Crazy black girls

I had two experiences today that I needed to share, thus recommitting myself to this blog...and boy have I left out a lot, which I will catch up on in due time.

First...
I'm getting lunch when one of the secretaries is talking to the fried rice at the buffet saying, "This is good stuff, I just dont like the brussel spouts in it."













....ummm, those are peas!


Second...
The Engineer was kind enough to send me this link, a reminder of what its like to live in ATL. God, I'm glad Metro is not anything like MARTA (aka, Moving Africans Rapidly Through Atlanta)

http://www.break.com/index/crazy-subway-girl.html

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.

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.

When Tricks Go Bad

Joe, me, Ken

My friend Ken...how do I begin to explain him? First of all, he's latin--that is not mean to be prejudicial or stereotypical (although stereotypes are there for a reason). But he confesses that his lifestyle is due to his Colombian heritage. He's 37, probably doesnt have a savings account, no credit, and a rollercoaster of occupations. Oh...and he's probably ATL's biggest whore. His fuck list is extensive, everyone know's Ken. He estimates his # to be in the thousands. He's also the former captain of the gay soccer team in ATL, which has their World Cup in Argentina this weekend. His roommate is my best friend Joe.

So this week some of the soccer guys went to Blake's (the old standby bar in ATL). Ken, also an alcoholic, gets shitty drunk as always. The rest of the crew leaves Ken to his self-destruction. Apparently he closes down the bar, and walks the 2 blocks home with his trick-o-the-night. Problem #1: Ken passes out. The trick the proceeds to steal his wallet, keys, car, and Joe's laptop. Most pathetically, he also stole the box of cereal that Joe left out for the next morning's breakfast.

Problem #2: Joe's passport is in his stolen laptop bag

Problem #3: Its Wed morning, their flight to Argentina is Sat AM.

Problem #4: Ken files a police report, but has NO CLUE what the trick looks like. So they were basically robbed by the invisible man.

So Joe is in town now at the passport office, we'll hang out later. At least it gives me an opportunity to see him. Well he just called, so I'm off to entertain...more details to come.

The Excitement of Days Past

It intrigues me, as I go from youthful 20's to old-man 30's, to take stock of my life and how its changed. One thing that I really noticed this past weekend during Capital Pride 2007 was my total lack of excitement for the event. It almost became more of a chore, something I felt obligated to attend. Granted, I was more than willing and happy to help out the swim team, but when not working at the booth, I wandered aimlessly around the crowd occasionally getting some fattening food or a beer, wondering where all the excitement has gone in these 7 years since my first Pride.

I still remember it as clear as day. I was 22, just finished my BS in Marine Bio from UNCW, was about to start my PhD at Georgia Tech. That weekend I signed the lease for a shitty lil apartment in midtown Atlanta off of Cheshire Bridge Rd. It was the summer of Britney and N Sync; Oops I did it Again vs Bye, Bye, Bye. It was June of 2000. It was my first Pride. You can only imagine what it was like after having lived in the ultra-conservatism that is North Carolina for 4 years. I just came out to myself the previous year, and here I was...the gay mecca of the South. I met who I thought was the hottest guy online (AOL m4m chatrooms...remember them?). We were dating during my back n forth b/w NC and ATL. He introduced me to all his friends in ATL, and they accepted me like family. What a great feeling; I never had a gaggle of gays before. And to top it off, they all lived in a gay apartment complex (Sutton Place)--something that would NEVER happen in NC. We went down to Piedmont Park for the festivities...all drunk, gayed out, and ready to cruise. That year 300,000 GLBT's crowded the park to socialize, hear politicians, see the B-52s, and watch the drag show. And then there was the clubs. Heaven on Earth. I'm sure I smiled the whole time.

So have I become jaded? Probably. I sure as hell don't want to be surrounded by all the crack queens I befriended that first weekend. Capital Pride surely doesn't inspire a sense of community like it did all those years I was in ATL. Maybe that is what's really missing. The best part of the weekend was marching in the parade with the swim team...and there you have the sense of community. So maybe I havent changed, just the city has.