Hot Penis

There was a man at CC Slaughters last night who had a really hot penis.

When I am hot, the temperature normally rises through my entire body. But this poor older gentleman seemed to be suffering from regionalized heat. Only his penis was hot, so he pulled it out at the bar and sat there with it hanging from his jeans like a cocktail weenie only smaller. He had his coat on, so that is how I know only his penis was hot.

By the way, if you are finding Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven because you googled "penis was hot" or "hot penis cocktail weenie", welcome! I hope you will find exactly what you were looking for here!

Anyway, I debated the proper response to this poor old man with the hot penis. I considered approaching him and saying, "Sir, they have swizzle sticks at the bar if you need one," but decided against it. I just didn't think sarcasm was the right approach. I feel so sorry for old people who go to the bars looking for some action and think pulling out their gherkin is the way to get it.

Maybe I am just jealous. Now, I have never spoken about my own appendage on this blog, and I hesitate to do so now. But this is relevant to my story. My own penis, which does not have a clever name, is subject to significant size fluctuations. Am I being clear? Probably not, but I'm too embarrassed to continue.

Let's just say if my penis was hot and I pulled it out at a bar like that old guy last night, it would probably not be very impressive. However, if someone were to make me hot in that special way that many boys can, I may be more impressive than you would initially expect. Or maybe not. It depends. Apparently my claim of being too embarrassed to continue this topic of discussion was a lie. Don't be angry. I didn't realize I was lying to you until just now.

Help, I'm talking about my penis, and I can't stop typing.

What I am trying to say is that people who saw me in 10 Naked Men commented on my performance, not on my endowment. Of all the cast members, I was the only one who didn't have time to "fluff" before going onstage naked. I barely had time to rip off my clothes and put on the handcuffs and blindfold before being dragged out and thrown to my knees center stage.

By the way, if you are finding Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven because you googled "barely had time to rip off my clothes and put on the handcuffs and blindfold before being dragged out and thrown to my knees center stage", welcome! I hope you will find exactly what you were looking for here!

What is the point of this post? Well, if you can't clearly see the lesson I am trying to teach you, perhaps I should provide you with a short pithy phrase:

Don't judge an old man's penis by its size, but it is entirely acceptable to look away if he pulls it out at the bar.

That would make a good fortune for a fortune cookie, don't you think?

My Next Job!

I'm so excited! The Food Network is looking for someone to host a cooking show!

We've heard it a million times: You want your own Food Network show.
Here's your chance!

Tell us why you should win your very own TV series by sharing your
view on food and preparing your signature dish through a 3-minute
video pitch. Stay focused, be yourself, and give us a taste of your
personality.

Completed applications and VHS tape/DVDs must be received by November
30, 2004.

I'm halfway there. I've got a signature dish: Annie's Mexican Macaroni & Cheese with Smart Dogs.

Here are some notes I'm making so that I can really convey my view on food in a three minute audition video:
1. Food should be prepared by a roommate whenever possible.

2. Food should come in a box and be something that can be left unattended on the stove as I drink wine in The Vortex.

3. Food must be able to stand in the pot getting cold for three hours or more as I continue drinking wine in The Vortex.

4. Frozen vegetables prepared in a microwave are easy to make and will definitely keep overnight should you forget to remove them from the microwave.

5. The best wine to drink while cooking is Charles Shaw Merlot.

6. Maker's Mark is really good to drink as you make dinner too.

7. All vodka is good. Potters is cheap and good.

8. Have you ever had a mojito? Those are awesome.

9. I wonder if someone will buy me a Maker's Mark when I visit New York City next month?

10. It would be so nice to get laid soon.

11. The Smart Dogs can just be thrown in the pot for about a minute before the macaroni finishes cooking. Then just drain through a collander.

12. I wonder who gave me that yellow collander I have? It seems like it belonged to me and CT, but who can remember?

13. Gin works too.

Understatement

What an understatement.

That's a sign in a Portland window sent to me by The Executive.

Here are some more understatements. Words fail me when I think about all the joy these people bring me...

Crazy Myron, your e-mails are very uplifting. Thanks!

Crash, your gift made my day. Thanks!

Jeff, the music you sent is coming in very handy right now.

Juju, You still give the best advice, and I loved the card you sent.

Handsome Prince, I love you unconditionally too. Meet me at The Vortex tonight?

Auburn Pisces, I'm glad you feel my energy when I need your help. You are amazing.

Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven Readers: You make me happy. I love knowing you're there for me IRREGARDLESS.

Pulling My Hair Out

A few years ago in Dallas, Texas I appeared in a show called "Lyle the Crocodile". No, I wasn't Lyle, but I did play a fireman, an old lady and a crocodile. One of my friends, Holly, played "Loretta the Cat". She was so much fun to hang out with and we used to go drink margaritas together a lot. What I mean is, we used to go drink a lot of margaritas together. A lot.

Anyway, Holly told me one night that she had a problem. She pulled her hair out to relax. Sometimes she pulled out nearly every hair on her eyebrows. She pulled clumps of hair from her scalp. She even pulled eyelashes out. I don't recall ever hearing about people doing this to themselves. So I was surprised yesterday to see a woman on Dr. Phil who does the same thing. The Hollywood actress featured on the show claimed that she couldn't stop pulling her hair out. And her name was Holly. Wait a second.

Holly, my old friend, appeared on Dr. Phil. She's working as an actress and pulling her hair out in Hollywood now. It was a shock to see her on Dr. Phil discussing the same issues she shared with me back in 1996 in Texas. It made me wonder. Do we ever get a new set of issues to work on, or are we doomed to struggle with the same problems until we finally end up on national television talking to Dr. Phil?

I wonder if I'll be on his show someday. I'm a perfect candidate for televised psychological counseling, and the commercial breaks would be very accommodating for my Attention Deficit Disorder. Plus, maybe I'd get a Dr. Phil t-shirt or something. I never got a t-shirt from my last therapist.

Anyway, we're not talking about t-shirts right now. I mean, I am, but I'm supposed to be talking about repeating mistakes. See, I have repeated the same patterns in relationships my entire life. Nobody has ever broken up with me. I am always the one to end it. But I have never once split with someone I didn't still love. When I end a relationship, it always hurts because it doesn't ever really feel over in my heart. I feel like I'm giving up on people.

Nevertheless, I can't bear the idea of being emotionally idle while I wait for someone I care about to come around or catch up with me. Sometimes I feel like an old lady in a casino who plays the slot machines for hours and gives up right before the payout. Then the next person comes along, puts three quarters in the machine and wins $100,000. That's why it is so hard to give up. What if the next pull wins me the jackpot?

I must be very hard to keep up with emotionally. Having no filters and throwing open my heart so quickly often makes me vulnerable to heartache. People who know me well always tell me this is not a flaw. Allegedly, being such an open person is an asset, but I've yet to really see it pay off.

Crunchy told me that many people wear their hearts on their sleeves but that I basically carry my heart around in my bloody palm and shove it in people's faces. Spoken like a true stand-up comic, huh? The other night my friend, The Politician, said, "Toddy, you don't wear your heart on your sleeve. You carry it in front of you on a stick like a pinata". Great. We all know what happens to pinatas.

Sometimes it's enough to make me pull my hair out. Uh-oh.

Not Again

Yes, the rumors I started are true. I'm back on the market. Actually, I was never officially off the market, but I pretty much stick to dating one man at a time, so I hid myself away in the stock room for a couple months.

Still, I think I need a minute to catch my breath. Based on my horoscope, it looks like I might not get one:

11/03/2004 Transiting Venus Conjunct Natal Venus
This is not the best time for dealing with the practicalities of everyday life, but it certainly is conducive to meeting someone whose touch melts you or whose silky voice makes you swoon. If you're not careful, you may be hit like a ton of gooey, yummy chocolate by love at first sight.

She is such a bitch.

I have to admit, the idea of being hit like a ton of gooey, yummy chocolate evokes images of The Rock. Maybe I'll meet an African-American bodybuilder? Caramel would be just as good as chocolate given my passion for Asian men. Hell, I even like white chocolate.

As long as he's gooey and yummy, I won't complain.

Open Letter to God

Dear God:

We haven't talked in a while, but I have an important favor to ask you. Can you please let us have a new leader? President Bush claims that he's your guy, and I'm sure that embarrasses you terribly, so please prove otherwise.

My mother said that you don't want us to hate. She also said you don't want us to say "shut up" or "crap", which I never fully understood. Yes, I digress, but it's your own fault for giving me Attention Deficit Disorder, isn't it?

Anyway. I'm sure it is your preference that we don't hate. On the other hand, it seems certain that we are expected to hate some things, right? I've yet to meet someone who doesn't hate projectile vomiting, for example. Most people I know also hate lima beans and Andie MacDowell's acting. I am pretty sure you will be understanding if I tell you that I hate our leader. I'm sorry, but I do. I can't look at his face for four more years. I can't listen to that voice. I can't bear to be oppressed by him and have the rest of the world hate us so much due to his policies.

I can, however, promise you that I wouldn't hate him so much if he weren't the president. I wouldn't hate him so much if he were just a dumb guy on television who said stupid things like, "I've coined new words, like 'misunderstanding' and 'Hispanically'". But he's not just a dumb guy on television. He's in charge, and that scares the crap heck out of me! Please make him just a dumb guy again so that I can hate less. I don't want to hate.

God, there are tons of other requests I could make from you, but this is the most important one: Please give us another president tonight. And thank you, God, for reading Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. Leave me a comment sometime!

Gratitude

As we enter this season of thanksgiving, let us ponder our blessings. Let us contemplate the joys of our lives and focus on what we have rather than what we lack.

For example, I am thankful that no matter how bad my life may seem at times, I am most certainly not a candidate for ABC's Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.

Last night The Handsome Prince climbed into my bed and under my down comforter with me to watch the popular reality show. Last night we experienced the plight of The Ali Family. The mom lives with her two sons in a cramped attic. I am so thankful that I haven't had to sleep in an armchair for the last 12 years as she has. Although I did spend a night facedown on the sidewalk near the bar in Dallas, Texas one evening, that was my choice. I could have just as easily stumbled all the way to the alley behind the 7-11 and passed out there. But Lucy Ali had no options.

I can't watch this show without crying. Actually, I can't watch Candid Camera without crying, but that's beside the point. ABC dredges up the most tragic people and, in cooperation with Sears (Good life. Great Price), showers them with home improvement manna from heaven. Next week I will need a whole box of tissues to watch the story of the deaf parents who have a blind son. This show would drive me to drink if I wasn't already such a lush.

In addition to being thankful my life doesn't suck as much as the poor souls on this show, I'm thankful that Extreme Makeover: Home Edition was not around during World War II. Think about it. Ty Pennington, the buff but big-mouthed host of the show, opens every episode by shouting into a megaphone at the families huddled trembling in their homes. Had Ty Pennington and his noisy megaphone been around during World War II, this startling scenario would most likely have occurred:

TY: RISE AND SHINE, OTTO FRANK FAMILY! IT'S TIME TO RENOVATE YOUR SECRET ANNEX!

Voice over describes how Otto, his wife, his children Anne & Margot and several friends and acquaintances have lived in squalor within a secret annex while hiding from the Nazis for over a year. The crew then demolishes the annex outfitting them with new furnishings, lots of bright sunny windows, a laptop for Anne so that she can blog, and maybe even a rooftop hot tub...

I know, I know. Now I've gone too far.

A Scary Halloween Story

The Math Whiz found a hatched spider nest in his sock drawer this morning. That story will definitely spook those of you who are scared of spiders even though you say you're not scared but that you just think spiders have bad attitudes.

By the way, Pony thinks I link to him every single day. Whatever. It's my effing blog.

Anyway. The Math Whiz was a little freaked out. I didn't tell him that I felt partially responsible. I have been saving the lives of spiders left and right. I am like Schindler except that I don't have a list. But I do bend over the bathtub with a toilet paper ladder and help trapped spiders climb out. Then I transport them to safety outside. I release spiders to the front yard, not to The Vortex, because Pony hangs out there and is terrified doesn't like spiders' attitudes.

You know who else likes when I link to him and actually thanks me for it? BoBo.

Where was I? Spiders. I think spiders should be allowed to live. But I prefer that they don't live in the house with me. Not that I am scared of them, but some spiders really are very ugly.

Oh, remember how I used to link to Crunchy every day? I'll bet you thought that was obnoxious. I still like him, by the way. He's very wonderful, and we still talk a lot, and I will always care about Crunchy. I just don't link to him every day anymore. I sort of just link to whomever I'm currently obsessed with, which sometimes makes me worried that I will find some sick bastard who just wants to date me so they can increase their blog hits.

So, spiders. Spiders are really beneficial if you want to keep other bugs away. I like that spiders will do my dirty work for me. What I mean is, I don't like to kill bugs of any kind. But there are some bugs I hate having around me. So the spiders, (which are naturally evil if you consider bad attitudes evil in which case I know several evil people) are like tiny hit men who bump off flying enemies or pests.

See, the thing I like about linking to people is that it allows me to show people I am thinking about them even if I forget to e-mail or call them. I usually never forget to call Pony, though. I just said "usually never" which is ridiculous.

I think I've lost the thread of this conversation. Did you know that The Handsome Prince had to use a typewriter at work yesterday in order to fill out Equity contracts for actors? A typewriter. You would think AEA could simplify this process by putting applications online or something. Maybe one of you developer type people should offer to help them out.

Wasn't that a scary story? See why I should never title my post until it's actually written? Because I never know how it will come out in the end.

Boo!

Spud Toppers

Tonight is the first rehearsal for a play I wrote. I'm so excited to hear the actors read the play and am eager to see what sort of new ideas may be generated by this process.

The Cold Comedy Concoction is a night of comedy that opens in December at Stark Raving Theatre in Portland, Oregon. I was really honored to be asked to write a play for this, and I decided to write "Spud Toppers", which is a fast-paced zany romp - -

Just kidding. I hate zany romps.

Spud Toppers was written as an act of revenge on behalf of temporary workers everywhere. Temporary employees, commonly referred to as "Temps" are all too often thrust into office environments and expected to figure out how to perform a job without guidance or support from anyone.

In Corporate America, temps are lowest on the food chain. They are unappreciated and unnamed (many are simply called "the temp" by their co-workers) and assigned the most dreadful and menial of tasks. They are considered little more than trained monkeys. This play is based on my personal experience as a temp and the horrific, yet humorous, memories associated with those trained monkey days.

Two of the characters in the show happen to be gay, but that's not what the play is about. Against my better judgment, I let my sister read the play. I've never talked about my sister here, so I'll need to come up with a good name for her.

I knew she might be uncomfortable with some of the characters and the occasional profane word. But her first question to me was baffling. "Who paid you to write this? A gay comedy club?" No, Cold Kelly, it was written for a theater company in Portland.

"Well, I suppose you could adapt it for other environments," she told me.

She then proceeded to explain how I should rewrite one character, a gay man, as a straight guy. I could then change the other gay guy, Danny, to "Danielle", making that character an attractive woman. Okay, now if she can just explain why that change should occur. "WHY," I shout to the heavens while clenching my fists in rage.

My family baffles me. I wrote a show about life as an office temp. And my sister couldn't get past the fact that two characters were gay. I don't understand why she even suggested that I get rid of the gay characters. I could only tell her, "most people are comfortable seeing gay characters portrayed," but I'm sure she didn't get my point. She lives in a very small world, which is sad. Maybe that's part of the reason I haven't been home to visit in two years. They just don't get me, and, as much as I love my family, I feel like an alien when I'm home. I am liberal gay vegetarian, and you can imagine how uncomfortable it is hanging out at the steakhouse with my conservative Christian family. My dad actually called me a communist the last time I went home.

I turned to Pony for support. He told me, "I can totally hear what your sister is saying. I mean, if a straight person ever saw the play, it wouldn't be funny at all because there are gay characters. It would be like asking an American to sit through a Japanese movie without subtitles or translation. It just wouldn't make any sense to them."

He then asked if straight people hire gay translators so they can watch Will and Grace and still understand the jokes. Obviously, he's being sarcastic. I never worry that Pony won't understand. In fact, the other night we stayed up until 3 a.m. discussing politics. I never discuss politics with anyone, because I know that my views are widely misunderstood. But with him, I felt completely comfortable and even found some of his views rather educational. I actually changed some of my political opinions based on what he shared with me. I'm less of a communist now, I guess.

Family bigotry and ignorance aside, I'm looking forward to jumping into this theatrical production. If you're in Portland anytime between Christmas Eve and January 22, 2005, I hope you'll come see the show!

First Kiss

Today is the anniversary of my first kiss. Well, my first boy kiss.

I was living in Dallas, Texas and spending lots of time at a country/western gay bar called The Round Up. I had only been out of the closet for a couple months. One Tuesday night before Halloween, I ventured down to Cedar Springs by myself. I didn't realize everyone would be in costume, which is a stupid oversight considering Halloween is, like, Gay Christmas. Of course everyone would be celebrating all week. Stupid me.

I passed a table at the bar when Joan Crawford shouted at me to come sit with her and a handsome cowboy dressed in black. Joan Crawford was carrying a wire hanger and had cold creamed smeared on his face. The cowboy was silent and adorable. His body was muscular and tight. His features were angular, and his eyes were blue. His name was Kody.

We chatted for a while, and I found out Kody was Joan Crawford's date. So, when they decided to head out and hit the next bar on their agenda, I bid them both good night. Kody grabbed my hand and pulled me after them. He squeezed my hand tight as the three of us walked to the door.

At the next bar, Kody started telling me how he was tired of dating older guys. He was 19. I sort of accidentally didn't tell him I was actually 29. I have always looked about 8-10 years younger than I am. So, technically, I could have been 19, right?

Anyway, Kody and I went to the bathroom together and left Joan Crawford sitting at the bar with her wire hanger. As we were leaving the bathroom, he pushed me up against the wall. Then Kody removed his black cowboy hat and covered our faces with it as he kissed me. I had never kissed a boy, and it was heaven. I could feel him pushing against me as we kissed. My favorite thing about kissing Kody was that he would pull my tongue into his mouth by sucking. It hurt a little bit, because he was so enthusiastic about it. But it was a good kind of pain.

After the kiss, I confessed to Kody that I was 29. But he still called me the next day. We met by a lake in Dallas and made out by the water. Then we spent another two hours at my place. We took off ours shirts and jeans and made out as we listened to an Enigma CD. But I was too nervous to do anything more.

Kody and I did eventually sleep together. We took it slowly. I think it was a WHOLE WEEK before we slept together, which is an eternity in gay time. We had a very sexual relationship for about a month, and then we broke up. I broke up with him on the patio of The Village Station. Incidentally, that same patio is where I had my first kiss with CT, who I stayed with for 7 years.

Kody really was too young for me and I soon realized he was not ready for anything more than sex. I dated only a couple more guys before I entered into the relationship with CT. The obsession with the cowboy dressed in black dissipated, and I almost forgot about him.

But, damn, that boy could kiss. I know I won't forget that.

Reader Testimonial

This morning I received a wonderful e-mail from a reader of Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. I won't reveal her identity, for obvious reasons. But I wanted to share this note with you, because it made my day:

Dear Hot Toddy:
I HAD to email to tell you what just happened to me - I
could not post it on Toaster Oven, because it is far too embarrassing.

[Don't worry, reader. I will post it for you. You obviously have too many filters.]

I was reading your blog. Like I do. And I was even reading some of them out loud to my husband, who has not yet been on your site.(Criminal!) I read him 'Dear The Rock', and 'Left-Handed Marriage', two of my favorites. Then I got to 'Snapple Lids'.

To be fair, I made the rather serious error of drinking a beverage as I read. Upon reading the first two lines, and after having taken a huge swig of diet coke, I began to laugh. And then things got serious.

I began to choke. Really choke. The diet coke was fizzing in my mouth, as I had previously been eating beef jerky, and we all know how sodium and carbonated beverages behave when mixed. It's like a science class volcano in your mouth. As I struggled to keep this self-made magma from spewing all over my very expensive keyboard, I got up to rush to the bathroom to spit. Now, here's where things go from bad to worse.

I was running, choking, and LAUGHING so hard that I, quite literally, peed my pants. And I'm not talking about a dribble. I'm talking about full-on pee. I won't go any more into this, but let me just say- if you haven't peed your pants since you were potty-trained, it's a reminder of why you were so anxious to get out of diapers as a child. It is not comfortable.

That in and of itself would have warranted an email. But wait- there's more. I was choking, had just peed my pants, and was still laughing so hard, that I vomited. I am not making this up. I VOMITED. I did not make it to the toilet. Thankfully, I did reach the tiled floor of the bathroom.

My one, leading question is this: What do you have to say for yourself? I blame you.

The truly amazing part of this story is that all of this happened in the span of about ten seconds. As of right now, the pants are in the wash. The bathroom floor has been cleaned. The diet coke has been poured out. All I regret is that my ants haven't been delivered yet. I'm sure with their help, this whole embarrassing event could have somehow been avoided.

I know that this is story is really disgusting, but I hope you enjoyed it.

Signed,
Magma Mouth

Dear Magma:
I feel horrible for causing choking, urination and vomit. I feel horrible that I posted your shame for all the world to see. I feel horrible that part of me enjoys the fact that you choked, urinated and vomited after reading Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. I feel horrible that I just lied. It's not part of me that enjoyed this story. I relished your traumatic story with every fiber of my being.

To make amends, I went to confession and left a comment confessing my own regurgitative exploits.

I Heart Balloon Boy

Last night at the bar, I had a great talk with Balloon Boy, who recently did something very nice for me. I can't tell you what he did for me, unfortunately, because he won't let me. But, I'm really thankful to him.

Balloon Boy is a handsome man, as you can see, and he is completely content being single. Although he has many admirers and could easily have at least one boyfriend, he told me he is happy being by himself until the right man comes along.

Last night, I was way too pensive. I think I'm still stuck on the thoughts I wrote about yesterday. At one point my confusion was so profound that I called my voice mail and left myself this message:

"Be patient, Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven (great now I'm calling myself that too) and just have fun being single or kind of dating or whatever you're doing..."

I hope I get the message.

In order to further figure things out, I asked Balloon Boy for his help. He's the wise soul the Yum Yum Brotherhood counts on for good advice. I asked him questions about how to obtain patience and also quizzed him on the winning lottery numbers. He couldn't really help me with the latter, but he did give me encouragement about waiting for love to arrive.

As I said, I'm not exactly single right now, but I'm not exactly taken. I am seeing someone special, but there is no clear definition for our status. I'm in limbo. Limbo is a new place for me. I thought limbo was a fun state of mind where people drank margaritas and shimmied under bamboo poles while the song "Hot, Hot, HOT" played festively. That's not what this limbo feels like. This limbo feels more like sitting in a hard plastic chair flipping through Highlights for Children while waiting for the dentist to see you.

As he hugged me goodbye at the bar, I told him how much I respected him. "You are going home to sleep alone, and you're happy. I wish I could be like you," I said with tears in my eyes.

He held me tight. "Toddy, you are who you are," was his Yoda-like advice. "You just have to be where you are right now," he said sagely. Then he vanished into thin air.

Okay, he didn't really vanish, but he did leave me with something to think about. I want to be like Balloon Boy when if I grow up.

Boyfriend Material

Last night I went to Happy Three Hours with The Handsome Prince and his boyfriend, The Math Whiz. The three of us also happen to be housemates, and they make me act so gay sometimes. What I mean is - because I got sick of them calling each other "sweetie" all the time, they've decided to start calling me sweetie as well. Then I got sucked into it and found myself calling both of them sweetie. It's disgusting. The three of us sitting there drinking Long Island Iced Teas and calling each other "sweetie".

When the three sweeties got home, two of the sweeties climbed into bed together for a night of watching television and whatever else they do in bed. But Sweetie Hot Toddy took a brief booze snooze before beginning his second round of cocktails. Before I left I said good night to the two sweeties and felt a pang of jealousy as I saw them next to each other in bed. They looked so happy and content.

I went over to Juju and Metro's apartment and was greeted at the door with an impressive drink menu. Ginger Mojitos and Melon Balls and Cosmopolitans were the house specialties. I chose the "Coffee from Allah". So good. I had two of them.

At one point Juju was talking about what a bad day she had recently. When she got home from work that day, Metro gave her a beautiful picture in a frame that says "I Love You" and an encouraging card. I felt another pang of jealousy as I looked at the picture and saw the two of them snuggling out of the corner of my eye.

Also attending the cocktail party were Ubergirl and her wife, Cowgirl. They showed us a video Cowgirl secretly took of her wife to prove that Ubergirl snores. Loudly. Somehow, this struck a chord in me. So romantic that they share every intimate moment of life together. And damn if I didn't feel another pang of jealousy.

I want this someday. I know what I need right now is to experience the world of casual dating. I need to take it slow and not rush into another partnership. My biggest mistake was rushing into things with CT. We started dating before he even officially broke up with his partner. We moved in with each other three months later. It was the day after his ex moved out. Lest you feel the need to reprimand me, I realize now that it was ridiculous. It was also passionate and crazy and felt sort of dangerous. Sometimes I crave the feeling of living dangerously and recklessly.

It is hard for an impatient man like me to just relax and take things slowly. I once told someone I loved him after dating for only a month. I know that was crazy, but it felt real to me.

I've been told I give off a "relationship vibe". I just seem like the type of person people want to partner with. And that urge is inside of me, but I think for now I just need to take things slowly. I need to have wild sex without making it mean we're falling in love. I need to think about the man I like without wondering if we'll be together for more than a few months. I need to give my heart without worrying I won't get a huge return on my investment.

I'm not great at this. It doesn't come naturally to me, but I think I'm learning to just take it easy.

On another note, where is the best place to register for wedding gifts? Just curious.

Caring For Your Pony

As a technical writer, I know how important it is to read manuals before attempting to operate machinery or household appliances. Unfortunately there are not many resources for those of us who are attempting to care for a pony.

Since Pony created a manual for the care and operation of Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, I decided to reciprocate by putting together a guide for those of us who love ponies and want to see them happy.

Feeding Your Pony
A pony can be very finicky when it comes to food. In my experience, ponies prefer beer, red wine or lemon drops to actual sustenance. Ponies pick at their food and, before cleaning their plates, often throw their forks down in disgust saying, "I can't eat anymore". Fortunately, this means you get to eat the rest of their french fries.

Your pony will enjoy a homecooked meal from time to time. If, however, you once experienced a bad relationship and were completely unappreciated in spite of the fact that you used to cook every single damn meal for your ex - I mean, pony - for seven years and have vowed to never again cook for a man, it helps to find someone else willing to cook for your pony. If you can't get a housemate to cook for the pony, it only takes about half an hour to bake a chicken breast in the oven and that doesn't really count as cooking for a man - er, pony -if you make him help you.

A word of warning is in order: Never try to feed mushrooms to your pony. He will throw a fit.

In spite of his distaste for many foods, you may find it surprising that a pony can consume an entire bag of potato chips in one sitting. Don't try to stop him.

Taming Your Pony

Many people ask me, "Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, what is the hardest part about having your own pony?" After I joyfully tell them about the hardest part of my pony, I usually realize that's not what they meant. So I will promptly change the subject and begin telling them about the most difficult part of having a pony. Taming him.

Ponies must be approached with caution. They spook easily. If you are too quick to nuzzle your pony, he'll become startled and attempt to flee. This is not a personal affront. Ponies just take some time to get over the hump. You should practice patience and perseverance with your pony. He will be worth it.

Sometimes your pony may act a bit temperamental. If his stable is too cold or his horseshoes aren't fitting properly or if a server crashed at work and people are calling him to fix it, he may act a bit grouchy. Your job is to smile at your pony and tell him you understand. Then, if he continues to act out, you should make fun of him until you get him to laugh. If you are lucky, your pony may even reward you for cheering him up by nuzzling you a bit and rubbing up against you or even letting you ride him.

[Note: Riding your pony is not something to rush into. It may help to practice riding something smaller at first. Fortunately I have ridden some very small things in my life and have had plenty of practice.]

Keep in mind that your pony, although a stud, is not intended for breeding purposes.


Cleaning Your Pony's Stable
Your pony, if he's like mine, is perfectly capable of keeping himself clean. He will be very hygienic and will often smell like freshly laundered clothes even if he's been out at the bars all night. This is a miracle that can't be explained. Just enjoy it, and be sure to inhale deeply when you hug him.

Your pony's stable is a different matter. Sometimes it might get a bit cluttered with dishes or cocktail weinies may be left on the stove, but this is because your pony is busy, busy, busy and just has too many projects going at once. Given his hectic schedule, you should never complain about his stable. Just be grateful he takes time for you at all. It may help your pony's mental health to convince him to leave the stable for awhile and come visit you. He will usually comply if you ask nicely. Ponies are sweet that way.

I hope these tips were helpful to you. I have to admit that I don't have a lot of experience with ponies, but I am learning a lot every day and am proud to share my advice with you.

You and your pony will be very happy as long as you make sure your pony always knows you appreciate him. Enjoy the ride!

Yes on Measure 31

Since political posts seem to be in vogue, I'm going to chime in on a ballot measure Oregonians will vote on this November.

Actually, never mind. What a boring topic.

Let's talk about condiments. I was sitting at my desk eating a veggie burger patty when I opened my desk drawer and discovered there were no salt packets. For some reason, I have salt packets in the leather jacket I'm wearing today. So, thankfully, I did not need to get up and go to the breakroom for more salt.

I also have a bottle of ketchup at my desk and several mustard packets, so everything I need to enjoy this veggie burger patty is right at my fingertips. I'm going to lunch with Pony in an hour, but I was too hungry to wait.

So, please vote Yes on Measure 31.

Mirror Image

Have you ever stood in front of a mirror and studied your face? I have. And I'm not talking about staring into a mirror and wishing you could make love to yourself. It's not vanity to simply observe and make mental notes on what you see.

When I look in the mirror I notice that my eyes are almost almond-shaped. I think if my skin, eyes and hair were darker, I would look almost Asian. I often wish my eyebrows were darker. Men with dark eyebrows look stronger. More powerful.

My nose is not too big or too small. It seems okay. My lips are really full. Sometimes I like that, but sometimes they seem too big. But usually people like kissing them, so that's a plus.

I have a dimple that only comes out when I have a very specific expression on my face. Sometimes if I laugh or smile, the dimple doesn't show itself. It's a shy dimple. I can make it appear on purpose, though, and sometimes I use the dimple to flirt.

I wish my face were more angular. My mother's family is Norwegian, and I inherited a roundish face. I have hints of wrinkles around my eyes, but mostly have a wrinkle-free face.

I don't need to wear my glasses all the time. But I usually wear them because I'm afraid I'll lose them if I take them off.

My smile is friendly, and I have decent teeth. Not perfect teeth, though. When I was in college I fell and shattered a tooth (playing Duck, Duck, Goose - ridiculous), and if you look closely you can tell which tooth was broken. One of my teeth was impacted by that accident and is bit darker than the other teeth in my mouth. Maybe someday I'll get that fixed, but it isn't important enough for me to spend the money on it right now.

People say I have a "sweet" face. Sometimes when I look into my eyes I see a sadness, but it's only because I know myself so well. You probably wouldn't notice it if you met me.

I think you should go look in the mirror now too. Let me know what you see.

Nun Challenge

Today I was on a bus downtown headed to Nordstrom Rack, where I planned on buying some bath salts. I was sitting happily in my seat on the bus munching on the bag of Walla Walla Onion Rings I had purchased at Burgerville, when a Nun said to me, "I'll bet you can't think of anything to blog about today." The Nun, whose name I later learned was Sister Mary Trixie, was kind of strange. She seemed a bit upset and off-putting. She also held a stuffed penguin and was brushing its fur.

"Fuck you, Nun," I said sweetly. And I came over to Pony's stable and immediately blogged my story. Now we are having a party and drinking vodka and I'm quite happy (and drunk) and thinking of that Nun and am hoping she got mugged or something. She was catty. If there is one thing I hate, it's a catty nun.

This is my version of a drunk blog. A lot of people think drunk blogging involves spelling errors and sloppy writing. In my opinion, a good drunk blog is simply a blog that makes no sense. So here you go.

I have to go drink more vodka now. Bye.

I Need to Get My Act Together

The theme for this week is "Things Hot Toddy Needs".

We've covered money and cooking lessons. Today I will explain something else I need.

I need to get my act together.

A few months ago, I declared Amazon.com wish lists to be a symbol of greed and vanity. Some Toaster Oven readers disagreed. They claimed that wish lists are interesting to read, provide insight into a blogger's interests, and simplify gift-giving. So, I decided to add a wish list to my blog.

I made using my wish list as difficult as possible. First I linked readers to the wrong wish list. If you clicked on my link more than two weeks ago, you probably did not see my personalized wish list. Or you may have even been directed to your own wish list.

Crash gently informed me of my idiocy. So I fixed the link. But do you know what I forgot to do? I never updated my shipping address.

I hope the resident of my old house is enjoying any of the gifts he/she received. If you did send me a birthday gift from my wish list (and I know of one person who was kind enough to do this), and I didn't thank you for it, I apologize. The truth is, I probably never received it. Please contact Amazon and tell them, "I sent a gift to a moron who never updated his wish list shipping address. Can I get a refund, please?"

Michael, I think this explains why I never received the CD you tried to send me a couple months ago.

I went in and updated the address today. But I doubt anyone will want to hassle with the wish list in the future. I wouldn't blame you.

I Need Cooking Lessons.

Brace yourself. Thanks to Ms. Karma, I am now the proud owner of my very own toaster oven!

It's true. In spite of the name of this blog, I didn't actually own a toaster oven before today. I'll bet you thought I collected toaster ovens or something. No, I've just always thought "toaster oven" was a funny appliance, and don't ask me why. It's just the way my mind works. Sorry if you thought the blog name was more meaningful.

Anyway.

Ms. Karma bought me a toaster oven for my birthday. She also gave me some links to some recipes. I started out by looking at recipes for food you can prepare in a toaster oven. But then I got distracted and started reading a recipe for Portabella Vegetarian Gravy, which should definitely not be prepared in a toaster oven.

As I looked over the apocalyptic recipe from hell, I realized why I don't cook. It is a major hassle. Yes it is. Don't argue with me. La la la, I'm not listening.

Listen - there are so many problems with this recipe I don't even know where to begin.

#3 (I told you I don't know where to begin) - There are no portabella mushrooms in this recipe for Portabella Vegetarian Gravy. It's a trick. The mushrooms are part of a vegetable stock, which must be prepared in advance. In the middle of the recipe, the poor unsuspecting cook is told to add the vegetable stock.

See, that's what frustrates me. Originally, the poor unsuspecting handsome and extremely horny tall blonde cook, or whatever, will be under the impression that the recipe takes nearly two hours, which is a ridiculous amount of time when you can make that powdered gravy stuff in, like, twenty minutes as long as you have an adult to supervise.

But this gravy takes almost two hours to make. Or so our sexy, baby-faced, cute, boy-next-door cook thinks until he realizes he was supposed to have already spent an hour and a half making vegetable stock, which is essential to the gravy. Please tell me who has time to prepare gravy that takes longer than three hours to prepare?!

No, it's not even a matter of time. I mean, in all honesty, I've got three hours to spare. But would I rather spend it sucking down cocktails in The Vortex or making portabella gravy? Do you realize how many episodes of Judge Judy I could watch in the time it takes to make gravy?

#7 (still confused) - If I were preparing this gravy (which would only happen under one condition, which you'll find out soon) I would not realize I was supposed to have made the stock in advance. I would immediately feel the need to go suck down the aforementioned cocktails in The Vortex for a good twenty minutes to decide if the man I was trying to impress by cooking such a dish was actually worth it.

#2 - After deciding that my potential for getting laid is worth everything I ever put myself through, I would huff back into the kitchen to start work on the recipe once again. Next, my patience would be immediately destroyed due to the instructions telling me to "cook roux, stirring, until pale golden".

Excuse me, master chefs of Epicurious.com, but can we back up a second? Pale golden means nothing to me. Is that the color of a stick of butter? Or should it look more like a healthy person's urine stream? Am I going for Paris Hilton's hair color or Olivia Newton John's dress for the dance-off in Grease?

#19 - Imagine I am standing there trying to add the vegetable stock in the manner indicated by the recipe..."a fast stream", which, again, begs the question, "fast like Paris Hilton or fast like a stream of urine?". So I'm standing there whisking, whisking, whisking - which I could totally do forever thanks to my wrist exercises - but it all seems so futile, yet I really like him and he's just...just...well, he's enormous and so hot and sexy, and so I finish the gravy anyway and just (forgive me) take my lumps. And I am sweating and frustrated and have only three and a half cups of gravy to show for all my efforts.

But then comes the clincher. This is the worst part of all.

I still have to make something to put the gravy on.

And before you even comment...yeah, I thought of that too, but do you think he'd enjoy having gravy there? It's kind of kinky.

I Need Money

I only need $4,183 to pay off my car.
I only need $17,047 to pay off my student loan.
I only need $40 to have a great time with Pony at "Country Night" tomorrow.

Too bad I can't fulfill even one of these dreams.

I've never been good with money.

That's not entirely accurate. I'm actually very good with money. Watch me in action:

"Here you go, sir! Here's my money for the bar tab!!"

"Here, lady. Please accept this cash for breakfast since I didn't take time to eat before I left home this morning."

"Have some money, credit card company. I don't need it."

"Hey, book club, can you take this forty bucks off my hands?"

Here is one good example of why I don't ever have extra cash:

I owe the Multnomah County Library $6.75 for late fines. I don't want to go to the library and get embarrassed when I check out a book. And I'd rather not part with almost seven dollars. Therefore, I purchase books from the book club.

Libras are romantic and cute and friendly. They also repel money. Why do you think we always ask a Virgo to buy us drinks?

Watching from the Swingset

I just received an e-mail from a good friend asking if I'm doing okay. He says I've been a little quiet lately. Yesterday Auburn Pisces called to tell me she says my energy feels distant. My mother is a Pisces, so I am used to this type of scary perceptive energy-sensing behavior. Mom always knew instantly if I was feeling sad or lonely. Then again, I am pretty easy to read. The problem with having no filters is that everybody can tell when you are "out of sorts". Even if I try to hide how I'm feeling, it leaks out in my writing and in my behavior. My face tells the true story of what's going on inside. The truth is, I just received a concerned phone call from a friend in Cleveland. Apparently my energy travels even to Pisces' who live thousands of miles away.

Most of my closest friends are very open with their feelings as well. I am drawn to people who are open books (no wonder I've become friends with so many bloggers). This morning during our coffee break, Auburn Pisces told Ms. Karma and me a story that caused her to burst into tears. Her daughter, Auburn Aries, is a seven-year-old little girl struggling with her weight. She doesn't have a lot of good friends in school and often spends recess sitting alone on the swingset. Auburn Pisces, being a loving parent, wants to take away her baby's pain and is worried that she might be failing her daughter somehow.

I want to help Auburn Pisces and her daughter. But I know from my own experience that all of us have to make our own way in the world. When I was struggling with the loneliest year of my life, my parents didn't even know. I was too ashamed to tell them. Parents want to protect their children from loneliness, weight struggles, sadness and the maelstrom of hardships kids face.

I believe little Auburn Aries will find her way. From the stories I've heard, she sounds like a little actress in the making. The girl is hilarious and spunky. She has flaming red hair, which is going to get her more dates than she knows what to do with once she's at that age. She's just not "at that age". She's at the age when kids are jerks and anybody who's different is marked for target practice or ignored completely.

I'm going to see if I can help Auburn Pisces find a children's theater in the area or something to give her daughter the confidence and contentment she needs. I know theater helped me to grow in so many ways. Perhaps little Auburn Aries will discover, the way I did, that making other people laugh is one way to build your character and find joy.

Sometimes, though, it is okay to sit on the swingset and just watch. That's what I'm doing right now. I'm doing a lot of thinking and reflecting, and I'm not in the mood to join the other kids on the playground. I think I'll just sit here with Auburn Aries and swing for a little bit.

Don't worry about us. We'll be just fine.

The Party's Over

The dust has settled, and I am ready to humbly retreat into my former insignificance. My birthday is over.

Yesterday I spent the entire day watching HBO On Demand, so I finally got to see the series finale of Sex and the City. I was, frankly, worn out emotionally from my birthday party and needed a day to be quiet. Most of the party was fun and crazy. Pony wore a sexy cowboy hat that I hope to see lots more of, and The Executive provided an awesome bar. I had a great time with my friends, and received many bottles of whiskey, some flowers, a book by David Sedaris and some other fun gifts.

After midnight, I found myself in a deep conversation with four or five of my guests and, although I don't want to go into too many details, I can't say I enjoyed the talk. I know my friends want the very best for me, but sometimes I need to go against their advice and make my own choices. If I regret the decisions later, they are always free to say, "I told you so". And they will, but that's okay. The Midget stayed until five in the morning, and I was really grateful because she is such a good listener.

I've learned from experience that the world doesn't stop for you just because it's your birthday. You still have to deal with real issues, and sometimes you cry on your birthday even if they aren't tears of joy.

But the cake The Politician made for me was the second best thing I've ever put in my mouth, and I had more of it for breakfast yesterday.

Irish Folk Song

Lame. So lame.

The Rest of This Week

I have to tell you that I have no idea what I will be popping in the Toaster Oven for the rest of the week. See, my birthday is Friday, and I am celebrating all week. I know I am spending my actual birthday in Seattle and may audio blog. If you think you might like to meet me in Seattle for happy hour, even if you live in New York City, St. Louis or Cleveland, please e-mail me. I will come heavily armed and with several friends so do not attempt to plan an abduction, though, because you will not succeed unless I decide I want you to.

So, I might audio blog Friday. And maybe Saturday I will audio blog too, or I might not. This week I am doing whatever I want or whatever Pony tells me to do.

I might just do lists of silly things such as this one:

Two Things I Thought of Today:
(by Hot Toddy)
(like I have to put my name there - it's my blog - who do you think wrote this list?)
(Anyway)

1. I hate routine and will complain about it loudly. This morning I got really frustrated and shouted from the kitchen, "I HATE ROUTINE!!!", so The Handsome Prince came to see what I was yelling about. "Why do you hate routine, Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven," he asked. I explained to him (after trying to get him to stop calling me Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven) that the catalyst for my outburst was that I had to pour coffee into my commuter mug - which I do every morning. Every single damn morning. For some reason this predictable and mundane action made me snap this morning, so I yelled.

2. I don't know why, but after I take my vitamins , I always burp about 20 minutes afterwards. It is sort of irritating.

Do you see what you're in for this week? Random, ridiculous thoughts. Not at all the orderly relevant insight you've come to expect from HTTO.

This, for example, is something random and ridiculous that I played with today. It made me laugh.

Oh, what else. Let's see. Vomitola is a tapestry of nonsense sometimes. Especially today. Go see for yourself.

I was about to link you to another person who I feel is very entertaining and random, but then I decided he might be a better writer than I am and use less run-on sentences than I do and that you would maybe decide to read him instead of the Toaster Oven, so I thought better of putting his link on here. But I'll give you a hint. His name is Jerry. He is funny, and undpredictable. His blog title ends in a question mark.

Oh, for Pete's sake. Here you go. Just don't like him better than you like me.

If you are thinking of buying me any of the following items for my birthday, I appreciate the thought but I do NOT need these things:

1. Hunts Ketchup -
Auburn Pisces bought me a bottle of "the other ketchup" because of the shape. Kind of looks like a woman's hourglass figure. While I enjoy the ketchup she gave me and do use it at work, please remember that, for me, Heinz=good, Hunts=mediocre

2. Lube
I already have an extra-large pump bottle that I am using as fast as I can

3. The Holy Bible
I already read it once. Probably won't need to re-read it. I got the gist.

4. Television set.
We have three in the house already. Or is it four?

Those are four things you shouldn't buy me for my b'naibrithday. I mean birthday.
Thanks.

Good luck reading my blog this week. I feel for you. I really do.

Long-Term Temporary Insanity

Thank you for all the advice you gave me yesterday. I shared it with my friend, and he's doing much better. I realized that my friend is actually a paranoid schizophrenic, so I had him committed to a mental institution until he can learn not to freak out about trivial matters. Maybe, if he behaves himself and takes his medication, he'll be rewarded with a pony by his bed. It truly is a delight to have a pony by your bed. It's also fun to have a pony actually in your bed.

Thanks Michael and Rob, for the link. It's the least you can do since you haven't called me for at least four days and - - um... never mind.

I had a chance to celebrate Pony's birthday with him last night. It's the first I've seen of him since his extensive dental surgery this past weekend. (I hope you didn't think yesterday's post was about him?!?) We had a great time, and I'm happy to report he is doing fine. I mean, he's really fine. He is so fine.

I entertained myself this past weekend by attending a flawlessly executed surprise party organized by The Executive. We also went to a fundraiser together, where he worked the room and searched for a wealthy husband. I was a bit out of my element. I felt like Diane Sawyer accompanying her husband, Mike Nichols, to the Oscars. Diane is famous in her own right, but the Academy Awards is her husband's turf. So, I was Diane (although my ensemble was more fashion-forward than hers) and The Executive was Mike. He, along with other "Mr. Bigs" (Bigses?) in town donated lots of money to Basic Rights Oregon. People were writing checks for thousands of dollars and announcing their pledges into the microphone.

"I'm campaigning for City Council, and I'm giving $5000," said one man.

"On behalf of my gay friends who just married, I am giving $7500," said another attendee.

I wanted so badly to take a microphone and say, "I just gave twenty bucks on behalf of my friend, The Executive. Actually, the twenty bucks was his. He slipped it to me under the table. But I wrote my name on the envelope all by myself. Thank you."

And, yes, the event was inspiring and moving. I cried each time someone sang a moving song or presented an award to someone fighting for equal rights for gays and lesbians.

I'm sure people at the table with me thought I was crazy. Paranoid schizophrenic even.

A Hypothetical Question

Imagine, hypothetically speaking, that you are dating me. I'll give you a moment to bask in that glorious thought. Imagine the affection I shower on you. Imagine that I love to make you laugh and that I bring you food when you are feeling sick and that I frequently let you know in a thousand little ways that I really dig you. Imagine that I like to hold your hand and that I offer you sex on a regular basis. Imagine that I keep your secrets and hold you when you cry and cuddle with you lots. And let's say that you make me really happy, and I haven't felt so happy in a long time and that I'm having so much fun hanging out with you and that I want to spend time with you every day or as often as possible. If I can't see you, imagine that I just want to talk to you because even your deep warm sexy voice comforts me.

Now imagine that you go on some sort of weekend getaway to someplace warm and sunny and crowded with hot gay men. Somewhere like Key West, or something. It doesn't matter. This is a hypothetical situation. Imagine that this trip was planned months ago - before you and I were seeing each other. So, when you got to Key West and were there for three days and didn't call me or respond to a couple sweet text messages/voice mails I sent you, I would, hypothetically, start feeling insignificant.

But I, of course, would be patient with you and still think warm happy thoughts about you. Even if you decided to extend your trip another day, I would think warm happy thoughts about you as I went to Beer Bust at, oh I don't know, Silverado and felt the rock-hard pecs of a sexy Latino guy, hypothetically wearing a muscle shirt, who would give me his phone number and invite me to his birthday party next week. I would think warm happy thoughts about you as I got hypothetically groped by a smiling handsome hypothetical African-American gentleman at the bar. I would still miss you and wish you were home. And I would still pick you up from the airport and give you a kiss and a birthday present. I wouldn't be able to forget feeling insignificant to you while you were away, but I would assume that's baggage from a hypothetical previous relationship in which I wasn't valued and, hey, that's my baggage not yours, so I would forgive you for what I perceived as "blowing me off" for a weekend. And I would still totally want to sleep with you because, hypothetically, you're hot.

So here is my question to you, readers of Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven:

Given this hypothetical situation, which is complete fiction and bears no resemblance to persons living or dead, should I blog about how I'm feeling? Or just keep my big mouth shut so I don't just make more trouble for myself like Madonna did when she pissed off her former boyfriend Warren Beatty in the movie "Truth or Dare" when he facetiously mocked her for being such an attention whore by asking her, "Why say anything if it's not on camera"?

What would you do? Just asking. I want to help a friend who is going through a similar situation.

Link Lovin'

Some of you have noticed that I reduced the number of blog links featured on this page. In true Libra fashion, I will attempt to keep the peace by explaining my actions, which will hopefully have the effect of making me even more lovable or at least make you not hate me quite so much if your blog is not listed. If this explanation doesn't calm and soothe you, please send me hateful e-mails. As an attention whore, I will admit that any attention, even hateful insults, is better than nothing.

I have over 70 blogs in my blogroll and try to keep up with as many of them as possible. I love commenting on other people's blogs, and that's usually how I let my friends know that I stopped by.

There are so many interesting blogs out there, and I find new sites every day. I still want to point readers of Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven in the right direction if they want something to read. The people I decided to feature under my links to the right are not the only blogs I read. Not by a long shot. But these are the people I read every single day without fail. These are people who have become a part of my daily life through phone calls and e-mails. They're friends who send me goodies. They're people I think of throughout the day. They're more than just blogs I read. They are people I worship.

I'm sure the list will grow over time as I get to know other bloggers better. In the meantime, I will continue reading many blogs. If another blogger leaves me a comment, I usually go check out what they had to say in their blog that day. Or I might send them an e-mail to thank them for dropping by Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven.

I'd like to start featuring other blogs more because, all too often, very interesting blogs get lost in enormous blogrolls. People rarely take the time to actually click through all the links in a blogroll. Although I still maintain my blogroll and use it daily, it's just far too big now to be placed on this page.

So, here are a few people I think you should go visit, and I promise to tell you about others on a regular basis:

Little Man Scott was one of the first blogs I started reading. I'll admit that, initially, I was interested in him because he was an actor, worked out, and, I found it stimulating to read about his workouts, because that's kinda hot.

Then I got to know more about Scott's personality and found that he was a sensitive soul with a good heart. And recently we had a chance to meet in person when he visited Portland. It was great to have an intelligent heart-to-heart with him at CC Slaughters, of all places. So, if you'd like to read his account of his visit to The Vortex and other places of interest in Portland, check him out. I mean his blog. Check out his blog.

Another person I read on a regular basis is Pua. Visiting The High Priestess is like going to a friend's house for a barbecue. When Pua writes, it's almost like you're sitting at her kitchen table having a cup of coffee and chatting. Getting to know about her family and her personal triumphs is a special and memorable experience. She's the kind of friend everyone wants. Go see her. She doesn't require you to call first. She may answer the door in her bathrobe, but that won't stop her from being a gracious host.

Before you pop out of the oven, let me tell you about Jay. Although his site is called Jay Is... - I prefer to call it Jay Is...trying to get me fired. I warn you, the games he features on his site are so addictive they should come with a warning label from the Surgeon General.

See, isn't that nicer than a bunch of links on the side of the page? Well, even if you don't agree, I feel better actually telling you something about the people I have come to appreciate through the wonderful all-consuming world of blogging.

Channel Surfing Through My Mind

I hope you'll watch the debate this evening. There is a good chance Kerry and Shrub will be discussing the issue of the new design for Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven.

SHRUB: Hot Toddy's putrid orange theme must be brought back!

KERRY: Wrong again, Dumb Ass. The new design is a significant improvement and a step in the right direction for all Americans.

Well, maybe they won't actually discuss my blog in the debate. Believe it or not, I am often accused of having an overinflated sense of self importance. I've mostly been accused of this by people who are less important than I am, so their opinion really counts for nothing.

Maybe the candidates will at least make mention of yet another exciting new facelift!

Well, at any rate. I don't want to talk about the debate. I've changed my mind. Enough about boring politics. Let's talk about more important things like Heinz Ketchup.

No, I think we've talked about ketchup enough, haven't we? Oh, I know. How about if I tell you about two interesting cell phone conversations!

Yesterday, Auburn Pisces told me about her attempt to call me to make arrangements to join her at a lesbian bar in town. Instead, she accidentally called my housemate/best friend/tormentor, The Handsome Prince.

Because Auburn Pisces and I work together, we find it necessary to cover for one another so our bitch troll from hell supervisor doesn't know our whereabouts. Yesterday, I was over at the fitness center working my back and biceps, because I'm really wanting to look good for my upcoming trips to Los Angeles and New York. But that's not really important for you to know because it has nothing to do with the story. By the way, I had forgotten my gym shoes, so I was wearing my ugly brown work shoes with my (silver) shorts and t-shirt, and I looked really stupid, but it's not really a cruisy gym since it is actually a corporate fitness center, so it's not like I'm going to meet a hot guy or anything, besides I really am not looking to meet anyone right now, but that's not really the point either.

Anyway, although my calendar claimed I was in a meeting, I was, in actuality, working out at 3:00 p.m. Auburn Pisces wanted to see if I could leave early to go to the bar. She thought she was calling me on my cell, but she had accidentally called my home phone and woke THP from his nap. He was home sick.

That was an exhausting set-up for this story, by the way. I barely have the strength to tell it now, but I'll muddle through somehow in the off chance that one of my readers has actually managed to make it this far through today's post.

Here is an actual transcript of the conversation, which I obtained through FBI records because my phone is tapped for reasons I can't discuss. I'm not even really supposed to tell people that phone calls to my house are being recorded, but I don't think anyone from the FBI reads this. But anyway, here is the conversation:

THE HANDSOME PRINCE: *cough* Hello? *cough*, *tremble*, *moan*

AUBURN PISCES: What are you doing?

THP: I was sleeping.

AP: Sleeping? I thought you were "in a meeting" right now?

THP: No, I'm at home. Sleeping.

AP: You went home!?

THP: No, I didn't go home. I've been here all day.

AP: No you haven't.

THP: Yes, I have.

AP: No, you haven't.

THP: Yes I - - who is this?

AP: Toddy, it's Auburn Pisces.

THP: Oh, Auburn Pisces, this is The Handsome Prince.

AP: Oh, I was trying to call Hot Toddy on his cell.

THP: You called his house. But when you reach him, tell him I said hello.

AP: Okay. Bye, The Handsome Prince.

THP: Bye, Auburn Pisces. Hey, do you think it's okay to call each other by our real names?

AP: No, I think Hot Toddy wants us to always use the names he calls us on Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, The Handsome Prince.

THP: Okay. See you later Auburn Pisces.

Auburn Pisces did finally reach me. Shortly thereafter, I received a message from Pony saying he would die if he didn't see me soon because it had been nearly 24 hours since he last held me in his arms. Or something like that. So I returned his call.

HOT TODDY: Pony, come be a lesbian with me! We're going to the Egyptian Club for drinks.

PONY: Okay, Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. I am on my way. Anything you want.

HT: (speaking to a car trying to pull out in front of him) Go ahead, little blue car. (To Pony) There is a blue car pulling out. I think it is a volks - no - that's not the word. It's a station wagon! A station wagon!

P: You don't know what kind of car it is. Admit it.

HT: It is a station wagon or something. It has a logo on the front with stars and a cross.

P: That's a Subaru.

HT: You're good. So, come to the bar, you big dyke. See you there!

In light of the confusion, it's a wonder we all managed to meet up at the bar. Ms. Karma joined us too. Her mom also came to be a lesbian with us and bought our drinks. So Mama Karma is now one of my favorite people.

But I don't want to talk about the bar anymore. Or phone calls. Let's talk about the debate. Or did we already do that? Is Survivor on tonight?

The preceding post was brought to you by Attention Deficit Disorder. Confusing Hot Toddy and anyone who listens to him since 1966.

Settling Into My New Oven

I met Juju for lunch the other day, and we chatted about how much life has changed for us in the past year. She couldn't believe how much my attitudes about sex and dating have changed. I've loosened up a lot. (No, not like that. Not necessarily like that.)

I couldn't believe how much her attitudes about relationships and commitment have changed. She's no longer living the single life of a neighborhood Jezebel.

There is nothing so constant as change (Mom, please get out of my head, I'm trying to blog) as we all know. With a new site design (thanks again, Pony) and a new outlook on dating and my future, I'm feeling like it might be time to change my name again. How's Esther sound to you? No, I don't care for it either. Okay. I'll remain Hot Toddy for now.

The other night at Scandals, where Pony and I were watching ignoring a pool tournament, we started talking about passion and talent. So many times we underestimate our abilities. We perceive ourselves as less than we are. The mirror shows us flaws that we buy into, even if they are untrue. It's all about perspective, really.

That night I went up to the bar to fetch Pony another beer - in spite of the fact that this makes Pony rides so much more bumpy and clumsy - and a guy approached me to ask how tall I was. I told him I was 6'6" (not an AOL 6'6" - a real 6'6") and he smiled. "Wow, being that tall, I'll bet you can get a date like that," he said and snapped his fingers together.

I smiled and shrugged and felt stupid and turned away. I don't think of myself that way. I don't think I can get a date "like that", and, as much as I love men, I rarely know quite how to approach them. I think it's funny that other people can see us so differently than we see ourselves.

The Handsome Prince often reminds me that I like to talk as if no men are ever interested in me. A few months ago, I mentioned that I made such a statement in front of four guys. Three of them were people I had slept with and one of them had a crush on me. THP replied, "I don't know what world you are living in Todd, but it is not the real one".

Pony confided in me (and I'm revealing it to the world) that he wasn't sure people would really like his redesign of Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. But yesterday both he and I received lots of positive comments and e-mails. In fact, I had more comments yesterday than I've ever had. All of them were nice, except for one, which came from some jealous guy in NYC. And I want to thank everyone for their compliments, because I think Pony got the message that his talent is real and valuable. I know it is to me. You can't believe the talent and intelligence he possesses.

Oven Warming

Sometimes dating Pony feels like winning the lottery. A lottery in which you're awarded the privilege of playing with a ten-inch dick and getting a free new site design.

How good is my life?

If I weren't myself, I'd be jealous of me.

So, this is the new Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. If you don't like it, you're an idiot. It's awesome. I didn't have to do anything except look cute and, well, some other stuff, in order to get a brand spanking new site design. I hope you like it as much as I do.

I feel a little bit guilty. It's like when Nellie Oleson got that new doll and flaunted it in Laura Ingall's face, which totally pissed Laura off, so she pushed Nellie down the hill in that wheelchair, which Nellie totally deserved, causing the smug prairie bitch to land face first in a muddy pond.

But the point is, I have a new site design. And a boyfriend with a 10-inch dick.

Okay, okay. I'm not really that shallow. He's also a good cook. He made me dinner tonight. And he puts up with crap from me that none of you will ever know about, because this is blogworld, and, as far as you know, I am perfect and fabulous and anyone would be lucky to date me. Which is totally true, of course.

What were we talking about. Right? I have a new site design. Enjoy.

Waterloo

My, my, at Waterloo, Napoleon did surrender.
Oh yeah, and I have met my destiny in quite a similar way.
The history book on the shelf,
Is always repeating itself....

Saturday night was a celebration. A month after my first date with Pony, I returned the favor and took him out for a night on the town. Although we've been spending a lot of time together and even went away for a weekend, this was our official "second date", so I was relatively sure I would get to second base with him - whatever that is.

After dinner at one of my favorite actor hangouts, Pony and I went to see the big surprise event. Amazingly, I was able to keep the concert a secret until moments before we entered The Crystal Ballroom to see Bjorn Again, the ABBA cover band. As we were waiting in line, Pony was searching for clues and suddenly saw, hanging in a window, the poster advertising the event.

It was a great night, and our voices were horse, er...hoarse, after a night of singing along. The choreography was the dorkiest thing I've ever seen, but I'm pretty sure these moves were authentic to ABBA's style. I took advantage of a couple of the slower songs to pull him close to me, but mostly I just glanced over to enjoy watching him smile and sing.

After the concert, we went to a party thrown by one of Pony's friends. There were some shocking moments and some memorable encounters with party-goers. One young lady, who Pony understates "was very forward" was convinced her strap-on dildo was bigger than Pony's real deal. She felt compelled to conduct research to confirm her hypothesis. Sad, really, how deluded she was.

There were lots of other surprises in store for me that night, and I had the time of my life. I still don't know what "second base" is, but I think I may have gotten to at least third. Whatever. It felt like a home run to me.

You Hate Me. You Really Hate Me.

55% of Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven readers want to see this site design updated. And by updated I mean they want to see the putrid orange pumpkin color scheme "blasted into oblivion never to be seen again".

Pony has come up with an awesome logo for HTTO, and now I need to provide him with some quotes from fans, stalkers and enemies.

If you would like to submit a review, critique or simple sentence or two for consideration, you can e-mail me or just leave a comment. Please do so now.

I said now.

No, don't give me that, "Let me just finish this latte" or "but, wait, my Lobster Bisque is on the way, and I don't want it to get cold," or, "hang on, he's almost there, and I want to see his eyes roll back in his head". Don't keep me waiting. Think how wonderful it will feel to see your quote on the new Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. It will be almost like you are part of the bond between Pony and I. It will be almost like we are having a threesome. Or not.

Nothing So Constant

Yes, yes, I know you hate my site design.

We're working on it. And when I say "we're working on it" I mean "someone else is working on it".

Soon you will experience a completely redesigned Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, and you'll love it. I promise.

The past few months have been a time of great change for me. My mom used to say "There is nothing so constant as change," all the time. I asked her to stop, but she kept saying it. Then I threatened to move out if she didn't stop saying "There is nothing so constant as change," but since I was only six I wasn't sure of the bus routes and had to stay in her house listening to her talk about the constancy of change for a few more years.

Anyway. She was right. Recently I blessed The Handsome Prince by moving into his house. One thing I love about our house is its fascinating history. Did you know that brilliant scientists once lived in our home!? It's true! I recently discovered that the reason all the windows in our garage are painted over is because there were secret experiments taking place in the "Meth Laboratory". I don't know much about Meth research, but it sounds very important. I'm proud that our home was used to conduct this impressive work.

As if the history of our home were not impressive enough already, a neighbor just told me that some acrobats once lived there too. Apparently these young ladies turned tricks at the house. I'll bet they were female Cirque du Soleil members who used the house as their home base. And I'll bet they invited neighbors over to the backyard (now known as The Vortex) to watch them twist and turn and do their amazing tricks. I wish I had been lucky enough to see them perform.

Someday maybe when The Handsome Prince screws up royally and can't pay his mortgage and they take the house away from him, I hope some other nice people move in and say, "I can feel the energy of the former residents. There was a lot of love in this house. I'll bet a famous blogger once lived here."

Oh, if these walls could talk...

You Gotta Work It, Part Three

If you think reading about my past jobs is boring, try working them. I spent the first few days at my parents' home lounging around the pool and thinking about what type of work I should do. I knew I wanted to act, so the best option seemed to be waiting tables. That is, after all, what actors do for a living, isn't it?

I was hired at IHOP, but I had an interview at Chili's the next day. When the manager at Chili's asked me why I wanted to work for them, I replied, "So I don't have to work at IHOP."

Chili's Bar & Grill - Dallas, TX
As I mentioned yesterday, I began going by my middle name when I moved to Texas. So when my coworkers said things like, "Todd, you're order is up," I rarely even responded. It took a few weeks to get used to being called Todd. But Todd had a lot more fun than the old me. He went out to the clubs almost every night after work. He kissed boys. He didn't preach to anybody.

Why it Rocked: I had time to swim every day and always had cash in my pocket.

Why it Sucked: Living off tips, carrying trays of sizzling fajitas, and forcing myself to address customers as "y'all" because they didn't tip as well when I called them, "you guys".

The next short-term job I had was working for Target. You can read about that one here.

What did I learn from all these jobs? I learned never to give up. Never to quit. Even if you're bored, stick with it until you complete your task.

Yeah, right. I'm so bored with this list of jobs right now that I'm going to stop writing about them. So I never told you about the last nine jobs. So what.

That's right. I quit.

Wow, that feels good. There's nothing like the satisfaction of a job not done.

You Gotta Work It - Part Two

In observation of my fifth anniversary with my employer, I'll continue my rundown of the many jobs I've held since college. Looking back, I feel I may have missed my calling. I should have become a pirate, but rum makes me sick to my stomach. So I had to find jobs that didn't involve raping and pillaging and plundering.

National Crime Prevention Council - Washington, DC
I was an editorial assistant and an annoying Bible bashing cult member during this period.

Why it Rocked: There was a good coffee place nearby. I liked working on K Street, which is a pretty happening part of town.

Why it Sucked: Because I was annoying and preached to people at work. I was in the throes of cultdom and brought my Bible to work with me. So, basically, I was a crime fighting religious superhero. Yuck.

Environmental Protection Agency - Annapolis, Maryland
The cult leaders asked me to move to Annapolis to help start another branch of the cult there. I obtained a temporary job assignment working for The EPA. No longer was I a crime fighting religious superhero. Now I was an environmental religious superhero.

Why it Rocked: I was trying to be a good Christian, but I remember having a lot of phone sex from my desk at this job. That rocked.

Why it Sucked: There were soil samples and jars of earth stuff everywhere. The office felt like a ranger's station. Not my scene.

Arthur Anderson - Baltimore, Maryland
This is the job where I was asked to use paper clips to scrape black ink marks off client proposals. They treated me like a trained monkey.

Why it Rocked: I didn't like the people who worked there, but I do remember there was free Advil available. That was helpful.

Why it Sucked: Everyone who worked there had a very high opinion of themselves. I don't think they ever called me by my name. I was just known as "The Temp".

IBM - Baltimore, Maryland
I was hired as an Inside Sales Representative, which meant I was supposed to sell products (the AS400, specifically) to IBM customers. When I began calling my customers in the database, I realized I'd been lied to. Most of my customers were sheriff's offices in West Virgina and North Carolina. I remember having to explain to one woman what IBM was.

Why it Rocked: The location, Inner Harbor in Baltimore, was a great place to work. I remember taking a lot of walks by the water on spring days. There was a fantastic sushi bar near the office, and I ate there a couple times a week. It was during my time working here that I decided to pack up and flee the cult.

Why it Sucked: I worked with someone else who was in the cult. Her name was Vera. She kept tabs on me, and I knew she would tell my brothers in the cult if I sinned in any way. The day I quit I had to wait to give notice until Vera went home so she wouldn't tell anyone in the cult I was leaving. I secretly left my resignation on my supervisor's desk, got into my car, and drove four days to Texas.

I'll continue with my list of jobs tomorrow. After I left Maryland, I moved home with my parents. I also changed my name and came out of the closet. The year was 1995, and I had only been out of college five years and had worked at least 12 different jobs.

Financially, I was bankrupt. According to my records, I made less than $5000 in 1995. I also know for a fact that I gave over $1500 to the International Church of Christ that year.

I pulled into my parents driveway that summer of 1995, and I was exhausted. I was so tired of being poor, being unhappy, being sexually frustrated. I was tired of trying to be straight, trying to be a disciple of Christ, trying to put off my creditors, and trying to be everything everyone else wanted me to be.

But freedom, sweet freedom, was just around the corner for me...

Happy Birthday BoBo

I'll be posting my second series of jobs soon. In the meantime, you may wish to pop over and wish The Executive a happy birthday.

BoBo, for your birthday this year I have decided not to throw up over your balcony. I know you'll think I'm being far too generous, but that's just the kind of guy I am.

Now is a good time to remind everyone that you have about 17 shopping days until my birthday (unless your religious practices don't allow you to shop on Saturdays/Sundays).

A true egomaniac knows how to incorporate a personal birthday plug into his wishes for a friend's happy birthday.

You Gotta Work It - Part One

I wasn't looking for a commitment. Can't we just take it one day at a time? I don't want to make any long term plans with you. Let's just enjoy the moment, okay? I can't even promise to be faithful.

In spite of the fact that I've said those things ever since I began this relationship, today is...gasp...my five-year anniversary with my employer.

Five years? How did I commit to this job for five years? My professional track record indicates that I am a free spirit. I always fancied myself as someone who can't be tied down. As evidence, I present you with my jobs since college graduation (1990)- Part One...

Joseph-Beth Booksellers - Lexington, Kentucky
I was a bookseller with the responsibility of overseeing the Religious and Occult sections. I was given those particular categories because nobody else who worked there knew anything about the Bible, not because of my service to Satan. That came later.

Why it rocked: Free coffee. We could drink wine on Friday nights in the employee breakroom. I had sex in the bathroom once too.

Why it sucked: The pay was lousy, and the Christian and Occult books were in the same section, so I had to break up arguments between customers debating spiritual issues.

Winn-Dixie Supermarkets - Lexington, Kentucky
After three days of stacking boxes in the meat freezer, I never went back.

Why it sucked: You need to read the last sentence again.

Why it rocked: It didn't.

Structure/Express - Lexington, Kentucky
I worked in the stock room shared by Structure and Express.

Why it rocked: French music and commercials played in the stockroom, and I didn't have to deal with customers.

Why it sucked: I don't even like to hang up clothes at home, so why would I want that to be my job?

The Salvation Army - Washington, DC
I was the Special Events Director and Volunteer Coordinator.

Why it rocked: One perk was participating in a brass band and getting to go on a tour of Scandinavia. We also had free snacks at our two coffee breaks as well as free lunch every day.

Why it sucked: Since this was a religious organization, I had to sneak up to the roof to smoke. I found a great place to stash porn in the office, though. I wonder if I left anything behind when I left?

Heritage Court Reporting - Washington, DC
I was a court reporter and also transcribed the proceedings for 93 cents per page.

Why it rocked: I mostly worked at the US Court of Claims and the Securities and Exchange Commission. Most of the cases were dull, but sometimes it was interesting and one of the judges looked just like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. If the attorneys spoke quickly, I was getting paid tons of money for transcribing the proceedings.

Why it sucked: The attorneys didn't speak quickly, so making good money was difficult. I corrected grammar in the court transcripts for the nice lawyers, but if they were rude to me I would capture every incorrect grammatical phrase they uttered and put it in the transcripts.

National Cooperative Bank - Washington, DC
After about six months as a court reporter, I decided to try working for a temp service. For the next several years I worked a series of short-term assignments in which I learned valuable skills (how to break into other people's voice mail and listen to their messages) and performed important duties (scratching ink marks off legal contracts with a paper clip). The stint at National Cooperative Bank (NCB) had something to do with real estate, I think.

Why it rocked: A cute gay guy worked in the NCB file room, and I liked flirting with him even though I was still in the closet.

Why it sucked: At about this time, I decided I wanted to be a professional actor and turned down a generous job offer from NCB so that I could pursue my dream of making less than $5000 a year.

Those first six jobs were all held within the first three years after I graduated from Asbury College. In 1993, my whole life changed as a result of my involvement with The International Church of Christ (Boston Movement). My already erratic employment history was about to get even crazier. Stay tuned for Part Two...

Happy

I'm happy tonight. That's about all I have to say. I'm just happy.

Pony came back home from Dallas tonight. He's been working there all week. I missed him this week, and it makes me feel like smiling just to have him in the same room with him. We're hanging out at his place right now. He is pouring me a glass of wine as I write this. I'm using his laptop to blog (awesome!) and he is chatting on the phone with a friend and laughing. The cat (Fiesta of Our Lady of Guadalupe) is talking to me, and we're watching Comedy Central. Everything right now is peaceful and happy. Sometimes life just feels "right", you know?

Sometimes we make life too hard. We forget to appreciate the simple pleasures. Just sitting in the same room with someone you care about and knowing you have a weekend ahead of you, wine in your glass and money in your pocket is enough. Isn't it?

Tomorrow I'm going to the coast. Pony and The Handsome Prince and his boyfriend, The Math Whiz are driving to Pacific City to spend time at The Executive's beach house. I'm really happy right now. That's about all I have to say.