Hot Wash

It has definitely been too long since I had any action. I went to get my haircut today and found myself becoming aroused while getting my hair washed. I went to a new hair stylist or hair designer or hair cutter (whatever they wanna be called these days), and he is simply beautiful. As he moved around me and soaped up my hair, I fought to keep from opening my mouth wide.

The other day someone wrote me an e-mail with just a hint of sexual innuendo, and I couldn't stand up at my desk for about 5 minutes. And now, as I remember that e-mail, I find myself feeling completely turned on again.

The first thing I want to do when I wake up in the morning is have sex. But there is nobody there to have sex with. It's frustrating. But don't worry, I've figured out a system.

Anyway, for the past year I have felt certain that I will never go back to one-night stands or casual hook-ups. At the same time I feel like I can't wait too much longer. Lately all it takes is for someone to touch my neck or breath in my ear, and I'm ready to jump them. I guess I should just be happy to have someone touching my neck or breathing in my ear (just don't put your tongue in there - and you know who you are!), but I think I'd like to at least make it to first base with someone. Right now I feel like I'm not even in the ballpark. I'm off buying cotton candy at the concession stand or something.

So, there you have it. Just because I haven't talked about it lately doesn't mean I don't want it. The truth is I want it bad. (Not badly - bad, as in dirty)

Back from the Mountain

Well, after two long plane trips, two ten-hour road trips, and two gondola rides, I'm back home. See, I was at a dear friend's wedding in Minnesota. She was married on a mountain summit overlooking Lake Superior, and the event was beautiful.

But what was really wonderful about the weekend was the chance to be with my college friends again. To laugh continuously for four days in a row is a beautiful experience.

My friends from college are some of the most creative and quick-witted people I know. We spent at least 25 minutes analyzing this sign and its accompanying wall mural portraying the Wreck of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald (outside a liquor store in Grand Marais, Minnesota).



Toddy: How did all 29 men lose Captain McSorley? You'd think someone could find him.

Curfew: Especially since he was 729 feet long.

I could write out a detailed transcript of the lengthy discourse we shared, but it would be impossible to convey the humor. Truly, you had to be there.

Inane conversations like that one are the norm for us. There is something not quite right about the way our brains operate, and the condition seems to become even more pronounced when we're reunited.

We went to a small college in Kentucky located in Wilmore, a town of about 5000 people. There was nothing to do there, so we created our own fun. "Wear Your Hair a Different Way to Dinner Night", for example. Buttercup stuck wire hangers in her braids a la Pippi Longstocking, and then she dangled bunches of green grapes on both braids. We formed a volleyball team, The Mad Sheep, for the sole purpose of making a mockery of intramural sports. (Our cheer before every game was, "Sheep! Sheep! Sheep! No Wool! BAAA!)

I printed my team number (my social security number) on the back of my jersey. Curfew's number was her telephone number. John's number was .08, the legal limit for blood alcohol concentration in Kentucky. Blue's number was 3.14159...

The Mad Sheep ended up taking second place in the volleyball tournament.

We'd have spontaneous picnics in the cemetery. We gave each other topics on which to speak extemporaneously about for 5 minutes, and the rest of the group would pretend to be vehemently passionate about the subject. As the designated orator stood on a concrete pedestal proclaiming the greatness of paper clips, the rest of us would wildly cheer and applaud in agreement.

Wonder Twin and I would lay out in the sun right after lunch every day. Since we only had 10 minutes, we would spread out on our backs fully dressed on the sidewalk in front of the Psychology building from 12:50 to 1:00. People stepped over us on the way to class and shook their heads.

Now, almost 20 years later, we live all over the country and only gather together once every 5 or 10 years. We gather for weddings or special events whenever possible. There is always someone who can't make it, so the truth is we'll probably never all be together again. But even two Mad Sheep in the same room makes for hilarity. And such love. These friends love me so much, and I them.

On the plane back to Portland, I listened to my iPod and heard the song "Kind Friend" by Indigo Girls. "Hey, kind friend, I don't know when I'll see you again." The lyrics hit me hard in a way they've never done before. "Kind friend, help me forget where I've been. Kind friend, help me remember who I am."

I turned my face to the window and tried to look out at the clouds, but all I could see was a blur of tears against the bright sky.

Hot Toddy is Very Literary

God, it's hard to keep a secret. But I've managed to keep this one.

I've just been informed that From Boys to Men has been published. Why should that matter to me? Only because I'm one of the contributors to this anthology. My mother would be so proud of me for being published if it weren't for the fact that I wrote about masturbation and gay wrestling.

Oh, well. Maybe my next book will be more along the lines of Chicken Soup for the Hole. I mean Soul.

Click the link above to buy an actual copy of an actual book that I'm actually published in.

Hmm. Suddenly I feel guilty for ending a sentence in a preposition - as if I should know better now that I'm a published author. That's something I'm very proud of.

Er, something of which I'm very proud.

Booty Call

This morning at about 3 a.m. I was awakened by screaming and pounding outside my kitchen window. As I stumbled across my dark apartment to investigate, I heard my next door neighbor shouting out his window to whoever was causing the ruckus. He used some fucking profane language, which I won't repeat on this blog 'cause I'm not down with that shit.

When I got to my window, I opened it wide and looked down at the parking lot below. A young man was in the process of beating up a No Parking sign. He punched the sign over and over with his bare fist and then stopped suddenly when he saw me.

"I see you up there in your window, bitch. You wanna come down here and do something about it?" he asked.

Of course I thought about going down there. I mean, he was clearly hitting on me. But I wasn't sure if this guy was the type of person I'd enjoy hooking up with. On the one hand, he seemed very masculine. The way he punched the sign over and over with his bare hand was pretty seductive. On the other hand, calling me a bitch is not as affirming as, say, telling me I am very flexible.

I was pretty tired from moving, so I decided to just scare away my potential late night booty call by pretending to call the police. I didn't feel like walking all the way across my apartment in the dark just to retrieve my cell phone, so I picked up the nearest object, an outlet adapter like this one, and pretended to dial it. As soon as I held the outlet adapter up to my ear, the foolish boy cussed me out some more and took off.

I never even got a chance to give him my number.

Pack Rat

I hate moving. I hate it a lot. I hate moving more than I hate answering my office phone only to hear that annoying shrill fax sound that indicates some moron is trying to send a fax to my phone.

But I am almost done.

Thanks to The Handsome Prince, Toddtender, Juju, Metro and Pony, my cozy one-bedroom apartment is full of my stuff. And by full, I mean overloaded. The floor of my apartment is sagging.

Why do I have a framed Donny & Marie album (New Season), and where am I going to put my poster of Laverne & Shirley with The Fonz?

Do I need an entire shelf of Japanese snack foods and other unidentifiable products? I mean, sure the packaging is super cool, but maybe I should put something else on that pantry shelf. Like, food that I'll actually eat, maybe.

I'll have to install some shelving to display the fun gifts my friends have given me over the years. I have the little reminder to always "Be Relevant", which Guru Stu sent me. Metro's mother gave me a Ken Doll of "The Handsome Prince". She repackaged him as "Hot Toddy's Handsome Prince" and covered up Barbie's face with a picture of me. It's so creative and makes me feel loved. But will any man want to spend the night with me if he sees that I have a Ken Doll? Not to mention my "Little House on the Prairie" video collection. Which I just mentioned.

Metro, not to be outdone by his mother, gave me a Payne (Final Fantasy X-2) action figure. My friend Lizzie gave me a Jesus action figure. I can't just keep this stuff in a box under my bed! But where will I put it all?

Maybe I can get rid of a couple boxes of props from shows I've helped produce. My sketch comedy group, The Exotic Actors Guild, required lots of strange props (laser guns, wigs, an American flag, and a "Kiss My Ass" lunchbox), and I haven't been able to part with any of them. Who knows when I might want to wear my "Swiss-Land" tank top again?

I have a box of games for the iMac that CT and I bought. (I pointed at it, and he paid for it - so "we" bought it.) Even the local software store that buys used computer games won't purchase them since most gamers prefer PC games.

The good news is that if I actually decide to throw anything away, there is a dumpster three stories below my window. I already practiced throwing a full garbage bag out my kitchen window, and it turns out my aim is pretty good. It landed smack dab in the middle of the dumpster. True, the people living in the two apartments below mine may have been a bit startled as a bag of trash flew past their kitchen windows, but that is the price they have to pay for getting to live in a building with Hot Toddy.

Kassia and Sodom Show with Aldo Norn

The new podcast is up, and it's a crazy one.

Todd and Pony Show

And in other random news, there is a Bocce Ball tournament taking place at the building where I work. Portland is so weird.

Wriggly Fish

I don't know if you could call him "The one that got away..."

Willie was more like "The one impossible to get a grip on..."

But he was so much fun to be with. He moved at the beginning of this year, and last week I got to see him for the first time in months.

I had just returned from the softball tournament the night before, and I had about 20 minutes to spare before I left for a business trip to Seattle. He called me on my cell and asked if I could meet him somewhere - anywhere - just to say hello.

I was in such a hurry, and I told him all about my crazy schedule for the morning. Had to drop off my rent check and take a couple things to my new apartment and go pick up Juju. He asked again if we could meet. Even for a couple minutes.

There's something about him that draws me to him and makes me want to be in his presence. Willie was very popular with my friends during the time we were - doing whatever it was we were doing. They all liked him a lot and said he was so much fun. But sometimes he frustrated me so much, and there have been more than a few times that I've pissed him off so much he couldn't talk to me.

We even argued a little bit on the phone before I went to pick him up last week. He asked me if I liked this one guy, and I said I was waiting to see what would happen rather than forcing anything. Then he said he felt like punching me in the face when I said "stuff like that", but he couldn't figure out quite why. Then I got frustrated because he wanted me to meet him at the light rail station even though I told him how busy I was and why couldn't he just come to my apartment instead of making me even more late....

Then we just stopped fighting, and I told him I'd meet him halfway. And that's what we did.

I saw him a couple blocks up the street. I pulled up in my truck and he hopped in. We hugged and held hands for a couple minutes. I loved feeling his warm body again, and he made me laugh right away with some goofy comment. I don't even remember what it was. Sometimes he talks so fast I feel like my head is swimming.

I took him to see my new apartment, which took about five minutes. Then we went to get a quick cup of coffee, and he took pictures of me as I paid for our drinks. (I told the barista that Willie was my publicist.)

He makes me laugh. He frustrates the hell out of me. He drives me nuts. He acts crazy. I like him. He's unpredictable and fun. He's sweet and beautiful. He has great shoulders and sexy tattoos.

As he told me before we said goodbye last week, "We do so much better this way..."

Living far apart has been good for us. I feel like I appreciate him more, and I think he feels the same way. I have never known a more complicated person than Willie, and I guess I like him just the way he is.

Joint Health

I took my Joint Health supplement before the games last weekend.



But I'm still sore.


We won lots of games. That made us happy. We also won the award for best team spirit. It is easy to have spirit when you're cute.



That's Shiny, Me and the Toddtender.
I have tons of stories to tell. I will get to them soon!



Can you see my sports injury in the picture above?

I had the time of my life, and it's all thanks to the man who talked me into joining the team...



Thank you Toddtender! (He also brought me coffee and egg sandwiches in bed. Best roommate ever!)

That's what I'm talking about!