Tuezdayz Cheeze
(it's full of protein!)

Yes, I'm beginning to worry about me, too.

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Mr. Deity!


Mr. Deity Episode 1: Mr. Deity and the Evil




Mr. Deity Episode 2: Mr. Deity and the Really Big Favor




Mr. Deity Episode 3: Mr. Deity and The Light




Mr. Deity Episode 4: Mr. Deity and the Messages




Episode 5: Mr. Deity and Lucifer

Sunday Mop Up 01/28/07

Bucket O' Coffee in hand, here I am, trying to make sense of the world around me. It's the weekend and my job and all its problems seem like a million miles away, when actually it's just about 5 miles up the road there. That's okay. Tomorrow I'll turn back into a good little corporate monkey. Today, however, is mine to fritter away as I see fit. So here I sit, feeling the cafeinne surge through my system, thin out my blood, and tickle my brain cells. Who knows what balderdash will fall out of my head and land on the computer screen? Let's find out!

Let's Talk About Sex, Baby

Have you ever had such an intense, fulfilling sexual experience that merely thinking about it gets you all hot and bothered all over again? One little moment in time that serves as a reminder of how damned great sex can be, how damned great chemistry is between two people when it's there, and how fucking awesome you are as a sex machine when so inclined? You relive it because you've been plugged back into yourself as a primal force, surprised at how, in the throes of Passion and Abandon, you know what you want and you know how to get it (tip of the hat to Cheap Trick, there). And, by merely thinking about it, you are transformed back into that enthusiastic, adventurous, and aroused beast all over again, long after the fact? You feel filled with contentment and pride and are motivated to continue to put forth effort in the complicated work of interpersonal sexual connectivity because, man, when that switch gets properly flipped, the power in the electricity lights up your life?

Yeah, me too!

Question

Potato chips or french fries?

Personally, I'd rather have the chips. Fries have way too short a shelf life when sitting next to your sandwich. They're tasty and hot at the beginning and before you can get halfway through your sandwich, they've turned cold and hard. Potato chips never turn on you, they remain crisp and crunchy through the whole meal. Well, unless you get them wet. Once they're wet, potato chips are worthless. But, it's easier to keep chips dry on your plate than it is to keep your fries hot long enough to finish them off

And, for what it's worth, I'd rather have plain, old potato-flavored chips than the ones all covered in a mixture of chemicals that make them simulate the flavor of baked potatoes, pizza, barbeque, pickles (wtf?), or cheese.

Hot Daddy At The Christmas Party Update

We continue to talk on the phone, looking for an opportunity to get together and hang out. Just found out from another friend that he lives with his mother. What? Sorry, but this is a big, red flag for me. Well, maybe a big, yellow flag. I'm proceeding with severe caution at this point. Maybe it's because of my own determination not to become one of those "middle-aged gay men who live with their mother" that I am highly suspicious of others who are. This might be a deal-breaker for me.

Maybe I'm over-reacting. I've been known to do that, ya know...

Jimmy's Latest Really Awful Gay Porn Of The Week:

"A Rim With A View"

sorry!

Old Dog, New Tricks

I bet you think this will be about sex. Sorry, nope.

One of my goals for the new year, as assigned to me at my evaluation at work last year, is to take some classes to further my education and sharpen my skills as a worker bee. I am surrounded by databases, yet don't know much about them. My boss, the computer geek that he is, is always pointing out that our department really needs a database for this, or a database for that. I nod my head and agree, but the fact is, I couldn't build one to save my life. It's time I learned how.

So, I've arranged to take a few classes about understanding Microsoft Access 2003. For the next three Fridays, I will be in a class, feeling completely overwhelmed and confused. I'm certain that, at some point, I will experience an aneurysm and blood will come squirting out of my eyesocket onto the monitor in front of me, as I slump forward in my chair and my face hits the keyboard.

But, at least I'll be dead then, and out of my misery.

Now Back to the Gay Stuff

It's time to sign up for Texas Bear Round Up this spring. A whole hotel filled with big, furry, masculine gay guys. Last year was my first time there. I was so nervous that I got sick. I'm hoping to be calm this time out. we'll see...

Tuezdayz Cheeze
(it's the cheeziest!)


A little snippet from "The Ellen DeGeneres Show" featuring "Gladys" from here in Austin. She was such a hit, that local reporters are trying to find her and interview her. Unfortunately, no one can seem to contact the dear old bitty, making many speculate that she is just a character. Check it out, and judge for yourself.

I'm Never Sure About 'Personality Tests'

but here are my results:

You Are An ENFP

The Inspirer You love being around people, and you are deeply committed to your friends.You are also unconventional, irreverant, and unimpressed by authority and rules.Incredibly perceptive, you can usually sense if someone has hidden motives.You use lots of colorful language and expressions. You're quite the storyteller! You would make an excellent entrepreneur, politician, or journalist.

What's Your "Personality Type"?

*Thanks to Bigg for pointing this out.

Sunday Mop Up 01/21/07

Greetings to all you boners and bonnets out there. It's Sunday morning, the sun is actually OUT and the weather people are predicting temps well into the 60s today. The reptilian part of my brain makes me want to find a nice, big rock to crawl up on and just soak up the warmth. Instead, I shall focus on civilizing Casa del Jimbo while concurrently catching you up with all matters within jimmycity limits. Sit back, take your pants off and get comfortable, whilst I mop the place up a bit.

My Mission This Weekend

is to find myself a new bed. I am presently sleeping on a mattress set that I bought seven years ago for $400.00. At the time, it was all I could afford, and was amazed that I was spending SO MUCH money on a bed. The only thing I required back then was that the box spring foundation be a metal frame. 'Cuz I'm a big guy and all. This was the cheapest set I could find with a steel frame foundation, so I bought it.

Well, I'm older now, and I have more needs. I have now experienced a "Heavenly Bed", and numerous other pillowtop high quality mattresses. The shit I'm sleeping on now just isn't cutting it any longer. The paper is filled with mattress stores advertizing huge sales, so yesterday I went out shopping.

Buying a car is less confusing than buying a new mattress. How many springs? Individually pocketed (wrapped)? Gauge of steel in said spring? Latex foam or that space agey memory foam? Pillowtop or plush? Add to that, a manufacturer will make one model, but the various vendors that sell it will call it anything they want.You can't comparison shop worth a shit with these things.

Simmons, maker of the "Heavenly Bed" (featured in Westin Hotels), has come out with a new line this year called "Black". Top of the line. I laid down on one in a showroom yesterday, and had to crawl off of it before I ejaculated all over the floor model. Fucking awesome! They want $1600.00 for this bitch. What? Are you kidding me? Really? No shit, sixteen HUNDRED? Come on, that's crazy! You said sixteen, right?

I was working the salesman's last nerve, I could tell.

After inquiring if I could just sleep there, at the store, at night, I left. The salesman has my phone number and a limit for how much I can spend. Which is a THOUSAND BUCKS, people! For that kinda money, the bed should pop me out in the morning like a piece of toast, a la George Jetson.

So, I'll be back at it, hunting for a bed today.

Washed My Shoes,

my beloved Reebok DMX's, in the washing machine the other day. Let's just say things were getting funky. Well, the washing part wasn't a problem. Heavy duty soap + heavy duty bleach = Funk no more.When I went to put them in the dryer and start it up, it sounded like I was trying to launder bricks. Whoa. So, I grabbed a comforter and stuffed it into the dryer along with the shoes. It helped, a bit. But every 7 - 9 minutes, a shoe would kick into the dryer door, opening it and stopping the dryer. I was running my ass ragged going up and down the stairs to restart the stupid thing. It became funny, like my shoes were trying desperately to escape. I finally gave up.

They are sitting out, on the patio, basking like lizards in the warm sunshine today.

A Realization About What Works For Me, Porn-Wise

I've always made it a point to not put graphic images on my blog, so I'm going to hide an example of what interests me, versus what doesn't, via a link. Those of you who may not want to view The Full Monty, can just avoid it, by not clicking on the link. Those of you who ARE interested in pictures of penis, might be motivated to click. Your choice. Just be aware that clicking means viewing closeups of penises and is NOT WORKPLACE SAFE!

So, my point is: I find pictures of genitalia in a state of partial engorgement, like this, more erotic than male members at full-tilt attention, like this.

There, I'm done with the "Show And Tell" aspect of today's post.

[Late Edition Addition: Don't think I don't know, by the way, that no matter WHAT size, shape, or configuration a penis is in, they all look pretty damned ridiculous.]

And, Finally, Because I KNOW You Were Wondering

The Homeland Security Poop Alert for jimmycity has been cancelled.
As you were.

The Silver Lining

I'm mostly all better from my bout with whatever the hell was going on with my guts all week. I got sick last Thursday, and regained my humanity somewhere around Wednesday. And, by "humanity", I mean bowel control, okay?

This was one long week, let me assure you. Fortunately, it occured over a long holiday weekend followed by a day off from work due to the Great Texas Ice Storm of '07. That's five days of gastro-intestinal Hell while only burning one measley sick day, people. Coolio.

And, for as awful an experience as it was, I am reaping some unexpected benefits from this little dance with Death. Such as:

*My bank account looks exceptionally healthy since I haven't spent money on food all week.

*I've dropped enough weight that my nagging backaches have miraculously vanished.

*My bloodsugar levels RAWK!

*I'm wearing my skinny pants from the back of the closet again.

I'm so pleased, I have re-committed to watching my caloric intake with new vigor. No, we won't call this a "diet", we'll call this "making sensible menu choices". Like, I had a piece of grilled salmon with brocolli at a departmental lunch today, drank water with a lemon wedge, and waved away a piece of complimentary cheesecake. Be gone, you have no power here, I said.

I'm also wearing a new shirt, so I'm feeling all handsome and shit. Good grief! God help the next person who tries to get frisky with me. I'm ready to pounce!

Einstein In The Blogosphere

Some of us try really hard to be clever and, often, the effort shows.

Then there's Jessica. She's different.

I've written about her here several times. I suspect she may be the reason the internet was created in the first place. Come to think of it, she probably invented the internet herself. It makes more sense than Al Gore. Take the time to study the following example of how her brain works, and then visit her site (click on the index card to take you there). This woman, whoever she is, has a gift. That she shares that gift with the world with such style and grace is just breath-taking.

I love you, my dear.

[Late Edition Addition:]

How White and Nerdy Are You?

TUEZDAYZ CHEEZE

(it's SUPPOSED to smell funny!)

Let's catch up on a few more episodes of God, Inc., shall we?

Episode #3



Episode #4

In The Name Of Love

What more, in the name of Love?

Sunday Mop Up 01/14/07

Yes, I'm still alive. Barely. Today is Day Three of jimmycity's "Mutiny In The Bowels Of Bounty", and there appears to be no end in sight. Ummm..no pun intended.

I shall spare you gentle readers with details of the carnage of the past several days. In fact, maybe I should apologize for "over-sharing" in the previous post. Maybe, but I won't. This is the stuff of real life. I doubt that there's anyone out there who hasn't experienced something like this. By writing about it, perhaps I have reminded you of some situation of your own. So, maybe we're a little more connected, more bonded, you and me. Or, maybe you're just grossed out. Fair enough.

This week's Mop Up is brought to you by Gatorade.

Gatorade: What in the Hell is IN you?

The Ice Age

The big ice storm that has been predicted for about a week now, seems to be preparing to wreak havoc here in the Lone Star State. Yep, the monster arctic air mass has met some serious moisture in the atmosphere and Central Texas is about to get glazed like a donut. (Mmmm...a glazed donut would be nice with my coffee right about now...)

Let me state for the record right now that I welcome such a storm. We live in a world of technological miracles. We are more comfortable and spoiled than any society has ever been. But, guess what? Mother Nature can still kick our puny human asses! Let events like this remind us that there are forces out there bigger than our Egos. Let your shivering and discomfort be an acknowledgement that We are not the center of the Universe.

You should hear the bitching and moaning and groaning going on right now down here. I cannot abide people who make a living complaining about the weather. And, if you stop to pay attention, the same ones griping about how cold it is now, are the same babies that whine all summer long about how hot it is. Please, people: shut the fuck up. Here's some suggestions: layer your clothing, sleep in a pair of socks, and, for the love of God, stay off the roads. Texans can't drive for shit in RAIN let alone ICE. Stay home. Have some soup. Shut up.

Meanwhile, enjoy the fact that your nipples are erect and offer someone you love a butt rub.

Beardom Explained

While wandering around other folk's blogs this past week, I was pointed to a really well written article on what a "bear" is and means, in gay culture. It was written by Andrew Sullivan clear back in 2003, but it is, so far, the best explanation of the phenomena that I have come across yet. If you are interested, the posting is here.

Dave's Video Vault

I have forced my taste in movies upon this man many times. And, this weekend, as retribution, he has forced his on me. I am struggling to get through a favorite of his, while laid up in bed, with my guts percolating like a Mr. Coffee machine gone berzerk. I watched about 45 minutes of Terror Firmer yesterday, and had to hold my ears closed to keep my brains from leaking out of my damned skull. I will watch the rest today and Vengeance, sayeth The Dave, is his.

[Late Edition Addition: Okay, I really should have held off from commenting until I saw the whole thing in its completion. The fact is, what started off as completely stupid and inane chaos became fairly well thought-out and good-hearted stupidity in the end. It really took a long time for all the set-ups to be laid out for you before things began to reveal their internal logic, but once the dominoes started falling, you just sit back and marvel at the dedication to the "cheese factor" that this video exhibits. Did I enjoy the fat, fuzzy guy running through the streets of New York in all his full-frontal glory? Indeed. A bad movie, at its best. I get it.]

Tracking My Sick Days in 2007 : 01

(something only a hypochondriac would do, ya know)

I don't like taking time off from work for being sick. Especially on a Friday or a Monday. I'm always certain that someone thinks I'm just padding a weekend.

Well, I left work an hour early yesterday because I was feeling woozy. When I got home, I crawled directly into bed. I was asleep by 7:30pm. I woke up at 10:30 to pee and noticed I was chilling. Great. I piled the blankets on the bed and dove under them. I then proceeded to wake up every two hours, ALL NIGHT LONG, peed every time, and fell back into bed immediately.

This morning, the chills were gone, but the gastro-intestinal explosions began. My toilet routinely became The 4th Of July in Hell throughout this long, awful night.

I called in to talk to my boss. I told him I was feeling better (at least I wasn't woozy and chilling any longer), and once the "fireworks" were over, I'd head in. Well, I didn't tell him as much as I just told you, 'cuz, you know, who wants to hear that? It's now 2pm, and the hits just keep on coming.

Screw it: today is an official "sick day".

I'm loading up on fluids, to help my body pass whatever is kicking around in me. I'll check back in on Sunday, for my Mop Up.

Good night!

[Late Addition Edition: It's 5am on Saturday morning, folks. I'm still a miserable, sick puppy. If you don't hear from me tomorrow, someone alert the police. Thanks.]

TUEZDAYZ CHEEZE

Rosie vs. Trump

Click the link. Play the game. Pee your pants.

Thank me later.

Sunday Mop Up 01/07/07

Well, well! Look how the weekend rips by when you are used to taking big, honking chunks of time off over the holidays! I've barely done anything this weekend and I've got to start a new week tomorrow. Yikes! I've managed to inhale my usual half a pot of coffee, and although it's pretty freaking late in the afternoon, laundry has been started. I'm still unshowered, so I can work up a good sweat with my house chores and relax afterwards with a thorough sandblasting of the bod. Didn't need to know all that, now didya? Sorry. Let's Mop Up! Ready?

Pornography

My favorite hairy gay men did something very sweet for me at Christmas. Seems I mentioned at some point during the summer that I did not own a VCR or a DVD player, and little did I realize that there's a Gay Law that requires homosexuals to own SOME type of device on which to play porn. It's true, I looked it up.

So, being the thoughtful and law-abiding friends that these two are, I was gifted a dvd player at Christmas. I was stunned. I think I only gave them a hickey for the holidays and they hit me with THIS? I, obviously, don't have a clue about how friends take care of each other. I got a little misty-eyed when I opened the box.

I love these guys with all my Social Etiquette-less Ass heart.

It took a few days to figure out how to hook the fucker up, but once I did, I blazed a trail to The Lobo, a gay boutique and video rental place. I found the "Bear" section. Yes, Virginia, they make pornography catering to guys who are interested in big, gay, hairy men. The selection isn't great, mind you, but there was certainly a selection. I chose two titles and marched to the cashier, where I had to fill out forms, take a personality test, and clear some type of Homeland Security interview. Really, it is less complicated to fly to Florida than it is to rent "adult entertainment". No wonder people buy this stuff on the internet these days. By the way: no strip search. I was slightly disappointed.

I gallop back to my truck, and hurl myself down the highway, and the anticipation of hot, steamy, recorded mansex awaiting my approval is making me feel ever-so giddy. And naughty. And gay. Yay!

At Casa del Jimbo, I have the set-up in place: mini-blinds closed in the bedroom, pillows piled up the headboard, a bottle of Gun-Oil, a cum rag, and my glasses and remote control at the ready. I drop the dvd into the machine, strip down and dive onto my place on the bed. Let the Homosexuality begin!

"What Gay Bear Porn Looks Like" by jimmy (SPOILER ALERT!)

The first selection starts with two guys facing the camera in a livingroom when the credits end. Then, on cue, one turns to the other:

"Want to get started?" he asks.

"Sure, " says the second with kind of a shrug.

The first guy, a big, bearded guy in a leather vest and jeans, drops his pants. The other, a big, bearded guy in a t-shirt and jeans, sits on the sofa. Face goes into crotch. At this point, the camera angle is from the cocksucker's perspective - looking up at the first guy. The guy getting blown has this to say:

"Oh, yeah. Suck that bear cock. Yeah. Suck that cock. Yeah. Woof."

Yes, he said "woof". Repeatedly. In a voice that sounded like he had chugged a bottle of NyQuil. This guy getting sucked, the suckee, raises his head to moan. This gives the viewer a great shot of his goateed doublechin and an angle straight up his nostrils, because the camera is down by the sucker, right? Fetching. Nipples, chin, and nostrils. That's it.

The camera then switches to the perspective of the guy getting blown. We're looking down now at the guy sucking the cock, but we're still listening to the codeine-induced babble of the suckee.

"Oh, yeah. Woof. You like that bear cock. Suck it good. Woof." And then, a question:

"You like that bear cock?"

The sucker pulls the penis out of his mouth.

"I like that bear cock." he states, looking directly into the camera, in some dialect quite reminiscent of Down's Syndrome. He then slaps the dick against his own cheekbone with one solid THWACK, saliva flying in all directions, and puts the penis back in his mouth.

Oh, my God, I think to myself, I have rented Retarded Bear porn!

It never gets any better, folks.

A half hour later, I am putting away the accoutrement. No need for lube or rag. This was the most unexciting, miserable experience I have had with porn since I can remember. I've seen hotter shit on Cinemax! Stilted, clumsy, and ridiculous, I f-fwd'd through two complete dvds of fat guys telling each other to "suck my dick" like it was written on cue cards, and they couldn't remember their lines. And, although a fan of big boys myself, there's just not a whole lot to see when guys this size have sex. Know what I mean? I may not be a fan of skinny twinks, but when they fuck, at least you can tell what's going on. Hey, I'm just saying...

I'm not giving up, I'll try again another time. Maybe I just chose lame titles. Maybe I'm just not a 'porn buff'. Maybe this dvd player will just be for Disney stuff and real movies, and things like that. We'll see.

I'll keep you posted.


Michael Update

Remember Michael? Well, I had lost touch with him back in the fall, yet again, when he was placed into a hospice in November and no longer had a phone with which to contact him. For all I knew, he had passed away in December, because you don't go to a hospice until your last days are very near.

Well, he showed up on the chatline today. He has been released from the hospice because his lung cancer is not spreading at the rate they assumed it would, and his doctors are suggesting that he may have another three months or so to live. I was delighted to get to talk with him today. He's very weak, but glad to still be alive. And I was grateful be have the chance to tell this remarkably brave man how much I love and admire him. He's got my home phone number again, so I am hoping he will call me directly. I can't call him now, because he is living with his sister-in-law and is uncomfortable giving out her number. It's cool.

The idiots on the chatline seemed genuinely glad to hear from him again as well. Many, many greeted him by name and spoke to him with respect. It was really sweet. For about 5 minutes. Then some of them started acting like asses again. He and I just switched to a private line, then, and chatted for nearly an hour and a half.

God, Inc.

Yes, this is all over YouTube and you may have seen it already, but for those of you who haven't, I thought I'd share it with you.

Episode #1:




Episode #2:

A Quick Confession

As pathetic as this is going to sound, I have to admit it: I'm really glad to be back at work!

I've just come of of 17 days in a row off, and I thought I was going to go crazy. How much sleep, pizza, and porn can one man consume? By day #9 I had turned into Jabba The Hutt and had completely grossed myself out. I have come to face the reality that I need the structure and discipline that going to work offers. Like putting on pants, bathing regularly, and acknowledging the existence of a world beyond the three-foot perimeter surrounding my gut and my ass. I am a vulgar, dirty, sloth-like creature. I am a hair and b.o. factory.

I feel worthless if I can't go into my place of employment every couple of days and bitch and moan about how screwed up the company is, how screwed up the people I work with are, and how I managed to screw up the last important thing I needed to get done all on my own. I need to brown-nose and bullshit my way through relationships with my superiors. I need to look at my calendar in my office at least three dozen times a day to remind myself when my next paycheck hits, stare at my watch every 20 - 30 minutes and calculate how much more time I need to be civil and professional, and daydream about The Life I Would Have if I didn't have to work eight hours a day.

Well, I've just gotten a taste of The Life I Would Have, and it aint pretty.

When I take too much time off of work, I worry that, either, a.) things are going horribly, horribly wrong (and it's all my fault, and I'm not there to defend myself and save my job) or, b.) things are going really well, so my boss is wondering why I'm needed at all, and I'm not there to defend myself and save my job).

But, enough of that, I'm back now. I'm bitching, I'm moaning, I'm barking commands and rolling my eyes in exasperation. I'm up to my ass in paperwork with no end in sight.

I'm a trained professional conducting myself in a professional manner. I almost forgot how.

TUEZDAYZ CHEEZE!

(God help you, this may be a regular feature, folks!)

David Hasselhoff -"Jump In My Car"

If you didn't think the man was a moron before, you certainly will now. By the way, is it just me, or is his eyelift a botchjob? Can we ask Germany (or whoever still adores this chimp) to adopt him, or just deport his ass for being a National Embarrassment?

gay gay gay gay gay gay gay

(and not in a good way!)

Cree.Pee.

MONDAY Mop Up 01/01/07

Hey, look! We made it to the new year! We're all older, hopefully wiser, and probably glad to get 2006 behind us, no? 2007 promises to be a real challenge for me, both personally and professionally. On the off-chance that work isn't kicking my ass on any given day, I intend to be kicking my own.

This week's Mop Up falls on Monday, because of my pre-occupation yesterday with The Big, Gay New Year's Eve Party to which I was invited. Ummm, due to "lessons learned" from the The Big, Gay Christmas Party (which will be divulged here shortly), I will just report that I had a great time. Sex did, in fact, occur, and I was not involved, thank you very much. If you ever have a chance to party with a bunch of hairy fat gay guys, I promise you that you'll have fun. Seriously, you will laugh!

So, let me go put on a pot of coffee, and I'll get to cleaning the cobwebs off of the random crap that happened to me in the past week and shine it up for you. I'll be right back...

The Ghost Of Christmas Past

I spent my birthday with Rich and Dave. I think I kinda forced myself on them. I offered to bring over some grub and a movie so I did, and we stuffed ourselves with beef fajitas and all the fixin's, carne guisada tacos, cheese enchiladas, and chips and salsa. Well, I stuffed myself. I love that shit. Then we fired up "Little Miss Sunshine". I had seen it in the theatre earlier in the summer, and thought I'd share it.

But on the way to their house that night, my cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Is it a better birthday gift to sing "Happy Birthday" to you, or promise NOT to sing to you?"

It was The X.

"Wow!" I replied. "Sure, sing to me."

"You've got to be kidding me!" He burst out laughing.

You see, The X is, perhaps, the most severely tone deaf person I have ever met in my life. A tone deaf person who, by the way, takes great joy in singing at the top of his lungs to any and ALL of the Dreadful Disco Dance Hits Of the Seventies. Oh yes, I spent five years listening to him butcher and shred music that I could not tolerate performed competently, let alone his Nails-On-A-Chalkboard versions. "I Will Survive", "Ring My Bell", "Knock On Wood", "More, More, More"- if it sucked, he knew all the words. Long road trips were particular torture for me. I used to beg him to stop. That only encouraged him.

So, that I told him that he could sing to me took him by surprise. And, quite frankly, I couldn't believe I said it either. But, I hadn't heard from him since August, and my brain was busy back-filling with memories and emotions and I don't think I can be held responsible for anything I said at that point.

Fortunately, he didn't sing.

Then, I did something I hate to do; I yacked on my cellphone to him while running around to pick up dinner and rent the dvd at Blockbuster. Yes, I was one of those people that I fucking HATE: standing at the checkout counter with a cell stuffed into my face, doing a lousy job of paying attention to the transaction at hand and slowing down the line because my phone conversation was so damned important. I suck.

I miss him.

Christmas has always been his favorite time of the year. He told me about spending time with his father, hanging out on Christmas Eve with the Mexican Mafia (his boyfriend is an Hispanic Papi who has a huge family), spending Christmas Day at the swank Driskell Hotel and sharing an elegant meal with his closest friends. When he mentioned names, it stung a little. These were people I had grown to love and who, out of allegiance and loyalty to The X, cut me out of their lives when we split up. I don't blame them a bit. Failed relationships are hard on the friends of the couple, too, ya know.

I found myself sitting in the driveway at Rich and Dave's, dinner getting colder by the second in the passenger seat, my new friends waiting for me in their house right in front of me, and yet hanging onto every word from a man who decided two years ago that he didn't love me anymore and left me. Wait a minute here.

I thanked him for the call, told him it was nice to hear from him again, but that I had friends to get to. He thanked me for allowing him to sing to me, if he had wanted to. We both chuckled about it. I hung up the phone, and as I was collecting the bags of containers of food to take inside, I had to kind of shake off the melancholy swirling around me. But it was easier to do than I expected. And that's because I knew there were people on the other side of that front door who love me and accept me for who I am and who wanted to be with me on my birthday.

When I rang the doorbell, I was grinning from ear to ear.

The Ghost of Christmas Present

Okay. The Big, Gay Christmas Party was fun, remember? I met lots of people, right? I shook alot of hands, kissed alot of faces, and swapped email addresses with anyone who asked. I even mentioned my blog to some of these guys. I'm an attention whore, we all get that by now, okay?

Well, remember the gentleman who I portrayed as loud and drunk and chasing me around the party?

He emails me two days after the party. "Ummm, Jim," he writes, "I read your blog and I think you were referring to me as the monster at the party. I'm really sorry if I offended you in any way. Maybe I should call the hosts of the party and apologize for my behavior."

Oh. My. God! What kind of insensitive asshole am I? I gave a guy my blog address and then write smack about him? What kind of dick does such a thing? I swear, I don't remember giving the address to him. I did NOT do this on purpose!

"Hi, my name is Jim, and I'm a really nice guy who is actually a two-faced bitch, and if you go to this website tomorrow, you can read my snarky, self-centered opinions about you and, with any luck, it'll hurt your feelings. Take care!"

What a fucking jerk! I wrote him back and apologized profusely. I still feel bad. Dude, if you are still checkin in here, I am SO SORRY!

Bloggers beware, mofos.

So, when it comes to reporting about things like social events I attend, I'll be glossing over the specifics about individuals from here on in. Holy shit!