Who's Clueless?

I'm looking behind me today, canvassing the ground, looking for the pieces. They are back their somewhere...I guess. Last night while on the phone, I was told:

"You've got a long string of broken hearts behind you".

I'm a little flabbergasted. I'm usually the one getting my heart trashed. In fact...I get wierded out when someone treats me nicely, as most of my past has been filled with guys who've been for the most part...jerks.

In my life, I can only think of one person's heart I've regrettably broken, but I trust the guru I've been speaking to, so if she says I've done it...Well she's probably right. Problem is...I'm naive and innocent. ***Who's laughing????*** I'm really innocent. Especially around women.

While attending college, a girl in my classes (Irene) used to hang around with me often. I assumed she knew I was gay, although we had never discussed it, as I used to always check out guys around her. When I told her that I had picked up swimming daily, she suddenly joined me. The semester was coming close to and end, and she invited me to a party at her place. Of course my roommates figured I knew that she had a crush on me. They should have just warned me.

The party consisted of just the two of us. Now here is where my innocence is really big. I still didn't get it. When the tickle fight ensued...I didn't get it. When I had her pinned down, and she had her legs around my waist...I didn't get it. Obviously that night...SHE DIDN'T GET IT. Thinking back on that evening...I honestly wonder how stupid I really am?

The very next year in college...I was asked by my across the hall neighbor if I would join ballroom dancing with her. I agreed. Holding her in my arms as we danced, she would rest her head on my shoulder. I remember her remarking about how "nice I smelled" as we tangoed across the floor. It wasn't until my third date with the dance teacher that HE finally pointed out that she had a crush on me.

As for the boys...let's just say I'm just as stupid at times. Unless you tell me directly that you are interested in me, I just don't always notice subtlety. Now grabbing my crotch...I'll notice that...unless I've had a few Cosmopolitans. After the cosmos flow...let's just say I can get pretty numb.

Divide and Conquer!

The blood moon (lunar eclipse) arrived last night, and as I sat on my front porch steps (Yes Tuna...I have a front porch), I looked up at the moon and just took in the peace of the night. It's a trying week, for me and others, and I do think about those of you that I know and what you are going through.

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Yesterday and today I have to go back down to the middle of nowhere Ohio to work again in the operations center of the bank my company recently merged with. The people working in this building know that their jobs are going to be eliminated, and for the most part...the office workers have sadly accepted it. It sucks, and these people are getting shafted. My heart goes out to them.

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I've been staying up, watching the World Series (GO BOSTON!!!!). Athough I would have liked to see Boston win in Boston...I think for safety's sake, it's better it happens in Saint Louis. The crowds in Boston are normally nuts. It's going to be crazy for days.

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Driving down the roadways in Ohio this month puts me in such a mood. The signs supporting the candidates are something that I actually respect. No matter which candidate you support, I'm the first person to encourage you to rally behind that candidate. For those of you supporting Bush...you know my opinion and why I can't vote for him...and know that I respect your decision to support your candidate. My mood has to do with the signs I see lately. They say "Protect marriage! Vote yes on Issue 1". This is the gay marriage ban that is on the ballet in Ohio. Chances of passing? VERY high. What ticked me off, was on the entire way to the middle of nowhere Ohio, I never once saw this sign. I have to travel through several different small towns...where the only social center is the church. I'd expect to see those signs there. Nada!
Where I see these signs is in MY NEIGHBORHOOD! A neighborhood that has several gay bars, and a fairly large gay population. Seeing houses that post signs that will blatantly discriminate against me has just pissed me off. Someday...these people are going to need me for something...and I'm not sure I'm going to be willing to help them.
The culture war is back on, and this country is so divided. I can't speak for others, but I know in my case, I may be a US citizen, but I don't feel welcome in my own country. It's almost as if the conservative zealots of country are doing everything they can do to push me back into the closet and be done with me. I live and let live, but this election has left me feeling that the other side is not of the same principle.
What happened to middle ground? The minute the two opinions split this far...with no respect or connections, they can no longer work together. Do I just move to NYC with nearly every other homo and then succeed from the country?

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on a side note...Aaron...You can be the first to photograph my eyes! XOXOXO!

Beauty's Beast

Ok...
Now before you click the link, realize that Aaron "Evil but lovable" Edwards has posted a very graphic picture of his dick on the site. See what posting pictures like that does Aaron? You get me motivated! He's written a few entries about body image and I commented on it...but I'm not satisfied with my comment. Now I'm not posting a picture of my dick on this site...yet. If you want to see that...well it's something I'll show in person, usually after 3 martinis. I'll be in NYC in December. :-) I've written here often about how we (read = ME) succomb to what the advertising world determines we should actually look like. Any less...and well, it's unacceptable.

Aaron, who is a photographer and a model both, remarked about how he has to deal with models and their insecurities. He also remarked on how those insecurites can be picked up by the camera. Perfect bodies are great to look at, but lets face it...they're non-existant. Nobody is perfect. Right?

I read several blogs, and in each of them, I've noticed how they express thier insecurities. From worrying about eating too much, or being worried about meeting the first time, or even searching for thier own self love...they've focused on their own flaws. I understand that. Ask me on a bad day what I dislike about myself physically and I can give you a list that would probably be longer than this post. On a good day...well probably just as long.

Recently, someone I've been getting closer to raved to me about my looks, and I found myself thinking "is he talking about me?" Yet I listened to him, and thought to myself, that maybe...just maybe...I'm not so bad after all. In addition, throughout yesterday, several people near and dear to me have told me similiar types of things...and it's very appreciated...but still hard to believe at times.

Having your good qualities pointed out to by someone else is wonderful, flattering, and even a turn on...but it doesn't do the job unless you believe it. I'm working on that. I do like myself, but I need to accept those things I don't like as endearing things. If I don't believe that anyone else is perfect, why would I think that I can be?

Now if I could only lose about 10 pounds....

I'm tired

Hmmm...Strange dreams last night...

Oh Grow Up!

Yesterday evening while walking along the lake, a fish came close to the lake's edge and popped her head out of the water. The cool breeze blowing from the west smelled of decaying leaves, and as I looked at the fish, it seemed to know I was there. It's grayish skin against the waters of Lake Erie, and turned it's body slightly and swam along with me as I continued walking. As I looked over to the fish, the fish opened it's mouth and began to speak.

"I'm a very wise fish" the fish said to me. "It's been said the majority of people out there don't consider a person an adult until they have children of their own."

---

Ok...Maybe I shouldn't have done all that LSD when I was a teenager. Actually I was on the phone with Tuna Girl, while doing my household chores for the week. We were talking about when do we feel like we've become adults.

Being a gay man whose last sexual contact with a woman was well over 10 years ago...I don't see children in my future anytime soon. In fact...If I ever end up being pregnant, you better light candles and put them in the windows because three wise men are coming to visit. So this definition of adulthood is one that I'll never achieve.

Once again, I'm left thinking...When do we become "real" adults. All the medical books say that when boys become men they grow chest hair and facial hair. HELLO???? I'm still waiting for that chest hair to show up, and can you really consider my once a week shaving as growing facial hair? Does this mean that I'm not a man yet? I can't consider myself a boy any more, and I have never considered myself a "boi", a term I find absolutely repugnant. At 34 years old...I have to say I'm a man age wise.

If the definition of adulthood is at the point a person becomes sexually active...Well then we have a lot of 14 year old adults out there, and I'm not sure I want to think I've been an adult that long.

Someone else stated that clothes make the man. Specifically once a man goes to a mall and realizes that there are some stores where the clothing is generationally too young for him, he has reached adulthood.

Maybe adulthood happens the moment you start taking responsibility for your happiness and well being. The moment you refuse to run from your problems any longer, and instead stop...Turn around, stand your ground and prepare to face them.

Relationship problems? You discuss it and if they can't work out...You end the relationship on good terms.

Financial problems? You sit down, assess the situation and make a plan to get yourself back on track.

Emotional problems? Find a good therapist, put down the cash, and tackle the demons that haunt you. You owe it to yourself.

Past wrongs? Find who ever you've wronged, apologize, and make an atonement for it. You may not be forgiven...But you should at least try.

Being an adult, and facing those problems is scary business. Much more scary than the dark closet, clowns, storms, and monsters of our childhood. Those childhood scares always meant you could call for a loved one to your aid, making it all better. It seems to me that you really become an adult the moment you most feel like a scared child.

Ups and Downs

This weekend has consisted of both ups and downs, and I'm actually glad it's over. I want to get back into a routine.

Saturday started out in a very low place. The person I'd consider a brother, lost his boyfriend this week. I went to the funeral to be his support, and I'm glad I did.

PHILLIP E. GLOWACKI age 39 of Lakewood, (formerly of Lorain) passed away unexpectedly at his residence. Loving son of Imogene R. Glowacki (the late Peter) of Lorain, dearest brother of Peter (wife Valerie) of Vermilion, Robert (wife Suzanne) of Lorain, Richard of Lorain, dear uncle of Robbie, Peter, dear friends of Erik Kruzyk of Lakewood, and Collin Reynolds of Lakewood. Funeral services 11:00am Saturday, October 23, 2004 at the mausoleum of Resthaven Memory Gardens
Published in The Plain Dealer on 10/22/2004.

The ceremony...as sad as it was, made me start thinking. I honestly wondered what Phillp would have said had he been alive to see his service. I kept waiting for him to sit up and tell the preacher "Honey...you've been talking way too much. Sit your ass down and grab a cocktail!"

I honestly realized that maybe now is a good time to say what kind of send off I'd want. No...I'm not planning on being dead anytime soon, but after seeing this service...I realize that if you don't make your wishes known...you'll be stuck with an evangelical preacher who spends thirty minutes describing all the materialistic possessions you will earn in "the kingdom of heaven". So...what do I want?

Cremate me...I don't want some mortician putting all that bad makeup on my face. Not to mention...I dated a mortician...all he wanted me to do in bed was lay there. Once I'm cooked extra crispy, put me in an urn and take me to a gay club. Hire a DJ, and provide an open bar. I want people to tell funny stories about me...not cry because I'm not around anymore. I've spent my life cracking jokes...so crack a couple for me. Tell my embarassing stories, hell...quote this website!

Then once the party finally ends, put my urn in the front seat of a roller coaster, take the lid off, and let me have one last ride. And if you can get the two or three people who have treated me wrong to ride directly behind me...well all I'd want to say to them is "EAT ME!!!"

Building a Reputation

****For those of you who have sent emails and/or called with condolences...I can't thank you enough. The person who is hurting the most is going to have a lot of heeling to do, and I'm sure your kind words will help him****

Reputation is everything. Most people know you first by your reputation and will make a judgment based on it. I have a good reputation (*** who's laughing out there? ***). Ok...So I have been known to tarnish my reputation at times...But really...I'm innocent. Now where did I place that halo?

My first Christmas in Northern Ohio, I was still involved with my Ex, and had been invited to a new friend's Christmas Party. I say new friend, as we had only met once before at the gym through a mutual friend. I jumped at the chance of meeting more people in the area, and confirmed that I and my other half would be coming.

At the time, I was still living in Akron, and was looking for a place to live in Cleveland, something that was close to people I knew (all three of them at the time). We arrived at the massive house (I say massive as it was a three floor mansion) about 20 minutes after the official start time of the event. Once let in, we walked into the grand living room (think ballroom size) and were introduced to a few people, and then positioned near the open bar. Have I mentioned that I'm Irish? Have I mentioned that I used to bartend? Put an open bar and an Irish bartender together and you get one mean Absolute with a splash of tonic water.

My Ex and I split off to meet people and make polite conversation. I don't smoke. When you put a drink in my hands, and I don't know anyone, my drink will disappear very quickly. Three vodka and tonics later (with the tonics getting less and less in the way), I found my ex in the house. I say found, because this house is large enough that you could play Marco Polo and not find each other. The party was packed at this point...Well over 200 people spaced all over the home...And my ex noticed how sloshed I was getting.

"You should eat something" he chided, as he walked me into the dining room for some fried chicken tenders, some fresh veggies, and a slice of cheesecake. Unfortunately...I hate fried food (which I have trouble swallowing post cancer), and cheesecake is just as difficult. To appease the ex...I had one cherry tomato. "There...Nappy How?...I mean Happy now?" A sign from the Irish gods to stop drinking. I'm an atheist...Pour me another vodka on ice with a wedge of lemon.

At this point...The request was made to the ex and I. "We are having a 'newly-wed' style game, and we'd love for you to play." My ex, who is painfully shy, gave me the look that said no. I drunkenly missed the signal, looked at my hosts, and said "We'd love to!" How I ever made it 6 years with the ex is still a mystery.

All the party guests were brought to the living room, and four couples were asked to sit in the chairs in front of them all. We were introduced, and each couple sent someone upstairs to the third floor so we would not hear the answer. On the way up the stairs...I refilled the vodka in my depleted drink, made quiet conversation with the other three halved couples (one lesbian and two men), and upon getting the signal, we rejoined the game back downstairs.

Entering the now crowded room, I could tell that something was up. Everyone was looking very earnestly at us, most quietly giggling. I looked into the sea of faces, and saw a few people I knew from the gym, one who was pointing at us. Now remember...Most people didn't know me yet. I looked at my ex (who looked like a deer in headlights) and he seemed really pale.

"Question #1: Who is the better cook?"
My Ex said: "Patrick" I answered: "I am" 10 points

"Question #2: During sex, who's louder?" our hosts said with a sly grin.
My Ex said: "Patrick" and I answered: "me" 10 points

"Question #3: Who's more tidy around the house?"
My Ex said that he was and I without a doubt said him. 10 points

"Question #4: What would your partner say is their favorite position?"
My ex was squeezing my knee very tightly...Meaning that he was going to kill me for him having to answer that in front of people. I, did not feel it after all the vodka I had been drinking.
I answered "Doggy Style" but my partner answered "missionary style". I blankly stared at my ex..."Puleeze Mary...It only took a year of begging you to let me do you doggy style!" and the crowd roared. I was such a dead man when I got home. The ex went upstairs and it was my turn to answer questions and the comedian was beginning to come out.

"Question #1: Which of you cums first during sex?"
My answer: "He does...but only the first time. I don't like to cum just once during sex."

"Question #2: Which of you wants sex more?"
My answer: "Without a doubt...me! I can't get it enough." as I winked at the guy in the first row.

"Question #3: Which of you is more likely to call out someone else's name during sex?"
My answer: "I am...usually because he has a gag in his mouth."

"Question #4: What was the last thing you said during sex?"
I thought to myself...what would be really funny to say? With Absolute vodka pouring off my breath, I smiled as I calmly said: "FUCK ME! OH GOD...FUCK ME! Drive it home daddy!" The party hosts asked if I could say it with more feeling. I got up, walked to the nearest wall, lay on the floor, and while banging my head against the wall, kept my legs in the air and screamed out: "FUCK ME! OH GOD...FUCK ME! Drive it home daddy!" Seriously folks...I am shy.

The crowd roared with laughter, and I think I stole that show. I got up, and sat gingerly down while my Ex came back down to me. As he took his seat, I whispered that he should remember "FUCK ME! OH GOD...FUCK ME!"

As we came to the last question, the crowd got very quiet as my ex was asked. The grip of death from his hand told me that he was going to be very pissed off for even being asked this, not to mention for my answer. As he whispered to the game hosts "FUCK ME! OH GOD...FUCK ME!" his eyes never left the ground, and his hand squeezed mine hard enough that I think he may have actually broken a bone slightly. Someone in the crowd asked him to say it more with feeling, but my poor Ex balked. Amateur! Leave the comedy to the professionals.

10 months later, I joined a running group, and while running with several of the members, one of them stopped and said "I remember you! You were the guy from the Christmas Party! Are you still with that guy?"
"No...We broke up" I answered.
"Would you give me his number?" he asked.


You can always count on me to make a first impression.

Late Night Phone Calls

Ok...first thing. IF I have your telephone number...it's in my cell phone. My cell phone fell last night into a sink full of water, so now none of the buttons work. I can't access my phonebook, and I can't answer the phone. I'm not sure if Sprint will be able to recover this information, so please email me your telephone numbers in case I need to program them into my new phone. Hopefully Sprint can recover the information.

This means you MAK, TUNA, Toddy, Aaron AKA Evill, Scott Sardonic Bomb, Bilboard, Ryanstask, Pua...and I'm sure others. I'm not thinking right now well, because of the bigger thing.

Last night my phone rang at almost 1 am. Since I couldn't answer it, it went to voice mail. The phone rang again at 1:01, 1:02, 1:03. The same person was obviously trying to reach me, so I dialed from my home phone. Between the awful sobbing, I was able to learn...a death in my extended family. No...not my blood relatives, but rather a boyfriend of one of the few people I actually consider my family. I'm going to take the day off of writing today...for obvious reasons. Between not sleeping since 1:00...and being still a little in shock...well I'm not at my best.

Dog Gamn!

Somewhere out there...is a dog owner who will burn in hell.

Fuck blogger

I hit publish...and blogger goes poof on my post!

Fuck!
I'm not typing it out again. I'll figure out something else later. I've got a busy day ahead.

The Corporate Zodiac

Marketing:
You are ambitious yet stupid. You chose a marketing degree to avoid having to study in college, concentrating instead on drinking and socializing--which is pretty much what your job responsibilities are now. Least compatible with Sales.

Sales:
Laziest of all signs, often referred to as "marketing without a degree," you are also self-centered and paranoid. Unless someone calls you and begs you to take their money, you like ot avoid contact with "customers" so you can "concentrate of the big picture." You seek admiration for your golf game throughout your life.

Technology:
Unable to control anything in you personal life, you are instead content to completely control everything that happens at your workplace. Often even YOU don't understand what you are saying, but who can tell? It is written that Geeks shall inherit the Earth.

Engineering:
One of only two signs that actually studied in school, it is said that ninety percent of all personal ads are placed by engineers. You can be happy with yourself: your office is typically full of all the latest "ergodynamic" gadgets. However, we all know what is realling causing your "carpal tunnel"...

Finance:
The only other sign that studied in school, you are mostly immune from office politics. You are the most feared person in the organization. Compined with your extreme organizational traits, the majority of rumors concerning you sat that you are completely insane.

Human Resources:
Ironically, given you access to confidential information, you tend to be the biggest gossip within the organization. Possibly the only other person that does less work than marketing, you are unable to return any calls today because you have to get a haircut, have lunch, AND mail a letter!

Middle Managament/Department Management/"Team Leads":
Catty, cutthroat, yet completely spineless, you are destined to remain at your current job for the rest of your life. Unable to make a single decision, you tend to measure your worth by the number of meetings you can schedule for yourself. Best suited to marry other "Middle Managers," as everyone in you social circle is a "Middle Manager."

Senior Management:
Catty, cutthroat, yet completely spineless, you are destined to remain at your current job for the rest of your life. Unable to make a single decision, you tend to measure your worth by the number of meetings you can schedule for yourself. Best suited to marry other "Senior Managers," as everyone in you social circle is a "Senior Manager."

Customer Service:
Bright, cheery, positive, you are a fifty-cent cab ride from taking your own life. As children, very few of you asked your parents for a little cubicle for your room and a headset so you could pretend to play "Customer Service." Continually passed over for promotions, you best bet is to sleep with your manager.

Consultant:
666 - The Mark of the Beast, The Anti-Christ. You're going straight to hell, no doubt about it.

Why does it not surprise me that I am a consultant?

Fate

I don't believe in destiny, and I'm not sure what to call the philosophy I believe in. Wiccans believe in the power of three. If you do wrong to someone...it's going to come back to you three times worse. If you work to benefit others, you will be helped when it comes back to you. Hey...it makes for a good philosophy, and personally, I've seen it happen.

A close friend of mine once told me that God (or whatever you believe in) only throws at you as much as you can handle at one time. These words have stuck with me through some very difficult times, and have showed me really how much emotional distress I could handle. This same friend explained that his philosophy is that God sends you what you need, when you need it most.

Over the past year, my self confidence had pretty much bottomed out. It's been like this for some time, and at these moments...well, I can make some really bad decisions. This weekend, God/Buddha/Fate/Zen/the Grand Poo Bah stepped in and sent a little boost for me in two different ways at Saturday's clam bake.

The party involved 200 people, an open bar and karaoke. Not a good mix, but made for some really interesting entertainment. Once the alcohol flows, the worst singers will release their inner diva and try to belt out a number that isn't in their range. Truly frightening.

The first confidence boost came from the words of a friend of mine. He hasn't a clue much I look up to him, both figuratively and literally (I'm 5'6"...I look up at everyone). I told him about a proposition that I had received and his response was that "you are worth more than that". Those are words that I've not heard or believed in over a year. It was exactly what I needed to hear.

The second boost...well I'm not at liberty to discuss it. But it wasn't meant to be, as I got home, did my laundry without emptying my pockets and washed and dried this person's business card effectively shredding it into a million pieces. So if you read this, I would have called, but I don't have your number anymore.

Wanna Pop My Cherry?

Guess the Virgin Test!

I scored a whopping 52% on the test. I will say that I did get all the men right. It was all the scarlet women that threw me off.

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One of the things I like about writing in general and creating comedy routines is that I look to my past experiences to find material for future pieces. I'm actually an easily embarrassed person, but I've found that my embarrassements are what make for great stage bits. So what has happened in the past two weeks that I find potentially funny?

• The word of the day is Shamus!
  Last Thursday, I spent the afternoon/evening with Shamus and his coworkers at a company affair. He was holding a trade show for all of the graphic designers in town, and it was the first time I've ever seen "Shamus the Salesman". Being friends with a 6'7" man has a unique side in that everywhere we went, someone would call out "SHA-MUS!!!!", and of course...ask for some extra drink tickets. Shamus pulled it off without a hitch, and it was the first time I've seen him in a very natural setting. It's no doubt that he does sales.
  
  
• Less is More
  In volleyball...size does matter...not physical size, but rather numbers. The volleyball team I've created has 11 players. When we all show up...it's pandemonium. Rotating all of those players in, we have no time to build off of each others strengths. That being said, last week we had 6 people show up, and it was amazing how well we played. So, I've been working on a lineup that effectively splits the team into two, allowing a fair mix of competitive and non-competitive players to play. Now that I can see how we are playing...it's time for me to get noisy.



• I Can Be a Confrontational Bitch
  While washing my hands in the men's room here at work, a man flushed and exited the stall. He made his way over to the sinks, turned on the cold water, rinsed and then dried his hands. I invoked the energy of every mother in this world, and their voices came forth from my lips...Very loudly. "YOU KNOW...IF YOU USED SOAP AND HOT WATER...YOU WOULD SPREAD A LOT LESS GERMS. DIDN'T YOUR MOTHER EVER TEACH YOU THAT YOU CAN SPREAD HEPATITIS AND STAFF INFECTIONS IF YOU DON'T WASH YOUR HANDS CORRECTLY? USE HOT WATER AND SOAP AND WASH YOUR HANDS FOR A FULL 30 SECONDS YOU DISEASE SPREADING FREAK!" (Have I mentioned that I've been overworked this week?)
  
  
• I can't stand sanctimonious faggots!
  I really don't care if you are a gay man who supports Bush, but any time you preach to others that we should be more vocal in my own political party, or our own lives, or in any other way...you had better damn well be able to say you do the same. Specifically...I recently found out that a particular conservative preaching "boi" is not out to his family. Seriously...if you can't even tell your family...how do you expect me to follow in your footsteps. My name is Patrick Doyle...and I'm a homosexual. That was easy...get over it!
  
  
• I deserve a Medal
  I am a voracious flirt, and if I am encouraged...well all bets are off. Last Friday...I did something new. I was flirting very seriously with a new guy on the bowling league, when my teammate indicated that he was interested in him. This new guy was not very interested in my teammate...but I still backed off of the guy. Where the hell did that come from???I'm getting too nice in my years.
  
  

The Perils of Insomnia

Insomnia is a bitch. Besides being exhausted (2 hours of sleep a night max is not doing it), I get into my own head too much.

Currently I am going through a very stressful time in my life. The contract job I am working has many deadlines must be met very quickly to ensure that I have all my work done. This week, that has translated to working 31 hours in 3 days and I've got another 12 day today. However...as of today's news, my job will be ending on December 31st. That's 10 weeks away. 10 weeks to find another source of income, that is hopefully at least a few thousand more a year than I currently make. Now I say as of today because at any time, they may increase the length of my contract, or may just all around offer a new contract with the same terms. The problem is that I'm so tired of not having some security (like health insurance...vacation and sick time...ect.)in my life.

Although I joke about it...a part of me is seriously considering prostitution for a second job and a way of paying the rent. Why not give up what little self respect I have left? I don't know...anybody looking for a house boy? Will work for car payment!

Since I've been working so many hours, my apartment is in shambles (albeit my kitchen is clean...I had a blitz there on Sunday). I've got some paintings drying on the floor, my clean but not put away laundry strewn all over the living room, my dining room is a mass of office papers, and my bedroom has my dirty laundry on the floor. I go home and just can't look at it. But since I'm only home for such short times...Thankfully I don't get to see it much.

Trying to get to sleep at night, I do mundane things...like organizing the condoms received at Pridefest by expiration date (I had to throw three away...proving I don't nearly get it enough...possibly a benefit of being a prostitute?). Last night, I attempted to organize my books by alphabetizing them by author...except as tired as I was...I couldn't get my alphabet correct. Note the it is H-I-J-K....NOT...H-I-K-J!!!

What's odd is when I go to bed, I just don't feel comfortable there. Something just seems missing. I keep thinking that I should get back up and fill out another job app, or finish that report for the boss, or figure out the lineup for the next volleyball game, or any other multitude of things that I should do beside sleep...

Fehh....screw it...back to work. Saturday is two days away...

The Angel Has Arrived

I went back down to the operations center that is closing to work on their documents today. As I walked in the door, several employees wouldn't look at me. Behind me, were all the company data base administrators, who downloaded copies of all the data. Today...They all found out that the Angel of Death over Jobs has arrived and they are all losing their jobs very soon.

Today...Was not pretty. I need to shower...I feel unclean.

Going Bump in the Night

Two weeks ago, I received an invitation in the mail for a clam bake held by some friends of my that live close by. Now in my area, there is a street that runs East/West along the Shoreline of lake Erie. Everything South of this street (the side I live on is fairly affordable housing). Everything North of the street is the dream neighborhood (in your dreams could you afford a house there).



This is a house for sale in the neighborhood at $744,900.

In this neighborhood, questions are raised if you don't own a grand piano. Most of the homes in this area have at least 5 bedrooms to house the gay couple that bought the house, and most have significant history. This is where the clam bake will be held. It's nice to have rich friends.

Last night, after returning from working in the middle of farm country Ohio, I started going through my paperwork at 9:30, only to find that the RSVP for this clam bake was October 11th. The hosts of this party will be having it catered, so they need final counts for the caterers today. Since I couldn't still mail the response card in time, I realized it would be better to just walk the response card with my dinner choice (the 18oz tuna steak) over to their house. Knowing that both men that are hosting this party are early risers, they were likely asleep, so I figured I would just drop it in their mail box, and they would get it in the morning.

Walking the six houses down to the street corner, I stopped first in the Starbucks for a sugar cookie and a decaf Venti Latte, so that I could keep warm. The fall chill has finally arrived, and I'm not yet used to the cold winds. The woman who made my coffee asked "who died?" as she indicated my clothing. I looked down unaware that I was wearing black pants, a black shirt, and my black leather coat. I looked like a cat burglar.

I crossed the street into the fantasy neighborhood and walked my way down through the streets, under the canopy of 100 year old oak trees, marveling in the manicured landscapes and flood lit homes. Passing one house, I saw a television through the family room window that had to be a minimum of 12' diameter (I guess the owner is near sited). The television screen dominated the entire wall. Further down the street, I noticed the crystal chandelier hanging over the circular staircase in the grand foyer of another home.

I finally approached the home of my party hosts. Now everyone else in this world has a mailbox in the front of the house...except these men, whose mailbox is in the back of the home. Looking up at the impressive mansion, the only lights coming from inside the home, were emanating from their bedroom. Like I had guessed...they were already in bed. I made my way down the driveway as quietly as I could, hoping not to wake them.

WOOF, WOOF, WOOF, WOOF, WOOF, WOOF, WOOF....the neighbor's damn dog started barking. Tail wagging, the furry pure bred dog demanded my attention. I threw him the rest of my sugar cookie to shut him up, and as he finished, he whimpered for a little attention. "Good dog..." I muttered as I pat his head, and walked further down the driveway. The house was now on my left, and all the light from the street was blocked. I was walking in a dark void, about to trip on the garden hose, or a rake, or a loose stone. Hmmmm...I wonder if I could sue if I get hurt...ehh...maybe another time. Without being able to see, I remembered I have my cell phone. I opened the phone and cast a bluish light in front of me that allowed me to see about 4 feet (God bless Sprint PCS!). I turned the corner and searched out the mailbox in the back of the house.

After searching for what realistically was only 2 minutes, but felt like 30, I found the little flap that the letter carrier pulls open. I pulled open the little slot. Creeeeeeeaaaaaaaaak, the old antique mechanism groaned as I opened it. These guys can afford a 6 bedroom house and can't put a mailbox in front? I placed my invitation in the slot and let the box's door go. The door was attached to a spring.

WHAM

This little mailbox door closed so loudly and with such force that it shook the door and windows of the house. And with that shaking...the burglar alarm went off. Flood lights turned on all over the place and suddenly I stood out in my black outfit against the white of the lights. "Whoop, whoop, whoop" blared the sirens as I could feel the vibrations from the alarm speakers. Is this a tornado siren? The dog started barking (along with every other dog in a 5 mile radius). I contemplated running away, but decided against it as they would know who set off the alarm when they checked the mailbox. Lights came on from the upstairs hallway window, then the stairway window, and finally the kitchen, where my two hopefully still gracious hosts would be able to disarm the alarm before the police came. Through bleary sleepy eyes, they stared at me as I said "I just wanted to let you know that I'll be at the party on Saturday".

Someone...Shoot me now.

Solace

sol·ace
n.

1. Comfort in sorrow, misfortune, or distress; consolation.
2. A source of comfort or consolation.

---

In the not so distant past, at probably one of my lowest points, I found myslef searching for solace in all the wrong places. I'd have sex with...well lets just say the wrong people, confide in people I later found out were stabbing me in the back (although I shouldn't be surprised now), and really not take care of myself. I felt like I was a shell of a human being, with no self respect, and worse than being a person who feels nothing (which I would have preferred)...the only emotions I felt were anger and sadness. It was something I had to go through, and I am still healing from the whole situation.

Currently I have a friend who just broke up with his boyfriend, and although he says he isn't depressed over the relationship ending, I see him searching for that same solace, in the beds of any man who smiles at him. He's doing what I was doing, and all I can do is sit here, watch, and wait for him to come to his senses and get some of his self-respect back.

What makes us lose so much of our self-respect that we just don't care anymore? Isn't this the same as performing a slow suicide? Does the person going through this need an intervention? Or do I worry about others in my life too much?

Bearing Bad Tidings

This morning, when I woke up, I got out of my bed, and just couldn't look in the mirror. I'm doing something that disgusts me, and I hate it. It's one thing for me to enjoy hearing that my enemies are experiencing hard times, but what I'm involved in feels so wrong.

I normally never mention much about my day work. Yes...I'm an underpaid office contractor, but I never discuss the corporation I am contracting with. I'm on a number of projects with this corporation, but my most recent assigned project is with the Mergers and Acquisitions department. The corporation I work at recently got the approval and merged with another smaller business. (I've got to be cryptic for legal issues).

Yesterday I was sent to the operations center of this newly merged company to pack up nearly 23,000 documents for scanning and importing into our databases (***yawning***), which is going to take me days to complete. The operations center is in the middle of farm country, the town's restaurants consisted of a dairy queen and a pizza parlor. The building I was working in, was full of women...large women...in styrrup pants. Do any of you know how frightening it is to be sent to an office that is staffed by single, obese, christian, farm girls who flat out ask if I'm married. The one office worker sent for her daughter to bring me lunch and spend time with me. I never knew that central Ohio had such a man shortage!

The problem is...I genuinely like these people, and I'm not supposed to. I should keep these people as distant as possible. In a meeting that I attended last week, my corporation told me that they will closing this center, and laying off all of the employees. Some of these people have worked in this building for over 25 years...and it's killing me. I can't say anything, and I feel like a part of me is dying knowing that these people are about to lose their jobs and live in an area that has no other jobs. I've been this person who has lost the job, and it's really jsut a rotten thing over all. If I disliked these people...I could do this work and look at myself in the mirror...but instead...all I feel is guilt.

Transformation

Today I am working out of town, so the posting is a little sparser than usual.

Before:



After:




Say no more...

Looking for a Helping Hand

This is gonna be some rambling...I didn't sleep well last night...so I don't know where the hell I'm going with this.



Why is it that we adults are so afraid of asking for help? I'm looking at an article about job networking and it says to ask for help from everyone you know. That in itself is such a strange concept for me. I've been one to rarely ask for help in any way, shape or form. Yet, this article stresses that most jobs are found through friends and friends of friends.

I have such a difficult time asking for help (it's even more difficult than my trying to ask someone out on a date...Seriously...Is it any surprise I'm still a virgin?). For me...Asking for help has been admitting defeat...Something I never do, regardless as to how bad things may be. But as with everything in life...It's finding the balance without tipping the scales.

Yesterday, I was having a conversation with someone about being self focused for a change. This has been difficult for me in the past, as I usually get wrapped in other people's problems and move away from my own. Then when everything is ok for them...I realize that I am the drowning girl up above. Choosing to be a martyr and not willing to get the help I need. I've been changing that in the last year.

Am I still willing to help others? Of course...But I'm learning to put myself first and take care of my own business before tackling others. Now where is that guy I want to ask out???

When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.

And now my life has changed in oh so many ways,
My independence seems to vanish in the haze.
But every now and then I feel so insecure,
I know that I just need you like I've never done before.

Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won't you please, please help me.

Missionary Positions!

Last night, I was discussing with Scott, the Sardonic-Bomb, about walking in to my office and passing several cars in the parking lot, each with their own bumper stickers. "lick Bush in 2004", "Bush Cheney 04", "My kid beat up your honor student" and the Jesus fish

This got me thinking, being that I have no real background in organized religion, was that with all three other bumper stickers, I felt that I could at least relate and find common ground with the owner of the cars. Those that support the current administration, I can still find respect for and common ground with. But anytime I walk into a evangelical church, I feel completely alienated and shunned. According to the majority of religions...I am doomed to burn in hell, and unless I repent, change my ways, and marry a nice Catholic girl, I'm never going to be a good human being.

Now I've tried the soul searching, and looked at various religions, trying to see if I could find a place to fit in. The Catholics were my first attempt, as my father insisted that I go to a Catholic grade school for a basic religious education. Do you know that the Catholics have a saint for nearly everything? Your dog is sick? Pray to St. Francis. Computer not working? You should say a prayer to Saint Bill Gates, Patron Saint of all things Computers. I wonder if they have a saint for not getting any, or does that fall under the saint of lost causes.

The prayers of the Catholics also freaked me out a bit. A roommate in college of mine was a very conservative Catholic. (a gay comic and a conservative Catholic living together? Sounds like an episode of the Real World) He lost his keys in the house one day, and started saying the same prayer over and over:

Oh Saint Anthony, Please come around
Something has been lost, and can not be found

For 20 minutes, while getting ready for work, he said that over and over, and suddenly...He found his keys. Now I had watched this whole interaction while eating my breakfast, and remarked that in witchcraft, it's common to repeat spells over and over until they come true. What words came out of his mouth in defense of his prayers were not very Catholic like, and I hope he went to confession over those things.

My next attempt was the Metropolitan Community Church (MCC). This church states that we are Affirming and Welcoming of all people regardless of sexuality. Lesbians on one side of the church, gay men on the other...Just like a Christian Square Dance. The lesbian minister Chris (are all lesbians named Chris????) started the group prayer

Oh heavenly creator (notice the gender neutral modification?) who looks down and affirms our lives, we relish in your natural life giving force, which celebrates our diversity....

and it went on like that for an hour. If I needed my homosexuality affirmed, all I have to do is call my mother and she'll do more than affirm it. She'll set me up on a date and give me the address to the nearest bathhouse. "Here Patrick. Take this condom and go get laid." This is my mom's version of communion.

So I've come to the conclusion that organized religion is really not for me. I don't feel welcome in them, and for the most part...The contradictions within them are far too numerous (Thou shalt not kill...Unless in a war...Then it's ok).

That being said:
I think the signs of the apocalypse are upon us. The four horsemen are taking their final rides and we all better start looking busy as God's coming. What are the signs?

1. Brittany Spears may be pregnant! Oh dear God...It's the anti-Christ. The beast is about to give birth!
   
2. Madonna has found religion!
   
3. I'm actually writing about religion.
   
4. And today...I noticed a small scratch on the inside of my wrist. I believe that this may be a stigmata. Wow...How cool is that?
   

Not Mini Me

Well you can all thank TunaGirl for inspiring me to post this. Karen...I want pictures of yours now! To those of you who are reading at work:

***HOLLY***

The image is a wrapped present, that you probably don't want to place your mouse over the image unless you are away from prying eyes. The image is not really work safe!!

---

I spoke to my mom on the telephone last night, and she claims that she has already purchased my birthday present and has plane tickets to see me for my next milestone birthday. This February I am turning Thirty...Really...Shut up people...Yes I know that my header says a stand up comic in his thirties but once you approach the crossing of the mid point of your 30's you can pick what ever the hell age you want...and damnit...I want 30!

Anyway...Mother is known for being the "cool mom", and being so, she decided to surprise me with a visit for my first 30th birthday. She showed up on my doorstep the Thursday before the big day. This was also the first time that my ex had ever met my mother, and he wasn't nearly prepared enough.

The first night of her visit, she discussed with him about when I had lost my virginity, how she used to sketch me nude, and offered to paint him nude as well. The poor guy began drinking gin by the shots just to cope. My mother enjoys being a handful.

The morning of my birthday, my mother left us sleep in, and insisted we go back to bed to have sex...As it was my birthday. She said she could turn on the stereo if it would make the ex more comfortable. I'm used to this...the Ex...well I think he still is a bit traumatized. He did his husbandly duties...albeit very badly and we emerged from our room to see my mother on the phone with a phone book. I should have known better.

My mother, working with my Ex, had planned a dinner out at a local restaurant for the night of my birthday. Now Athens, Ohio is a college town located in a very socially conservative area (the Appalachian mountains). The Ex and I had Klansmen living down the road from us, and generally kept to ourselves as a wise choice. My mother does not understand the necessity of discretion. Her phone conversation that morning while I was busy was to hire a male stripper (who was fine I might add...she does have good taste).

She had invited my boss, all of my co-workers (some who would leave Christian literature on my desk to sway me back to heterosexuality), and most of the Ex's graduate student friends and colleagues to this dinner. The total count was about 50 people, which both flattered and terrified me. I know better.

First came the gifts: homemade candles from coworkers, a couple of bottles of wine, and from my mom...Hash brownies and this:





I was stunned, and a little unbelieving. My mother had bought me a dildo of epic proportions. The width alone was 3 quarters wide (for you size queens out there, it is 8 inches in circumference and as you can tell...Taller than a Gatorade bottle). In front of my boss, I held this thing by the shaft, and with a scarlet face looked at my mother with a questioning look.

"I asked the gay boys in a shop in San Francisco...and they recommended this one." she said, and that was when the cop (stripper) arrived. I've pushed the rest of that evening out of my memory (although I do remember that he stated he was willing to help me use the new toy), and my boss and coworkers NEVER mentioned the evening to me.

So I'm in therapy...

Meanwhile, I've named my present. His name is Stretch McHappy. He hangs from my ceiling and during rainstorms, is used as a doorstop to stop my doors from shutting all the way.

Anyone want or need a mom?

Who's a Bad Boy?

Throughout this weekend, I've felt tested on a few of life's rules on social exchanges and behavior. Nobody ever writes these rules down, but we learn them quickly (at least most of us do...I'm still working on them).

Rule 1: Grin and Bear It.
Each week I play several different sports leagues, and on one of them, I have to interact with someone I just don't like. This is odd for me, as usually I can find something redeeming in a person, and will focus on that. This person is a cheese grater on my skin, and I unfortunately am stuck getting scraped. This is my issue...and I know that. I can work with them, but I find that I avoid this person as much as possible, and to be honest...sometimes have a hard time even looking at them. So of course...I've gotta push past it to make things pleasant for all of those involved, no matter how much I'd rather just bludgeon the person.

Rule 2: Having the authority can suck at times.
When I am in charge, I stress about making everyone happy. I'm very wary of stepping on toes, and even more so, I worry about keeping people happy. That being said...I need to just make the decisions and trust that if people don't like them, they'll just tell me what it is they don't like. Not everything is taken personal and sometimes you just have to be the bad guy.

Rule 3: Suck it up!
This is part of Murphy's law...If you aren't interested...he will ask you out. While participating in one of my weekend endeavors, I met with a group I spending time with. One of the group's members said to me, "So where's your boyfriend?" I actually dreaded hearing these words more than anything else. "Where's your boyfriend" really means "I want to ask you out if you don't have a boyfriend." Normally, this can be a pleasant thing to hear, but when the person that is asking is someone that you are just not interested in, you are stuck. You either tell him that you really have no interest and potentially make him feel bad, or you take his number, and have two options...go out with him (wasting both of your time) or blow him off, which will make things tense for you and others the next time you see each other. Sigh...it's only dinner and a movie right? Movies allow for limited conversation...and I can eat fast.


In each of these situations, I find that my real problem is not that I'm in a difficult situation, but that I fear being perceived as the bad guy. I'm supposed to be the guy that everyone gets along with (well except in the first situation...where the "cheese grater" and I dislike each other equally). Something else for me to think about this week.

Bending the Rules

If you are a member of the law enforcement, you probably don't want to read this post. Heck...if you are a law abiding citizen, don't read this. Might I suggest the losing my virginity to a woman story.

For the rest of you, you are about to witness the drama that is my life. When I was in my relationship with my Ex, I wanted to buy a car. I applied for a loan and was offered a rate of 11%. The Ex, who had less debt at the time was offered a car loan rate of 5%. Being the frugal little miser I was, we decided it was in our best interest to have the loan in his name. Of course the bank was more than willing to finance the car, as long as we put the car in his name. This wasn't really a problem, as we both banked at the same bank and had the money directly withdrawn from my account. We were young, in love, and going to be together for ever.

Brent, have you read about how I nearly got beaten up in an airport bathroom?

Cut to 2004. We've broke up. The remaining balance on the loan is for $7400, and will be paid off in April of 2006. My Ex has moved to Wisconsin and registered his car and his drivers license in the state of Wisconsin. I still have my car but the car's registration needs renewed. Since the car is in my ex's name, I am not allowed to get new tags for the vehicle, only he can do so.

We decided the best course of action was to have the Ex "sell" the car to me, and then I can register the car. When we called the bank to inform them, they will not allow it as he still officially owes money on the car. They said I would have to apply for the remainder loan and once approved, pay off his loan. At this point I began to laugh. I would have an easier time winning the Miss America Pageant before actually getting a loan for $7400.

So I asked the ex to register the car in this state and use my address as the contact address. Unfortunately to change you vehicle registration address, you need an Ohio drivers license number and the ex no longer has an Ohio drivers license, as he lives in Wisconsin. Ohio will not let him register the car in this state, so he will need to register the car in Wisconsin, and the car will have to have Wisconsin plates. This car will never be in Wisconsin.

My car insurance will not continue to cover me if I drive a Wisconsin plated car and not have a Wisconsin driver's license. To get a Wisconsin driver's license, I must be a resident of Wisconsin, and surrender my Ohio driver's license. However Ohio has a law that says if you are an Ohio resident, you must change your identification to Ohio within 30 days. Following this?? Neither am I really.

So upon getting a Wisconsin driver's license, I will have to then file Wisconsin taxes, as well as Ohio taxes because I actually live and work in Ohio.

***Brent...Last chance to stop reading***

Today...The car registration expired, and we are still trying to figure out all of this bullshit. Since I legally can't drive the car, I will need to take a 2 hour commute to the office followed by a 2 mile walk on the days I can't work from home (today is one of them). Since I am the king of bad luck, I know I will be pulled over for having a freaking white instead of Kelly green sticker on my plates....and that was when it hit me. Kelly Green...I have Kelly Green acrylic paint in my supplies. So at 11:50 pm last night, I painted my sticker green to look as if it might be a new registration. I have to admit...I can't tell the difference between the real ones. Now that gives me just a little bit more time to figure this crap out.

Of course...If any of you get a dial from me saying I'm in jail, call my mom for me. Then again...In jail I'll live rent free, have my meals paid for, and very likely get all the sex I want. Is prison really a bad thing?