Using the "F" Word

Over the past few days, the following lyrics from the song New York, New York keep ringing in my head:

If I can make it there
I'll make it anywhere

Yet here I am in Cleveland, and I didn't make it (what ever "It" is). I refuse to say I'm a failure (I'm stubborn), but that "F" word does hover haunting close to my conscience. I have a friend in the area who mentioned that what's going on in my life could have happened to anyone. That I'm a victim of circumstances and layoffs, but it gets frustrating.

I went to the job interview in Chicago, but I have my reservations about the position. If a company isn't willing to reimburse a candidate for travel expenses to get to an interview, my assumption (and past experiences have shown) is that they aren't willing to pay their employees very well. I'm not sure I can survive in Chicago for 30k a year. Hell...I couldn't survive in Cleveland for just a little less than that.

I won't know until next week if I have a second interview or not. I'll cross the bridge when I come to it though. I'm going back to going packing and preparing to sell my belongings.

Pussy Getting a Bath

Two Hot Pussies, One gay boy, A couch...think about it. Sounds like domestic bliss doesn't it? That's where I am right now.

Rocketman Rick has been nice enough to let me stay at his house the night before the Chicago interview. It was either stay at his house, or at the bathhouse...which ironically is only a block away. I wonder if that was intentional?

The bliss...I've had hot pussy all over my lap this evening. Speaking of hot pussies...did I ever tell you about the time my Ex needed a place to stay in NYC while he was going on his job interviews? He unfortunately did not have anyone to stay with, and since he was a struggling college student, he didn't have the money for a hotel room (this sounds real familiar). He was thinking he would spend the night in the bus station, but I came up with a better idea for him.

I suggested he stay in the bathhouse for the night. He could rent on of the rooms and rather than spend the evening boffing boys, he could just close his door, lay on the mattress and get a few hours of shuteye before having to leave for the airport. He wasn't thrilled with the idea, but admitted is sounded more appealing than staying with the bums in the station.

My Ex, the shy one, walked around the block five times trying to get the courage to actually walk into the sex club, and only after stopping in one bar for 5 gin and tonics was he ready to go in. He walked in the doors, up the long staircase and paid his money. He asked for a room, but they were all rented out by this point but he was put on a waiting list. Instead he was given a locker.

My Ex...who can't buy a porn magazine or condoms in public, donned a towel and wandered the halls of a sex club for three hours while waiting for a room. His biggest observation, other than the men with thier asses propped in the air waiting for a random man to "plough away", was that he could hear two men loudly having sex from behind one of the closed doors while the stereo blared "Pump That Pussy" by 2 Live Crew. I can think of no group of people who would be less inspired by that song than a bunch of gay men.

But Rick...the musical one of Chicago is much more inspiring. As you can see from his web site where this post is continued... Pump that pussy over at Rick's place!

Enter at Your Own Risk

I figure it's time for me to share with you what's going on in my recently drama filled life, just to give you a little entertainment.

I've never really said this on here before, but I'm a compulsive dater. Seriously. I've been on dates with 9 different men in the past 5 weeks, which isn't a record for me, but it's getting close. I've told them all that I plan on moving, and some have offered to help me pack my stuff (which if my life were a situational comedy, they would all show up the same night).

With that part of my life completed, I tackled my books and began purging and packing, planning on very likely moving to "the Cape" by the middle of next week. Everything is going to a friend's basement for storage.

However I had a phone interview this week for a job in Chicago. Very quickly into this interview, the HR person said I was over qualified and out of the price range, so I wrote the job off. Until I get a call. They have a higher position that they have available and would like me to interview for tomorrow.

I was going to drive to Chicago leaving this morning, except the phone rang again. I will be training for a restaurant position today for a couple of hours, then driving to the airport to fly to Chicago. I'll stay with the Rocketman for tonight, and interview in the morning for the position.

My drama is that I have no clue what I'll be doing next week.

1. I'll get the Chicago offer, the job will pay enough, and I will start June 1st.
2. I'll get the Chicago offer and the job won't pay enough, and I will move to the Cape.
3. The two jobs I applied for here will come through (one just did) and I will stay in the area.
4. I won't get the Chicago job and will just go to the Cape.


*****UPDATE*****



5. A company just outside of Boston just called me for an interview.

Anybody want to place some bets?

I'll Regret This

Working in comedy, I've learned that the best material comes from within. We are our own worst enemies, making complete fools of ourselves very easily. As a comedian, I've learned to pick on myself.

So the other day TunaGirl dared me to post a prom picture of myself. I hardly ever pass up a dare, and if anything...I figure maybe I'd get some comedy material. I would have been 17 in this picture.



Anyone have a good caption?

Signs

I've been anguishing over my decision to move to the Cape for a while, so I sat down on Wednesday last week and asked God/ Buddha/ The Grand Poo Bah to please give me a sign that what decision I made was the right one. In my bedroom, I dropped to my knees (alone for a change) and said "Oh great whatever you are that is out there, I'm using the force here and since I don't really believe in "the force" like young Skywalker did and I'm probably doing this all wrong. So if you are hearing me, please send me a sign that I've made the right decision and should move to the Cape of Massachusetts!

The next day I awoke with a temperature of 104, a chest cough, sore throat and runny nose. Damn...something out there is not only spiteful, but is sending some real mixed messages. Was I made sick so I wouldn't pack and leave? Was this an attack for poking a little fun at organized religion (Jesus...lighten up God...learn to take a joke!)? So by Friday, I was unsure if I had made the right decision.

I decided to ask another source...Mother Nature. She responded in kind:

Point taken. I'm packing my stuff while I'm sick.

White Smoke

Ok…so I've made a decision regarding a move to the Cape of Massachusetts. Pushing past the fear of homelessness at the end of the summer, and the fear that I'm not even sure where the hell I'll be living come fall, I've decided to go for the opportunity. My unemployment will be ending in a few weeks anyway, so it's time to make some changes like it or not. This will be a risk, but if it works out…it's going to be a major step for me.

Now for the caveat. I currently have a potential opportunity in the area, and if it comes through, then I'll not do the cape thing, but I've given everything a deadline of May 1st. This way, I can be packed and moved out of my place by the 3rd, and off to spending a little time under the boardwalk. Anybody want to join me?

So very likely I'll be moving in 8 days. Anyone need a few bookcases, a sewing machine, a dining room table, a bar, or any other furniture? For sale cheap.

It All Adds Up!

I think I found a way to make math fun!

1. Mark, Scott, Jeff, MAK, Rob Byrnes, Aaron, and Jess get into a hot tub. Two are tops and six are bottoms. After ten minutes and two beers, how many of these guys will be sitting on jacuzzi jets?
   
   1. 4
      
   2. 2
      
   3. Mmmm....Beer!
      
   4. You think any of these guys are tops?
      
   
   
2. Tunagirl's nipples are both 2 feet from her clitoral piercing. and 24 inches apart. A leather loop passes through the rings in each piercing. What is the minimum length of this loop in inches?
   
   1. Damn is she kinky…That's one lucky Tuna man.
      
   2. Can she get through an Airport? How many times do they pass the wand over her?
      
   3. 144 inches
      
   4. 72 inches
      
   
   
3. If Billy is three inches soft and nine inches rock hard, what percentage does he grow?
   
   1. ***slurping sounds***
      
   2. 200%
      
   3. 300%
      
   4. "Hello 911? Yes…I seem to have sat on a railroad spike."
      
   
   
4. Patrick has sex with two guys on Mondays, one guy on Wednesdays, and three guys on Saturdays. I only have four condoms. How many more will I need to take from the free dispenser at the bar to make it through the week?
   
   1. 2
      
   2. 12
      
   3. Sam's club is selling 200 packs for $10 dollars.
      
   4. Ever hear of "wash and wear?"
      
   
   
5. TunaGirl likes two hours of foreplay. Pua likes 45 minutes of intercourse. If they have sex together, how long will it last?
   
   1. Are you sure they aren't lesbians?
      
   2. Until it's time to wake the kids for school.
      
   3. Way too fucking long.
      
   4. 165 minutes
      
   
   
6. Every time Jay thrusts, Scott's head hits the headboard (a fine piece of metalwork). Scott times Jay's thrusts at 30 per minute for the first ten minutes and 50 per minute for the last 10 minutes. How many times will Scott say "Ow!"?
   
   1. "Hmmm…I think I paint the ceiling beige…"
      
   2. "I don't need to say Ow!"
      
   3. 3000
      
   4. 800
      
   
   
7. The average prostate exam takes 3 minutes. MAK's doctor is twice as slow as most doctors (although MAK doesn't really mind). After how many minutes is this officially considered a date?
   
   1. Who cares…as long as health insurance is paying.
      
   2. The minute the doctor hands MAK a glove.
      
   3. 2 minutes 40 seconds.
      
   4. Until Pua and TunaGirl are finished.
      
   
   
8. Rick has two cats (otherwise known as "hot pussies"). He moves in with Ryan, who has eight hot pussies (which may be why he's single). If each pussy eats a can of tuna every day, how many cans will feed all the cats for a week?
   
   1. They are a flannel shirt and U-haul away from being lesbians!
      
   2. 70 cans.
      
   3. THEY EAT TUNA? CANNIBALS! (from TunaGirl)
      
   4. Fuck that…I'm not cleaning the box!
      
   
   
9. Ninety-percent of the bloggers meeting at Barrage in May will be bottoms. If there are 50 guys present when Rob Byrnes walks in, how many will he have to hit on to find a top?
   
   1. Rob Byrnes' boyfriend would never let him attend.
      
   2. Rob would just order a chardonnay and see who stares the longest.
      
   3. Rob would hit on 45 men.
      
   4. Rob would fall down on the bus ride home.
      
   
   
10. Crash spends 3/5 of his money on a twink. He spends 1/2 of what's left on another twink. In all he spends eight dollars. How much money did he start with?
    
    1. "Only 8 bucks? Buy me a drink sailor...I'm expensive!"
       
    2. $10
       
    3. $36
       
    4. Twinks? Crash prefer's men!
       
    
    
11. Twelve men are in a bar, three are wearing shoes, five are wearing socks, and two are wearing both. How many men are in bare feet?
    
    1. 12
       
    2. How many are using the sling?
       
    3. 6
       
    4. Who's buying the drinks?
       
    
    
12. Jere is a 10, and usually sleeps with other 10's. After every beer, though, he'll settle for one number lower. If he gets to the bar at seven and has one drink each half-hour, when will he approach the actor that played Arnold Horshak?
    
    1. He'll pass out first.
       
    2. He'll sleep with the bartender first.
       
    3. Two a.m.
       
    4. Midnight.
       
    
    
13. CJ has three white jockstraps, and eight black jockstraps. How many must she pull from the drawer before she's guaranteed of getting one black one?
    
    1. I think she's wearing it backwards.
       
    2. 4
       
    3. 5
       
    4. Forget the jockstraps…Jere is drunk.

New Rules

Since the confirmation of a new pope, there are some minor rule changes that will go into effect immediately.

• The Holy Eucharist will no longer be a flat wafer. Instead the body of Christ will be represented by sliced bratwurst.



• Wine will no longer be served at mass. All church services will instead be using beer…complete with beer steins. All references to wine in the bible will be changed to reflect beer as well.



• Remember this…Abraham begot Erich, Erich begot Frankfurt, Frankfurt begot Adolf, Adolf begot Stefan…



• All gay priests will be required to wear a pink triangle (ok…bad joke…time to end this)

I'm currently sending out a large number of resumes...so I'll have to post a bit more tomorrow.

A Nightstand

Things that happen nearly EVERY TIME I HAVE a one night stand.

• It will be a spur of the moment thing. I will have not "manscaped" recently, my house will be an absolute mess, and I will have plans for very early the next morning. I will have gone to the bar to meet a friend (who ironically will not show up), and have planned on drinking water all evening. My nightstand will be two shots past "shit-faced" and will insist on buying me drinks.



• He will be a chain smoker.



• He will come back to my place, where he will nearly fall on my stairs going up to my bedroom.



• Upon taking our clothes off, he will immediately bend over, bury his face in the pillow, and prop his ass up...resembling some type of human pencil sharpener.



• I will forget his name...while he continues to call out mine.



• Once HE'S FINISHED...he's finished.



• As I'm in the bathroom washing my hands, I will stare in the mirror and silently start whispering to the guy "Get out of my house" as I hear him already snoring in my room.



• I will give up trying to wake him and I will unsuccessfully attempt to sleep through the snoring.



• I will make up a very lame excuse and set the clock for 5 am to get him out of my house.



• He will reek of the prior night's bourbon and inevitably want sex again. Thankfully I have learned the lesson that we don't always get what we want. It will be time to teach him this lesson.



• He will have fallen in love with me...commenting on how we had such a connection (while I am struggling to remember his name).



• His breath will reek of bourbon and "death breath" in the morning, yet he will want a long deep kiss goodbye.



• He will say that he plans on calling me...and he will. Over and over and over and over.

Get me to a nunnery.

Common Ground

Did you know that the Roman Catholic Cardnials will display black smoke until they have decided on a new pope? I wonder if that is where my mom is right now...blowing black smoke from her bong over the Vatican.


I never thought the day would come when I would have something in common with the Roman Catholic cardinals, but here I am on April 18th, making a life changing decision. A decision that has given me a case of heartburn most of the weekend (except for the alcohol filled Friday night). Is my decision made yet...no...I know where I am leaning, and I've taken your comments in mind. However those who know me in person have a much more complete view of the situation and can give better advise on what my concerns are. So until then…no decision is announced yet.

I will let you all know however...how else will Caspar, Balthiar, and Melichoir find me? :-)

Leap of Faith

How many of you have taken a serious leap of faith? Not an itty bitty hop, or even a jump, but a serious leap off a cliff into the ocean type of leap of faith? The kind of gamble that says if you win…the payoff is big but you could lose everything you know in your life.

I'm at the cliff side here and have been offered this exact leap of faith and I'm not sure what to do yet. Now some people would probably sit there and say "What would Jesus do?". Probably go off in the wilderness with 12 other men for a 40 days and 40 nights and come back to say he found god. Hmm…12 men and me in a woods?…It does sound like heaven, and I have a good feeling I'd be screaming out for God a few times. Maybe I should follow in his footsteps. I'm digressing.

I've been without full time work since Jan 1st. As this employment situation has gotten bleak in the North East Ohio area, I have recently begun applying for jobs waiting on tables or bartending, as well as working at the Cleveland bath house (sex club) as part of their crew (don't knock that one…they pay more than the bank I worked at and pay health insurance). Yes…it's to that point.

A phone call came from a friend (who I'm keeping anonymous) giving me an interesting offer. Move. Take all of your belongings and put them in storage and move to a house up on the Cape of Massachusetts. Live in his house rent free for the summer and work at a summer job (or two). At the end of the summer, you will have made some serious money and you'll have had the summer to find a new job in one of the East Coast cities.

It's an incredible offer isn't it? It's also very scary. The only time I ever made a move like this was when I moved to NYC. All of my belongings fit into two suitcases. I now live in a 3 bedroom house which I've furnished. At the end of the summer, when the tourist job ends, I have to have a job somewhere or I'd have nowhere I could move on my own. I'd have to live with friends (which would make me feel like a burden).

Risk vs. Reward…right? So what would you do? Have you taken this leap of faith ever? Would you move for a potential fresh start and hope for the best? Or take as many odd jobs as you can get and keep applying for real jobs until you find one you want?

Family Matters

Ok…it is official. I truly have the most fucked up family life in all of the history of families. Let's review here:

Grandmother: Most critical woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, I actually waited 18 months before going to see her. When I finally did visit, the first words out of her mouth were not "Hello" or "I've missed you" but "Have you put on weight?"….Bitch. Above all else…she has mastered the role of Martyr and is only happy if she makes you feel guilty for her suffering

Father: Sadistic abusive son of a bitch, his joy was in total domination of me. 18 years after his death, I still get angry if I think of him too much.

Mother: Where do I start on this one? Have you seen her anywhere? You're one up on me then. 'Nuff said.

But the most recent relative of mine to screw me over was the worst. My Uncle Sam is demanding money off of me. It's only $70 bucks, but he is insisting I pay him this money. Two days ago I actually took my spare change jar to the grocery store to buy eggs and my uncle is telling me to send him $70 mother fucking dollars by Friday.

I hate Uncle Sam and his fucking taxes.

Fear Factor

For the past few months (since November), I've been working on some essays about living broke, and just how crappy it can be, and things people will do when broke. Between the essays I am putting recipes of very cheap meals. I've been giving the piece a working title of "Fun with Government Cheese".

Now I have done some crazy crap to survive when I've been poor, but one time that really sticks out in my head was a period where I was unable to afford a telephone or pay my utility bills. It was the summer and I had the heat and electricity shut off in my apartment to reduce my bills. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but after 6 days of no hot water, I was miserable and was happy to take a shower.

The water supply in Boulder all comes from the Boulder Reservoir, which in the summer time is nothing but the snow caps melted into a balmy 40 degree lake. That shit is cold! Cold enough to make me wonder if "The Little General" was going to crawl back inside.

Unfortunately after 6 days...you could tell I wasn't showering...by me just walking into a room. I was getting desperate until I saw a potential idea. The apartment complex down the road had a heated swimming pool and a community "club house" with showers. I figured if I went late enough, I could get into the club house, take a shower and leave without anyone noticing.

I left my own place in the moonlight darkness at 10:30 pm. To make it look like I belonged there in case I was caught, I wore my red swim trunks, sandals and carried a towel around my neck (with my soap hid inside). Upon arriving at the pool area, I saw two people in the pool, so I sneakily sat down between two parked cars and waited them out. For an hour, I planned my attack as the two swimmers got tired and left the pool area. Rising up from my sitting position between the two cars, I grabbed my soap and towel, crossed the parking lot, hopped the fence around the pool and made my way to the door on the club house building. Printed on the door were the words "Club house closes at 11:00". Already 11:30, I pulled on the door to the club house, which was luckily was still unlocked.

Now this complex was billed as a "luxury" community and therefore had a nice club house with a pool table, a weight room, gas fireplaces, and a locker room with steam room, sauna, and showers. I walked into the white tiled shower area, which had a single shower pole (why is it that men always get that?) in the center and across from the entrance to the shower area the door to the steam room. I left my suit, sandals and towel at the shower entrance and started taking my shower.

As I was in my rinse cycle I heard the noise. "Hola Estella! Come Sta?" Yes...the night time cleaning crew had arrived and were walking into the locker room. I made a break for the steam room and quickly started up the steam for cover. I saw "Estella" walk near the shower area and pick up my suit, towel and sandals. Although difficult to hear, I think she thought someone had forgotten to take them home. She took them away to what I can only assume was the lost and found area. I backed into the corner as she went about cleaning the shower area and made her way to the steam room door. She wiped down the front of the door and opened it up.

Steam wafted out at her and I heard her curse distantly in Spanish about how some resident had left the steam room on. She propped the door open and went back into the locker room to start vacuuming the locker room. Seeing my only opportunity, I made a break for it and left the safety of the steam room and walked through the shower area. While she was vacuuming with her back to me, I bolted through the locker room and out into the open clubhouse. Turned towards the door to the pool area and pushed the door open. It didn't budge, and the bitch maids had locked it.

I twisted the lock open and ran into the pool area. Ever notice that when you are scared you have no problems jumping a 5 foot fence naked? I bolted across the parking lot, dodged between two buildings and slunk naked through the shadows the 1/4 mile back to my apartment...all the way vowing that I would turn the heat back on, or shower post sex at someone's apartment.

Getting home, I was blessed to have left my patio door open (although getting to the second floor wasn't pretty) and hid in bed. The next day I sold sperm to a sperm bank for cash.

So what things have you done when broke?

My Precious!!!

It is with great sorrow that I must announce the news of a death in my family. Last night, approximately at 12:19 am, my Sanyo 8200 Cellular picture phone officially died. It survived falling into a sink of water, two drops on the dance floor of the Grid, a theft by a 15 year old delinquent (who will hang from his balls someday for crossing me) and most recently slipping from my hands to the floor at Twist, where the final hinge keeping the thing together broke into pieces. It put up a struggle…but alas…it's poor cheaply made in Taiwan hinges couldn't last my heavy usage, and the phone finally decided to just quit.

Sad really…I think I may have used my phone more than I masturbate. Just barely more.

I have replacement insurance which will cost me $50 to replace my phone, but will also make me run around like an idiot. Because I filed an original claim on the insurance when the delinquent stole "my precious", I now have to send a copy of my cell phone bill, my idea, and a notarized affidavit stating that I am not trying to rip off this company. This will take up to three weeks to complete.

But being a boy who was never a boy scout (I'm prepared). I kept my old phone (which ironically has better reception and was built better) and Sprint has turned that phone on so that I can make and receive calls, but it will probably be all day before I can do so. Sadly the majority of people I call are not in this phone's address book, so it's going to be a long three weeks until I get the new phone.

My life= drama

Meet Dick!

When I first went to see the Vagina Monologues, I remember marveling at the simplicity of what the play did. Get a bunch of women together, pour the margaritas and start talking about their poo-nanny. You know…a typical Saturday evening out on the town. "Who here has a yeast infections?…Oh Brenda…your drink is low. Let me refill it."

So I decided it was time for the boys to take a turn. So over the course of two nights, I gathered several people and asked a number of questions, all of which I am posting here.

My victims cast of characters are:

• Patrick (hey…my blog…I get to be the star!). 35 years young, single, perpetually horny.


• Shamus. Towering at 6'7" (and he is proportionate) 31 years, single, perpetually horny.
  
• A (We protect names of the innocent), early 40's, single, perpetually horny.
  
• E (Not so innocent), Late 30's, single, with raging hard on during all waking hours.
  
• Christmas, over 50, which means he's dead in the gay community.
  
• T (Pre-op transsexual) Need I say any more?
  
• EX (my Ex I still speak with), 34, hung big...and he will so kill me now.
  

Our Penises are a very important part of our lives. We are compulsively driven to satisfy their needs, and aren't happy unless we are doing so. Although called a penis, our phalli have many names, including Dick, Willy, One Eyed Wonder Worm, Noodle and Biscuits, Joe Camel, Cock, and the ever so generic "Unit" or "Member". But how well do we really know our cocks?

If you penis was a plant...what plant would it be?

A: Pussywillow
E:Venus Flytrap
Christmas: Purple Passion Flower
T:A Tumble Weed
Shamus: Bearded Iris
Ex: Wandering Jew
Patrick:Ficus Tree

If your penis was a food...what food would it be?

A: Chocolate Éclair
E: Polish Sausage
T: Ground Meat
Christmas: Pork Tenderloin
Shamus: The Whole Enchilada
Ex: Dairy Queen Blizzard
Patrick: An Irish Potato

If you penis was a pop song, what would it be?

A: Master Blaster (le freak)
E: I like big butts
T: All By Myself
Christmas: Pillow Talk
Shamus: Heartbreaker
Ex: Whip It
Patrick: Love Stinks

If your penis was an amusement park ride, what would it be?

A: Bumper Cars
E: Wooden Roller Coaster
T: Tunnel of Love
Christmas: The Raptor (Cedar Point Roller coaster)
Shamus: Wicked Twister (Cedar Point Roller coaster)
Ex: The Parachute Ride
Patrick: Log Flume

Which Superhero would your penis be?

A:Mighty Mouse
E:The Green Hornet
T: The Invisible Girl
Christmas: Batman
Shamus: Shazam!
Ex: Mr. Fantastic
Patrick: Wonder Woman (ok...we had been drinking.)

If your penis was a board game, what would it be?

A: Concentration
E: Old Maid
T: Operation
Christmas: Twister
Shamus: Trouble
Ex: Bonkers
Patrick: Chutes and Ladders

If your penis was a Broadway musical or Broadway song, what would it be?

A: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang!
E: Les Miserables
T: La Cage aux Follies
Christmas: No Business Like Show Business
Shamus: Wicked
Ex: Taboo
Patrick: Little Shop of Horrors

It your penis was a drink, which would it be?

A: Alabama Slammer
E: Harvey Wallbanger
T: A bloody mary!
Christmas: Slow Gin Fizz
Shamus: Kamikaze
Ex: Salty Dog
Patrick: Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall Mexican Style

If your penis was a TV Series, which would it be?

A: I Love Lucy
E:(No) Sex in the City
T: Tiny Toons
Christmas: Mr. Ed
Shamus: Bewitched
Ex: Amazing Race
Patrick: Rescue 911

If your penis was a movie, what would it be titled?

A: The Hindenburg
E: Fast Times at Ridgemont High
T: A River Runs Through it
Christmas: Die Hard
Shamus: Any Which Way but Loose
Ex: Titanic
Patrick: A Few Good Men

If you penis had a smell, what would it smell like?

A: Bleach
E: Irish Spring
T: Tuna Fish
Christmas: Honeysuckle
Shamus: Money
Ex: Pansies
Patrick: Locker Room

If your penis was a state, what would it be?

A: Alaska
E: New York
T: Insanity
Christmas: Florida
Shamus: Ida-"HO"
Ex: Anxiety
Patrick: Mass-of-"chutes"

So tell me gentlemen...what would your answers be? Ladies...think of the last time you had a penis in your hands...and how would you answer these questions. Lesbians...I think I have a magazine you can read over here...

Redemption on Video

I hate when Blogger screws up. I've been trying to post this for hours.

Last night I watched one of my favorite movies of all time, The Color Purple (which By the way...TunaGirl has not seen...blasephmy!). But as I watched it, I tried to figure out why it was that I so drawn to this particular film.

As I exercised along the lake edge this morning, it came to me. It's the redemption of the characters in their own lives. They moved beyond their own demons, survived their own struggles, and found happiness.

I find it interesting to read blogs and see that so amny of us are looking for that same redemption to find our own happiness.

So while searching for my redemption, I'm tryihg to figure out what I think are the top 5 films every person should see. This is my list:

1. Citizen Kane
2. The Color Purple
3. 12 Angry Men
4. Psycho
5. West Side Story (what kind of homo would I be if I didn't list a musical?)

What are your choices?

You Want a Piece of Me?

"You may not realize it Patrick, but you are a very sexual person. Sometimes you just radiate sexuality."~Tunagirl

Something I find inherently wrong in gay culture is the way in which some of us live. Now I joke about sleeping around a lot (it's part of the comedy persona that I have created), and some people tend to believe that I must have a lot of sex with many people. But in real life I tend to be a bit shyer, reserving my bedroom activities to something more special. Instead we just have to use the living room futon.

I guess what I find interesting is how "casual" casual sex has become in society. Straight men...you guys have to earn it from the ladies. Women...you can pick and choose as a man will do back flips to get into bed with you. Gay men...well we place an ad on a website. We just take a picture of the crotch (naked of course), one of the torso, and one of the ass and post them in the ad. Type the message of "Looking to play" (Play? What the hell are we playing? Erector sets or Lincoln Logs?). Hit submit and count the responses. Your ad will be placed into the website like an item on a Chinese take out menu, open for whoever is looking for your particular egg roll. It's the bath house of the new millennium.

Seriously...I did the research and stopped counting responses at over 100 in 3 days! Damn...I must look good naked. I've got to remember that the next time I want to lose weight. I'm digressing.

But how casual is casual sex? Is it really possible to shut off every emotion but still have sexual activity? Prostitutes and porn actors do this, but still get money out of the deal, so for them sex is a commodity. What do two (or more) people, neither of who are getting paid, get out of the arrangement besides sexual gratification?

A friend expressed once that when you have sex with someone, you are carving a tiny little piece of yourself out and giving it to the other person. Carve enough up and you eventually have nothing more to give away (sounds like a great diet though). So the question again is what is the benefit of casual sex. What void or need does a person have that they look in this manner.

Now I'd be hypocritical if I said I had never had casual sex, and I'm sure there are several bloggers (read=Tunagirl) who would be more than willing to call me out on that lie, so I'm not going there. And really...who would believe me? I know I wouldn't believe most people.

So you tell me. Why do we have casual sex? You can make your comments anonymous by just deleting your information. I'm interested in why you have done so.

Just Leave Me Here

In a little less than six weeks, softball season begins. The Cleveland Gay Softball league is a 15 team league, each team having about 20 players. That's 300 sports minded players. I figure 1/3 of the players are female so that leaves 200 men. 1/2 of them are already taken, leaving 100 single men. 10% are straight, leaving me 90 softball playing men that are all single. I am my team's catcher, meaning that I get to squat down and see each of these men easily from the waist down while they are at bat. I need to work out!

To prepare, a fellow player and I are doing a bit of spring training. Face it...gay softball...it's taken very seriously. I've been doing 200 squats every other day using 30lb weights, and a bit of arm curls (I hate doing upper body work). Additionally, my friend and I've been walking 5 miles daily. Yesterday we stepped it up and ran a little over 1/2 mile, followed by a 20 yard sprint. That's 60 feet.
I thought I was going to die.

Today...I can barely move without pain, and I'm trying very hard to find the energy and motivation to do the run again. Instead...I think I want to make chocolate chip cookies. So just leave me here to sit with my uncooked cookie dough...I'm too tired to get up and bake the stuff.

Got to Have It Now!!!!!!!

Have you ever noticed that when you are getting sex from someone, all you can think about is how you want more? You get to the point where you just see a person and want to drop to your knees in the nearest bush and have sex right there. It was worse when I was younger, and couldn't control my hormones.

At the age of 14, I had already become sexually active with a neighbor of mine. Being boys at the peak of hormone rage, we were ready to have sex anywhere, and at the drop of the soap. However I was living with my father, who would not have approved, so we had to "make love" in strange places, like the bushes behind my dad's house.

Now I still admit...I have control issues. Because of that, I tend to be in charge during sexual activities. In this case, while in the bushes with my "special friend", I had him on his hands and knees and was using my left hand to stimulate his "manhood". My right hand was free, and being the versatile top I was growing up to be, I noticed the bushes were all around us. I broke off a branch and began to drag the leaves across his back end opening (which officially was a hit with him), while continuing my left handed stimulation. We finished what we were doing, and went to our respective homes for the evening.

The next day I had a rash all over my hands and face. The rash was bad enough that my grandmother kept me from school and made an appointment with the dermatologist. Going into the doctor's office for my examination, he took one look at me and said "poison ivy". I was given an itch shot and sent to school later that afternoon.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who had been exposed to poison ivy. In the dark, I had broken off the branch of a poison ivy plant and tickled my friends ass with poison ivy leaves. Every time he had to wipe, he had a memory of our passionate evening.

Poison Ivy...the gift that keeps on giving.

Get Behind Me

This past weekend, I visited my grandmother...something I try not to do too much. But since I was flying out of Pennsylvania on Saturday morning, it made the best sense to go to her home on Friday night and stay the night, then leave on Sunday morning.

My grandmother has the ability to crush anyone's self esteem in a matter of minutes, and do it with a smile on her face.

"Oh...have you gained weight?"
"Are you working yet, or still living on the charity of the state?"
"It looks like you're losing your hair pretty badly."
"You're 35...it's going to be very hard to find a job at your age."
"Do you really NEED a dessert?"
"It's good your single...maybe you've finally got it out of your system and can find a nice girl."
"If you prayed...things would go better for you."

It's statements like these that force me to usually visit her with the buffer of another person attending. My Ex was the buffer for a long time, and had even offered to go this past Christmas if I choose to go (I decided to save my money and not visit).

Yet, I'm all the family she has. My mother and she refuse to speak on any occasion (a hippy and a republican never mix). I'm not to bring up the other person in their presence, and I've learned to steer clear of the subject. She idolizes my father (although secretly disliked him) because she still wants to set an example for me. Therefore, I can remember the abusive Ass...and she can remember only what she chooses...a Ward Cleaver wannabe.

Something I've noticed over the past few years though is how easy it is to completely forget your past. My memories of my childhood are pretty nightmarish, yet my grandmother has pictures of me smiling for the camera (albeit between two framed pictures of Jesus Christ...have I mentioned she is Catholic?), a class picture here or there and even a baby album of mine. Yet I feel alienated from it all. I see the pictures and trinkets and it looks like I'm looking at someone else's family. One of the reasons I never introduce friends to my family members...because really...I don't know them anymore.

We as people are the sum of our life experiences. We can choose to bury the unpleasant past and focus on the good memories, (and probably spend a fortune on therapy later because of it) or embrace both the bad and good memories as part of where we came from. So today...I'm going to find a good memory about my past to focus on.

My past is behind me.

Shields up!

Tomorrow I am flying back to Vermont for another show. The cheaper flight was out of Pittsburgh, so I will be going there tonight and staying with my grandmother for the evening.

Anyone have a rusty nail they would mind letting me borrow? I would rather put my eyes out with a rusty nail than stay with my grandmother. I'm going to need a stiff drink for this one.