As a very flaky person, I often go through short phases or experiences, and then I get bored with it and move on. This weekend I had an eating disorder that lasted from Friday to Sunday. Then on Monday night I was cured.
It all started last week. The germination period for my full-blown eating disorder began sometime around Monday or Tuesday. I went to the gym every day, and I made a goal to eat several small meals throughout the day in an effort to lower my body fat. Things went well. I tried to eat something every two hours. A cup of yogurt at 10 a.m., a salad at noon, some pretzels and a V8 juice at 2 p.m., etc.
My metabolism was boosted and by Wednesday I already felt lighter. At the bar (like I'm giving THAT up) I alternated vodka and club soda with bottled water. I drank much less and my bar tab was amazingly manageable.
Something strange started happening to me on Friday. My food portions were so small that I was starving all day. I had plans to visit The Handsome Prince and The Math Whiz at The Vortex that night, so I ate half a baked potato and didn't even eat the skin. I was famished when I showed up to their house, but I refused the pizza they offered.
On Saturday I had an english muffin with vegetarian bacon strips for breakfast and a whole pot of coffee. I might have eaten a tomato slice or two that day. I can't remember if I had anything else until I went to Pony's house for a cookout (after the gym, of course). I ate half a grilled chicken breast without the skin. Then I literally ate a scrap of a hamburger and half a spoon of potato salad that Auburn Pisces couldn't finish.
Sunday was the day I should have checked into the clinic for eating disorders, but instead I continued to obsess about everything I put in my mouth. I had V8 juice for breakfast and drank protein shakes every couple hours. When I met up with friends that night, they ordered artichoke/spinach dip with french bread. I had five morsels of bread and dip and then stupidly drank three or four margaritas. (I never claimed to have common sense, did I?)
Monday I called in sick to work. I don't even want to talk about the way my body reacted to my Karen Carpenter weekend. My self-esteem yesterday was scraping rock bottom. I hated myself, and I had a headache that wouldn't go away even after I ate some egg whites. As I sat on the front porch with Auburn Pisces and someone else (I forget who) and moaned about my pathetic state, her motherly instincts kicked in. She made me a big steak and cauliflower with garlic bread for dinner. Then we watched my favorite movie, Living Out Loud. I sat there feeling satisfied and happy and realized I'd been acting like an idiot for several days.
Today I had a breakfast burrito (sour cream is bad, but I ate it anyway) and then worked out before lunch. Lunch was a healthy salad with grilled chicken. I bought two bananas to eat this afternoon, and I will make sure I eat dinner tonight before I go to CC's.
Actually, this may sound like I'm making fun of eating disorders, but I'm not. To be honest, I can understand how such a disorder would be hard to conquer. I'm sure the number of people who suffer from eating disorders is bigger than we think. I'm just glad that my Attention Deficit Disorder trumps any other. I get too bored to have a full-fledged disorder of any other kind. In fact, I'm bored writing about this now and need to go find something shiny to look at.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Friday, July 28, 2006
We are Huge
Photo by Windy City Times for Gay Games VII
When I left Chicago on Sunday, I brought with me a feeling of enormousness. Not from the Chicago stuffed pizza that took me two days to finish, but from the enormity of our community. We have hearts that are huge, and we have power that is unbelievable.
Being part of a community that is considered a "minority" can be challenging and, sometimes, discouraging. We watch our friends plan weddings knowing that we can't have the same right. We hear that our lives are an abomination, and that our love is nothing more than uncontrollable lust. We are sometimes tempted to hide our truth, or at least water it down.
At Gay Games VII, I often felt overwhelmed by emotion. Thousands of athletes and fans from all over the world assembled for the opening and closing ceremonies. No picture, sound recording or video could ever truly capture the power of those events. You had to be there. You had to feel the energy.
We face heartbreaking setbacks, but we endure. Anti-gay protestors shout condemnation and rant about our alleged sins, but we remain strong. We should be proud of ourselves.
Sometimes we do things to each other that are shameful. We divide ourselves into subcategories of gays, lesbians, transexuals, bisexuals. The muscularity of our bodies or beauty of our faces or number of wrinkles on our skin are brought into focus, or, worse, cause us to be completely ignored by others in our community. We fight amongst ourselves and belittle one another. It's sad when we act just like everybody else.
We're not like everybody else. Never have been. It is time for us to seize our power, and the only way to do that is become unified. Stop feeling alone, because you're not. Instead, reach out and find your family. We're here, and we're huge.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
The People in My Neighborhood
In case you've been wondering about them....
1. Auburn Pisces is alive and well (and happy). She's taking a break from blogging, but I know she'll eventually be back. I made sure she knows people are asking about her!
2. The Handsome Prince and The Math Whiz are still together. In fact, they are getting married next spring! We still hang out, and we adore each other. It's just that I don't have as many stories about them since I no longer live with them.
3. My boyfriend is being incredibly elusive. I've been single for almost a year, which is a record for me. I don't know who he is or where he is or when he is showing up, but I seem to be doing fine without him. Pony told me the other day that he likes me better "this way". Whatever that means!
1. Auburn Pisces is alive and well (and happy). She's taking a break from blogging, but I know she'll eventually be back. I made sure she knows people are asking about her!
2. The Handsome Prince and The Math Whiz are still together. In fact, they are getting married next spring! We still hang out, and we adore each other. It's just that I don't have as many stories about them since I no longer live with them.
3. My boyfriend is being incredibly elusive. I've been single for almost a year, which is a record for me. I don't know who he is or where he is or when he is showing up, but I seem to be doing fine without him. Pony told me the other day that he likes me better "this way". Whatever that means!
Monday, July 24, 2006
Pride and Spirit
Photo by John FaierGay Games VII was life-changing and powerful. I wish that everyone could experience the spirit of the event at least once in his or her life. I have so many wonderful memories. And I came home with some medals:
I won a Gold medal for Surreptitious Drinking. Drinks were expensive in Chicago so I had to come up with some clever ideas for smuggling my cocktails.
I also won a Gold medal in New Friendships. Rick and Debbi and the Evil Gay Lawyer were so much fun. Thank you all for making my trip so great. All of you wrote such nice things about me, and I thank you for telling lies and making me sound way cooler than I am. None of you wrote about what a flake I am, and I truly appreciate it.
Rick and I went to see Margaret Cho together as well as a Sondheim in the Park concert. We browsed at Virgin Records (since we are both virgins) and talked each other out of spending any money. We ate a fantastic dinner and also had drinks at Sidetrack (Rick wanted me to experience the awesomeness of Show Tune Night).
Evil Gay Lawyer accompanied me to the Physique competition where my friend Muscle Chick won a bronze medal! EGL has a much different style than Rick. While Rick stroked my ego and made me feel special, EGL teased me and harassed me at every step. So, naturally, I fell for him. The best way to win me over is to give me a hard time, and EGL was a master at this. He made fun of me for losing my ticket stub. Then he gave me his ticket stub so I could get back into the arena after I went to the men's room. Then I lost his ticket stub, so he had to sneak back in when it was his turn to visit the men's room. EGL is currently being swept off his feet by a guy in Chicago, so I only got to see him that one day, but I had a great time with him. I thought he would be more evil than he was. He's actually a nice guy. As I told him when he exited the train Tuesday night, I'm glad he had a chance to meet me. He is lucky.
Debbi and her daughter came into the city to meet me for dinner, and we had a great meal and a fun time getting to know each other better. She took me to one of her favorite restaurants, where I had yet another wonderful meal. I almost never go out to eat in Portland, so I really enjoyed dining out while I was in Chicago. Debbi reminds me of another wonderful Deb who loves her gays. Just being in Debbi's presence made me feel proud! She rocks.
I won a Silver Medal for Walking My Ass off in Chicago. My pedometer logged 213,698 steps. I'm wearing the silly thing for a contest we're having at work. Let me tell you, nothing attracts the boys like wearing a pedometer. I don't want to talk about it.
I took the Bronze in Friend Juggling. I didn't do as great in that event. See, I was trying to coordinate my time with the aforementioned Chicago bloggers as well as hanging out with Muscle Chick, her girlfriend, Wonder Woman, and my friend The Professor (also in Chicago for a visit last week) and his boyfriend (who I haven't yet come up with a name for). I kept having to call people and change plans at the last minute. I stood people up, arrived late, forgot to return calls and annoyed everyone like crazy. I don't know why people put up with me.
I have a ton of stories about the week, and I'll do my best to recount them here. Tomorrow I'll have to tell you about a very special benefit concert I performed for pigeons. If you don't think you can wait, you could always check out the story on last week's Todd & Pony Show.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Now Will You Listen to Todd & Pony Show?
This is The Golden Boy, who often sits on my lap while wearing nothing but a towel on Tuesdays when I go to Happy Five Hours. Aren't I lucky? He's our special guest for this week's Todd & Pony Show podcast.
Our show this week is all about drinking. As you can imagine, I had a really hard time thinking of anything to say. On the podcast, I shared my special drink recipe for the Maker's Mark Old Fashioned.
If you are wondering why I'm doing a podcast with Pony, it's because I need more attention. Yes, even more attention than I'm already getting from Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven.
Sometimes when I am standing in the middle of the street singing the soundtrack from Rent and tapdancing, strangers ask me why I need so much attention. Then I hand them a bullhorn and ask them to please repeat the question so more people on the street will notice our conversation. When the cops finally show up to remove me from the middle of the road, I always pray that they will be filming a Portland episode of Cops, but so far that hasn't happened. If I got arrested on the television show Cops it would be a great way to get attention and to also plug my blog. The thing is, once somebody is arrested on that show you never see or hear from them again. I wouldn't like that. I would like the cameras to follow me and document my life in the slammer. Or I would want to at least be on a Cops reunion show where they bring back all the arrested people for a panel discussion. Maybe we could have a Cops All-Stars competition where we hardened criminals compete for cash and prizes on a desert island. Or we all have to live in a house together and have our lives taped to find out what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real.
Anyway, the point is, I think you should listen to our Todd & Pony Show, otherwise I might wither and die from lack of attention.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
The Reward Challenge
This isn't about me. It's about you.
My favorite thing about survivor, besides hunks, is the reward challenge.
Every week the survivors compete for rewards like food and letters from home and blankets. Sometimes the winners are flown to a resort for massages, food, wine and a nice warm bed to sleep in.
A year ago I began a reward challenge that led me through quicksand and required that I swing across vines over crocodile infested waters. I sustained bruises and abrasions, fell down, passed out, sprained my muscles and broke bones.
I was lied to, stabbed in the back, lied to again, mocked, ridiculed and humiliated. He said he'd be back, but he never planned on coming back to me. He was sick, very sick, and never told me. He made promises of a future together and a house together and even children of our own, and all the while he knew he couldn't keep any of those promises. I no longer know what was true and what wasn't.
During the challenge I cried many tears and experienced deep sorrow and depression. Then came medication. Then more tears.
This isn't about me. It's about you. Let it out. Cry and rage and scream.
Friends surrounded me, and yet I've never felt more alone. At times, I just wanted to end it all. I wanted to be voted off this island called Life. But nobody voted me off, so I had to keep competing. I didn't believe there would even be a reward at the end of the challenge. I thought I was fighting for nothing, which really makes it hard to hang onto the vine as the crocodiles snap at you.
In December last year when life felt hopeless, I made a decision to fight, even though I really didn't want to. My friends, too many to list, held my hand and told me not to seek answers in bottles of booze. They encouraged me and stuck by me. But I needed more than encouragement from friends. I had to believe there was a point to it all. I had to believe it for myself. For motivation, I placed a reward at the finish line so it would seem worthwhile to keep running.
The Toddtender, such a great friend, talked to me about playing softball. That has changed my life. I think that is when I started believing I could win the reward challenge. Then I broke my toe (twice) and thought I couldn't play after all. But I healed and made it to the first game. This weekend, after I caught a fly ball, I heard the Toddtender cheering for me, even though my catch caused his team an out. He's told me many times over the past few weeks that he is proud of me. I'm proud too. God, I'm so proud to have him for a friend.
This isn't about me. It's about you. Who is your friend? Lean on him.
I had two car wrecks in the midst of the reward challenge. I could only shake my head and ask, "why me?". Then I got mad. That helped me fight harder. No way was I going to let that throw me back into depression. I'd survived so much by that point, and I'd be damned if a couple setbacks would stop me.
Somehow, I got to the finish line. I won.
This Friday, one year after I began the challenge, I'll get my reward. I'll board a plane for Chicago to watch thousands of gay athletes from over 70 countries compete in their own challenges at Gay Games VII. I'll bring all of you with me. For all the friends who watched me run the race and cheered for me, I'll toast you from my seat in first class (hey, it's a REWARD - of course I'm flying first class).
As I watch the competitors next week, I'll be thinking a lot about what makes us winners. How do we conquer the seemingly impossible challenges in our lives? How can we overcome debt and heartache? How do we win against disease and depression and loss? How can we keep fighting when we aren't given equal rights, and when we're hated?
The point is, we just do it. We keep fighting. We'll sustain wounds and feel like quitting. We'll feel oppressed and discriminated against and left out. Sometimes it will seem like there's no hope. We'll feel like the pain in our hearts will never ever go away.
I do not think it is coincidental that I'm going to Chicago at this particular time. Rick, who is a friend to me and to many of you, is going through his own challenge right now. My hope is that I can offer him some cheer and encouragement. I want him to know he's not swinging on that vine by himself. Lots of us are with him.
This isn't about me. It's about you. You can survive your challenges. You can overcome your debt. You can move on after your lover lies to you and leaves you with empty promises. You can find peace when you lose a loved one. You may be in the middle of a reward challenge right now, but look ahead to the reward. It's there waiting for you.
My favorite thing about survivor, besides hunks, is the reward challenge.
Every week the survivors compete for rewards like food and letters from home and blankets. Sometimes the winners are flown to a resort for massages, food, wine and a nice warm bed to sleep in.
A year ago I began a reward challenge that led me through quicksand and required that I swing across vines over crocodile infested waters. I sustained bruises and abrasions, fell down, passed out, sprained my muscles and broke bones.
I was lied to, stabbed in the back, lied to again, mocked, ridiculed and humiliated. He said he'd be back, but he never planned on coming back to me. He was sick, very sick, and never told me. He made promises of a future together and a house together and even children of our own, and all the while he knew he couldn't keep any of those promises. I no longer know what was true and what wasn't.
During the challenge I cried many tears and experienced deep sorrow and depression. Then came medication. Then more tears.
This isn't about me. It's about you. Let it out. Cry and rage and scream.
Friends surrounded me, and yet I've never felt more alone. At times, I just wanted to end it all. I wanted to be voted off this island called Life. But nobody voted me off, so I had to keep competing. I didn't believe there would even be a reward at the end of the challenge. I thought I was fighting for nothing, which really makes it hard to hang onto the vine as the crocodiles snap at you.
In December last year when life felt hopeless, I made a decision to fight, even though I really didn't want to. My friends, too many to list, held my hand and told me not to seek answers in bottles of booze. They encouraged me and stuck by me. But I needed more than encouragement from friends. I had to believe there was a point to it all. I had to believe it for myself. For motivation, I placed a reward at the finish line so it would seem worthwhile to keep running.
The Toddtender, such a great friend, talked to me about playing softball. That has changed my life. I think that is when I started believing I could win the reward challenge. Then I broke my toe (twice) and thought I couldn't play after all. But I healed and made it to the first game. This weekend, after I caught a fly ball, I heard the Toddtender cheering for me, even though my catch caused his team an out. He's told me many times over the past few weeks that he is proud of me. I'm proud too. God, I'm so proud to have him for a friend.
This isn't about me. It's about you. Who is your friend? Lean on him.
I had two car wrecks in the midst of the reward challenge. I could only shake my head and ask, "why me?". Then I got mad. That helped me fight harder. No way was I going to let that throw me back into depression. I'd survived so much by that point, and I'd be damned if a couple setbacks would stop me.
Somehow, I got to the finish line. I won.
This Friday, one year after I began the challenge, I'll get my reward. I'll board a plane for Chicago to watch thousands of gay athletes from over 70 countries compete in their own challenges at Gay Games VII. I'll bring all of you with me. For all the friends who watched me run the race and cheered for me, I'll toast you from my seat in first class (hey, it's a REWARD - of course I'm flying first class).
As I watch the competitors next week, I'll be thinking a lot about what makes us winners. How do we conquer the seemingly impossible challenges in our lives? How can we overcome debt and heartache? How do we win against disease and depression and loss? How can we keep fighting when we aren't given equal rights, and when we're hated?
The point is, we just do it. We keep fighting. We'll sustain wounds and feel like quitting. We'll feel oppressed and discriminated against and left out. Sometimes it will seem like there's no hope. We'll feel like the pain in our hearts will never ever go away.
I do not think it is coincidental that I'm going to Chicago at this particular time. Rick, who is a friend to me and to many of you, is going through his own challenge right now. My hope is that I can offer him some cheer and encouragement. I want him to know he's not swinging on that vine by himself. Lots of us are with him.
This isn't about me. It's about you. You can survive your challenges. You can overcome your debt. You can move on after your lover lies to you and leaves you with empty promises. You can find peace when you lose a loved one. You may be in the middle of a reward challenge right now, but look ahead to the reward. It's there waiting for you.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Personal. Do Not Read.
One very important thing everyone needs to know is that it is absolutely wrong to write about personal finances on the internet. You should never reveal these highly personal facts to strangers. Write about anything you want, unless it involves money. Keep money matters to yourself!
Now that my public service announcement is out of the way, I'm going to tell you all about my personal finances.
When I was 29 and fresh from the cult, I was broke. Each year that I spent in the International Church of Christ saw my income decline because I kept quitting jobs and moving to new places. I had a decent job when I joined the church, but they fired me because I became an irritating prick who tried to convert everyone in my office. Then I quit another job to move into a different zone of the church so that I could lead the "singles' ministry". Then I quit another job to move to Annapolis, MD and help start up a new "house church". My income in 1995 was about $9,000. And I gave 10 percent of that back to the church.
Needless to say, when CT and I became partners he had to have a very serious talk with me. He told me that he wanted to be with me, but he didn't want to support me. He wanted me to pull my own weight.
CT, who was 27 at the time, had inherited a lot of money, but he paid a terrible price for it. He lost both of his parents within two years of each other. The guy he was with before me felt entitled to CT's money, and he abused CT's kindness. So, when CT and I got together he was finished being a Sugar Daddy. (I know, my timing sucks!)
I did my best to contribute to our household, but CT always wanted to go out for dinner, and he loved shopping. I remember many days at the mall just following him around watching him buy things for himself. I didn't have two nickels to rub together.
One day he said he wanted to go out to eat, and I told him I couldn't. "I'm broke. I have nothing," I told him.
"I'm broke too, but we can splurge, can't we?" he reasoned.
When CT said he was broke, it meant he only had a couple hundred dollars in his checking account. So I tried to explain to him that when I said I was broke, I meant completely lacking in currency.
"Okay, but it isn't like you have no money. I mean, you have an IRA and stuff right?"
The fact that, after at least three years together, my partner thought I had an Individual Retirement Account hidden away somewhere just made me laugh. Why, only a few years earlier he witnessed my filing for bankruptcy!
To file for bankruptcy at the age of 30 is humiliating. I will never forget the way I felt when the judge asked me how I had gotten myself into such a financial mess. I didn't dare mention my affiliation with the church. The wound was too fresh. So I just attempted to use my boyish charm. "I haven't been making as much money as I spend," I giggled. He didn't find it endearing. Not in the least.
Since 1996, I've received the worst credit card offers (Rebuild Your Credit! APPLY NOW for a Visa at 22% APR!!) and took out a car loan at a ridiculous rate. I couldn't get a credit card at Best Buy. I'm pretty sure I would have been declined a Target credit card (not that I wanted one).
I did feel awful about not paying my debts. I mean, I didn't feel guilty enough to go back and repay those credit card companies, but I still felt that what I'd done was wrong. The only thing that made me feel justified was all the huge corporations and airlines declaring bankruptcy ever other week. I figured they should be able to handle money better than I did!
Over the years I got better jobs and started a 401k and opened a savings account. I worked really hard to reduce debt. One year I wrote down every single penny I spent (literally) in a little notebook. At the end of the month, I could account for every cent. One Sunday morning as I tallied my expenditures for the month, my total showed that I should have 34 cents left. I went into the bedroom and counted the money on top of my dresser. I had a quarter and nine pennies.
The only reason I am telling you all of this is so you won't think I am a big baby when I tell you that I cried last week when I checked my credit report. I paid for access to my credit report on line, and I couldn't believe what I found there.
Your credit rating is: Excellent
Your credit score is higher than 55.8% of U.S. consumers
A tear fell down my cheek, and I bit my lip and remembered the day CT told me he wouldn't support me, letting me know I had to pull myself out of the pit with my own strength. The stern face of the bankruptcy court judge looking down at me flashed in my mind, followed by an image of the Exxon card I used to buy groceries one week when I had no money and nothing to eat.
So I read my credit report, and I cried.
Now that my public service announcement is out of the way, I'm going to tell you all about my personal finances.
When I was 29 and fresh from the cult, I was broke. Each year that I spent in the International Church of Christ saw my income decline because I kept quitting jobs and moving to new places. I had a decent job when I joined the church, but they fired me because I became an irritating prick who tried to convert everyone in my office. Then I quit another job to move into a different zone of the church so that I could lead the "singles' ministry". Then I quit another job to move to Annapolis, MD and help start up a new "house church". My income in 1995 was about $9,000. And I gave 10 percent of that back to the church.
Needless to say, when CT and I became partners he had to have a very serious talk with me. He told me that he wanted to be with me, but he didn't want to support me. He wanted me to pull my own weight.
CT, who was 27 at the time, had inherited a lot of money, but he paid a terrible price for it. He lost both of his parents within two years of each other. The guy he was with before me felt entitled to CT's money, and he abused CT's kindness. So, when CT and I got together he was finished being a Sugar Daddy. (I know, my timing sucks!)
I did my best to contribute to our household, but CT always wanted to go out for dinner, and he loved shopping. I remember many days at the mall just following him around watching him buy things for himself. I didn't have two nickels to rub together.
One day he said he wanted to go out to eat, and I told him I couldn't. "I'm broke. I have nothing," I told him.
"I'm broke too, but we can splurge, can't we?" he reasoned.
When CT said he was broke, it meant he only had a couple hundred dollars in his checking account. So I tried to explain to him that when I said I was broke, I meant completely lacking in currency.
"Okay, but it isn't like you have no money. I mean, you have an IRA and stuff right?"
The fact that, after at least three years together, my partner thought I had an Individual Retirement Account hidden away somewhere just made me laugh. Why, only a few years earlier he witnessed my filing for bankruptcy!
To file for bankruptcy at the age of 30 is humiliating. I will never forget the way I felt when the judge asked me how I had gotten myself into such a financial mess. I didn't dare mention my affiliation with the church. The wound was too fresh. So I just attempted to use my boyish charm. "I haven't been making as much money as I spend," I giggled. He didn't find it endearing. Not in the least.
Since 1996, I've received the worst credit card offers (Rebuild Your Credit! APPLY NOW for a Visa at 22% APR!!) and took out a car loan at a ridiculous rate. I couldn't get a credit card at Best Buy. I'm pretty sure I would have been declined a Target credit card (not that I wanted one).
I did feel awful about not paying my debts. I mean, I didn't feel guilty enough to go back and repay those credit card companies, but I still felt that what I'd done was wrong. The only thing that made me feel justified was all the huge corporations and airlines declaring bankruptcy ever other week. I figured they should be able to handle money better than I did!
Over the years I got better jobs and started a 401k and opened a savings account. I worked really hard to reduce debt. One year I wrote down every single penny I spent (literally) in a little notebook. At the end of the month, I could account for every cent. One Sunday morning as I tallied my expenditures for the month, my total showed that I should have 34 cents left. I went into the bedroom and counted the money on top of my dresser. I had a quarter and nine pennies.
The only reason I am telling you all of this is so you won't think I am a big baby when I tell you that I cried last week when I checked my credit report. I paid for access to my credit report on line, and I couldn't believe what I found there.
Your credit rating is: Excellent
Your credit score is higher than 55.8% of U.S. consumers
A tear fell down my cheek, and I bit my lip and remembered the day CT told me he wouldn't support me, letting me know I had to pull myself out of the pit with my own strength. The stern face of the bankruptcy court judge looking down at me flashed in my mind, followed by an image of the Exxon card I used to buy groceries one week when I had no money and nothing to eat.
So I read my credit report, and I cried.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Why I Love Softball Tournaments
Cascade Cup 2006
I love softball tournaments because...
You can get your picture taken with your team, although, if you're 6'6" you have to stand all the way in the back.
Cubs 2006
Just because it's a competition doesn't mean you have to take yourself seriously.
The groundskeeper for the stadium made sure everything looked beautiful. I watched him the whole day just to make sure he was doing his job.
Trust me. I didn't take my eyes off him.
The drinks at our closing ceremony were very stiff.
Really, really stiff. I'm serious.
My friend Christina won MVP and I think my hair looks really cute in this picture where I'm getting up to hug her.
I'm happy she won, but I'm ecstatic about my hair.
And the number one reason I love softball...
Sunblock
Thanks to Jim for the great photos!
I love softball tournaments because...
You can get your picture taken with your team, although, if you're 6'6" you have to stand all the way in the back.
Cubs 2006
Just because it's a competition doesn't mean you have to take yourself seriously.
The groundskeeper for the stadium made sure everything looked beautiful. I watched him the whole day just to make sure he was doing his job.
Trust me. I didn't take my eyes off him.
The drinks at our closing ceremony were very stiff.
Really, really stiff. I'm serious.
My friend Christina won MVP and I think my hair looks really cute in this picture where I'm getting up to hug her.
I'm happy she won, but I'm ecstatic about my hair.
And the number one reason I love softball...
Sunblock
Thanks to Jim for the great photos!
Monday, July 03, 2006
My Favorite Handshake
I have never enjoyed shaking someone's hand more than the softball player I met on Saturday night.
After our tournament games on Saturday, I was talking to the Toddtender at a softball party held at CC Slaughters, and this cute girl walks up to me and reaches out her hand.
"Hi. You caught the ball I hit into right field today. I was so mad at you. It was the first time I've ever been able to place the ball in right field."
That was such a great moment. All those years I spent being afraid of sports - sure that I had no athletic ability whatsoever. Hell, the whole reason I quit playing flag football in elementary school was because I thought I could never get any better at it. I was asked to join the swim team in high school, but I declined because I thought I'd cause our team to lose every swim meet. I never played basketball because I thought I couldn't learn the rules.
All of it was a lie.
Why do we let ourselves be brainwashed when we're young? Kids take in everything they hear. The world tells them who they are, and children believe it. Gay men face this more than most men, since we're programmed to believe we are not normal or that we aren't real men. Anybody, straight or gay, who has the idea that gay men are "less than" just needs to spend a single Sunday afternoon at the ballpark watching Portland gay softball teams play. I saw some of the studliest guys I've ever seen this weekend, and they were serious athletes. VERY tough competition.
My team didn't place in the tournament, and I know that I have lots of room for improvement. However, I did race to home plate in a rather dramatic moment during one of the games and scored a run for our team. (The opposing team was sure I'd stop at third base, but I surprised them!)
I caught a couple pop flies and even had an umpire tell me, "That was a nice catch you made out there today, sir."
Me?
Yes, me! Shake my hand!
After our tournament games on Saturday, I was talking to the Toddtender at a softball party held at CC Slaughters, and this cute girl walks up to me and reaches out her hand.
"Hi. You caught the ball I hit into right field today. I was so mad at you. It was the first time I've ever been able to place the ball in right field."
That was such a great moment. All those years I spent being afraid of sports - sure that I had no athletic ability whatsoever. Hell, the whole reason I quit playing flag football in elementary school was because I thought I could never get any better at it. I was asked to join the swim team in high school, but I declined because I thought I'd cause our team to lose every swim meet. I never played basketball because I thought I couldn't learn the rules.
All of it was a lie.
Why do we let ourselves be brainwashed when we're young? Kids take in everything they hear. The world tells them who they are, and children believe it. Gay men face this more than most men, since we're programmed to believe we are not normal or that we aren't real men. Anybody, straight or gay, who has the idea that gay men are "less than" just needs to spend a single Sunday afternoon at the ballpark watching Portland gay softball teams play. I saw some of the studliest guys I've ever seen this weekend, and they were serious athletes. VERY tough competition.
My team didn't place in the tournament, and I know that I have lots of room for improvement. However, I did race to home plate in a rather dramatic moment during one of the games and scored a run for our team. (The opposing team was sure I'd stop at third base, but I surprised them!)
I caught a couple pop flies and even had an umpire tell me, "That was a nice catch you made out there today, sir."
Me?
Yes, me! Shake my hand!
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Call Me
Episode #3 of the podcast is now up. In this Episode, Pony pretends to be crippled after my horse, Bunny, throws him off because he whips her. Then Pony makes me do his homework for him, and I feel so guilty until I peek through his window and see him dancing around in his bedroom. Realizing that he's been faking his paralysis, I push him down a hill in his wheelchair, and he flies facedown into a puddle of mud.
Phoebe Tyler Wallingford also faked paralysis in All My Children. Can you think of other characters who faked paralysis? There must be dozens...
Anyway - Todd & Pony Show has a phone number now, so you can call and leave comments for us. The number is listed on our homepage. You can download the podcast through iTunes and other podcatchers. Just click the links on the left side of the page. We have a listing on Podcast Alley as well.
Here are some examples of voice mail messages I would like to receive at our new phone number:
Beep. "Hi Todd & Pony. This is Katie Holmes. Thank you for helping me realize that I'm getting involved in a dangerous cult. I now understand that I have to get away from this group before they destroy my life. I have not signed The Lisa Clause, and now, thanks to the podcast, I never will. Love your show, and keep up the good work!
Beep. "Hello. I am a normal person in a wheelchair, and I wanted to see if Pony would like to get together sometime. I have an electric wheelchair, but I am willing to give it up since Pony has a problem with people who can't walk using devices to assist them in making life easier. Pony, please call me!"
Beep. "Hi, I found Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven by googling 'Toaster Oven Lunches', and I wanted to say that I am shocked by this very homosexual website. Is it too much to ask for a website called 'Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven' to actually publish some nice recipes for toaster oven ham and cheese sandwiches or tiny quiches? Instead I have to read about Blonde Asian Bodybuilders and Salsa massages and other extremely homosexual topics! I'm very alarmed."
Beep. "Dude, I am the guy with blue eyes who passed you in the doorway of CC Slaughters on PRIDE weekend. I'm sorry I haven't called sooner, but I was spending some time in my vacation home in Dalarna, Sweden, and then I had my wrestling tournament. (I won.) But now I have some free time. I feel really drawn to you, but I'm worried that you won't like me because I have this embarrassing hobby. See, I play this online game called 'World of Warcraft', and I love it so much. I don't know if you could ever date somebody like that, but if you think you could live with it, please call. I love you, Toddy."
Beep. "Hello, Todd & Pony. This is Alison Arngrim, better known to many as mean Nellie Oleson. I would like to be on your show sometime. I don't know if you would really want me to be on, though. See, I play this online game called 'World of Warcraft', and I love it so much. If you could ever have someone like that as a guest on your show, please call."
Phoebe Tyler Wallingford also faked paralysis in All My Children. Can you think of other characters who faked paralysis? There must be dozens...
Anyway - Todd & Pony Show has a phone number now, so you can call and leave comments for us. The number is listed on our homepage. You can download the podcast through iTunes and other podcatchers. Just click the links on the left side of the page. We have a listing on Podcast Alley as well.
Here are some examples of voice mail messages I would like to receive at our new phone number:
Beep. "Hi Todd & Pony. This is Katie Holmes. Thank you for helping me realize that I'm getting involved in a dangerous cult. I now understand that I have to get away from this group before they destroy my life. I have not signed The Lisa Clause, and now, thanks to the podcast, I never will. Love your show, and keep up the good work!
Beep. "Hello. I am a normal person in a wheelchair, and I wanted to see if Pony would like to get together sometime. I have an electric wheelchair, but I am willing to give it up since Pony has a problem with people who can't walk using devices to assist them in making life easier. Pony, please call me!"
Beep. "Hi, I found Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven by googling 'Toaster Oven Lunches', and I wanted to say that I am shocked by this very homosexual website. Is it too much to ask for a website called 'Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven' to actually publish some nice recipes for toaster oven ham and cheese sandwiches or tiny quiches? Instead I have to read about Blonde Asian Bodybuilders and Salsa massages and other extremely homosexual topics! I'm very alarmed."
Beep. "Dude, I am the guy with blue eyes who passed you in the doorway of CC Slaughters on PRIDE weekend. I'm sorry I haven't called sooner, but I was spending some time in my vacation home in Dalarna, Sweden, and then I had my wrestling tournament. (I won.) But now I have some free time. I feel really drawn to you, but I'm worried that you won't like me because I have this embarrassing hobby. See, I play this online game called 'World of Warcraft', and I love it so much. I don't know if you could ever date somebody like that, but if you think you could live with it, please call. I love you, Toddy."
Beep. "Hello, Todd & Pony. This is Alison Arngrim, better known to many as mean Nellie Oleson. I would like to be on your show sometime. I don't know if you would really want me to be on, though. See, I play this online game called 'World of Warcraft', and I love it so much. If you could ever have someone like that as a guest on your show, please call."
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Gay Games Tickets
I just received word that tickets for the Gay Games Opening and Closing ceremonies have been discounted 10%. Visit the link if you plan on attending and haven't yet purchased your tickets.
"Guests for the ceremonies include Cyndi Lauper, Megan Mullally, Margaret Cho, Jody Watley, Kate Clinton, Kristine W, DJ Frankie Knuckles, BETTY and, just announced, Erasure's Andy Bell."
I never thought I'd see Jody Watley once in my life, let alone twice in one summer. Jody performed at the PRIDE block party this year in downtown Portland.
I'll be leaving for Chicago in just a little over two weeks, and I'm feeling totally unprepared. Financially, I'm about to plunge myself into some serious debt. But I figured that attending the games will be one of the most memorable experiences in my life.
I'm going to pack all my magazines (Poets & Writers, Details) and a couple books I have been meaning to finish (No Plot? No Problem! How to Write a Novel in 30 Days). I'm going to relax on the shores of Lake Michigan, and I'm going to sit at a cafe for two hours and watch people. I'll visit the museums and eat at some great restaurants and meet new friends. And I'll do it all without a boyfriend. Yay me.
This trip is a gift I am giving myself to celebrate the man I've become since that guy I was in love with broke my heart. I now have a new love, and it's me. I am becoming the man I would like to date instead of seeking him somewhere else.
"Guests for the ceremonies include Cyndi Lauper, Megan Mullally, Margaret Cho, Jody Watley, Kate Clinton, Kristine W, DJ Frankie Knuckles, BETTY and, just announced, Erasure's Andy Bell."
I never thought I'd see Jody Watley once in my life, let alone twice in one summer. Jody performed at the PRIDE block party this year in downtown Portland.
I'll be leaving for Chicago in just a little over two weeks, and I'm feeling totally unprepared. Financially, I'm about to plunge myself into some serious debt. But I figured that attending the games will be one of the most memorable experiences in my life.
I'm going to pack all my magazines (Poets & Writers, Details) and a couple books I have been meaning to finish (No Plot? No Problem! How to Write a Novel in 30 Days). I'm going to relax on the shores of Lake Michigan, and I'm going to sit at a cafe for two hours and watch people. I'll visit the museums and eat at some great restaurants and meet new friends. And I'll do it all without a boyfriend. Yay me.
This trip is a gift I am giving myself to celebrate the man I've become since that guy I was in love with broke my heart. I now have a new love, and it's me. I am becoming the man I would like to date instead of seeking him somewhere else.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Thirsty
On Thursday at work I was really thirsty. It was about 3:00 in the afternoon, and I didn't have any change to buy a bottle of water from the machine downstairs. We don't have a water cooler.
I knew that if I went to CC Slaughters I could use my debit card to buy water. So I just left the office early and put a post-it note on my computer monitor that said "Thirsty"
It is Sunday morning at 8:50. I'm off to play with balls now!
(I think it is supposed to be hot today. Like, Africa hot. Ugh.)
I knew that if I went to CC Slaughters I could use my debit card to buy water. So I just left the office early and put a post-it note on my computer monitor that said "Thirsty"
It is Sunday morning at 8:50. I'm off to play with balls now!
(I think it is supposed to be hot today. Like, Africa hot. Ugh.)
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Octopus Boobs
Todd & Pony Show #2 is up at our website. I think our second show was much more cohesive and fun. We're starting to relax. The only thing missing now is a hefty dose of medication for my Attention Deficit Disorder.
Now, I know that I struggle constantly to keep my mind focused, but it is so strange to actually hear what I sound like when I'm having an ADD moment. Hearing this show helped me to understand what it must be like for my friends when they attempt to have a conversation with me. One example of this is when Pony and I were talking during the show about a guy I saw at the bar. We were like two ships passing in the night.
One minute Pony and I were discussing the idea of placing a personal ad in an attempt to find this guy, and the next minute I began talking about talent agents. This sort of thing happened several times in the podcast. Linear thinkers will probably hate listening to Todd & Pony Show, but I think people who enjoy hearing about Octopus boobs and being murdered in your sleep in the course of 60 minutes will be delighted.
Now, I know that I struggle constantly to keep my mind focused, but it is so strange to actually hear what I sound like when I'm having an ADD moment. Hearing this show helped me to understand what it must be like for my friends when they attempt to have a conversation with me. One example of this is when Pony and I were talking during the show about a guy I saw at the bar. We were like two ships passing in the night.
One minute Pony and I were discussing the idea of placing a personal ad in an attempt to find this guy, and the next minute I began talking about talent agents. This sort of thing happened several times in the podcast. Linear thinkers will probably hate listening to Todd & Pony Show, but I think people who enjoy hearing about Octopus boobs and being murdered in your sleep in the course of 60 minutes will be delighted.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Open Letter to Pride Guy #2
Dear Volkswagen,
You have been a recurring character at Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven since last fall when I spoke to you for the first time. You've confused the hell out of me for several months. At Pride you told me that you are moving away this week. Looks like our bizarre story may be coming to a close.
We met while I was still with Thor...
September 9, 2005
All of a sudden, I saw him. The guy in the Superman shirt. He wasn't actually wearing the Superman shirt at the time, but I recognized him from a bout of lust I experienced several months earlier when he had the big S on his chest and his arms begged to be groped. He is muscular and has Mario Lopez dimples. His arms are round and bulging, and his chest is firm. He is built sort of like a Volkswagen.
After we spoke for a few moments, the VW began touching me. Lightly at first, and then rubbing my back, and then reaching for more personal areas. The VW quickly figured out that I have a thing for biceps. Maybe it is because I kept glancing at his biteable arms. As I told VW about my boyfriend, he flexed for me and let me feel his rock-hard muscles. I muttered to myself, "Thor, Thor, Thor, Thor, Thor...", but I kept squeezing those smooth tan arms. He opened his shirt and I felt his chest. I knew I was going to be in trouble if I kept this up.
Well, I turned you down that night. I wonder what I would have done if I'd known what would eventually happen between Thor and me. Probably still said no, because I loved him so much it made my heart ache.
I was invited to the VW's home for a private viewing of his assets. I declined. He moved toward me to kiss me. I turned my head away. A friend remarked that I was sweating heavily. Auburn Pisces mouthed the words, "Do you need rescuing?" I shook my head.
In spite of the fact that I had a boyfriend, I thought about your big arms a lot and wondered what it would be like to wake up with those enormous pythons next to me in bed.
VW wasn't discouraged by my talking about Thor. He continued with his attentions even after I showed him a picture on my cell phone of Thor and I kissing. "So, you can just call me Thor," he said.
"I'm in love with the man, not the name," I answered.
After Thor told me he no longer wanted me to call him, I found myself unable to move on, even though I still thought about what it would be like to sleep with you. You continued asking me to sleep over, but by then I had learned so much more about you. Like the fact that you practically go door-to-door asking guys to hook up with you. Once I learn that I'm not "special", I kind of lose interest. So I declined your offers of intimacy several more times.
November 30, 2005
I'm trying. Really, I am. I don't want to sit around and mope. I don't want to hurt anymore. I agreed to go on a date with a certain Volkswagen. Actually, he invited me to sleep with him, but I insisted on dinner and a movie.
One night, you extended another invitation to your bed. You caught me after a few too many buckets of Makers Mark, and I said that I would go home with you. You seemed so surprised. So we finished our drinks, and when I said I was ready to go, you decided you were too tired. This was incredibly strange to me. The only explanation I could come up with was that you just wanted to experience the thrill of the hunt, but you are more of a "catch and release" kind of guy.
This weekend at Pride, you popped into CC Slaughters just moments before I met the Airborne Ranger. You're lucky you showed up when you did. Had you arrived a few minutes later, I would have been too busy climbing on top of my military man to even notice you.
"I'm moving to Washington," you told me.
"When?" I asked.
"This Thursday. So I think we should go back to my place and have sex RIGHT NOW," you replied charmingly.
I changed the subject by asking if you were moving for work. "Yes," you replied. Then I let you know I wouldn't be going home with you, and we parted ways. I guess my instincts are getting better, because yesterday my friends asked you why you were moving, and you said it was to be with your boyfriend of several months. Funny how that didn't come up when you were inviting me over for wild sex.
Volkswagen, I may lick my lips when I think of your biceps, but I shall always roll my eyes when I think of your character.
You have been a recurring character at Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven since last fall when I spoke to you for the first time. You've confused the hell out of me for several months. At Pride you told me that you are moving away this week. Looks like our bizarre story may be coming to a close.
We met while I was still with Thor...
September 9, 2005
All of a sudden, I saw him. The guy in the Superman shirt. He wasn't actually wearing the Superman shirt at the time, but I recognized him from a bout of lust I experienced several months earlier when he had the big S on his chest and his arms begged to be groped. He is muscular and has Mario Lopez dimples. His arms are round and bulging, and his chest is firm. He is built sort of like a Volkswagen.
After we spoke for a few moments, the VW began touching me. Lightly at first, and then rubbing my back, and then reaching for more personal areas. The VW quickly figured out that I have a thing for biceps. Maybe it is because I kept glancing at his biteable arms. As I told VW about my boyfriend, he flexed for me and let me feel his rock-hard muscles. I muttered to myself, "Thor, Thor, Thor, Thor, Thor...", but I kept squeezing those smooth tan arms. He opened his shirt and I felt his chest. I knew I was going to be in trouble if I kept this up.
Well, I turned you down that night. I wonder what I would have done if I'd known what would eventually happen between Thor and me. Probably still said no, because I loved him so much it made my heart ache.
I was invited to the VW's home for a private viewing of his assets. I declined. He moved toward me to kiss me. I turned my head away. A friend remarked that I was sweating heavily. Auburn Pisces mouthed the words, "Do you need rescuing?" I shook my head.
In spite of the fact that I had a boyfriend, I thought about your big arms a lot and wondered what it would be like to wake up with those enormous pythons next to me in bed.
VW wasn't discouraged by my talking about Thor. He continued with his attentions even after I showed him a picture on my cell phone of Thor and I kissing. "So, you can just call me Thor," he said.
"I'm in love with the man, not the name," I answered.
After Thor told me he no longer wanted me to call him, I found myself unable to move on, even though I still thought about what it would be like to sleep with you. You continued asking me to sleep over, but by then I had learned so much more about you. Like the fact that you practically go door-to-door asking guys to hook up with you. Once I learn that I'm not "special", I kind of lose interest. So I declined your offers of intimacy several more times.
November 30, 2005
I'm trying. Really, I am. I don't want to sit around and mope. I don't want to hurt anymore. I agreed to go on a date with a certain Volkswagen. Actually, he invited me to sleep with him, but I insisted on dinner and a movie.
One night, you extended another invitation to your bed. You caught me after a few too many buckets of Makers Mark, and I said that I would go home with you. You seemed so surprised. So we finished our drinks, and when I said I was ready to go, you decided you were too tired. This was incredibly strange to me. The only explanation I could come up with was that you just wanted to experience the thrill of the hunt, but you are more of a "catch and release" kind of guy.
This weekend at Pride, you popped into CC Slaughters just moments before I met the Airborne Ranger. You're lucky you showed up when you did. Had you arrived a few minutes later, I would have been too busy climbing on top of my military man to even notice you.
"I'm moving to Washington," you told me.
"When?" I asked.
"This Thursday. So I think we should go back to my place and have sex RIGHT NOW," you replied charmingly.
I changed the subject by asking if you were moving for work. "Yes," you replied. Then I let you know I wouldn't be going home with you, and we parted ways. I guess my instincts are getting better, because yesterday my friends asked you why you were moving, and you said it was to be with your boyfriend of several months. Funny how that didn't come up when you were inviting me over for wild sex.
Volkswagen, I may lick my lips when I think of your biceps, but I shall always roll my eyes when I think of your character.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
V for Vacuous
This morning I checked iTunes to see if Todd & Pony Show was listed, and here it is. You can actually go to iTunes Music Store and search Todd & Pony to download our podcast (and maybe, if you feel like it, give us a review?)
Last night we recorded show #2, and Pony is editing that right now. It should be up in the next couple days. The second show will be better. We had an actual outline this time and were much more relaxed during our recording session. I am having so much fun, but my mistakes, as you all know from reading all about my "Ford Tundra" on this blog, are frequent. (In comments, Karen pointed out that Airborne Rangers are Army guys, not Air Force. So yesterday's post was chock full of misconception!)
In the podcast we recorded last night, I said that I was going to see a movie this week with Zeroes. The movie I am going to see does not, in fact, exist. I said that we were going to see V is for Vigilance. The movie is actually called V for Vendetta.
I did find some interesting sermon notes about V is for Vigilance, though, so maybe I will pretend that I meant to say Zeroes and I were going to church together instead of going to a movie. I don't know if anybody will buy that.
Zeroes is an amazing friend, and I'm lucky to have him. Sunday night we had a very moving talk about integrity, and he touched my heart with what he shared. He wrote more about that subject in his blog. It makes me sad when people do not value his gifts, intelligence and wonderful heart. I, for one, consider him a person worthy of looking up to for inspiration.
Last night we recorded show #2, and Pony is editing that right now. It should be up in the next couple days. The second show will be better. We had an actual outline this time and were much more relaxed during our recording session. I am having so much fun, but my mistakes, as you all know from reading all about my "Ford Tundra" on this blog, are frequent. (In comments, Karen pointed out that Airborne Rangers are Army guys, not Air Force. So yesterday's post was chock full of misconception!)
In the podcast we recorded last night, I said that I was going to see a movie this week with Zeroes. The movie I am going to see does not, in fact, exist. I said that we were going to see V is for Vigilance. The movie is actually called V for Vendetta.
I did find some interesting sermon notes about V is for Vigilance, though, so maybe I will pretend that I meant to say Zeroes and I were going to church together instead of going to a movie. I don't know if anybody will buy that.
Zeroes is an amazing friend, and I'm lucky to have him. Sunday night we had a very moving talk about integrity, and he touched my heart with what he shared. He wrote more about that subject in his blog. It makes me sad when people do not value his gifts, intelligence and wonderful heart. I, for one, consider him a person worthy of looking up to for inspiration.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Open Letter to Pride Guy #1
Dear Airborne Ranger:
You were the highlight of PRIDE this year. When I saw you on stage wearing your Air Force uniform, I didn't even recognize you. The last time I was close to you, we shared a goodnight kiss on the couch at a gay men's retreat last fall. Then, yesterday, you popped back into my life. You stood on stage with the keynote speaker as she delivered her opening address. You were so handsome in your uniform. No, you were dashing. That's a word I don't use often, but it certainly applies to you.
Later, when I was walking around the festival with my friend Juju, you stopped me and ordered me to hand you my cell phone so that you could put your number in it. Being ordered around by a man in uniform is right up my alley, and I had the biggest smile on my face when you and I parted ways.
Imagine my surprise when you showed up at CC Slaughters last night (still wearing that sexy uniform!) and glued yourself to my side. I enjoyed tasting your lips over and over again, and I especially liked when you told me to feel your biceps through your uniform shirt. Yum.
While feeling your chest muscles and squeezing your arms and kissing your lips, I felt like I was on fire. I haven't been that aroused in a long, long time. You said that I was an amazing kisser, and you told me I was turning you on so much that you could barely handle it. So, when you asked me to come back to your place, I gave in and said that I would, even though I promised myself a few months back that those days of hooking up were over.
A few minutes later you brought a little friend over to our table, and I was confused. You began cuddling with him and holding his hand, and I knew that plans had changed. I felt very self-righteous and very wronged. When you told me that you liked us both and couldn't decide what to do, I almost threw up on your shiny black shoes. Come on, what were you thinking? Did you think maybe I would fight this skinny little kid for the right to sleep with you in some sort of reality show bullshit competition like "The Bachelor"?
I composed this awesome post in my head about how you lacked integrity and how you were a liar. Your actions were totally inappropriate, and I planned on bashing you with every keystroke as I spewed forth my anger. You led me on. How dare you - - um...
How dare you decide that - well - I mean....
Then it occurred to me.
Oh. I'm just disappointed that I didn't get laid.
Huh.
Okay, so you don't lack integrity, and you're not a jerk, and I don't hate you. You decided to take somebody else home instead. But I think you missed out on a pretty good time. And I think he was kinda gross and that you made a mistake.
I mean, if you thought I was a good kisser, you should see some of my other skills. Guess you'll never get to taste my pancakes.
You were the highlight of PRIDE this year. When I saw you on stage wearing your Air Force uniform, I didn't even recognize you. The last time I was close to you, we shared a goodnight kiss on the couch at a gay men's retreat last fall. Then, yesterday, you popped back into my life. You stood on stage with the keynote speaker as she delivered her opening address. You were so handsome in your uniform. No, you were dashing. That's a word I don't use often, but it certainly applies to you.
Later, when I was walking around the festival with my friend Juju, you stopped me and ordered me to hand you my cell phone so that you could put your number in it. Being ordered around by a man in uniform is right up my alley, and I had the biggest smile on my face when you and I parted ways.
Imagine my surprise when you showed up at CC Slaughters last night (still wearing that sexy uniform!) and glued yourself to my side. I enjoyed tasting your lips over and over again, and I especially liked when you told me to feel your biceps through your uniform shirt. Yum.
While feeling your chest muscles and squeezing your arms and kissing your lips, I felt like I was on fire. I haven't been that aroused in a long, long time. You said that I was an amazing kisser, and you told me I was turning you on so much that you could barely handle it. So, when you asked me to come back to your place, I gave in and said that I would, even though I promised myself a few months back that those days of hooking up were over.
A few minutes later you brought a little friend over to our table, and I was confused. You began cuddling with him and holding his hand, and I knew that plans had changed. I felt very self-righteous and very wronged. When you told me that you liked us both and couldn't decide what to do, I almost threw up on your shiny black shoes. Come on, what were you thinking? Did you think maybe I would fight this skinny little kid for the right to sleep with you in some sort of reality show bullshit competition like "The Bachelor"?
I composed this awesome post in my head about how you lacked integrity and how you were a liar. Your actions were totally inappropriate, and I planned on bashing you with every keystroke as I spewed forth my anger. You led me on. How dare you - - um...
How dare you decide that - well - I mean....
Then it occurred to me.
Oh. I'm just disappointed that I didn't get laid.
Huh.
Okay, so you don't lack integrity, and you're not a jerk, and I don't hate you. You decided to take somebody else home instead. But I think you missed out on a pretty good time. And I think he was kinda gross and that you made a mistake.
I mean, if you thought I was a good kisser, you should see some of my other skills. Guess you'll never get to taste my pancakes.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Todd & Pony Show
What a busy week! Many wonderful things have happened (let's just say the Kissing Bandit reappeared at CC Slaughters this week. My lips were very active.) The most exciting news is that a special top-secret project I've been working on with Pony has finally come to fruition.
Welcome to a real Todd & Pony Show. We're two very different men with varied backgrounds. We're almost exactly 10 years apart in age. We have completely different interests and viewpoints, yet we get along famously. Maybe that is why we enjoy collaborative work so much.
I hope you enjoy the podcast. I promise it will only get better. We need your feedback and your advice. Show ideas are welcome!
Welcome to a real Todd & Pony Show. We're two very different men with varied backgrounds. We're almost exactly 10 years apart in age. We have completely different interests and viewpoints, yet we get along famously. Maybe that is why we enjoy collaborative work so much.
I hope you enjoy the podcast. I promise it will only get better. We need your feedback and your advice. Show ideas are welcome!
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Where's My Parade?
A friend asked me the other day why homosexuals felt the need to have a parade every year. The Gay Pride celebrations happening all over the world this month might suggest to some that we are being a tad bit aggressive. People tend to like their gays and their women passive, after all. I mean, why do we have to flaunt our lifestyle? Shouldn't we "tone it down a bit" and make everyone more comfortable? You know, the way all those straight kids at school made us feel so comfortable all those years?
I've heard it said more than once, "Why do gay people parade their sexuality? Where's my heterosexual parade?" I guess my answer, in a nutshell, would be this: Parades, albeit a bitch to organize, are not exclusively gay. Anyone can have a parade. (Remember to put the horses in the back.) Now, while your straight parade will most likely not have quite as much, um, color, as a gay parade, I'm sure it could be very nice. I imagine it would be like The Superbowl, only mobile. Please feel free to have a parade if you'd like. After all, other than equal rights for homosexuals, it's a free country!
Honestly, I want a parade, because I need one. I need a parade because I hid myself from the world for over twenty years of my life. While other boys my age were "parading" their crushes on Farrah Fawcett and Cindy Crawford, I was sneaking glances at John Schneider's shirtless torso in teen magazines at the grocery store while checking over my shoulder to make sure nobody saw me.
When my friends paraded their boyfriends and girlfriends through the halls in junior high school, I was in the locker room concentrating hard on keeping my eyes straight ahead, making sure not to steal a glance at Jimmy Nixon as he undressed next to me.
While girls in study hall wrote love notes to hunky football players, I wrote my effeminate friend a note saying I didn't want to hang out anymore. Being seen with him might cause people to perceive me as a fag. Not wanting to be guilty by association, I chose to hide the fact that Mark was my friend. Until he no longer was my friend.
When other kids were going to prom and football games and sending valentines to their first loves, I was postponing my first love for later in life, age 29, when I finally felt brave enough to be honest.
I don't just need a parade. I deserve a parade. Every gay person who spent even one day telling lies or pretending to be straight deserves a parade. Anyone who hid in that suffocating closet of self-hatred deserves a parade. See, our parade says, whether you want to watch it or not, we are finished hiding and being ashamed and choking on our own homophobia. We are, after all, learning to accept not only ourselves, but one another. Gay men are learning to accept transsexuals, who, in turn, are learning to accept lesbians. Butch men and women are learning to accept flamboyant twinks. Latino Bears are learning to accept Asian Polyamorous Moms. Drag Queens are - well, they are just busy making fun of everybody. But that's why we love them.
Just like every year, my tears of pride will begin falling the minute the parade begins. They'll start streaming down my cheeks as soon as I hear those Dykes on Bikes rev up their motorcycles, and they won't stop until the very last PFLAG mom who loves her gay son passes by me. And in my heart, I'll say, "There's MY parade."
I've heard it said more than once, "Why do gay people parade their sexuality? Where's my heterosexual parade?" I guess my answer, in a nutshell, would be this: Parades, albeit a bitch to organize, are not exclusively gay. Anyone can have a parade. (Remember to put the horses in the back.) Now, while your straight parade will most likely not have quite as much, um, color, as a gay parade, I'm sure it could be very nice. I imagine it would be like The Superbowl, only mobile. Please feel free to have a parade if you'd like. After all, other than equal rights for homosexuals, it's a free country!
Honestly, I want a parade, because I need one. I need a parade because I hid myself from the world for over twenty years of my life. While other boys my age were "parading" their crushes on Farrah Fawcett and Cindy Crawford, I was sneaking glances at John Schneider's shirtless torso in teen magazines at the grocery store while checking over my shoulder to make sure nobody saw me.
When my friends paraded their boyfriends and girlfriends through the halls in junior high school, I was in the locker room concentrating hard on keeping my eyes straight ahead, making sure not to steal a glance at Jimmy Nixon as he undressed next to me.
While girls in study hall wrote love notes to hunky football players, I wrote my effeminate friend a note saying I didn't want to hang out anymore. Being seen with him might cause people to perceive me as a fag. Not wanting to be guilty by association, I chose to hide the fact that Mark was my friend. Until he no longer was my friend.
When other kids were going to prom and football games and sending valentines to their first loves, I was postponing my first love for later in life, age 29, when I finally felt brave enough to be honest.
I don't just need a parade. I deserve a parade. Every gay person who spent even one day telling lies or pretending to be straight deserves a parade. Anyone who hid in that suffocating closet of self-hatred deserves a parade. See, our parade says, whether you want to watch it or not, we are finished hiding and being ashamed and choking on our own homophobia. We are, after all, learning to accept not only ourselves, but one another. Gay men are learning to accept transsexuals, who, in turn, are learning to accept lesbians. Butch men and women are learning to accept flamboyant twinks. Latino Bears are learning to accept Asian Polyamorous Moms. Drag Queens are - well, they are just busy making fun of everybody. But that's why we love them.
Just like every year, my tears of pride will begin falling the minute the parade begins. They'll start streaming down my cheeks as soon as I hear those Dykes on Bikes rev up their motorcycles, and they won't stop until the very last PFLAG mom who loves her gay son passes by me. And in my heart, I'll say, "There's MY parade."
Monday, June 12, 2006
Best Gay Pride EVER!
So, if all the "Christians" leave the Portland area to escape the earthquake and tsunami God is sending as judgment against our Gay Pride, does that mean we'll finally be able to celebrate who we are without all the "God Hates Fags" signs?
I'll help you pack.
I'll help you pack.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Open Letter to Natasha Bedingfield
Dear Natasha Bedingfield -
It has been quite a week, Natasha Bedingfield. I devoted the whole week to talking about you, and I only got sidetracked once or twice. (Something about bagels and throwing up and getting "over-kissed" at CC's and almost throwing up.)
I just wanted to write and tell you how much I love your song, The One That Got Away. I have lots of ones that got away, and each and every one of them was my soulmate and life partner. I can relate to your song, especially when you talk about how "nobody needs another stalker in your life". Although that statement is horribly incorrect, grammatically speaking, I believe the sentiment holds true. One or two stalkers might be manageable, but if one has too many stalkers things can get hectic. I mean, my home only has so many windows. I couldn't possibly accommodate more than three or four stalkers unless they worked in shifts.
Anyway, I think one of the reasons I love you so much is that you're foreign. Sometimes foreign can be a bad thing, like when you have a foreign object stuck in your throat, but you make foreign a good thing. People from other countries are so cool to me, because I grew up in the most boring part of the United States - the Midwest. In Missouri, everyone speaks with a "tapioca" accent. While this makes us good radio announcers and game show hosts, we don't have much to offer in the way of "flava". You have that cool accent that makes everything you say sound great. Even when you say things like, "nobody needs another stalker in your life".
I want you to know that these words are my own. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. That's all I have to say. I can't think of a better way. I love you, is that okay?
Oh, and one more thing. Can I have your brother's phone number please? So I can "ring him up"?
It has been quite a week, Natasha Bedingfield. I devoted the whole week to talking about you, and I only got sidetracked once or twice. (Something about bagels and throwing up and getting "over-kissed" at CC's and almost throwing up.)
I just wanted to write and tell you how much I love your song, The One That Got Away. I have lots of ones that got away, and each and every one of them was my soulmate and life partner. I can relate to your song, especially when you talk about how "nobody needs another stalker in your life". Although that statement is horribly incorrect, grammatically speaking, I believe the sentiment holds true. One or two stalkers might be manageable, but if one has too many stalkers things can get hectic. I mean, my home only has so many windows. I couldn't possibly accommodate more than three or four stalkers unless they worked in shifts.
Anyway, I think one of the reasons I love you so much is that you're foreign. Sometimes foreign can be a bad thing, like when you have a foreign object stuck in your throat, but you make foreign a good thing. People from other countries are so cool to me, because I grew up in the most boring part of the United States - the Midwest. In Missouri, everyone speaks with a "tapioca" accent. While this makes us good radio announcers and game show hosts, we don't have much to offer in the way of "flava". You have that cool accent that makes everything you say sound great. Even when you say things like, "nobody needs another stalker in your life".
I want you to know that these words are my own. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. That's all I have to say. I can't think of a better way. I love you, is that okay?
Oh, and one more thing. Can I have your brother's phone number please? So I can "ring him up"?
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