I'd like to invite them all over for the weekend

Am I in pain? Yup. Well okay, it's really just down to a dull ache. As long as I don't move, I feel just fine. I saw the doctor, who wanted to prescribe a course of steriods. While the idea of bulking up is appealing, I know it's just a ten day thing. I have taken them before and I don't like my mood swings during that time, so I politely declined. Anti-inflammatories are your friend!

Positive things have come out of my injury. I am being coddled. You-Know-Who is feeling extremely guilty, since the whole thing was his idea. And I don't have to help him move this weekend. That's almost worth the pain! He cleaned my house and did my laundry too. I would keep him just for that alone! Okay typing hurts so I thought I would share an article with you from our local rag. I agree with their list whole-heartedly, and would love to have any one of them over to nurse me through my injury!

His character may be lost, but Josh Holloway has been discovered.

In Touch Weekly has crowned Holloway, 36, who portrays con man Sawyer on ABC's Emmy-winning hit series Lost, TV's "hottest hunk."

The magazine, in an issue on newsstands Friday, also gives props to Holloway's castmate Matthew Fox, who plays Jack. Fox came in ninth among the top 10 good-looking guys.

Lost co-star Evangeline Lilly describes Holloway as "the guy who opens doors, carries the bags for women, and makes sure they feel protected. It's a very endearing quality."

Second on the studly list is John Stamos of ABC's Jake in Progress and formerly of Full House.

Also on the list: Jared Padalecki from Supernatural, David Boreanaz (Bones), Wentworth Miller (Prison Break'), Eddie Cibrian (Invasion), Patrick Dempsey (Grey's Anatomy), Shemar Moore (Criminal Minds) and Tom Welling (Smallville).

(c) 2006, The Philadelphia Inquirer.

Broken

What didn't I do this weekend? I attended no cultural events. I did not hang out with the popular, the famous, nor the fabulous crowd. I did not spend the weekend in all the best clubs to be seen, or to dance. I did not have amazingly kinky, amazingly vanilla, nor amazingly mind-blowing sex with two, three, four, or a room full of people. I did not go sky-diving, nor DJ, nor travel to an exotic local. I did not see Jake Gyllenhaal naked (shameless search engine seeding which I stole from someone else, sorry).

So what did I do this past weekend? Since Thursday, all of my time has been involved with what I do for a living. I was writing code. Fabulously exciting, no? Well to most of you no, but I am a geek and I get a real rush out of it. It's what I love to do and I get a real sense of creativity and accomplishment. I have often spent hours and hours at home slaving over code.

So that's what I did this weekend. Until Sunday. When the BF said it was time to get off of my ass (and that is a direct quote) and do something physical. Of course I thought that meant that the shades would be closed, candles lit, and Barry White on the cd player. I should know better by now. He didn't tell me what he had planned, but he told me just to throw on jeans and a t-shirt, and off we went. To the park. Where his friends were. Playing football.

For the first half hour or so I was actually having fun. It felt good to be out, and getting fresh air. And being around a lot of testosterone was doing wonders for my psyche. Until I made the mistake. I caught the ball. I started to instinctively run. I was on top of the world. I had the ball and I was the star receiver heading down the field for an amazing touchdown. I knew exactly what little victory dance I was going to do once I crossed the line that was our makeshift goal. I could hear the roar of the crowd as I ran! I was pumped! I was in The Zone! I was knocked unconscious.

I'm going to spare you the agonizing details of what it feels like to not be able to breathe. Nor am I going to explain the excruciating pain it is to have your shoulder put back into its socket.

There I am, feeling the closest to death I have ever come and survived, not sure if I should throw up everything I have eaten in the last 24 hours, or whether to just pass out from pain and exhaustion. And one of his friends, one of his early-twenties-friends, says loud enough for me to hear, "I hope I'm never in that bad shape when I get old like him".

If I had had the strength, it would have been justifiable homicide.

Karma

Thank you all for the comments on the last post. Quite honestly, I didn't even hesitate on what I did. I deleted the voicemail. I had long ago removed his number from my phone. And afterwards, I thought about the second option. For a while now.

I think Moby really hit it (No I mean my feelings about the issue, not the guy, although I did want to hit it at the time). Here's what he said:

option 1. You don't need the drama in your life and calling him would only (serve) to create drama. You also keep your karma intact by not being ugly while giving him a dose of his own medicine at the same time.

Should he call again, politely advise him, you've moved on and the moment has been more than lost. Politely say goodbye after asking him not to call you again.

I'm a closet buddhist in spirit. When Kirk died, I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to live better. I am not always perfect. Hell, I am rarely perfect. But I don't beat myself up over it. I try to keep my Karma clean, my chi clean, and my house clean. And much as I want to, as Jen would say, rip him several new assholes, I can't. It's just not my style.

But when I was a young strapping lad working in the clubs, drama was my Mamma. Boy am I glad those days are long gone.

There are quite a few guys like that guy out there. Unfortunately. I pray that none of you have to deal with them. I've always been a magnet for bad boys, jerks, controllers, and users. But now I've found a prince. And I truly believe it's because I changed myself.

For that guy that called I just truly have one thing to say. Karma can be a mean bitch. But I'm not. Anymore.

Lessons

So you meet a guy. And this guy seems rather nice (doesn't act like a serial killer). He has a nice job (can support himself). And a deep voice (mmmm). And is wearing a regular ol' tshirt and jeans when you meet (not pretentious).

He asks you out. You agree. Dinner. He asks you to pick the place. You respond by asking him to surprise you with the place of his choice (so you can gauge his personality).

He picks you up (in a non-pretentious middle class car) and you go to a medium-scale restaurant (not exactly thrifty, but not egotistical either). Dinner is great, and he is a fantastic conversationlist, always steering the conversation back to you and not dwelling on himself, but also not avoiding anything you ask. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, and when you come back, he has payed the check (oh his mamma taught him well). Dinner is over, and he suggests going somewhere for coffee and/or dessert. You agree. The check comes and you insist on paying (because you mamma taught you well). And after, the evening ends as you choose, with him dropping you off. He asks, I repeat he asks, if he can kiss you goodnight. And you do. And it is good. It is very good.

The next day: He. Calls. You. (the man has style) to tell you what a great time he had, and asks you out again for a movie. You agree. He pays for the tickets, you buy the popcorn. He grabs, and holds, your hand during the movie. Coffee after the movie, and then home. You kiss again. With a little more fervor, but not a "could you check my DNA while you're in there" kind of kiss.

You talk on the phone at least once a day for the next two weeks, and you go out again. This time dinner, movie, and drinks. Ending with kissing and exploration.

Again you talk the next day, and several days after that. You make tentative but not firm plans for the weekend. And you call him. You leave a message. That he doesn't return. So you call again the next day. You leave a message. That he doesn't return. You repeat this two more times over the next two days. And then after a waiting period of several days, you repeat this again. And then you stop. He never returns your phone call.

A year and a half later, you check your cell phone and there is a message from a number you don't recognize. The voice on the message immediately brings back memories. And he says he has been thinking about you, and would like to go out.

And which of the following would you do, and which do you think I did?

1. Delete the message, and not return his call.
2. Call him and leave a message that would make leather men blush, explaining what he could do with his cellphone and your number, which includes the arm that is holding it. You remind him of his lineage which resembles a family tree with only one branch. And explain to him that if he were the only other man on earth besides yourself, you would still cut off his penis and feed it to pirhannas. One piece at a time. And other things that I am too polite to mention in print.

You're my Obsession

In Friday's post I mentioned that I really like the Chronic(what)cles of Narnia video from Saturday Night Live. According to that other guy that hangs out with me all the time, I am obsessed with it. But it got me to thinking, what really are my obsessions and how do I end up getting them?

I also mentioned that I have adult-onset ADD. Now I don't know if there is such a thing, but I have noticed that the older I get, the less focused I am on one specific thing at a time. And at the same time, there are certain things that I repeat over and over. But not in an OCD kind of a way. Like the video/song. I can play it over and over and be quite happy.

So is my ADD that's not OCD being outed by a WMV from SNL?

And just what are the things I obsess about anyway? Other than Steve Sandvoss. There's something I could repeat over and over with him let me tell you! But I digress.

So what are your obsessions? What can't you get enough of (other than the obvious)?

I think in stereo

We interrupt today's post for a public service announcement. I have shelled out the big bucks to upgrade my haloscan account so that the comment pop-up no longer has ads, and I will be able to do an email reply for comments, making it much easier to respond. We now return you to your regularly scheduled frivilousness.

The scene: A modest townhouse located near Valley Forge Park in Pennsylvania. Our heros are spending a quiet evening at home. That is until Joey begins playing a video on his PC while working. And singing along.

Joey: (Singing) The Chronic What Cles of Narnia, The Chronic...
BF: Why do you keep playing that video over and over?
Joey: Hmmmm?
BF: Why do you keep playing that video?
Joey: I know! Don't you love it?
BF: Honestly, no. At least I did until I heard it the 400th time.
Joey: Really?
BF: Really. Do you always play videos while you are working?
Joey: No, just this one. It''s all over the innernets. I usually just play music.
BF: How can you do that?
Joey: Oh, I just open the jukebox thingy and
BF: (interrupting) No, I meant how can you concentrate with the music on, and sing at the same time? And the TV.
Joey: Well I told you a long time ago I have adult onset ADD. I function better when I am multi-tasking.
BF: (Blank stare, silence)
Joey: Was there something you wanted dear?
BF: A different song maybe?
Joey: But I love this one.
BF: And I love you. (leaning over Joey and shutting off the video)
Joey: (Singing in BF's ear, grinning) They call us Aaron Burr from the way we're droppin' Hamiltons.
BF: Sigh. What have I gotten myself into?

And Joey's boyfriend wasn't able to say anything else once Joey grabbed him and threw him down on the carpet. You can all guess what happened next.

Spread the Love

I'm swamped again at work. Swamped at home too trying to make two households fit into one. So as much as I wish it was, writing is not at the top of my priorities right now. Thank you all for your wonderful comments and advice on my "issue". And don't worry. I would sleep on cement as long as it meant that boy will be part of my life!

But instead of droning on with my self-absorption today, I want you to go somewhere else. As you can see by my blogroll, I read a lot of other blogs. And as I have said before, it is a rich tapestry of life. And today I want you to go read one of them. One specific one.

I started reading his blog several months ago. How did I find it? I don't really remember, but I have been reading him ever since.

He is going to be 25 this week. Younger than me obviously. But this man has moxie. And he impresses the hell out of me. His life hasn't been all that easy, but he has made it work.

What impresses me most is, that he took chances at a very young age to better himself. Granted, they didn't really go as well as planned and it caused financial problems, but instead of caving in he saw what he needed to do and he did it. He works his ass off, twice as hard as anyone I know, just to climb back up and realize his dreams. I have a feeling he is going to really go far in life.

And on top of that. He is quite handsome, has a great boyfriend, and an awfully cute dog! And he's funny, and witty, and very entertaining. His Weekly White Boy Dance videos are not to be missed.

So in the first of my new weekly "Spread the Love" posts in which I am going to highlight someone you may not be reading who you really should, let me introduce you to Stephen. And Stephen I hope you don't mind my linking to the pic of you and Levi!

Inside Stephen

Consequences

The holidays are exhausting, but well worth it I guess. The parties and the travelling are all completed. The outside lights have all been taken down and extension cords have been wrapped. The windows are bare, and the wreath is off the door. The heirloom and regular ornaments have been removed from the tree and packed in tissue paper. The halls have all been undecked. Christmas cards have been filed away for future reference, and china and glassware have all been washed and placed in their cabinets.

Thank the gods it's all over! And now life can finally get back to normal. The house is finally spotless again and I can settle in for a long winter's nap. Just me and the dog. Quiet evenings snuggled up under a comforter on the couch in front of the TV. I can catch up on movies and reading. It can snow all it wants now, because I have no responsibilites other than work, and walking the dog. Yep. I am looking forward to the quiet solitude, and the holidays are all now just a memory in my lazy days. Ah, normalcy. And rest.

Except.

I just remembered. I asked the BF to move in.

Closets have to be cleaned. Decisions have to be made. Furniture has to be moved. Dinner will be more than just take out. I have to get up earlier for work so we can both be on time. What are we going to do about utilities? Share them? Oh wait. He's going to want to share my office too! Do I need to set up a network for the broadband access? Where is all of his stuff going to fit?

Oh. My. Goddess. What have I done?

That's a good question

I was interviewed the other day for an article about blogging. Most of the questions were fairly routine, and not at all difficult to answer. It was the first question that I was asked, and which I answered fairly quickly, that has stuck in my head. My answer to the interviewer was somewhat brief and to the point, but I thought I would take it a bit further here.

Why do you blog?
It gives me a way of journalling my life in a brief fashion, and allows me to hone my writing skills.

Okay that was the answer I gave. But the more I think about that question, the more I started asking myself, why do I do this?

There are people who blog for any number of reasons. I have seen blogs that are for financial gain, blogs written because it's the "in-thing" to do, and a number of blogs that are just about furthering the author's egos. It's the "Look how fabulous I am blogs" that I don't care for, which I am sure is because they are the type of people I avoid in real life.

So why do I keep doing this? Well I was first attracted to it, simply by reading other blogs. Two people in particular I had read on a regular basis: Cyberkenny, who is no longer blogging that I am aware of; and Thomas (link at the top of the blogroll) at Kungfukittens who I fondly call my "Blog Daddy".

I knew that's the type of writing I wanted to do as well, journalling my life, preferably in a semi-humorous way. Since I started this way-back-when, it has become so much more. It allows me to connect with other people all over the world, but in a way that chatrooms never really accomplished (Chatroom; noun; pop culture way back in the stone age, you know, the 90s).

I (and all of you) now have a chance to really connect with the gay world in a macrocosm (is that a word?). It allows us to express ourselves, and that genetic nature that ties us all together, and learn from each other. If you look at the people on my blogroll, there are blogs and people of every shape, kind, and nationality.

Growing up in a small western Pennsylvania town, I never had exposure to other gay people - that I was aware of at least, and now. Now, I know how you all live, and love, and laugh, and cry. And I know that I am a part of something that was not just a choice. That my friends, is the true power.

Random Thoughts

Well I've done some tweaking on the look and feel. I'll probably still be doing that for a bit.

Not much to say about the New Year holiday, except it was confusing. The Rose Parade wasn't on New Year's Day. The Bowl games are, well for goddess' sake they're spread out all week long! I used to love spending the holiday just watching football (and recuperating from NYE). Now I doubt I will even see any of the games.

And because the Bowl games weren't on, well, we had to do something. And we did. And we did it a lot. And then we did it a lot more. And I am not sure when I'm going to recuperate.

But I know one thing. My game never gets sidelined for a groin pull. Put me in coach!

A Fresh Start All Around

I decided a New Year needed a New Look!

So instead of posting witty and insightful comments I am going to be playing with myself the code for a bit.