing and more beer. The picture above is of the Church of San Marcos.


The crush of people at the festival was insane! People of all ages crowded the streets, dancing and singing and drinking. There were babies and small children about, and we were there until after midnight. Everywhere you walked there was a group of musicians playing loudly to be heard over the OTHER group of musicians 10 feet away. The music of choice is called 'banda'- and its like all these mini marching bands plaing latin music.



There were two competing stages of activities and music and contests sponsored by the festival's two biggest sponsors (Corona/Budweiser and Sol). The stages are literally butting up against each other, and they have banks of speakers to outdo the other in volume. The stages each have a male MC and then very pretty girls and boys dressed up in their respective Corona or Sol outfits. Then they get drunk people to come on stage and make fools of themselves for the crowd. I think in the picture, they had just done a contest where a guy had to hold a girl (with her legs wrapped around his waist) and then do squats (simulating sex) while the crowd counted off the number of squats.

I drank a huge 2 liter cup of Sol beer and watched the fun. The Sol boys were hotter, but that pic didn't turn out.


At the festival- just outside the San Marcos gardens, there were tons of people walking around eating these huge ice cream bars that were dipped in what appeared to be strawberries and granulated sugar. They were on a popsicle stick and there was a small cardboard box at the base to capture the juices. Yum! The line was so long I figured it must be worth it. So I stood in line. I ordered the 'dulce' version (extra sweet!) and walked out with my prize. I took a bite.

And nearly spit it out.

It was NOT ice cream at all-- but jicama. Basically a slab of mexican potato on a stick. And the strawberries? Nope-- it was a red chili sauce of sorts... with sugar and salt mixed for the granules. It was honestly fairly disgusting-- and spicy. I managed to eat about a third of it before chucking it slyly into a garbage can.

This was just my 2nd full day in Mexico.

... and I'm Spent.

And so I'm back... from outer space...

Or in this case, Mexico.

I'm sure everyone missed me greatly, as I have not blogged in over a week (le gasp!!) But it was neither necessary nor prudent to travel with a laptop, so i didn't. Natually I have tons of (mis)adventures to relate (none involving sex) and I will no doubt pepper my blog with them in time. But for now, here's an ever-so-brief litany of observations about Mexico from a decidely gringo point of view:

Guadalajara is a big, stinking city
Aguascalientes and Queretaro are absolutely charming
You can't swing a dead cat without hitting a catholic cathedral
A lot of the country is brown and dusty and arid
Nobody does a festival like the Mexicans
Everyone is friendly- especially if you learn a bit of spanish
Cervesa is muy cheap
Don't drive in Mexico City
Don't visit Mexico City
Don't tangle with the police in Mexico City (i'm just sayin...)
Never get the meat 'combo platter' at a restaurant
The small green peppers are insanely hot
Meal times are WAY fucked up (lunch after 2 pm??)
the ice cream is bueno
The stuff you might THINK is ice cream, might not be
Tight blue jeans are de rigeur for both men and women
NOBODY wears shorts-- not even in 90+ weather
Mexican men are the #1 consumer of hair gel and mousse products in the world
The 'eye contact' and 'turn and look' thing works in mexico
You can't swing a dead cat without hitting a bad moustache
Tequila with lunch is acceptable


More later. But for now I'm dying to eat my Tombstone pizza