Say Anything

You haven't lived until a muscular hunk with a hairy chest has fed you grilled mango slices. Okay, I surrender. I'm finished. Done in. Bowled over.

Yes, I know you have heard me say things like this before. I've considered renaming this blog "Hot Toddy's Broken Record". I've fallen for many guys in the past, and I've been scraped up pretty badly from my being a slave to Venus. I think, however, after hiking this weekend with Thor, I'm pretty much, um, well, toast.

On Friday I received an invitation to go hiking the next day. I practically jumped through the phone as a deep bass voice on the other end told me he bought vegetables to grill for me. "Do you want to go with me?" he asked. Somehow, I managed to squeeze out the word, "yes", and I hung up. Then, out of nervousness, I immediately called my bank to check my balance. I don't know why I check my bank balance when I'm nervous, but it is better than biting my fingernails. The thing is, I was so nervous that I accidentally pushed the button for Spanish. I don't speak Spanish, but I went ahead and listened to a list of my most recent transactions. Apparently, I like to buy things that cost cinco-something.

Friday night I went to bed and tried to sleep. Instead I stared at the ceiling and waited for morning to come as if Santa was on his way with toys and beefcake. Saturday morning I pulled myself together and drove over to Thor's place. I remember nothing about the drive over. I may as well have been pulled over for driving under the influence, because I was definitely under the influence of some unidentified toxin. When I arrived at his place, I had butterflies in my stomach. Do you know how many years it has been since I felt actual butterflies? I do. It's been 10 years.

In the truck, I barely said a word to Thor, but he kept looking over at me and laughing a little just before turning away. I wondered if he was nervous. Maybe riding with a comatose guy next to him made him uncomfortable, I have no idea. After we pulled into the parking area, Thor shoved a couple bottles of propane in the waist of his jeans, which proved to be strangely erotic. Then he picked up the cooler and the grill. I carried, like, a bag or something. I don't remember.

We set up our picnic spot and left right away to go hiking. I was terrified. Not because of the wildlife or threat of poison ivy. No, I was terrified because Thor insisted that we leave a bottle of rum and a bottle of whiskey at the picnic site. Unattended!? For just anyone to come along and steal? It was at this point that I surrendered to Thor and realized this relationship will never work if I don't learn to trust him. So, glancing back at the paper bag holding our spirits, I said a silent prayer that no harm would come to Henry McKenna and Captain Morgan.

As Thor led me down the path, I could hardly speak. I know. Me, not speaking. What a concept. He pointed at a duck and said it was beautiful. I just replied something stupid. I think I said, "Ducky says quack" or something like that. Thor wiped some sweat off my forehead and joked about how good it felt to have my sweat on him. I wanted to say, "You can have my sweat all over your gorgeous body if you want to," but instead I think I replied, "Sun hot. Make people sweat."

"What is happening to me," I asked myself. "Answer me you ridiculous moron," I said to myself. Myself just giggled and refused to clarify. Thor told me stories, and I replied with one syllable words like "oh" or "oh" or, sometimes, "oh", since all the blood had rushed away from my brain and into other areas of my body. After he told me lots of stories and I said "oh" a lot, we returned to our picnic. I sat down at the table as he fired up the grill. I took a couple slugs of moonshine, which, thankfully, hadn't been swiped. "What is it, Todd," he kept asking me. But I just shook my head and pointed at birds. "Birdy go tweet," I told him.

It wasn't until Thor reached across the table and held out a piece of grilled mango, that my lips became loose. That came out sort of wrong, and yet completely right.

I took the mango into my mouth and licked the juice from his fingers. He asked me to do it again without taking my eyes away from his. So I continued eating from his hand, which was convenient since I could barely move my arms at that point anyway. Then, after a couple more mango slices, I admitted to him, "Oh my god, I like you so much."

Yeah, I said that. Out loud. The feelings I've been trying so hard to control just gushed out. I talked and talked and talked. I drank and talked and couldn't stop doing either one. I felt a tremendous release of pent-up words, and I didn't hold back. Then, I finished talking and sat there staring into his deep blue eyes. Now that I had admitted my affection, what would he do?

His reaction was not what I expected. He flipped over the picnic table and began throwing hot charcoal at me. He called me a drunk and forced me to clean the entire picnic table with Ajax as he screamed that he was mad at the dirt, not at me.

No, actually he didn't do that. Instead, I received a few more mango slices, some grilled vegetables, and a rum-flavored first kiss as a reward for admitting my feelings. Later, we climbed into his truck, I put my hand on top of his, and we shifted gears together all the way back to town. I still couldn't say much in the truck. I was too happy to talk. The weather was beautiful, I felt full and peaceful. It took us quite a while to get back to Portland, and, even though I'm back at work on a Tuesday morning, I have a feeling that the ride isn't over yet.

Call Me Irresponsible

One unique aspect of blogging is that you open yourself up to all kinds of advice, even if you don't ask for it. I've been receiving e-mails and comments from friends who want to ensure my safety and well-being. I'm touched by people who seem to care about what happens to me, even if they've never met me. Whenever someone questions my motives or mentions potential consequences of my actions, I am surprised to see they are raising some of the same questions I have asked myself as I fumble through my life.

In the end, I do what feels right. Sometimes I have to deal with consequences I would rather not face. Often, there are no right or wrong choices when we're faced with personal decisions. We can only take leap after leap in the dark, and wait to see what happens.

Call me irresponsible but,

I will take that twenty bucks The Handsome Prince gave me to gas up my car after driving him to the airport and, instead, use it for a bottle of vodka.

I will let my heart feel warm and excited when a handsome man flirts with me, and I won't worry about whether he'll hurt me later.

I won't feel guilty about calling in sick to work if I don't want to get out of bed because I just want to lay there and listen to the rain.

I will take sixty bucks out of savings if I want to buy my friends drinks and don't feel like worrying about whether I'll need that money tomorrow.

I'll fly to another city to meet a boy, even if there's a chance we won't make a love connection.

If I have a moral objection to eating flesh, I might have a piece of pepperoni pizza when the mood strikes me.

If somebody asks me out, and I'm not sure they are right for me, I might go anyway. You never know.

If my company sends me to a conference, and I want to skip a workshop because I'm listening to the sound of the ocean at a cafe by the beach, I'll sit right there and enjoy myself.

I'll blog about things I "shouldn't" and write about how my heart feels even if it's "too soon".

I will sit in The Vortex at midnight on a Tuesday and listen to music, even if I can barely keep my eyes open and I have to go to work the next day.

I won't be afraid to be tickled or bit or even tied up if it sounds fun at the time.

I'll ski down a slope without ever having had a lesson, even if the only way I can stop is to throw myself backwards onto the snow.

I'd rather hear, "I told you so," than wonder what might have been if only I'd followed my instincts.

"Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what next or how. The moment you know how, you begin to die a little. The artist never entirely knows. We guess. We may be wrong, but we take leap after leap in the dark."
Agnes de Mille

Peace and Noise

Why do people always say they want some "peace and quiet"? What is wrong with peace and noise? I've been experiencing quite a bit of both lately.

After things went south with Clayton, I took refuge in the peaceful friendship I have with Auburn Pisces. I began spending lots more time at her house. Although I'm sure the wild energy at home drives Aub crazy, I appreciate the chaos of a typical night at her house. It must be very hard for Auburn Pisces to stay calm, cool and collected as she attempts to raise two kids. The two kids I'm referring to are Auburn Aries, age 8, and Thor, age 34. Thor rents the downstairs living quarters from Auburn Pisces. Auburn Aries and Thor are quite a crazy duo, and I find comfort in talking with Auburn Pisces as her kid runs around the house being chased by Thor.

A peaceful home is not always a quiet home. Last night was noisy. Thor was so worked up he had sweat covering his shaved head, and he teamed up with Auburn Aries to teach me a little game called "Mercy Me". They discovered that my feet are ticklish, so I had to shout "Mercy Me" in order to stop the torture. The television blasted an awful rendition of The Star Spangled Banner (in surround sound), and Auburn Aries was shrieking with laughter, as Thor made these (kind of hot) growling noises while tickling my feet, yet I've never felt more peaceful in my life.

Do you want me to tell you how I feel lately? I feel like a bottle of 7-Up that has been shaken up with the cap still on it. Bubbles rising in my heart, and anxious tension tickling me inside. Mercy me!

There must be a better way to describe how much I'm loving this peace and noise. Okay, let's say you were a prisoner in a labor camp and suddenly a clown car drove up and a little midget with a rainbow afro wig and red clown noise shouted to all the prisoners, "Everybody hop in! We're going to Chucky Cheese's for pizza!!!" Can you imagine how happy the prisoners would be as they piled into the clown car headed for a day of fun?

That's how I feel.

Pony Services Hot Toddy

Yesterday, I visited the website for my bank to do some online banking. Nobody could have prepared me for what was in store. I am trembling as I write about this traumatic experience.

My bank is Huge Northwestern Banking Conglomerate, and they recently updated their website. The colors have changed, and the login fields have been moved. It totally threw me off, and I dashed off an e-mail complaining about the redesign. It just so happens that the person who designed my blog also works for Huge Northwestern Banking Conglomerate. So I asked for Pony's help:

Dear Huge Northwestern Banking Conglomerate Technical Person:

Today when I logged on to the HNBC online banking website, I noticed that the place where I enter my username and password has been moved to the right side of the page.

I liked it better on the left side. Please move it back.
Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.

Financially Yours,
Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven

I was impressed at the speedy reply I received from Pony, the HNBC Technical Person:

Dear Mr. Oven,

Thank you for your feedback regarding the new Huge Northwestern Banking Conglomerate Website.

We consider all feedback equally and we assure you that all comments and suggestions are evaluated for future improvement to our products and services.

After review, we are happy to inform you that when your checking account balance is more than $0.68, we can have the login box moved for you.

Even at that, the login information was never requested on the left side. It was always in the middle. We have, however, added the login box to the right side of the main page. This will save you a single mouse click on each visit to our Website. We feel that this will collectively save our customers 198 million click hours a year -- a considerable time savings.

Please enjoy the new "cool blue" Huge Northwestern Banking Conglomerate Website. If you have
any further questions or comments, please feel free to not send them to us.

Thank you,

Huge Northwestern Banking Conglomerate Technical People

My question is, how did he know my bank balance? I didn't know the HNBC technical people had that kind of access to my personal information.

A Very Refined Evening with Hot Toddy

The Handsome Prince celebrated his birthday Saturday night, but I got more attention than he did, so it was still fun. We went to a cool restaurant called Montage. They specialize in Cajun food and Mac-n-cheese. I had the sun-dried tomato mac-n-cheese, but I really lusted over Thor's blackened chicken. As a vegetarian, I often lust over my friends' food, but eating animals makes me feel guilty unless I'm drunk. I wasn't drunk, so I just sat there and lusted over Thor. I mean - his food.

Anyway - at the end of the meal, the servers wrap your unfinished portion in foil and make sculptures. Several of the guys at the table received aluminum foil lilies or swans or giraffes. Huge, impressive, sometimes phallic (to me, at least) sculptures arrived at our table. Then they brought mine. It was a mouse. A silly stupid tiny unimpressive mouse. So I smashed it.

Monday, when I reheated my sun-dried tomato mac-n-cheese, it was just a ball of food. I had smashed the mouse so well, that it became a dough ball. It still tasted good.

After we ate, we went to sing karaoke, but I didn't smash anything while I was there. Well, actually, I did smash someone against the wall in the men's room and did some fun stuff with him. I think if you are someone reading Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven for the first time, you must be under the impression that I am a very classy guy. I know I seem like a very mature and refined individual, but I am able to cut loose now and then. Stick around. You'll see.

Be Good to Each Other

My mom always said to my sister and me, "Be good to each other." She wouldn't tolerate much arguing and absolutely would never allow cruel taunts or vicious fighting. I was raised in a home where being good to each other was more important than getting straight A's or keeping our rooms clean. I'm thankful for that.

Lately, I've seen some mean-spirited comments at Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, and I would hate to start deleting them or banning people from commenting here, but I will have to make some changes to my commenting features if some of you don't start being good to each other. You can disagree with me and comment to that effect. I can even tolerate an occasional insult (and have) but when nasty comments about other people start showing up, that's where I have to draw the line. Just so you know.

I think there's enough cruelty in the world. I'd love for this blog to be a refuge from such behavior. As for babysitting the other night, who ever said I wasn't enjoying the company of a hunky man at the same time I was doing my friend a favor?

Babysitting with Thor

There are certain activities I try to avoid in life. My most disliked activities are attending the rodeo, doing jigsaw puzzles and projectile vomiting. Not necessarily in that order. I have to admit that babysitting is also on my list of unenjoyable experiences, but last night I decided to do my friend Auburn Pisces a favor. So I went over and joined Thor, her housemate, for a night of babysitting.

Auburn Aries is an eight-year-old princess with fiery red hair and an awesome sense of humor. Her laughter is contagious, and she can play harder than almost any kid I've met. Fortunately for her, Thor is capable of playing for hours and hours. He picked her up, he spun her around, he bounced her, he threw her, he tickled her. It was cute. Until they made me participate.

So, Thor and I are out in the front yard after a pouring rainstorm swinging Auburn Aries. He held her wrists and I held her feet. The grass was soaked. After a few rounds of "Swing the Kid", I wondered why I was the only one getting wet. My jeans were soaked and my shirt was wet too. So, I asked if we could stop playing and just go inside to clean the playroom. I now see what a mistake I made in suggesting such a preposterous notion, but I wanted so desperately to surprise Auburn Aries' mother. She works so hard as a single mom, and I knew she'd love to come home to a tidy house.

So, my brilliant plan had been to clean the playroom, making a game out of it like Mary Poppins did with Jane and Michael. But, unlike Mary, I did not find that in every job that must be done there is an element of fun. No, while I agonized over where to store the baby blankets (she must have been so cute as a baby. And quiet), Thor and Auburn Aries seemed to be having the time of their lives playing with the toys. Thor became My Pretty Pony and let Auburn Aries ride around the small room as I folded blankets and put dolls away in a chest. Sometimes I would pick up a Barbie shoe and think it might be easier to throw it in the trash than figure out which crate to store it in, but Thor wouldn't hear of it. He insisted that every Barbie shoe be saved and stored away for future losing. According to the song "A Spoonful of Sugar", if you find the fun, then, SNAP, the job's a game. Mary Poppins lies.

Thor rewarded Auburn Aries and me with a visit to the ice cream parlor after we cleaned. They didn't have Maker's Mark at this establishment, so I had a scoop of coconut ice cream and wished I had eaten dinner. When Thor tipped the girls working behind the counter, an awful thing happened. They launched into a song. Misty, who was probably about 16, shouted to her co-workers, "Hey, guys! We just got a tip!!!" and they all started clapping and singing The Tip Song. I don't remember the lyrics or the tune, but it was loud. Auburn Aries asked if I had a dollar so she could tip the girls again. "Nope, sorry, Auburn Aries. I do not want to watch those poor girls go through that humiliation again." I mean, can you imagine having to sing every time someone gave you a lousy dollar as you scoop ice cream for minimum wage? Thor, of course, liked when they sang, although he admitted he enjoyed it more when the high school boys were working and launched into song.

When we got home, I realized I had been set up. Thor had decided long in advance of this night that he was going to be good cop and Hot Toddy was going to be bad cop. I didn't figure it out until I was washing dishes and begging Auburn Aries to head for bed (45 minutes past bedtime) while Thor tried to get her to chase him through the house. I took over getting her to bed, only glancing briefly at the unopened bottle of whiskey on the counter. "I'm coming, baby," I whispered to the bottle and went to tuck in Auburn Aries.

As I sat outside on the deck with Thor enjoying a drink and talking, I hoped my friend Auburn Pisces was having fun on her date. I have new respect for what she goes through each and every day. Thor asked if I ever thought I could raise kids, and all I could reply was, "Not by myself. I think I would rather go to the rodeo."

Fags Discussing Flags

Sunday night I went over to Auburn Pisces' house for some emotional grounding after a rough weekend. I had the time of my life, and especially enjoyed helping her daughter, Auburn Aries, practice a speech about the African Rock Python. Thor, Auburn Pisces' housemate, and I held a twenty-eight inch piece of yarn from opposite sides of the room so we could help little Auburn Aries demonstrate the length of the snake. (Oh, Auburn Pisces just clarified that it was a 28 foot piece of yarn. Size matters.)

I was really pulling for Auburn Aries when I realized that she was being assisted with the project by her geographically challenged mother. At one point, I asked about a flag pasted to the visual aid posterboard.

"That is the flag of Africa. I found it online for my daughter," boasted Auburn Pisces.

"No, I don't think there is a flag for all of Africa," I replied. "Maybe it is the South African flag," I suggested.

"It is the African flag," insisted Auburn Pisces.

Since I know of no continent that has its own flag, I tried to clarify this. "But we don't have a North American flag, Auburn Pisces. I don't think Africa has a flag."

"Yes, we do too have a North American flag. What is that red, white and blue one?" she said in a very challenging manner.

"Um, that the US flag, Auburn Pisces. Not the North American flag."

"Oh, that's right. Canada has one, don't they?" (And I used to love the Canadian flag before I discovered that link).

Good luck with school, Auburn Aries. I'll be around if you need me for anything related to geography. But I have to draw the line at Algebra. Sorry.

Cruel to be Kind

I stood in the driveway this weekend looking at the ground as I listened to angry words that I know I deserved. My face flushed with shame, and I listened to how I'd led someone on and, in his words, humiliated him. I didn't defend myself or try to justify what I'd done. I didn't fight back and attack. I just took it and probably would have kept my hands at my sides if he had hit me.

What I did was admit that I wasn't in love. It felt horrible to admit this. For the past several weeks I've been trying to get there. I've accepted gifts and kind gestures and given my heart as much as I could. I wanted to return love to a wonderful man who treated me like a prince. But I wasn't in love, and he was starting to feel it. He said to me last week that he felt the honeymoon was over after six weeks because I wasn't kissing him or touching him as much. I guess I was just feeling overwhelmed. No, that is the word you use when you are trying to make someone feel better. But the more honest word - the word that earned me shame and angry words, was suffocated. I felt suffocated.

Before he drove away angry, he asked if I had anything to say for myself. I just shook my head and said, "You did nothing wrong. There's nothing more you could have done. I don't have anything to say in my defense."

Hurting another person is an awful experience. But I will never forget my discussion with CT when we broke up almost three years ago. I asked him why he never showed me any affection, and he said that he had made a conscious decision to withdraw from me so that I'd end the relationship. He admitted he didn't want to be the bad guy, and he knew if he stopped showing love that I would eventually walk away. I equated that action to deliberately starving an unwanted pet. I thought it was the cruelest thing a person could do. And I didn't want to do that to anyone else, because I know how it feels to emotionally starve to death.

I am sorry for what happened. And I now understand the men I loved who just didn't feel the same way about me. It wasn't their fault. The tricky part of love is finding someone who shares the same feelings you do. Compatibility is a good start, and it's what I'm banking on from now on.

Hot Toddy's Behind

That means "Hot Toddy is behind" - this is not a post about my butt.

I am just overwhelmed right now. I'm running behind on all my errands. I finally caught up on drunk dials last night. Well, not exactly caught up. There are a few more people I owe drunk dials. And by a few, I mean a couple dozen.

I also have to send a pair of my underwear to Chad. I guess he is not doing too well and can't afford undergarments. Poor guy. Just makes me want to put my arms around him and hold him and do some other stuff, but that's not important right now.

Two friends want me to meme. The meme is complicated, and I don't feel like doing it. Too taxing.

I need to buy a birthday present for The Handsome Prince. But what do you get the guy who has everything. And by everything, I mean he has me for a best friend and housemate. What more could he possibly want?

Reasons to Be Proud

I am so proud of myself. I just saved my company over $39,000 on training costs due to my clever negotiation skills.

But I am more proud of myself for drinking two cocktails at lunch and learning that if you flick ashes near the television set at the sports bar, you can make them stick to the screen.

And People Say I Can't Keep a Secret...

Only four people in the entire world know who is in this show. And none of them is in the cast.

Fourteen actors will arrive at the performance dressed in street clothes. They will get a ticket and a program and take their seats. After the play begins, the actors will make their entrances from the audience, standing up and delivering their first lines en route to the stage, where they will meet the rest of the cast for the first time.

A cascade of comedy and a solid hit on Broadway, Don`t Drink the Water takes place inside an American embassy behind the Iron Curtain. A family of American tourists rushes into the embassy two steps ahead of the police who suspect them of spying and picture taking. It`s not much of a refuge, for the ambassador is absent and his son, now in charge, has been expelled from a dozen countries and the continent of Africa. Adding to the mayhem are other Embassy residents - a priest learning magic, a high-maintenance chef, a sniveling second-in-command, and a Sultan. "Moved the audience to great laughter.... Allen`s imagination is daffy, his sense of the ridiculous is keen and gags snap, crackle and pop." N.Y. Daily News

Theatre Vertigo & The Cardboard Box Theatre Company co-produce this fourth annual Anonymous Theatre Production.

When: Monday, May 9th at 7:30 PM

Guess what I did last night!?

I think I know what skydiving must feel like now. I've never had a more thrilling theater experience in my life. My heart was pounding so hard as I waited to stand up in my seat and shout out my first line. Each and every actor in the show received tremendously enthusiastic applause as they spoke their first line and revealed their participation in the show.

I've never had more fun on stage, and the memories of this night will feed my soul for years to come. I love being an actor, and I love working with other talented people who can kick ass in a show without ever having met for a single rehearsal. Today, I'm feeling so proud to have been part of this show. Sorry I didn't tell you. I wasn't allowed.

Now if only I'd stop sleeping with boys...

After reading this note from my mother, is it any wonder that my sister and cousins call me "The Crown Prince"? Other than the whole being gay thing, which my family thinks is a phase, it seems I can do no wrong.

Dear Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven:
Oh my goodness, my goodness! Gorgeous red roses like I've never seen before! I couldn't believe the Fed Ex delivery today...
I thought they had the wrong house. Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, the roses are soooooooooooo beautiful...

What a very special gift - (you cared enough to send the very best ha?)

I will NEVER forget this - I am Blessed to have you for a son I was shaking after opening up the delivery, and it touched me very, very much. You are very kind to send roses, and they're sitting on the dining room table now for my enjoyment throughout the coming days and into Mother's Day! What a nice thing you have done to make a very happy mom!

I love you.

What did I do to deserve this beautiful woman in my life? Can you imagine if I had upgraded to the deluxe roses? She'd have to go to the emergency room for palpitations of the heart.

I am the luckiest son in the world. I love you too, Mom!

Pumping Up

Today I sat at break so long with Ms. Karma and Auburn Pisces that I got bed sores. This afternoon the three of us have to sit in a four hour meeting. By the end of the day, I am going to have to learn how to walk again.

It is really sad and disgusting how many hours a day I sit. Working an office job is not a great way to stay in shape, and if I don't go to the gym on a regular basis, I get almost no exercise. Walking to my car every day isn't going to cut it. But I am trying to get back into a routine of working out a minimum of four days a week.

I don't know why bad habits develop so easily. A year ago, I was a regular at the gym. Every other day I was there for at least an hour. And I love the feeling of my own body after I work out. I feel strong and healthy, and I sleep better. My sex drive goes through the roof, which isn't saying much since my libido permanently hovers near the ceiling anyway.

But somehow in the past several months, I gave myself an out. I allowed myself too many days off from working out. I relaxed. Maybe it happened after I did the show 10 Naked Men. Once I knew I didn't have to be dragged across a stage in handcuffs naked, I stopped worrying about my body. It will be interesting to see how dating a man who seems quite happy with me the way I am impacts my fitness level. So far, having such a loyal and loving person in my life only makes me want to work harder on my body. Since I have nothing to prove, I am truly working out just for myself and not to impress someone else.

My favorite thing about the gym is lifting weights. Running or using the elliptical trainer can be kind of fun as long as I have good music. But it can easily become boring and tedious. And that is when my mind wanders, which gets me into trouble. With lifting, I always feel awesome immediately afterwards. I feel so good in my own body, whereas when I run I just feel sweaty. I don't know where I am going with this post. Maybe I'm just trying to remind myself why I need to work out. I have been too lazy for too long.

One way or another, I will get back into regular workouts. I wonder how many calories one burns having sex?