That crazy Ron Paul

Thanks to Wonkette for linking this article. Its scary that people like this have a cult-like following of political support from people who barely know where their candidate stands on issues besides war and taxes.

http://www.dailykos.com/storyonly/2007/12/26/85617/090/639/426519

The End of an Era

...well almost. But its rapidly approaching.

I know you're all craving juicy sexual gossip and personal stories, so here goes...I last successfully bottomed around 2002 (though I tried once in 2004, didn't work). Most loyal readers, friends, and everyday passers by have a hard time believing I'm not a total bottom, let alone a top. But I've always said that its just cause I haven't had the "opportunity"...really, I've just resisted since I've either dated someone too horse-hung or a total bottom. But now I've been dating The Musician for about a month--and as a vers/top he expects some ass. Being a manageable size, I'm willing to try this. And I did mention something to him about "when ya come back from Chicago"...which is in two days. I know what he's gonna try to do as soon as he sees me. But, being the controlling Aries, I did lay conditions: not late at night, not drunk, etc. That gives me a few more days reprieve...so I figure something like Jan 1 or 3.

Stay tuned for updates (and funny walks).

Reasons Why I'm Gay (III)

Wives are so fucking annoying.

As I was standing at the back of the line for my flight from DCA to FLL on Dec 19th, I was next to a couple on their way to Puerto Rico (we were all on the same flight to FL). The line was the entire length of Terminal A at DCA (the old part), and we only had 1 hour until takeoff. I wasn't worried since the airline was not about to close the gate on us, with 3/4 of the passengers still in line for their only flight of the morning. But no...the wife next to me was freakin out. "We should've never flown Spirit", "Lets just leave", "I really just want to leave". She obviously had 1. never flown before or 2. is a complete retard and waste of oxygen. My vote is on #2. The big black girl (the type who loves her gays) and I just starred at each other, obviously both sharing the desire to strangle a bitch. I think the husband was also resisting that temptation--obviously he's a castrated, non-Aries.

Eventually she wore her husband down enough (when there were only 15 people ahead of us) to just leave without even trying to make the flight. That means they just threw away $500. At least if the gate closed while they were trying to check in, they would've received some sort of voucher. Nope.

Fuckin chicks!

Never fly Spirit Airlines

Happy Ho Ho everyone! I'm back from the holiday break, and in my office (hence blogging) on Dec 26. You can imagine how empty it is, given its a federal building. My week off was pretty uneventful--went to FL to see the parents...did some scuba diving, drinking, shopping, etc. But the real story/lesson that came out of this trip was the title of this blog "Never fly Spirit Airlines". I post this twice hoping it will come up when someone Google's Spirit Airlines.

I've blogged before about my willingness to pay for quality, though usually this hasn't applied to air travel. Until now. I started flying Spirit years ago when they first emerged as a no frills airline catering to the golfing crowd. Living somewhat near Myrtle Beach, I could catch a very cheap flight back to PA at a moment's notice. Never had any problems...the staff was efficient and polite, everything went smoothly.

It seems that they've changed their business model a bit. It is now (officially) "You only pay for the services you want." For instance, a checked bag costs $5-10, a coke/water/coffee is $3, etc. That's fine with me...I rarely check bags, and always bring a bottle of water on the plane. But what killed me was their totally fucked up check-in system. Their online check-in doesn't work and they don't have kiosks at the terminal, which means that EVERYONE must go to the ticketing counter to get a boarding pass to get through security. At DCA, this meant a 1 hour wait in line (for the only Spirit flight that was departing that morning). At FLL it meant a line that stretched outside the terminal, down the sidewalk, and over to the next terminal entrance. No wonder...it literally took at least 10min for the desk attendant to check me in. For some reason she had to get print-outs from the back room. I guess they cut costs by only having 1 printer for everyone to share. A true measure of their inefficiency was the fact that all other terminals in the airport were absolutely empty. Not Spirit. Their antiquated systems more than quadrupled the time needed to get from drop-off to the boarding gate.

So my advice: pay the extra $100, fly Delta, US Air, Jet Blue, etc...its well worth it.

The Musician

Sorry I've been away for so long--I know you're all starving for juicy gossip. Between work and men, I've been quite the busy bee lately. Let's break this down a bit...

Work: This week I've done 4 states in 4 days. Monday: Delaware; Tuesday: Ohio; Wednesday: Maryland; Thursday: Florida. Much of this is related to our much anticipated, largest annual conference in New Orleans starting January 20. And for those of you in the government and contracting sectors, you'll be quite amazed that I've somehow gotten work for free out of a contracting company, albeit the one I work for. What a coup!

Men: I've been dating a guy for the last two weeks. Longest streak in years! I really enjoy his company--and even the Mexican has given his initial blessing, though the Imelda is quite jealous that he's taking away her husband, I suspect. I am resisting getting sucked into the lesbian relationship, so I'm going to start setting some ground rules soon--otherwise I'll never get to the gym, swimming, or see my friends. Cant have that. Plus he likes to be controlled, so I'm sure he'll go with these restrictions.

Oh right...he is called "The Musician" because he plays in a band. No, not some 930 Club'esque gay punk band. Nope, the Air Force ceremonial band. He plays the euphonium. Sexy? Well, at least when he's wearing the uniform it is!!

More juicy pedophillic gossip

Below was the link to Wonkette's blogs about the downfall of the AOF charter member Mike McHaney in is alleged child-sexscapade. Inevitably, after reading such an article, everyone wonders what he looks like, or who the Axis of Fun are. Well here ya go...courtesy of Friendster. Best thing about his profile there...he has a partner. Of course, I'm not showing that poor sap's face.

Mike didn't realize you need to be 18 to enter the navy

The Axis of Fun at the Renaissance Festival

Sweet Revenge

For those of you who love to watch the obnoxious crash and burn, you'll love to read this blog:
http://wonkette.com/politics/axis-of-fun/mike-mchaneys-axis-of-fun-330029.php

If you have never heard of met anyone from the Axis of Fun, you're a better person for it!

We're all a bunch of pussies

Back when I was a kid we used to walk 5 miles in 3 foot snow drifts in bare feet to get to school! As I sit here looking out my office window onto a winter wonderland (while scarfing down Cool Ranch Doritos...mmmm), I cant help but think how we were much tougher and resilient only 15 years ago. What's happened since to make us so soft as a people? When I woke up this morning, I could see out my window that snow had covered the neighboring roof--but just barely. I almost went back to sleep, assuming work would be postponed. Granted, I wasn't thinking rationally, but after I got out of bed I actually checked the OPM website to find out if the gov't was closed today. Not that 1/16" of snow necessitates closing businesses...but in reality, that's just what happens.

As I said, I distinctly remember things being different when I was in my teens...15 years ago. Maybe 1992 ushered in a new era of thinking in the U.S.: the Cold War had just ended; a democrat was just elected president, ushering in a new mentality; we were just starting to pull out of a recession. There was no longer a need to be stoic, steadfast, and intimidating...it was more a time of concern, compassion, and globalization. This was before the time of the $3million McDonald's coffee spill incident--a watershed for frivolous lawsuits. Ever since then, people have just bitched and not taken personal responsibility. Maybe at that time (I don't know) we installed some weak willed people as superintendents and city operators--those able to cancel school/government on a whim. As a kid and teen, I never would've dreamed about not going to school unless there was at least 8" of snow. Now...2" is enough to shutdown "The Most Powerful City in the World" or at least necessitate a 2 hour drive along a 10-mile stretch of road. Imagine how the USSR would look upon us now and hardly shudder at the notion of battling us.

Reverse fake ID's

If there's one thing that annoys me about gay men (well...there isn't just one), its the inability to accept their own age. I love browsing online to find guys who flaunt the fact that they're ex-college athletes, or ex-frat guys...especially when they're now 35, and that was almost half a lifetime ago. Gay men don't like to accept their true age, and thus the fact that they're no longer the hot piece of ass that everyone wants to fuck. Why kid yourself? Accept who you are and love yourself...you'll save a lot of money on shrinks and drugs that way. I've always accepted the fact that I'm short and gay. And now I must accept the fact that I'm 29, dangerously close to 30, and not the cute twink dancing on the box at Backstreet anymore.


Or am I? As of this weekend, I'm once again a student at Georgia Tech. There were many great stories that came out of this weekend, most of them dealing with AtlWreck and his alcoholism, but this is by far the best--at least to a 30yr old gay man. I was staying at his frat house, casting for a new Amateur Straight Guys porno--well the first part is true. The day of the football game, the house's "Ticket Bitch" had a ticket for me...only problem was that it was student section, thus requiring a student ID. I no longer had mine from years ago. Problem? No...not with a scanner, printer, and Photoshop. PRESTO! I had a new student Georgia Tech BuzzCard, complete with a picture of myself, student ID number, and the name "Bill A. Balling" to match the signature. I kept it as a memento of the weekend. Sure, I might carry it in my wallet for the time-being, but at least I wont be trying to stuff my 30 year old gut into an Abercrombie and Fitch tshirt like most of my contemporaries in a vain attempt to recapture my youth.

The meaning of friendship

Its amazing how sometimes we make inaccurate assessments of the friends in our lives. Usually I'm on the short end of the stick. As I sit here in ATL, on my friend's computer, this epiphany has struck me. True friends go out of their way for each other. Superficial friends go out to bars, have some laughs, and think that they know and can depend on the other person, but really cant in all situations.

Why bring this up? My trip to Atlanta for the Thanksgiving holiday was to hang out with two friends I've maintained close ties with since leaving ATL--BG and JO (wouldn't that be funny if they were BJ and JO?!) . I assumed (as was the plan) that I would be staying with and spending the majority of my time with JO--who I have long considered one of my closest friends due to an intangible bond that we share. But no, I haven't seen JO in two and a half days now...so much for staying at his apartment while in town, catching up, and reminiscing about days past. If it wasn't for BG, I'd probably be having one of those trips where I say "Why the fuck did I even bother coming here?". Don't get me wrong...I love my BG and would come just to hang with him (as we've visited each other in the past), but I am just disappointed in the lack of attention shown by JO.

This is now the second time that JO has slighted me...I only give people 3 strikes, whether they realize it or not. And I can assuredly state that I will not be going out of my way for him in the future--unless I see some major reciprocation of effort. But I guess this weekend was actually valuable--it has made me realize what and who are most important in the grand scheme of things. Not to mention those people from my past who have come out of the woodwork to spend time with me in my stay here besides BG and JO.

As we used to sing in The Brownies (a story for another post), "Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other's gold." So true. And we must remember that both silver and gold tarnish with time; if not properly maintained, those once glittering jewels are relegated to the pawn shop.

An American Tradition

Maybe its a sign of the times--the growing influence of latin culture in the United States. Or it could be that the guest list includes names like Carlos, Pablo, and Puente.

The menu for Thursday includes...

Appetizers
Hummus and Pita
Salsa and Chips

Main Course
Turkey

Ham
Cranberry sauce

Sweet potato souffle

Rice

Green bean casserole
Tater tots

Mashed potatoes

Dessert
Pumpkin pie

Margarita pie

Drinks
Sangria

Yes...there are some odd things in there (see italics). None of them are my choosing. In fact, I'd almost prefer that no one else cooked. Imagine that...the Consummate Aries wanting total control over the situation.

The ThankfulAries

I'm not a very emotional person, in fact some think I'm cold (and you know who you are!). However, I would be remissed not to blog about those things in my life which are positive, and for which I'm thankful for in this past year. The biggest addition to my life in 2007 has been my swimmin sistas. What would I do without these friends? Though I may seem "distant" at some times, I'd go out of my way and bend over backwards for you all and help in any way I could. We've definitely had some great and memorable times--getting naked at bars, trips to swim meets (especially Paris and Philly), drunken sex talk at Nellies, and quiet dinners at home. And thank you all for driving my ass to and from practice. Not to mention your fat jokes keep me motivated to stay in shape, providing me with better health.

Next is my family. Although they don't read this (I hope!!), I'm so grateful for my new nephew. It was a long and arduous process for my sister just to have any child, but it was certainly worth the wait for this one. And of course, my mom and dad have been at my side whenever I need them.

Lastly, my other friends around the country are always there with a laugh and make traveling to see them a great reprieve from the pace of life in DC. I do need to make an effort to stay in better contact--but this is true of all my friends and family.

Social Obligatories

One draw-back to being gay (besides the lack of civil rights and the constant necessity of keeping your ass spic n span) is the fact that gay culture is a Platonian series of rings, all orbiting around a focus--the club scene. It is unavoidable, one must patronize the gay bars and clubs or face gay social gangrene...slowly withering away til you're cut off by your friends. Now I'm not espousing the need for a Copernican revolution, switching the focus to something like the gym or needle-work...I enjoy my bourbon in social scenarios as much as the next alcoholic. But here's my dilemma...I rather despise clubs.

While working as a teacher in ATL, I needed more spending cash--it may be a shock to you, but teachers dont make much money, especially at private schools. I did a friend a favor and worked the door/ID's at the gay club he managed since he regular was out that night (I used to say I was a bouncer, which technically I was, but people laugh when . Somehow I got stuck with the gig...every Friday and Saturday night at Jungle. Eventually this arrangement also turned into Sat, Mon, and Thurs night. This might be a blessing to some...constant access to liquor and drum n bass...but not me. It meant being surrounded by crack whores 4-5 nights a week.

Why do I bring this issue up? Because the new Ed Bailey club "Town" is opening in DC this weekend, and it is compulsory that a young'ish single gay man attend such an event--or so the Law of Gravity in a Platonian solar system dictates. Of course I want to see and be seen, but I'm not so excited about paying for over-priced, water-downed bourbon, being surrounded by an alphabet soup of drugs, nor staying up til 4am. But how else am I to meet my future husband? Sitting spread eagle and naked in the sauna at Results with a "Yours for the Taking" sign sure isnt working. On the plus side, I would be able to get steak and eggs and Annies with the Architect's husband at 4:30am.

Call me June Cleaver

...or better yet, call me Martha-Jean. After all, over the past weekend I successfully integrated tips from Martha and my mom (Jean) into a cohesive domestic experience reminiscent of June Cleaver, herself. Luckily, the Imelda was motivated to organize all of her belongings in preparation for our the hybrid fete of the Pentegenarian's birthday and our housewarming party on Sunday night. I think each of our guests were shocked to find her room in order. But to get it to that state required copious amounts of cleaning, organizing, shopping, and zshuzshing (to borrow a term from Queer Eye). Pictures, mirrors, shelves etc mounted on walls, carpets arranged, electronics properly wired and configured, 30 boxes unpacked and organized, food shopping, cooking, cleaning afterwards. No time for rest, that's for sure!!

And when it was all said and done, our hearth-warmed house was open to guests for wine, cheese, salad, lasagna, and birthday cake. Not to mention a few stiff cocktails made by yours truly. Needless to say, afterwards I went out and bought new curtains...always need to keep guests on their toes and impressed by new decorations. Martha and Jean would be proud.

These toys are FUN!

I now know what to get all my friends for Xmas. Thanks to China, they've made shopping so much easier!! Click here to see what you're getting!

Beer DOES come in 4-packs

Currently, my abs look like this...

Like all [gay] men, I'd like them to look like this...

However, I know that's not a possibility. Why? Exhibit A:

I made this cake exactly 40 hours ago. No one besides me has eaten any of the cake. In fact, 1/2 of the cake was eaten in 24 hours. These binging habits are why I never buy baking goods...I love them, and gorge them all too rapidly and solitarily.

Calories = 3100

Grams of fat = 80

From Ducks to Domiciles

Wow....its been a crazy week. Where to begin? First, I've been absent due to my move. As alluded to in previous posts, I have becomes a non-sexual domestic partner with The Imelda. We found a quaint condo in Mt Pleasant to lease. So all last week I was packing up my old apt and getting ready for the move. Luckily, I convinced Neighbor Chad to help me pack in exchange for a homemade Italian feast. Very fair I'd say. The movers came on Thursday--I give them 4 Stars for friendliness, efficiency, and moving skill. Since then I've been unpacking and buying needless shit for the new place. The Imelda takes up residence on Wednesday. And I did check...she has 2-3x the closet space that I do, so hopefully all her shoes will fit.

(Not my decorations. Naturally mine are better.)

And if you're lucky you'll be invited to the housewarming!

Now how could I forget, in the midst of all that madness, my favorite day/night of the year came to pass. Yes...Halloween. Though I had some great costume ideas set aside from previous years, we had to go with a swim suit theme for our a team fundraiser at Nellies. I couldnt be something stereotypical or cliche, so I thought of the wackiest thing I could...speedo and rubber duckies. Now some may consider it a crime to cover my very reputable ass with plastic oddities, but the bobbing of duck bills and tails from the natural wiggle of my booty when I walk was (I'm sure) enough to please those who I would have otherwise offended. I did have some problems with people grabbing certain duckies, but a little ingenuity (box packing tape from the move) solved the problem of falling ducks over the course of the night.

Reasons Why I'm Gay (II)

...Women are so friggin gullible! One of my favorite websites is Landover Baptist Church. If you haven't read it, you will shit your pants laughing (especially if you're an atheist). The concept is that its a satire on ultra-conservative baptists churches. However, there is one part of the website where people write emails to the supposed "Pastor"...many of which are complaints about the "church's" intolerance. Notice that 85% of the emails are from women. Why? Cause they're so friggin dumb that they don't realize the humor/satire of the site. I attribute the remaining 15% of emails from men to the fact that they have their Bibles shoved so far up their asses that they cant think correctly...most likely because Bible anal insertion requires A LOT of poppers...just ask GCC.

Wish me luck!

So I'm heading "home" this weekend to the town where I grew up...the burbs outside Philadelphia. One of my "little sisters" (youngest daughter of our closest family friends who was a swimmer too and had no brothers) is getting married. I guess most people get excited about going home after not having seen the town in years...I don't. I left the area for a reason--I didn't particularly enjoy my childhood years there...hence moving far away to the South. I know I'm going to come face-to-face with annoyances from my past--fat chicks who want to dance with the gay guy, losers, and real estate agents. Since I never went to my 10-year reunion, this will be the closest thing to it. I have images of Romy and Michelle in my head. --Yes, I invented Post-It Notes.-- Especially since I was a quasi-nerd back in high school, but will probably be the only 29yr old male there with abs and a full head of hair.

(below is written from my sister's suburban castle)

Case in point, the sister who's organizing a lot of the reception asked me "Do you want to sit with ___ (insert names of fat chicks) or your parents?" I went with my parents. A. I don't get to see them very often; B. Otherwise I'd have endless questions from air-headed cheerleader wannabees while staring at caked-on makeup. Just what I need...more fag hags. Nevertheless, I'll undoubtedly spend 10 min picking out the perfect tie to match the suit I packed in the hopes of being second-to-none when it comes to formal fashion (I quickly shoved 4 ties in my suitcase). Hey...I'm gay...gotta reputation to uphold

Talkin' Shit

With the cyber-death of Gay Canuck in the Captial, there has been a measurable decrease in the discussion of poop in the blogosphere--dirty asses, fetishes, toilet humor, bathroom behavior, sexual escapades gone wrong, etc. Its time for me to add my 2 cents...

Growing up, I never shat in public facilities. I attribute this embarrassment to having private bathrooms in our elementary classrooms. It was just a room at the back of the class. We didn't have hall bathrooms...at least not many, and you couldn't use them during class time. You had to use the "closet" at the back of the room. There was no fan, and hardly a sound barrier, so you could hear just about any noise that escaped from under the door. I rarely even used them to pee. The same applied in middle and high school--I only ever peed in school bathrooms. Never shat. This public shit phobia continued even through college and my first jobs.

For some reason, when I started my job here I had no problem shitting. Probably cause its a large office building and I get lost in the mix of people using the facilities. Its hard to say..."Oh daaaaayum, C-A just dropped a bomb in the bathroom." But still, as GCC pointed out, I use the bathroom one floor above or below for such activities. I even got into a routine...almost every day at 10am. I guess that's when the coffee finally kicked in. Your physiology definitely gets into rhythms, that was mine. But now somehow my rhythm has been broken. I haven't shat at work in months probably. Cant even remember the last time. Very odd. Maybe I need more fiber...or just a good f*^%#.

Microevolution in DC

The other day I referred to reverse evolution--degeneration of derived traits to more ancestral forms. Today I'd like to introduce another evolutionary term and metaphor for what is unraveling here in DC. Microevolution is what we think of as "Dawinian Evolution"...the slow process of natural selection, but which the traits most adapted to the environment or conferring the highest fitness survive and reproduce more, thus becoming more abundant in the population. Changes (mutation) occur about 1x10e-8 cell divisions, so the chances of having a beneficial change that actually gets passed on to offspring (i.e., its a mutation in the germ cells) are pretty slim. Thus evolution in a Darwinian sense occurs very slowly over time (hopefully I'll find a DC metaphor to explain Macroevolution on here one day).

Incremental Change

In my 1.75 years here in DC I've noticed that 1. its a pretty liberal, educated, and techno-savvy town, 2. nothing gets done because of politicking, and 3. its expensive to take taxis everywhere. I was elated to hear that Fenty has ordered the switch to fare meters for our taxis. I usually take a taxi 1 or 2 times a week at most. Usually so I don't have to walk home drunk from Dupont and get mugged. The ride is 2 zones, or $8.80 in non-peak times. Its $10 during peak. FYI...the ride is 1 mile; less as the crow flies. Even worse is $6.50 to go 5 blocks to the Metro. Add in fuel surcharges (like during the summer), and I just walked or bus'ed everywhere.

So here we are...about to install these state-of-the-art (in 1891) taxi meters on all of our cabs. At the same time, NYC is moving ahead with a system that includes four main components:

1. A credit card/debit card payment system (about 10% of taxis in DC accept cards)


2. Passenger Information Monitor [PIM], essentially a TV screen that will be installed in the back seat to flash advertisements and entertainment to riders as well as a live map, facilitated by GPS, that will show passengers where they are;


3. Trip Sheet Automation that uses AVL [Automatic Vehicle Locater] technology — the equivalent of GPS—to automatically collect data about each individual cab ride; and


4. text messaging for the driver that will flash messages from TLC when the cab is stopped, or going very slowly, according to TLC's Web site.

Shouldn't we be looking to the future for our "enhancements" to the taxi system, such as NYC is doing? Maybe Congress can mandate we make these changes 25 years from now when taxis are completely obsolete.

Mama don't let your babies grow up to be...

Popular. Ever notice that when there's a news report about some kid who dies tragically, its always the hot football jock or Mr. Popular? Car crash, freak accident, or Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus. Those things never happen to the class nerd or the loner that no one cares about (no...they go on shooting rampages). I remember when I was in high school, our class clown/hottie football jock/Mr Popular died when the tires came off his car and he crashed head-on into a truck (freak accident combined with car crash). Inevitably the whole school was in morning for weeks. Counseling is needed, tributes at football games, yearbooks, etc. If it happened to the Average Joe, things would be so much easier. Luckily, I was the Average Joe...played sports, but not too well; wasn't bad looking, but not enough to be either teased (besides being short) or lose my virginity--making me cool; got good grades, but wasn't valedictorian. I played it safe in the nice meaty part of the bell curve in every aspect. And here I am, almost 30 and still kickin!

So mama...tell you babies to grow up to be science geeks or business nerds. That'll assure them success in life, and the ability to make it through high school without dying some prematurely.

A Step Backwards

Reverse evolution is the process by which a more derived trait of an organism degenerates into the the more ancestral version over time. The textbook example is cave fish--since they live in areas without light, the production of maintenance of eyes or other visual sensors is a waste of energy (and thus lowers fitness), so over time, cave fish have lost their eyes though other physiologies have evolved to adapt to their environment.

Today, like the cave fish, I took a step back. (I'd like to think that since leaving the PhD program with a MS, this is my only other case of reverse evolution.) Moving to DC was a significant accomplishment--new city, new well salaried job, new apartment...new life. Things were changing for the best. Not knowing anyone here, I moved into a 1 bedroom apartment by myself. If someone told me back when I had my first apartment in NC (paying $300/month) that I would some day spend $1500 on rent, I would've said "You're fucking nuts!" Amazing how shit happens. Ever since I was 24 and had enough of living with shitty roomies, I've lived alone--a major evolutionary step in maturing.

Step backwards.

As luck would have it, I'll soon be living with The Imelda. We just signed the lease today...and granted our new place is large, its probably not large enough for her 1,060 pairs of shoes. Though I'm not "scared" of living with her, I am somewhat apprehensive about living with someone again. For one, I rarely wear clothes while at home. Its nice to just be able to lay around in underwear or walk around naked. Also, though I rarely have sex, it will be odd having to restrict myself to times/places in the apartment that are convenient. No more sex on the living room floor I guess. And back to muzzling those screaming bottoms. Luckily I have my own bathroom. The good thing...my domestic side will come out--I love to cook, but not just for myself. And since we're on somewhat similar schedules, I'll hopefully have the opportunity to start cooking a lot more. And who doesn't want to save $400 a month?!!

Almost a Sucker

Last night I decided to have a "night off"...no socializing, gym, or swimming. Inevitably that means I spent the better part of the night chatting online, flipping through tv channels, watching porn, and jerking off a few times. Three of those four can create an additively dangerous environment, "The Perfect Storm." So there I was chatting with some young hot thing (I think I attract them like flies to shit) from Atlanta. He was supposed to visit/fly to DC this weekend, but a friend's family emergency meant that he had no place to stay. Enter "The Perfect Storm"...I start thinking (after seeing his pics and discussing sexual proclivities) that I could help a gay in need and provide him with a floor/sofa/bed/penis to sleep on this weekend. Might be kinda odd, but is that any worse than hooking up with a complete stranger? I justified this line of thought by the fact that we had friends in common in ATL--or at least that's what Myspace said. Fortunately after jerk-off session #2, the storm passed, the skies cleared, and I regained my sanity. But if it wasn't for a few hot clips on Xtube, who knows what exploits I would have shared on here come Monday.

Lamest tattoo ever!!

I was at Results tonight, doin the elliptical (since I cant lift with my gimp hand) when I saw a guy with the same tattoo on both arms--large black arrows with red trim pointing down. What the hell was he thinking?!! Obviously some chick was desperate, cause she was hitting on him and commenting on the tats.

Cover Stories

For those of us who try to butch it up as much as we can, covering up the really gay aspects of our lives are important, especially when it comes to injuries. For instance, when a friend spiral fractured his leg playing tennis (gay sport) over New Years Day, we said it was from falling out of the sling during a gang bang...believable given the person's sexual escapades. Likewise, this weekend I went to Philly for their annual gay swim meet, OutFestival, and to see my newborn nephew. I was entered in their mini sprint competition...4 individual races, 50yds of each stroke (fly, back, free, breast). I predicted that I would win the competition, and thus all hotties would want to bang...big time. First off, I'd like to admit that I'm not always right.

The meet location was kinda shitty...I had problems adjusting to the poorly light pool. For some reason I kept misjudging the distance to the walls, taking an extra stroke, and slamming my fingers and hands into the wall....hard. After doing it in the relay (breast) and fly, my body had it. It felt like I broke my hand on the finish. I would've scratched the rest of my events, but the Aries in my kept up the fight (or maybe it was the Eye of the Tiger since I was back in my hometown of Philly). But in all honesty, it was probably the desire to win my medal and be totally bang'able. I could picture all the bottoms from across the DelVal area flocking. So I taped up and kept swimming, hoping the endorphins and adrenaline would block out the severe pain. They did. Then on the last event (breast) I did it again. I was going hard into the wall to touch out the guy I thought was really hot. Maybe I should've let him win...his ego wouldn't have been so badly bruised, and neither would my hand. Maybe then he would've given up a piece.

So here I sit with my medal, wrapped up hand, and still sexless. I am a complete disappointment to the team--I think they value "inter-squad camaraderie" over total points won. Maybe next time I'll just focus on sex instead of swimming. Then again, I think that's what I did on Saturday anyway. But alas, I still need a better cover story than "I broke my hand at a swim meet." Maybe something like "I saved a blind pregnant woman from getting mugged," or "I was fisting a hot muscular virgin bottom when his sphincters suddenly contracted, crushing my hand." Better ideas?

Random memories

I cherish memories of my youth, but there are some that are so far back in my cobweb filled brain, that it takes one helluva trigger to bring them forward. This morning I was at Einstein Bagels and one such trigger hit me like a ton of bricks...they're advertising their new pizza bagels, and you'll see where this is going in a minute.

I had a very close relationship with my paternal grandfather. Being the youngest of all the grandchildren, I was the most energetic and willing to learn from his wisdom. He also lived 3/4 of a mile away, so his house was an easy getaway from my regular family, and I was always welcome...whether it was to help him cut the grass, tend to the garden, build something out of wood, play some baseball, climb trees, or even just sit, watch tv and listen to stories. Peter, from which my middle name is derived, was born in 1908, and as a history buff you can imagine how I was awe-stuck by some of the things he had to say. As I lived somewhat of a reclusive adolescence, due to my inner gay conflict, he was at times one of my best friends. Though being 70 years my senior, Pete only saw the first 17 years of his favorite grandson's life.

Now Pete was an old fashioned patriarch...he was the provider and counselor. Mary, his wife, stayed at home to cook, clean, raise the children. She didn't even know how to drive a car. Being the stereotypical Depression Era male, Pete didn't really know how to cook--at all. He could make two things: soft boiled eggs and pizza on an English muffin. I still remember standing on a chair, watching as he taught me to use the toaster oven, spread pizza sauce, cheese, and pepperoni on a split Thomas English Muffin, and bake it til golden brown. The amazing thing is, for someone clueless about cooking, he even taught me how to properly spice it with oregano. This is quite possibly the first thing I ever learned to cook...which snowballed into my current culinary prowess.

Maybe My Life Isn't So Bad

I just finished the most recently completed (posthumously) story by J.R.R. Tolkien. For those of you who lived 2001-2004 in a time warp, he's the author of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. His son has taken on the job of assembling his notes and pieces of stories, along with the constructions of worlds and languages to complete The Simarillion, The Unfinished Tales, and now...(drum roll)...The Children of Hurin.

Plot Summary:
Turin is the son of Hurin, one of the Lords of Men when the elves ruled Middle Earth. Hurin, after losing the great battle against the Dark Lord Morgoth, is enslaved. Turin is then raised by the Elvish King Thingol, but apart from his mother.

• Shitty life moment #1: Dad is a slave to the powers of evil



• Shitty life moment #2: Orphaned to the Elves--and we all know how hot they are. Legolas...mmmmm (look but don't touch)

Turin grows up to be a fine specimen of a man, slaying orcs left and right and protecting Middle Earth from evil. After a quarrel with an elf lord, he flees civilization to live in the wild.

• Shitty life moment #3: Adjusting from Charmin to tree leaves

After more battles, he meets a woman in the woods, marries with her, and plants his seed. Later he discovers...

• Shitty life moment #4: His wife is his sister (EEEEWWWW!)

Analysis:
But besides the tortured soul aspects, the book is filled with great visuals of epic battles, dragons, landscape, and elvish hotties. And it wasn't plagued by the terminology contained in The Simarillion (considered a "very hard read" by most literary scholars).

Overall Grade: A-

Study: DC is Immune from Alzheimer's

After finishing The Swarm and The Children of Hurin (review pending), I've returned to my daily routine of reading The Express on my 4 Metro stop ride to work. Its amazing how everyone has the same but different routine when it comes to reading the paper during their commute. I read page 1 and 3, skim through the international, read the local, then the blog page (of course), "today in history", then if I have time, I read The Onion-like content on page 2. As an aside, whoever writes the horoscopes for The Express fuckin sucks! They're never even close to right.

So today's article that caught my eye was a recently released study of the linkage between how people classify their personalities and the likelihood of developing Alzheimer's. The gist of the study is that Type-A personalities (organized, driven, dominate) had a much lesser chance of developing Alzheimer's later in life. The really interesting part of the 200 word blurb was that some autopsies showed that even though Type-A people may have had bran lesions characteristic of Alzheimer's, they rarely developed signs of dementia, symptomatic of Alzheimer's. Very cool.

So since DC is 95% Type-A (I leave 5% for the hippies, coffee baristas, and Greenpeace solicitors), few of us should be walking around muttering nonsense by the age of 72. This is definitely a relief for me...my nonsensical mutterings must be some other mental disorder, and not Alzheimer's.

I Look Like a Fool For Nothing!!

Our late blog-friend the GCC scolds me every time I'm sighted biking without my helmet. I'm foolish, I know. There's no excuse, even for a gay man who needs unmolested hair at all times. But I literally did a LOL today on the Metro while reading my latest Scientific American magazine. Link to article

Men Are Becoming Superfluous

Let's think about my reasons for having a man:

• Confidant/entertainment


• Sense of love/acceptance


• Sex


• Massage


• Cuddling


• Shared home/expenses
  

I've begun to analyze these points and determine whether I have them in my life, especially given the ever-increasing technological breakthroughs of the 21st century. Let's face it, the older you get, the more successful relationships become less about sex and physical attraction as fun and entertainment. If you have a great set of friends--which I'm slowly accumulating--what's the need for a bf? Granted, those friends may never love you, but they provide that much needed sense of acceptance. Then there's sex: the mother of all components for a young gay man...but let's face it, we all admit that jerking off is just as effective, if not better half the time. And once I start taking yoga, I'll be able to lick my own ass and give myself head. Or I can just become a bottom and experience the joys of vibrators/dildos/plugs/beads. Now I've always admitted that a good massage is much better than sex, and leading the active lifestyle that I do with constant walking, biking, gym, and swimming, I'm always in need of a good rub-down for my many sore muscles. Enter my new partner: the Homedics shiatsu massager.

I no longer need a man to rub my back, shoulders, or feet. And the best part? This one can go for hours. I think last night I literally let the thing work out the knots in my back for 2hrs straight. Put it on the floor....feet are taken care of. And no complaining about hands being tired. Couple that to a nice big body pillow, and you've got all the physical needs for having a man covered. Now I just need to find someone to split my overly inflated DC rent costs.

BAM!!

Following the lead of my dear swim-wife the Arian-Mexican Offspring, I've decided to post recipes that I make that turn out well. By recipes, I mean creations or ConsummateAries-originals. I cant remember the last time I followed a written recipe while cooking (which is why I don't bake), so bear with me...there are no measurements when I cook...just a sprinkle of this or that and a dash here and there.

With that said, this weekend I tackled a food that I have never attempted to cook before, and only rarely attempted (read *was forced*) to eat: brussel sprouts (BS). The bane of dining for most children. I figured that I could improve upon them. So here's what I did....

• Prep the BS by cutting off the bottom stem nub, halving, and removing the tough outer layers of leaf; wash and set aside


• In a large skilled over medium heat add a little olive oil and 1/4 lb of diced thick slice bacon; render out the fat (but leave in the pan) til crispy


• Before the bacon is completely crispy, add 1/3 diced Vidalia onion and two diced garlic gloves; sautee


• Add the BS, sautee for a few minutes, stirring occasionally


• Add at least 1/2 cup of white wine or apple juice to the hot pan to deglaze; let the alcohol burn off for a minute; cover and simmer


• When the BS are tender, add 2tbs of butter to the pan to thicken the sauce

Always remember to continually taste for salt and pepper (or other seasonings as you go thru the cooking process)

Show Me the Money!!

Yet again, we're approaching the end of the 2007 fiscal year, which means that in order for the government to (theoretically) function, a new annual budget must be passed starting October 1st. And yet again, Congress has yet to provide such a spending bill. Now we all procrastinate on some things, and turn in other projects late on occasion. However, this task is becoming incredibly problematic for our Congress. Not only are they running late this year, they never passed a budget last year! Since the primary job of Congress is to (1) levy taxes and spend those taxes, and (2) create laws, they are in serious dereliction of their #1 job. I used to get pissed off when Congress would debate bullshit issues like gay marriage instead of coming up with important legislation such as gun control, health care, education reform, etc...but at least back in the good ole days they finished their primary job before dealing with the needless instead of the needed. What can be said about the last two bodies that we've elected?