Sunday MopUp 03/30/08
As I sit here, Texas is getting the snot beat out of them in the NCAA tournament. I've got a date tonight, and I'm playing Susie Hairy Homemaker while I throw together a post and call it my Sunday MopUp. Feel free to dust while you read.
The Date
...is with Sexual Chocolate. I love this guy, but I've been keeping him at arm's length as of late. And he has called me on it. I was supposed to see him last night, and I cancelled on him. It hasn't been the first time. He reminded me that what I was doing was "lame". I've gotta agree. I think we'll see a movie tonight, I'd like to see "21". Not much else out there, movie-wise.
I KNOW what my hesitancy is about, by the way. This is about my realization that being a bottom doesn't really work for me. And SC is a hardcore top. I'm afraid that if I turn him down, I'll lose a friend. I've been losing friends lately, and it doesn't make me feel good. Ya know?
Oh, remember the hot sex I had with the guy who turned out to be a powerbottom? Not a word from him. Nothing. Nada. Zero. Zilch.
[heavy sigh]
Called My Mother
this weekend. She kept me on the phone for two solid hours, and I don't think I got a word in edgewise. She's lonely. It's still freezing in Michigan. She has been depressed lately. So, I let her talk. And talk. I hope it helped. My ear is still sore.
The Antique Mantle Clock
My older sister, Rebel, was a collector. She spent weekends searching for shit at local flea markets, and was quite good at spotting, and buying, neat stuff. Stuff I would never spend a penny on, by the way.
Well, when I moved into this townhouse 8 years ago, she gave me a mantle clock. I dont have a mantle to put it on, but that didn't matter. It is a wind-up chime time piece and it is an antique. Along with the clock came they key that you use to wind it. Rebecca made it a point to tell me not to lose the key.
I lost it within a month.
I never told her this, and she would ask me on the phone, now and then, if I still enjoyed the clock. I assured her that I did, although all it was doing was sitting silently on my china buffet in the livingroom. It hasn't ticked, let alone chimed, in years and years.
And now my older sister is gone.
Well, I recently found the key, stuffed at the back of a drawer in my rolltop desk. I wound the clock back up, and it is ticking and chiming right along now. And, with every BONG I hear in the middle of the night, I think of my sister. I think she'd be pleased that the clock is functioning again.
I miss her. That clock is very important to me now.
Ummm...I'm gonna go now. I appreciate that you looked in on me. Hope you are well.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Sunday MopUp 03/23/08
For the love of God! It's after 4PM and I have not even STARTED thinking about what crap to re-hash here on my semi-regular news roundup that I have the arrogance to refer to as my "Sunday MopUp". Stand by, and let's see what I pull outta my ass, 'k?
Food, Glorious Food!
As of last Friday, I am allowed to have solid food again. Well, truth be told, I have had little bits and pieces of things prior to that date, but Friday was the day I could eat and not feel like I was disobeying the Doctor. I took the day off from work on Friday (no, not to EAT! ...to celebrate the First Day Of Spring, ya smartasses!) and had a great day. I ran to the track and lost some serious money, I went to the clothes store and fantasized about being able, one day, to wear clothes several sizes smaller than I currently am, and I stopped at a little Mom & Pop diner for lunch.
I'm ALL ABOUT little, non-chained restaurants. Owner operated little places are the only place to find real food, in my humble opinion. Ritzy steakhouses may be my exception to my rule.
I ordered a chopped steak with mushrooms and cheese, a side of green beans, and a side of carrots. Jesus, there was food everywhere! Must have taken me 45 minutes to eat, and I still left stuff on my plate. It was okay, but it wasn't what I was searching for.
Here's the main thing: I realized that what I was REALLY missing wasn't the "eating" as much as the "cooking". In bed that night, I made a grocery list (cuz, dudes, there was NOTHING in my kitchen to eat) and began the plans to cook for myself Saturday.
On Saturday, I blasted to the store and was drunk with power as I wandered the aisles, realizing that grocery shopping is really kinda cool. All the choices, all the options. YAY! And, is it me, or have food costs really gone up in the mere six weeks since I last bought anything? Fuckaroo!
Returning home, I got right to work. I made a casserole, so that I could eat off of it all week long. It was a chicken and rice dish, spiced up with southwestern flavors. Fresh mushrooms and onions were cooked in a mushroom sauce that also had diced tomatoes and mild green chilis in it. In the casserole dish, I put the rice on the bottom, then a layer of Mexican corn (sweet corn with red and green peppers in it), and arranged the boneless, skinless white and dark chicken pieces, which were seasoned and browned with salt, pepper, garlic, paprika, and cumin over that, and then poured the sauce over everything and baked for 45 minutes. Oh, did I mention that there was a layer of cheese on top of that? Yes. I know. I'm a pig.
Now, when I had a little dish of THIS that night, I was in HEAVEN! I had better like it, because I made enough to feed an army. I can't eat much at any given time, my stomach just aches and I know it is time to stop, But I am LOVING that the portions it takes to fill me up are so small - and I haven't even had the band "filled" yet. Once that happens (April 10th) I will not be able to eat more than a half a cup of anything, lest I barf it all up. Exciting, no? You KNOW I was dying to get gross for a second...
I also purchased a bag of salad and a beautiful piece of salmon for later in the week when the sight of that casserole makes me gag.
Oh, by the way, for those of you out there that care about calories and sugar an' stuff: have you found the Slim-a-Bear (no kidding!) ice cream bars in the grocery freezer? Yup, they are made by the Klondike ice cream people, and these ice cream bars are only 100 calories, and there is no sugar added. Does it taste like Haagan -Daz? Ummm...hell, no. Is it a good substitute when you are jonesing for an ice cream fix? Holy Fuck, YES! Check them out and thank me (blowjobs accepted) later!
Saturday, March 22, 2008
What The Buck?!?
This guy cracks me up. This isn't an example of his best work, but it's his latest show, and I just wanted to share with ya. Cuz I love ya an' shit.
This guy cracks me up. This isn't an example of his best work, but it's his latest show, and I just wanted to share with ya. Cuz I love ya an' shit.
He used to have a public access show, and has moved onto YouTube. I'm gonna post a link to his website over on my blogroll. He posts a new "show" every week, and his energy level and goofy, gross sense of humor is right up my alley. Everyone can check this out, except Dick Small because his Commodore64 can't handle video. Sorry, Dick.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Sunday MopUp 03/16/08
Hi, come on in! My name is Jim and this here is a little thing I do on Sundays (my favorite day of the week, by the way) where I sit down and try to catch up on the various mundane things in my world in a blog post, whilst I pick up the house and guzzle coffee and catch such a caffeine buzz that my nipples start to spin by the end of it all. I call it my Sunday MopUp. You will probably call it a waste of time. You wouldn't be the first.
Speaking Of Coffee
I bought some VERY pricey whole beans off of the Internet a while back. Was my first foray into the world of "premium coffees". Bought a half pound of Jamaican Blue Mountain and a half pound of Hawaiian Kona beans, just on a lark.
Well, I'm friggin' HOOKED! Both were VERY tasty, but the JBM was super smooth and delicious and I decided that I was now a Coffee Snob and could not settle for anything less.
The only problem was the price this Internet service wanted for the goods. I mean fuck!
So I went out on Friday night to the local fru-fru, upscale grocery store (where I go to buy steak, cuz their butcher shop is simply amazing (ribeyes @ 17.99 a lb) (hey, are parentheses inside parentheses allowed?)!)(what the hell, now I'm just being stupid), and I found some Jamaican beans - not a BLEND, mind you! - for about half of what I paid on the Internet. I rock. Yes, I do.
Now, lest you think I found some kinda bargain, think again. This shit is ridiculously over-priced, it's like legalized crack or something, but I am going to stick with it for a while. I need a good kick in the fanny in the mornings to get my motor running, and it is really a wonderful surprise to find stuff that doesn't taste of battery acid.
And, having said that, my first cup is history and I need a refill. Be right back...
A Fucking Miracle
[note: I need to place a Disclaimer up front on this one, because I'm about to talk about homosexual sex acts, and I don't want anyone to feel I have offended them or grossed them out, without any warning. Dear Heteros: what I'm going to post here in a second may be considered offensive or gross. Sorry. My blog, my rules. If the idea of two men having sex together is offensive to you...umm...what the fuck are you doing HERE? and please feel free to skip over this next part.]
So, I've been writing quite a lot about my weight issues, and that I've had a laproscopic surgery to help me drop weight, right? I have also written about the trouble I have had trying to determine how I fit into the sexual dynamics, or roles, in gay sex. To summarize: when it comes to anal sex, I have been trying to be a "bottom", or "the fuckee"(you know, the guy GETTING fucked), and it hasn't been easy or, for that matter, very satisfying for me. See, I've been trying this because, due to my weight, being a "top" or "the fucker" (you know, the guy DOING the fucking to the guy GETTING fucked) has been...problematic. A fat guy, even with adequate endowment, loses a lot of his cock into his abdomen, thanks to the extra size he carries.
For the record, I'd just like to say that I'm not a big fan of Butt Sex anyway. I'm an oral guy. But, I am trying here to have a full and varied Life Experience, and since "Are you a top or a bottom?" is one of the first questions asked in gay bars when you meet someone, I think I should know the answer.
If you are feeling squeamish about all this, just bail out now. It only gets worse.
Moving on, then...
So, yesterday I had a date! Yes, I have been talking to a very cute guy online for several months now, and we finally met yesterday. This guy is smokin' hot (to me)! He's kinda short, maybe 5'8", with broad shoulders, a shaved head, and a beefy, solid butt. I LOVE chunky guys. He is younger (early 30s) which I'm not crazy about. I'm more comfortable with guys closer to my age, but I was pleased that we got along so well. We met for coffee, went to the park and wandered around a bit, and then came back to my place. The sexual tension was evident, and this was plenty of foreplay for two horny homos.
Now, as we had been talking online, he told me that he was "versatile", meaning that he was as open to being a "top" as he was to being a "bottom". When I explained that I was actually just orally inclined, he said he really was as well. This made me much less worried about meeting him. I can't tell you what a disaster it is when I am confronted with a demanding bottom who only wants to get plowed. There are many of these type out in the world, and I do my best to avoid them.
When we get to my place I offer him a beer and he is all over me. I love aggressive, confident guys! We fumble to the bedroom and clothes are flying. I'm happy to report that when he pulled his dick out, I was startled and a little worried. I determined that I was going to keep that thing down my throat as much as possible until he came, because I certainly didn't want him reaching for my ass with it. Not gonna happen.
So, I throw him back on the bed and proceed to get to work. By the way, seeing him fully naked was amazing. Football build. Full pecs and a tiny little gut. Just enough of a pooch to call it a belly. His ass was all muscle and I had a cheek in each hand as I buried my face into his crotch, pulling him into my mouth. It wasn't long before he flipped me over, and it was my turn to be on my back. He was straddling my chest, his face in between my legs and his ass, perfect as it was, in my face. I reached up and rubbed, with wet fingers, into his ass crack.
Then BOOM! It happened.
The dude kicked into overdrive. He moaned. He groaned. He bucked like a fucking stallion. Touching him there absolutely unleashed a wild man. He rubbed that perfect butt all OVER my chest and my face. Seriously. It became an entity all unto itself.
Versatile? Since fucking when? This guy was 100% bottom, and I was in TROUBLE!
But, I was really turned on. He was very sexy, and a very generous lover. I believe while this was happening, he had not only my entire package, but both my legs down his throat!
He jumps off of me, grabs his jeans, and pulls out a condom.
"I want you to fuck me!" he says.
Look, I didn't have time to even respond. The rubber was out, slapped on my cock, and he was positioning himself over me by the time I could even say "Well, I don't really know if this is gonna work. Maybe we should slow down. See, I have really bad luck when it comes to fuc..."
...and, Ladies and Gentlemen, just like that, he was on me and I was IN him and we were fucking!
You know that episode of Oprah where Dr. Oz tells the audience that dropping just 35 pounds can add an inch of penis size?
Yup. I've dropped 50 so far and I'm telling you that it's true, because I have more than that added on now! It reminded me of my heterosexual days. The great sex I had with my girlfriends really WAS great sex back then! The warmth, the wetness, the feeling of the grip around my shaft as I pump, this is what sex IS for me!
We worked it, kids. It was a Butt Sex Jamboree! And here's the big revelation: I was pretty good at it! Turns out, I sucked at being a bottom, because I'VE BEEN A TOP ALL ALONG! Hallelujah, jimmy got his cock back!
...well, I still prefer oral, but...you know...
So, this guy was all complimentary afterwards and I was so freaking proud of myself that I asked if we could see each other again. He said he'd like that and that I could fuck him any time. We'll see. He has my phone number. I hope he calls. I have my doubts. He bolted pretty fast after the sex. I don't want to be a booty call.
Hey, hook-ups happen. Even to fat guys.
Okay, enough of that. Just had to share what was a pretty major realization for me. Thanks for following along, if ya did.
Video Bonus!
I found this over at Joe.My.God (perhaps the coolest gay blog ever)! This clip is an animated representation of global warfare from WWII to the present, using food as representations of countries and weaponry. It's fast moving, but very clever.
If you need a list of what food represents what country, there is a list here.
Hi, come on in! My name is Jim and this here is a little thing I do on Sundays (my favorite day of the week, by the way) where I sit down and try to catch up on the various mundane things in my world in a blog post, whilst I pick up the house and guzzle coffee and catch such a caffeine buzz that my nipples start to spin by the end of it all. I call it my Sunday MopUp. You will probably call it a waste of time. You wouldn't be the first.
Speaking Of Coffee
I bought some VERY pricey whole beans off of the Internet a while back. Was my first foray into the world of "premium coffees". Bought a half pound of Jamaican Blue Mountain and a half pound of Hawaiian Kona beans, just on a lark.
Well, I'm friggin' HOOKED! Both were VERY tasty, but the JBM was super smooth and delicious and I decided that I was now a Coffee Snob and could not settle for anything less.
The only problem was the price this Internet service wanted for the goods. I mean fuck!
So I went out on Friday night to the local fru-fru, upscale grocery store (where I go to buy steak, cuz their butcher shop is simply amazing (ribeyes @ 17.99 a lb) (hey, are parentheses inside parentheses allowed?)!)(what the hell, now I'm just being stupid), and I found some Jamaican beans - not a BLEND, mind you! - for about half of what I paid on the Internet. I rock. Yes, I do.
Now, lest you think I found some kinda bargain, think again. This shit is ridiculously over-priced, it's like legalized crack or something, but I am going to stick with it for a while. I need a good kick in the fanny in the mornings to get my motor running, and it is really a wonderful surprise to find stuff that doesn't taste of battery acid.
And, having said that, my first cup is history and I need a refill. Be right back...
A Fucking Miracle
[note: I need to place a Disclaimer up front on this one, because I'm about to talk about homosexual sex acts, and I don't want anyone to feel I have offended them or grossed them out, without any warning. Dear Heteros: what I'm going to post here in a second may be considered offensive or gross. Sorry. My blog, my rules. If the idea of two men having sex together is offensive to you...umm...what the fuck are you doing HERE? and please feel free to skip over this next part.]
So, I've been writing quite a lot about my weight issues, and that I've had a laproscopic surgery to help me drop weight, right? I have also written about the trouble I have had trying to determine how I fit into the sexual dynamics, or roles, in gay sex. To summarize: when it comes to anal sex, I have been trying to be a "bottom", or "the fuckee"(you know, the guy GETTING fucked), and it hasn't been easy or, for that matter, very satisfying for me. See, I've been trying this because, due to my weight, being a "top" or "the fucker" (you know, the guy DOING the fucking to the guy GETTING fucked) has been...problematic. A fat guy, even with adequate endowment, loses a lot of his cock into his abdomen, thanks to the extra size he carries.
For the record, I'd just like to say that I'm not a big fan of Butt Sex anyway. I'm an oral guy. But, I am trying here to have a full and varied Life Experience, and since "Are you a top or a bottom?" is one of the first questions asked in gay bars when you meet someone, I think I should know the answer.
If you are feeling squeamish about all this, just bail out now. It only gets worse.
Moving on, then...
So, yesterday I had a date! Yes, I have been talking to a very cute guy online for several months now, and we finally met yesterday. This guy is smokin' hot (to me)! He's kinda short, maybe 5'8", with broad shoulders, a shaved head, and a beefy, solid butt. I LOVE chunky guys. He is younger (early 30s) which I'm not crazy about. I'm more comfortable with guys closer to my age, but I was pleased that we got along so well. We met for coffee, went to the park and wandered around a bit, and then came back to my place. The sexual tension was evident, and this was plenty of foreplay for two horny homos.
Now, as we had been talking online, he told me that he was "versatile", meaning that he was as open to being a "top" as he was to being a "bottom". When I explained that I was actually just orally inclined, he said he really was as well. This made me much less worried about meeting him. I can't tell you what a disaster it is when I am confronted with a demanding bottom who only wants to get plowed. There are many of these type out in the world, and I do my best to avoid them.
When we get to my place I offer him a beer and he is all over me. I love aggressive, confident guys! We fumble to the bedroom and clothes are flying. I'm happy to report that when he pulled his dick out, I was startled and a little worried. I determined that I was going to keep that thing down my throat as much as possible until he came, because I certainly didn't want him reaching for my ass with it. Not gonna happen.
So, I throw him back on the bed and proceed to get to work. By the way, seeing him fully naked was amazing. Football build. Full pecs and a tiny little gut. Just enough of a pooch to call it a belly. His ass was all muscle and I had a cheek in each hand as I buried my face into his crotch, pulling him into my mouth. It wasn't long before he flipped me over, and it was my turn to be on my back. He was straddling my chest, his face in between my legs and his ass, perfect as it was, in my face. I reached up and rubbed, with wet fingers, into his ass crack.
Then BOOM! It happened.
The dude kicked into overdrive. He moaned. He groaned. He bucked like a fucking stallion. Touching him there absolutely unleashed a wild man. He rubbed that perfect butt all OVER my chest and my face. Seriously. It became an entity all unto itself.
Versatile? Since fucking when? This guy was 100% bottom, and I was in TROUBLE!
But, I was really turned on. He was very sexy, and a very generous lover. I believe while this was happening, he had not only my entire package, but both my legs down his throat!
He jumps off of me, grabs his jeans, and pulls out a condom.
"I want you to fuck me!" he says.
Look, I didn't have time to even respond. The rubber was out, slapped on my cock, and he was positioning himself over me by the time I could even say "Well, I don't really know if this is gonna work. Maybe we should slow down. See, I have really bad luck when it comes to fuc..."
...and, Ladies and Gentlemen, just like that, he was on me and I was IN him and we were fucking!
You know that episode of Oprah where Dr. Oz tells the audience that dropping just 35 pounds can add an inch of penis size?
Yup. I've dropped 50 so far and I'm telling you that it's true, because I have more than that added on now! It reminded me of my heterosexual days. The great sex I had with my girlfriends really WAS great sex back then! The warmth, the wetness, the feeling of the grip around my shaft as I pump, this is what sex IS for me!
We worked it, kids. It was a Butt Sex Jamboree! And here's the big revelation: I was pretty good at it! Turns out, I sucked at being a bottom, because I'VE BEEN A TOP ALL ALONG! Hallelujah, jimmy got his cock back!
...well, I still prefer oral, but...you know...
So, this guy was all complimentary afterwards and I was so freaking proud of myself that I asked if we could see each other again. He said he'd like that and that I could fuck him any time. We'll see. He has my phone number. I hope he calls. I have my doubts. He bolted pretty fast after the sex. I don't want to be a booty call.
Hey, hook-ups happen. Even to fat guys.
Okay, enough of that. Just had to share what was a pretty major realization for me. Thanks for following along, if ya did.
Video Bonus!
I found this over at Joe.My.God (perhaps the coolest gay blog ever)! This clip is an animated representation of global warfare from WWII to the present, using food as representations of countries and weaponry. It's fast moving, but very clever.
If you need a list of what food represents what country, there is a list here.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
I'm Really Pretty Tired
Hi, sweet people! I'm back in the door from my follow-up visit to the surgeon in Houston. All went very well. Well, the trip always kicks my ass, but three hours to get there and three hours to get back SHOULD kick my ass, right?
Dropped another three pounds in six days. Good! I have to remain on liquids only for another week, when I can graduate to pureed soft foods, and then eventually real food. Blecch! Yeah, I'll survive. I just like to whine.
Now, today was just to see how I was doing after the surgery. Have I been puking? Am I sore? Am I still gay?....that kinda thing. The big drag is that I must return four weeks from today to get my first "FILL". This is where they inject saline into the band via a port in my abdomen and through a tube that is connected with the band to make the bladder on the inside of the band expand, creating the small hole that will hold the food I consume going forward in the new "pouch" that the band created. Do you follow that? I swear, I am shit at explaining things.
THAT'S when things get interesting for me. By interesting, I guess I mean complicated. I'll explain more later. I'm pooped.
SO pooped, in fact, that the following happened while on the road back from Houston:
I'm driving along, listening to talk radio and kinda zoning out. Suddenly, I realize the car ahead of me has a bumpersticker on the back that reads this:
Hi, sweet people! I'm back in the door from my follow-up visit to the surgeon in Houston. All went very well. Well, the trip always kicks my ass, but three hours to get there and three hours to get back SHOULD kick my ass, right?
Dropped another three pounds in six days. Good! I have to remain on liquids only for another week, when I can graduate to pureed soft foods, and then eventually real food. Blecch! Yeah, I'll survive. I just like to whine.
Now, today was just to see how I was doing after the surgery. Have I been puking? Am I sore? Am I still gay?....that kinda thing. The big drag is that I must return four weeks from today to get my first "FILL". This is where they inject saline into the band via a port in my abdomen and through a tube that is connected with the band to make the bladder on the inside of the band expand, creating the small hole that will hold the food I consume going forward in the new "pouch" that the band created. Do you follow that? I swear, I am shit at explaining things.
THAT'S when things get interesting for me. By interesting, I guess I mean complicated. I'll explain more later. I'm pooped.
SO pooped, in fact, that the following happened while on the road back from Houston:
I'm driving along, listening to talk radio and kinda zoning out. Suddenly, I realize the car ahead of me has a bumpersticker on the back that reads this:
BOYSCOUT VEAL
Now, I've seen some pretty whacky bumperstickers in my day, but this one made me scratch my head. What the hell does THAT mean? Are the Boy Scouts starting a new program of selling meat in order to raise money for their organization? If so, that's a pretty weird fucking thing to do, if ya ask me. I blinked my eyes and tailgated the car a bit to get closer. In between the two words of the two word sticker there was a little picture of a calf's face.
If it was a joke it wasn't even funny, I decided.
I then wondered if this was some new marketing strategy of NAMBLA, which thoroughly creeped me out. Surely no one would put such a thing on a bumpersticker!
By about this time, the car the sticker was on got annoyed that I was driving up its butt, and started to slow down. Last thing I want to to piss off a pedophile out in the middle of BFE, so I pulled into the next lane in order to pass and ponder this weird freaking slogan.
As I was passing, I shot one last look at the sticker.
BOYCOTT VEAL
Oh! Okay! I get it now! Thank God!
I was really tired.
p.s. - veal is gross. I don't eat the stuff, either.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
...And No One Seems To Be Bitching?!?
updated 7:36 p.m. CT, Sun., March. 9, 2008
NEW YORK - U.S. average retail gasoline prices have reached a new high of almost $3.20 per gallon and will likely jump another 20 to 30 cents in the next month, worsening the pain of consumers struggling to make ends meet in an economic downturn.
Gasoline prices are rising sharply as refiners, who have kept prices down in order to compete for sales, become more willing to pass on their higher costs of crude oil, according to an industry analyst on Sunday.
The national average for self-serve regular unleaded gas was nearly $3.20 a gallon on March 7, up about 9.44 cents per gallon in the past two weeks, according to the nationwide Lundberg survey of about 7,000 gas stations. The price has risen 64 cents per gallon in the past 12 months.
What was Exxon's profit last year? Why are we allowing this kinda price gouging to happen? You'd think even STRAIGHT America has learned to like taking it up the ass...
updated 7:36 p.m. CT, Sun., March. 9, 2008
NEW YORK - U.S. average retail gasoline prices have reached a new high of almost $3.20 per gallon and will likely jump another 20 to 30 cents in the next month, worsening the pain of consumers struggling to make ends meet in an economic downturn.
Gasoline prices are rising sharply as refiners, who have kept prices down in order to compete for sales, become more willing to pass on their higher costs of crude oil, according to an industry analyst on Sunday.
The national average for self-serve regular unleaded gas was nearly $3.20 a gallon on March 7, up about 9.44 cents per gallon in the past two weeks, according to the nationwide Lundberg survey of about 7,000 gas stations. The price has risen 64 cents per gallon in the past 12 months.
What was Exxon's profit last year? Why are we allowing this kinda price gouging to happen? You'd think even STRAIGHT America has learned to like taking it up the ass...
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Sunday MopUp 03/09/08
Whoa, here I am, with a shaved belly and suture thread hanging off of me, all post-op an' shit! Welcome to my sorta-regularly featured Sunday MopUp, where I usually sit back with a fresh cup of coffee or four and spout off about my previous week, while I bounce around the house doing various cleaning chores in between. Today, there will be no caffeine or bouncing around because I am still fairly fragile feeling, and just the IDEA of coffee makes me feel a little queasy, so I'm gonna pass on it.
Houston Bound
My buddy, Sexual Chocolate, and I left for Houston Thursday evening just after 6PM. He agreed to drive me there and back. What I didn't expect was the ribbing I took for owning a Ford F-150. Why do people hate Fords so much? I love my truck. I have driven Fords for years, and they have always been reliable. I don't get it.
When we hit Houston, we found a BBQ place for dinner. I had a quarter pound of brisket and a quarter pound (count em: 2!) of pork ribs. It was The Last Supper for me. No sides or anything, just the meat. It was very tasty stuff.
We checked into the Homestead Suites, where we shared a queen-sized bed and two of the flattest freaking pillows known to man. We weren't very comfortable. 'Round about midnight, I started to panic a little bit about the inevitability of it all. SC tried to comfort me. He gave me a back rub. He rubbed on my butt. He's a horn dawg, but was on his best behavior.
The Day Of Surgery
We were up at 7AM, since I had to check in by 9AM. We were checked in by a quarter to 9 and sat in the room until nearly 10 before I insisted that SC take off and have a day of his own. He swapped phone numbers with the Nurse's Station and was gone, which was what I wanted. I wanted to be alone. This was all about me, and I didn't want to have to worry about how anyone else was doing. It's just how I am built. I get all introverted.
My surgery was scheduled for 11AM, but by then, I hadn't even made it to Pre-Op. I finally went into Pre-Op at about noon. I met all sorts of administrative types who made me sign a buttload of papers. It took three different nurses about 30 minutes to finally get an iv into me. I had no veins, it seemed.
A whole crew of doctor types came by to meet me. Everyone asked the same friggin' questions. Allergies? Previous surgeries? Fake teeth? I was becoming annoyed. My surgeon showed up and asked me, since it was so late in the day, if I would like to spend the night in the hospital, rather than being discharged right away. I hemmed and hawed, and he said we could talk about it later.
At around 2:30PM, I finally got rolled into the OR. I huffed some pure oxygen, and they hit me with the juice. I was out instantly.
When I woke up, I was in Post-Op. It was around 5PM and I was whisked away to a private room. So much for the discussion about staying, I simply was. No biggie. This way, Sexual Chocolate had the suite to himself, out there in the real world. Had to be easier on him as well.
(Found out later that he used the night to go check out a gay bar in Houston called "Ripcord". Says he didn't get laid. Yeah, whatever. Heh.)
I slept. When I awoke here and there, I was surprised at my lack of pain. Really. The nurse made me get out of bed at 10PM and walk around the main hallway of the floor. Two laps. I was a little unsteady at first, but was chugging right along by the end.
The Next Day
I was checked on every two hours all night long. I think it's a little sadistic to do this to people who are trying to recover from a surgery.
At 4AM, I was roused to walk some more. I blasted down the hall at almost a gallop. I was angry that they woke me up again. I'm a heavy sleeper and don't wake up all sweetness and light, okay?
At 8AM I wanted to get the hell out. I contacted SC and told him to pack our crap from the motel room, pay the chickiepoo at the front desk and haul ass over to the hospital. Of course, I couldn't be discharged until I saw the doctor.
The surgeon dropped by at 9AM. He looked at my wounds and congratulated me on a smooth and successful surgery. I was instructed to call his office on Monday to make a follow-up appointment, given a shotglass from which to drink for the next week (no more clear fluids than 2 ounces an hour!) and told to scram.
We bolted. Was back in Austin by 1PM and I could not crawl into bed fast enough. CS unpacked the truck and asked what else he could do. I sent him home. I wanted to sleep. By myself.
I've been sleeping ever since.
I'm not in any kind of real pain, although my stomach DOES feel constricted. Like how you'd feel several days after being punched in the gut.
I have no appetite. I'm sipping on the chocolate protein drinks I have stockpiled from the weight loss program, and will live on them until I'm told I can advance to pureed foods. The process of re-feeding will take weeks.
Also, Although the band is in and ON, it hasn't yet been filled with saline to create the small hole at the base of the new "pouch" at the top of my stomach. That "fill" will happen in about 4 weeks. I'm sure I'll give you all the gruesome details as they develop.
Well, this wasn't all that entertaining, but I just wanted to give ya a blow-by-blow of the process. I'll try to be funny or interesting later.
Whoa, here I am, with a shaved belly and suture thread hanging off of me, all post-op an' shit! Welcome to my sorta-regularly featured Sunday MopUp, where I usually sit back with a fresh cup of coffee or four and spout off about my previous week, while I bounce around the house doing various cleaning chores in between. Today, there will be no caffeine or bouncing around because I am still fairly fragile feeling, and just the IDEA of coffee makes me feel a little queasy, so I'm gonna pass on it.
Houston Bound
My buddy, Sexual Chocolate, and I left for Houston Thursday evening just after 6PM. He agreed to drive me there and back. What I didn't expect was the ribbing I took for owning a Ford F-150. Why do people hate Fords so much? I love my truck. I have driven Fords for years, and they have always been reliable. I don't get it.
When we hit Houston, we found a BBQ place for dinner. I had a quarter pound of brisket and a quarter pound (count em: 2!) of pork ribs. It was The Last Supper for me. No sides or anything, just the meat. It was very tasty stuff.
We checked into the Homestead Suites, where we shared a queen-sized bed and two of the flattest freaking pillows known to man. We weren't very comfortable. 'Round about midnight, I started to panic a little bit about the inevitability of it all. SC tried to comfort me. He gave me a back rub. He rubbed on my butt. He's a horn dawg, but was on his best behavior.
The Day Of Surgery
We were up at 7AM, since I had to check in by 9AM. We were checked in by a quarter to 9 and sat in the room until nearly 10 before I insisted that SC take off and have a day of his own. He swapped phone numbers with the Nurse's Station and was gone, which was what I wanted. I wanted to be alone. This was all about me, and I didn't want to have to worry about how anyone else was doing. It's just how I am built. I get all introverted.
My surgery was scheduled for 11AM, but by then, I hadn't even made it to Pre-Op. I finally went into Pre-Op at about noon. I met all sorts of administrative types who made me sign a buttload of papers. It took three different nurses about 30 minutes to finally get an iv into me. I had no veins, it seemed.
A whole crew of doctor types came by to meet me. Everyone asked the same friggin' questions. Allergies? Previous surgeries? Fake teeth? I was becoming annoyed. My surgeon showed up and asked me, since it was so late in the day, if I would like to spend the night in the hospital, rather than being discharged right away. I hemmed and hawed, and he said we could talk about it later.
At around 2:30PM, I finally got rolled into the OR. I huffed some pure oxygen, and they hit me with the juice. I was out instantly.
When I woke up, I was in Post-Op. It was around 5PM and I was whisked away to a private room. So much for the discussion about staying, I simply was. No biggie. This way, Sexual Chocolate had the suite to himself, out there in the real world. Had to be easier on him as well.
(Found out later that he used the night to go check out a gay bar in Houston called "Ripcord". Says he didn't get laid. Yeah, whatever. Heh.)
I slept. When I awoke here and there, I was surprised at my lack of pain. Really. The nurse made me get out of bed at 10PM and walk around the main hallway of the floor. Two laps. I was a little unsteady at first, but was chugging right along by the end.
The Next Day
I was checked on every two hours all night long. I think it's a little sadistic to do this to people who are trying to recover from a surgery.
At 4AM, I was roused to walk some more. I blasted down the hall at almost a gallop. I was angry that they woke me up again. I'm a heavy sleeper and don't wake up all sweetness and light, okay?
At 8AM I wanted to get the hell out. I contacted SC and told him to pack our crap from the motel room, pay the chickiepoo at the front desk and haul ass over to the hospital. Of course, I couldn't be discharged until I saw the doctor.
The surgeon dropped by at 9AM. He looked at my wounds and congratulated me on a smooth and successful surgery. I was instructed to call his office on Monday to make a follow-up appointment, given a shotglass from which to drink for the next week (no more clear fluids than 2 ounces an hour!) and told to scram.
We bolted. Was back in Austin by 1PM and I could not crawl into bed fast enough. CS unpacked the truck and asked what else he could do. I sent him home. I wanted to sleep. By myself.
I've been sleeping ever since.
I'm not in any kind of real pain, although my stomach DOES feel constricted. Like how you'd feel several days after being punched in the gut.
I have no appetite. I'm sipping on the chocolate protein drinks I have stockpiled from the weight loss program, and will live on them until I'm told I can advance to pureed foods. The process of re-feeding will take weeks.
Also, Although the band is in and ON, it hasn't yet been filled with saline to create the small hole at the base of the new "pouch" at the top of my stomach. That "fill" will happen in about 4 weeks. I'm sure I'll give you all the gruesome details as they develop.
Well, this wasn't all that entertaining, but I just wanted to give ya a blow-by-blow of the process. I'll try to be funny or interesting later.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
I DID IT!
Hi, kids! Just checking in, as I have just returned from Houston where I had the lap-band yesterday. Just yesterday, and I am up and moving around, and feeling good, and SO DANG GLAD that the operation part is over! YAY!
My sexy black buddy, "Sexual Chocolate", went with and drove me home today. I owe him big-time.
I'm fairly exhausted, was up at 4am today, so I'm going to keep this short and simple. I'll post a MopUp tomorrw and give you a few details.
Big Love and Willing Genitals,
jim
Hi, kids! Just checking in, as I have just returned from Houston where I had the lap-band yesterday. Just yesterday, and I am up and moving around, and feeling good, and SO DANG GLAD that the operation part is over! YAY!
My sexy black buddy, "Sexual Chocolate", went with and drove me home today. I owe him big-time.
I'm fairly exhausted, was up at 4am today, so I'm going to keep this short and simple. I'll post a MopUp tomorrw and give you a few details.
Big Love and Willing Genitals,
jim
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Sunday MopUp 03/02/08
Oops, I Did It Again!
Yep, managed to piss off people I actually love and cherish by thinking that my sense of humor is understood and accepted.
Bull in a china shop, I am.
I am sorry if I hurt your feelings, my friends.
The post has been removed.
Bought A Clothes Dryer
...at a FLEA MARKET yesterday! I was a flea market virgin until that point. I paid $130.00 for a used but very clean and in good condition Kenmore electric dryer. I'm doing laundry as I sit here, and that puppy is cranking out the heat. Maybe it's the "gay gene" thing, but when I was unable to do laundry for three days when my old dryer crapped out on me earlier in the week, I went into panic mode. Gotta have access to clean clothes. It's just the law.
The Time Is At Hand
Short week for me at work this week. I need to cram 10 days of work into three days, as I will be out of the office from Thursday March 6th, until Monday, March 17th. I'm excited and starting get a wee bit scared of the approaching surgery. It's cool. I'm a worrier.
...
Try as I might, my heart just isn't into this (blogging) right now. I'm bummed that I have upset a friend, and I think I just need to think about the consequences of my actions.
I'll check back in before I head to Houston on Thursday.
Oops, I Did It Again!
Yep, managed to piss off people I actually love and cherish by thinking that my sense of humor is understood and accepted.
Bull in a china shop, I am.
I am sorry if I hurt your feelings, my friends.
The post has been removed.
Bought A Clothes Dryer
...at a FLEA MARKET yesterday! I was a flea market virgin until that point. I paid $130.00 for a used but very clean and in good condition Kenmore electric dryer. I'm doing laundry as I sit here, and that puppy is cranking out the heat. Maybe it's the "gay gene" thing, but when I was unable to do laundry for three days when my old dryer crapped out on me earlier in the week, I went into panic mode. Gotta have access to clean clothes. It's just the law.
The Time Is At Hand
Short week for me at work this week. I need to cram 10 days of work into three days, as I will be out of the office from Thursday March 6th, until Monday, March 17th. I'm excited and starting get a wee bit scared of the approaching surgery. It's cool. I'm a worrier.
...
Try as I might, my heart just isn't into this (blogging) right now. I'm bummed that I have upset a friend, and I think I just need to think about the consequences of my actions.
I'll check back in before I head to Houston on Thursday.
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