Interappliance Dating

Last night Thor said something that terrified me:

"Hang on, let me interrupt you for a second, Hot Toddy. You can hold your thoughts longer than I can. I'll forget if I don't tell you this right now."

I have Attention Deficit Disorder. Thor has ADHD. He says his thoughts are like a blender. I guess my thoughts are more like a dartboard or something. Whatever. All I know is his thoughts swirl around even faster and more randomly than mine do. Scary.

Can a relationship between a toaster oven and a blender ever last? Let's hope so...

An Open Letter to Tom Cruise

Dear Tom Cruise:

I hesitate to write you about this, because I know you have been through quite a trauma with having water squirted in your face. If something like that ever happened to me, I would probably be so upset, because then my face would be wet for a couple minutes, and we all know that having water on your face is very dangerous and humiliating.

The thing is, Tom Cruise, I need to get something off my chest, even at the risk of upsetting you and having you call me a jerk and/or sue me. I have seen so much of you lately. You're on every talk show, in every magazine, and you're even in the news all the time. Could you please take a break for awhile? You are overdoing it.

I try to avoid hearing about your life as much as possible, but lots of my friends have magazines in their bathroom, and I find myself reading about you while I am in there, um, washing my hands. I hear about you when I listen to the radio or watch television. It is enough to make me want to scream, "I don't want to hear about fucking Tom Cruise."

But, the thing is, I do kind of want to hear about fucking you. You really do have a great body and a cute smile. However, my hearing about fucking you would be inappropriate and would make you uncomfortable, because you most certainly are not gay and would not want to be used as fodder for my homosexual fantasies. I know you are not gay, because you have been married to women. If I understand the gazillion articles I've seen about you lately, you've been married twice and are now engaged. You are most definitely a straight man, because you are allowed to marry as many times as you want to, while we gay people can't get married at all unless we are in the mood to learn Swedish and move overseas.

But I digress, Straight Tom Cruise. I just wondered if you would mind toning it down a little bit when it comes to your engagement. Your relationship with Katie Holmes is so boring to me. How would you feel if I, the boyfriend of Thor, wrote about the love of my life (Thor) every single day on this blog? I know. I realize I do that, but I am asking how you would feel about it? It would be irritating, wouldn't it!? I'm sure that even my sexy boyfriend, Thor, finds it irritating how much you talk about Katie. I haven't asked him, because we have never actually talked about you (can you believe it!?!?), but I am sure he would find your relationship irritating nevertheless.

By the way, Thor could totally beat up both you and Katie Holmes, and he is a much better kisser than you will ever be. That is, if you kissed men, which I know you don't. You have been quite clear about that. So please go away now.

Check Your Props

Today I went for my morning coffee break, but I had to bring a prop with me since the Director of our department was hanging out in my work area. Fortunately, a training book I ordered arrived this morning from Amazon.com, so I emptied the box and carried it with me on break. In the elevator bank, I saw the VP of Something Important. He looked down at my package (no, not that one) and said, "Oh, you're delivering books."

"That's right," I answered as I looked down at the empty box. "I am Book Boy."

It wasn't a witty reply. I am awful at engaging in small talk with people who could pay off my entire student loan with one of their paychecks. But I am proud of myself for being devious and pulling one over on these self-important wealthy people. That gives me great joy.

When Juju starts work here next Monday, I must remember to train her to always carry an office prop when she takes a break so it looks like she's working. If you have a helpful tip for the new girl, please share it with me, and I'll be sure to incorporate it into the rigorous training I plan to put her through.

Hot Toddy's Wish List

I wish the lady who yelled at our building security guard this morning would realize that he does not work for the postal service and that it wasn't his fault she lost her money in the stamp machine.

I wish the comments on this blog were always as supportive and cool as they were yesterday. I'm so happy that most people like hearing about Thor and aren't at all annoyed by my romantic euphoria.

I wish I had a computer at home so I could keep up with all the great people who send me e-mail and get to know them better.

I wish Madeline Kahn were still alive and making great movies.

I wish it were already next Monday so Juju would be starting her first day at work in the cubicle next to mine.

I wish they made candles that smelled like new Playdough.

I wish there were English phrases like "Aloha", which means both "hello" and "goodbye". That way if I told people, "Die, motherfucker", it might mean "Have a nice day" or, well, "Die, motherfucker", and they would just have to make their best guess what I meant.

I wish I could take back all the years I was alone and give them to Thor so we could spend them together.

I wish I had reserved seating at CC Slaughters. With a velvet rope around my special area.

I wish my family could be more accepting of my sexuality so I could tell them how happy I am right now to be with Thor.

I wish they made Little House on the Prairie trading cards. That would be the shit. I'd collect them all!

Bedtime Story

I think I need to sleep for about 10 days. Tonight will be all about catching up on my rest.

See, the problem with sleeping in your boyfriend's bed is that you don't want to go to sleep. Ever. Friday night after we went out, we stayed awake all night in spite of our both being tired and a little drunk. I scratched his back until I heard the birds singing outside in the treetops. I noticed it was getting light outside, so I finally allowed myself to fall asleep.

Thor seems to have limitless energy, while I am the king of relaxation. Saturday morning he woke up after less than five hours of sleep, played with his ferrets, watched an Elvis Presley movie, and did laundry. At about 10:30 a.m., he stomped on the floor upstairs above the bedroom and yelled that I had to get up. Groaning and disheveled, I slid out of bed and went upstairs to have coffee with him and Auburn Pisces.

I know that I am talking about Thor an awful lot lately. It must be torture for you, dear readers. Thoughts of him captivate my mind, and it is difficult for me to think about anything else. Naturally, this leaks into my writing too. It is just hard for me to pull my focus away from the amazing feelings in my heart. I have not felt this way in 10 years, and, because this relationship is so new, it is the most noteworthy happening in my life right now.

Sure, lots of things happened this weekend, and any one of them would warrant a blog post. I could write about watching The Handsome Prince perform the role of Brad in Rocky Horror this weekend. He sang like and angel and looked really sexy singing his solo in his underwear. I could write about playing games in The Vortex last night with my friends as a fierce thunderstorm erupted outside our sheltered patio. I could write about the Pride parade, or about the shots of goldschlager and tabasco I drank. I could write about the cookout we had this weekend or about the beautiful weather we enjoyed. But all roads lead back to Thor at this point, and the only thing I really want to write about is how good it felt to wrap my arms around him as we watched the parade. I want to think about the way he pushed up against me every time someone had to squeeze by us to get through the crowd. I want to remember how good he smelled and the way he leaned back over his shoulder to give me a "check up" kiss every 20 minutes.

Having been disappointed in love many times, I am diligent in my search for red flags. I am keeping my eyes peeled for warning signs that this won't last. Sometimes I even create scenarios of doom just to prepare myself for the loss of this love. But no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to find anything to fear. He expresses such confidence in our relationship, and he seems to fear nothing. He talks about our future with certainty, and he is steadfast and unwavering in his love.

So, instead of worrying, for once, I think I'll just get some sleep and allow my dreams to wrap me up in safety. Good night.

If You're Like Me...

If you are like me, I am so very sorry.

If you are like me, you are sitting at work on a Friday with all sorts of random thoughts racing through your head. You are contemplating your funny crazy friendships with the people who make you laugh on a regular basis. The friends who stand by you through thick and thin. The friends who aren't afraid to eat your cooking even though you regularly try to poison your boyfriend.

Maybe you are thinking about your friend, Starr, who sings in a band and couldn't find the bar where she was supposed to perform on Tuesday night. She just knew it was a new bar in the building where the Marco Polo lounge used to be. But she couldn't find the old Marco Polo. So you are picturing her driving around town trying to find Marco Polo with her car window down as she yells, "Marco!!" - "Marco!!!" and waits for someone to yell back, "Polo!!"

Or maybe you are thinking about Auburn Pisces and how excited she is for an upcoming coffee date. And you're thinking about her question to you yesterday, "Do you think I can lose 15 pounds in time for my coffee date?" More importantly, you are patting yourself on the back for your response. "Sure, if you schedule it in November."

I'll bet, if you are like me, you are planning to visit your dear friend Juju's brand new blog. She knows more about sex than almost anybody you know, and she's always willing to give advice and ask thought-provoking questions.

Or instead of friends, you might be thinking about people who irritate you with poor grammar. Like the guy who e-mailed you this morning in response to your question, "Should I pay the original invoice you sent or just wait for a corrected invoice before paying?" Since he responded, "Pay the second invoice. Please avoid the original invoice," you are now afraid to go back to your desk because you are busy trying to avoid that original invoice, which you know is sitting right there in your inbox.

If you are like me, you're looking forward to PRIDE weekend with your amazing beautiful man, and you can't wait to climb into bed with him tonight. You are looking forward to all the new games he will introduce you to this weekend, and you are amazed at his playful spirit. You are thinking about his deep sexy voice and beautiful chest and honest blue eyes, and you are wishing that you were with him right now instead of avoiding a stupid invoice at the office.

If you are like me, you're quite fortunate, actually. Good for you.

Killing Thor

A few weeks ago I cooked a very special dinner for my boyfriend. If you have been reading Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven for any length of time, you know that I can be quite a disastrous chef. But Thor is so special to me, and I decided to break my vow that I would never cook for another man again. When I was with CT, I cooked dinner almost every night for him. I wonder if that's why he so often decided that all he wanted for dinner was broccoli and Smart Dogs (vegetarian hot dogs).

So, I told Thor I was preparing stir fry. I thought I had a pretty fool-proof recipe. Although, technically, I was "cooking", I'm not crazy. I know my limits as a chef, so for dinner I bought pre-chopped stir fry vegetables and a jar of Korean BBQ sauce. I heated the pan myself though, and stirred the vegetables a few times. I also cut tofu (they didn't have pre-cubed tofu) and fried it up. I put his plate down in front of him, and he smiled at me. "How sweet," I thought to myself, "he is deeply touched by my gesture of love and is smiling warmly at me." He kept smiling. Smiling and not eating.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"Toddy, do you remember when we talked about things I'm allergic to?"

"No," I answered. "Of course not."

"I'm allergic to soybeans," he admitted.

"You're allergic to soy - - but that is what tofu is made from!"

"Yes, I know," he said with an apologetic look on his gorgeous kissable face.

"And there is soy in the BBQ sauce!" For some reason, I felt the irrepressible need to keep stating the obvious.

So, he picked at the vegetables, and his throat only closed up a little bit. I think that if you cook dinner for your boyfriend and his throat only closes up a little bit, you can consider yourself a success. Anyway, I was determined to try again. The next day we had a hike planned, so I brought protein bars and bananas for the hike. "Thor, I know you can't eat the protein bars because of the soy, but I also brought you bananas!"

"Toddy," he said gently. "Remember my story about bananas?"

"No," I answered. "Of course not."

He then reminded me that he likes the flavor of bananas, but he can't actually eat a banana because the texture makes him gag. For one brief moment, I thought about how this might impact my sex life with Thor. He gags when he has bananas in his mouth? I quickly put selfish thoughts out of my mind and decided I had to start listening to him when he spoke of food. Or I could just listen to him everytime he speaks, but I think it is best to start small. Baby steps.

On Sunday night, we grilled non-soy products on the barbecue. I put non-soy barbecue sauce on turkey burgers. He can eat turkey; I know this for a fact. I've seen him eat an entire pound of turkey in one sitting. The dinner was great, and I felt like a gourmet chef. The next day, he called to say that he had to cancel our date for the Drammy Awards. "I've been coughing all day. My allergies are killing me."

"Were you allergic to something we cooked last night?"

"Remember when I told you I was allergic to Mesquite?"

"No," I answered. "Of course not."

Thor has been miserable for three days. Not only did we cook on Mesquite coals, but I am sure there was Mesquite in the BBQ sauce. Thor's allergic reaction to the Mesquite weakened his immune system, and he caught a cold. So, on Tuesday night, I went over to his house with a pound of turkey breast, some Gorgonzola pea salad I had whipped up earlier (yeah, right) and a couple of peaches. He wasn't hungry, so I told him that maybe he should just eat a peach to keep up his strength. He said nothing.

"You like peaches, don't you?" I asked.

"Do you remember what I told you about peaches?"

"No," I answered. "Of course not." Actually, I didn't say that. I just started giggling and, after a moment, both of us were laughing hard. "I don't think you listen to me when I talk to you, Toddy! The only time in my life I have ever thrown up was after drinking peach schnapps and eating peaches at the same time."

In all fairness, Thor is only allergic to four or five things, (I can't remember the other one he told me) so it's not like he's high maintenance. But he's going to worry I'm trying to kill him if I keep offering him the very foods he's allergic to. I'm the worst boyfriend in the world. I am going to have to start keeping a list of foods I can't bring my man. Or maybe I'll just let him cook from now on. I'll eat anything. And, for the record, I don't gag on bananas.

Keep Your Comments To Yourself

Sometimes I wonder why I even have comments enabled on this blog. Some people say the dumbest things. I agree with Pua's opinion that these people should carry signs warning the rest of us that they're stupid. Then there are the meanies. Meanies criticize and put me down because they don't like the way I look or the things I write or the activities in which I engage. I just deleted a comment today from someone who had nothing nice to say about the picture I posted yesterday. Strangely, though, he did not send me a picture of himself so that I could offer some constructive criticism of my own. Coward.

The other day someone commented that my blog had become boring because I talk about Thor too much. I know that it is much more fun for some people to read Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven when I am miserable or being drenched in beer or going on really bad dates. Yeah, that must be a hoot to read about, but it's not exactly fun to live it! I write to purge my demons and to celebrate my blessings. I write to make fun of things that bug me. I write to help me remember all the worthwhile moments of my life. I write to make you laugh. I write to make myself laugh. I write to connect with my world.

After I write, I like to read through the comments I receive. Most of them are so fun. Many are hilarious. A lot of comments spark correspondence between my blog friends and me. Nearly all of the comments I get kind, sometimes even affectionate and loving, so I can't let a couple jerks spoil my fun. But for the Meanies and Stupid People who are trying to ruin my fun, I have this to say:

Why do meanies never include their e-mail address when they leave hateful comments? I'd love a chance to respond. By respond, of course, I mean that I'll use my God-given gift for making someone feel like an idiot to put them in their place.

Usually a person who criticizes my writing doesn't have a link to his or her own blog. If only they would provide me with a personal homepage link, I could learn how to be a really great blogger like they are.

When I post photos of myself, I'm sometimes told that I don't look like my headshot. I'm never sure how to respond to that. First of all, it's not like I used someone else's headshot. My friend, The Midget, took that picture of me in February of 2003. I did not have a stand-in. I suppose I could try to find a really awful picture of myself and use that on my blog if it would make people feel better. I have plenty of red-faced whiskey drunk photos I could post. But who wants to look at that every day when they open up Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven? I know I don't! I chose a picture that I liked, and then my friend Aaron worked his magic to turn a black and white photo into something new and colorful. Since I love what he did with the photo, I use it on my blog.

Really, if you hate this blog or you think I'm not as good-looking in person as I am in my headshot, or you're bored with my lovelife, you don't need to let me know that. You can just move along. Go get laid or have a drink or seek some therapy. Whatever it is that will help you stop being such a miserable person. Nobody is making you read. And not only will I understand if you choose not to comment, I would encourage you not to. That would be, after all, the most mature and civil thing to do.

The Best Words I've Ever Heard

"Am I ready to tell you this? Yeah. I'm ready. Okay. I'll try to say this in a way that you'll understand. The day I met you..."

Wow. This may be the first time I've ever felt I shouldn't share everything in my blog. His words to me the other night were just for me. I don't want to blog them. Maybe someday they will be used in a play I will write, but for now I am just letting them take root in my heart.

Lots of comments have called for pictures of Thor. So you just get this one little peek for now. And please forgive me for being selfish. As much as I would love to show you everything there is to know about this incredible man, I've decided to keep him for myself. These are mine: his face, his body, his words, and his heart.

Soaked at CC Slaughters

Remember that episode of Dynasty when Alexis threw a beer on Dex, her ex-boyfriend, when she saw him kissing someone else at a bar? No, wait. That's not a scene from a ridiculously melodramatic soap opera. It's my life. And the other night I was drenched in beer by an angry ex-boyfriend.

For a few weeks, I was seeing a guy, let's call him Angry Bear, about whom some of you expressed concern, but I did not listen. That is because when my oven is set to broil it becomes very hard to cool it down, in spite of well-intentioned warnings from others. Friends who see me on a regular basis also told me to be careful of Angry Bear's controlling and obsessive behaviors, but I tried to give him time to prove himself. Last week, he did just that. He proved his true nature and tried his best to hurt me, although he failed miserably.

I understand that Angry Bear is seeing someone new, but it seems I am not to be granted the same good wishes I would give him and his new boyfriend. He seems to be enraged by the fact that I, too, have moved on. I find it interesting that someone can claim to love you while you are sleeping with them, yet the person becomes hateful after you end the relationship. How can you jump so quickly from "love" to "hate"? I think true love should take some time to fade, if in fact that is possible. That has always been my experience, anyway.

As an actor, I try not to shy away from new or unfamiliar experiences since I rely heavily on these personal experiences to help create the characters I portray. So, thanks to Angry Bear, I have more fodder for potential acting roles, now that I know what it feels like to have a drink thrown in my face.

After it happened on a very crowded Thursday evening at CC's, I was not sure how I felt. Was I angry? Embarrassed? Amused? I didn't have much of a chance to label my emotions, because immediately after Angry Bear's tantrum, Thor took me in his arms, licked some of the spilt beer off my neck and gave me the warmest kiss. Thor then made sure Angry Bear was removed from the bar and took me back to his place where, after a hot shower, we slept together for the first time. Funny how a potentially embarrassing situation turned into one of the best nights of my life.

My new friend Non Blogger, who was at the bar that night, sent me an e-mail recounting his version of the wacky hijinx. He tells the story better than I do. So, I'll let him:

Dear Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven:
Man, that was so weird last night at CC Slaughters. The whole Angry Bear thing. What are the odds? Portland is so freaking small sometimes. Consider these weird coinkidinkies:

1. I have known Angry Bear (a little) for a couple years.

2. I saw Angry Bear come in last night, and we did the huggy/kissy thing (and of course he had to pinch my nipple, which he always does)

3. While looking at you, and, admittedly, your boyfriend (WOOF!), I suddenly had an "AHA" moment that YOU were THE Hot Toddy, and he was THE Thor, and your friend was THE Auburn Pisces. Wow!

4. A little later [after I introduced myself], you told me your ex-boyfriend just poured a beer on you and got thrown out of the bar. You said your ex-boyfriend's name was Angry Bear. THE Angry Bear? Yes.

5. Moments later, I'm walking to the other side of the bar and this young guy comes up to me and says, "Have you seen a big guy with a blue t-shirt? He's kind of bearish and has a nipple ring." I replied, "There are 32 guys matching that description over there by the bar."

"Well," said the young guy, "one of them is my boyfriend, Angry Bear, and I'm sure he's cheating on me. He told me I better never cheat on him, but I'm sure he's cheating on me."

"Oh, Angry Bear just got thrown out of here for pouring beer on his ex-boyfriend," I told the young guy.

"What!?" the young guy responded. "Angry Bear did what? Who is his ex? I want to know. Point him out!"

"I can't do that," I responded. "That isn't my place to do. Sorry."

I did, however see fit to run right over and tell you, Hot Toddy, and point the young guy out to you. See, I have already proven my loyalty to you as a friend. Damn, I'm good.

That's it for now. I hope to chat again soon!
Sincerely,
Non Blogger

I hate bar drama, and I avoid it the same way I avoid John Denver's music. So, in order to enjoy some peace, I plan on spending lots more time in Thor's bed, and less time hanging out in bars. Trust me. It's no sacrifice at all.

Don't Call Me Sweet

It seems I have inherited my mother's temperament. When I was growing up, she would often complain to me that she got tired of being called "sweet". Everybody always said she was such a sweet person, and it made her wish she could be just a little bit bitchier, I think. Now, years later, I am frequently labeled with the same description. I'm sweet.

"Oh, Toddy," my friends will say, "you are so sweet."

Hearing things like "Hot Toddy is just the sweetest guy," or "what a teddy bear," is just old hat to me.

But I can be bad. Very bad. And I want everyone to know it. Being with Thor has shown me just how evil and rotten I really am, because he, as it turns out, is nicer than I am. Truly, he is the sweet one.

On our refrigerator at home, there is a picture of a group of my friends standing around at a party singing "Seasons of Love" from the musical Rent. I probably do not need to clarify the men in the picture are gay, but, with the exception of Metro, all of us are.

I placed a magnet right in the middle of the picture in order to hold it on the fridge. The magnet completely covers The Math Whiz, who is standing in the center of our group. Nearly every day, The Math Whiz indicates his displeasure at being covered up by a magnet. "It is the only way I can keep it on the fridge. The magnet has to be in the middle. You should have stood somewhere else at the party," I answer.

The Math Whiz and I like to play these games. I treat him horribly, and he begs for my friendship. Now that he works with me at Company X, he asks that I greet him publicly, in front of our coworkers, which I refuse to do. But covering his picture with a magnet is still my favorite game. Thor asked about this the other night while The Math Whiz was with us in the kitchen. "Why do you have this magnet on top of The Math Whiz?"

"I have to hold the picture to the fridge. It is unfortunate that The Math Whiz stood in the center, but that's just the breaks," I answered. "Toddy, that's mean," said Thor, as he removed the magnet and placed it at the top of the picture. The Math Whiz smiled at Thor, and I glared at The Math Whiz. "You will have to get used to my evil nature," I told Thor. But I didn't replace the magnet, because, for the moment, I'm enjoying being submissive.

I will find other ways to get back at The Math Whiz. I will torture him secretly, and Thor will never be the wiser.

Thank You, Auburn Pisces

I have more joy in my life right now than I have felt in years. My heart is at peace for the first time in a long while. My body is alive with sensation and pleasure and health, and my spirits are soaring.

Debts are being paid, old wounds are being healed, and love is filling me up to the point of bursting. So much of this, I owe to you, my friend.

For all the help you've given me at work, for the financial counseling, for the broken pieces you've helped me pick up in the past year, for all the love you've shown, and for bringing Thor into my life, I thank you from the bottom of my sappy heart.

Hot Toddy Reviews the Tony Awards

Last night's Tony Awards ceremony was the best I have ever seen. It was incredible. I'm not normally interested in reviewing televised awards shows for Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, but this was truly a night to remember and deserves further comment!

The show opened with a wonderful number that featured several of the top musicals on Broadway this season. Thor made me stir-fry, and we sat closely together drinking beer and eating our dinner. He asked me if I liked his cooking and I told him that I loved it, but he didn't seem to believe me. So, for about 10 minutes I told him how good it was. I used very descriptive words and made lots of satisfied faces as I moaned with pleasure. After the commercial break, we shifted positions on the couch.

Thor normally likes to feel in control, but he is learning to relax and try new things, so, for a change of pace, he decided to try reclining between my legs, which I promptly wrapped around his torso. I put my arms around his chest, and felt myself quickly becoming somewhat aroused. Hugh Jackman did a musical number, and the camera panned to many shots of celebrities wearing gorgeous clothing. Then he took off his shirt. I'm talking about Thor, here, not Hugh Jackman. The first awards were given out, and Thor's chest is so strong and hairy.

Leslie Uggams looked really great in that purple gown, but Thor said he would have dressed her in royal blue. He strongly felt that would have been a better color for her. When he lifted his arms over his head to stroke my hair, I put my hands on his biceps. That's one of my very favorite body parts, so I was really in heaven. He smells so good too. Light in the Piazza won an award for something.

About halfway through the awards, which were captivating to watch, we shifted positions. Now it was my turn to be between his legs, so I took advantage of my new vantage point to caress the areas I couldn't reach earlier. His thighs are so muscular. I really liked Christina Applegate's number, but when I guessed what song she would sing before it even began, Thor tickled me to punish me for being a "know-it-all".

The Monty Python Spamalot number was well worth waiting for. Thor has this deep rumbling voice, so I loved putting my head on his chest to hear him talk. I like when he plays with my ears too. He's so sweet and kind and sexy and fun, and I really enjoyed the number about the Holy Grail.

As the night wrapped up, we tried one more position. This time we spooned under a blanket, and I kissed his ears and neck. My whole body was alive with pleasure when Spamalot won best musical. I knew that theatre was one of my great loves, but I was surprised by my own intense physical pleasure at this final award. Wow, I am really impressed with the work that went into the Tony's this year. I barely even missed Sarah Jessica Parker. I wonder how much Thor bench presses, because his pecs were like rocks last night.

That about wraps up my review. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Maybe I'll start making television reviews a regular feature on Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven.

My Favorite Things

Photo courtesy of Electric Lucy

When I was twelve I read a book called On Tour with Donny & Marie, and I cried because I knew there wasn't much of a chance that I would ever tour with them.

Sometimes life can be so surprising. It was great to see them at CC Slaughters last night, and they even brough me gifts. We're leaving for The Osmond Reunion tour tomorrow. Marie said she'll sing "Little Bit Country, Little Bit Rock-n-Roll" with me. And I'm bunking with Donny.

Rise and Shine

This morning I had a hard time getting up. I was thinking that, if I were rich, I would hire servants to help me get out of bed. I would have them come in when I woke up and put an extra pillow under my head to elevate me just a little bit. Then I would tell them to come back in 15 minutes and put another pillow under my head. I would have them do this every 15 minutes for about 2 hours until I was sitting upright.

Next, I would have them bring a bowl of water for me to dip my fingers in so I could very slowly and gradually prepare for a full shower. I'd order another bowl of water be brought in 15 minutes for my other hand. Then a bowl for each foot, staggered at 15 minute intervals. After an hour, I'd be used to having a little water on me, so I could have the servants hoist me up and carry me to the shower.

Before I got in the shower, I'd have them feed me a couple morsels of toast so that my digestive system would have time to prepare for the food I'd eat that day. I would also have a shot glass of coffee. During my shower, I'd have another toast morsel and one more shot of coffee. After three or four hours of being primed, I'd jump into my day with a great attitude. I'd be rarin' to go.

The point of this post is that I've realized I may not be a morning person after all.