I'm The Decider

...and I've made a huge decision at my place of employ about me and my work environment. And The Decision is this:

No more blogging, either writing or reading, at work. Period.

This pains me, because I feel completely comfortable in assuring you, or anyone within my company, that I get things done at work. I can supervise and co-ordinate and facilitate like a champ, and still have my browser tucked in the background of my desktop, ready to spring open and catch whatever wonderment spills from my keyboard at any given time. Further, I can zip in and out of fellow blogger's lives adroitly while juggling the host of Real World duties assigned to me by The Man. Tasks that pay my mortgage and keep my refrigerator stocked. Multi-task like a multi-fucker, I can. But, that's not the point.

What IS important is that, when "on the clock" for Corporate America I should, and shall, give The Beast my UNDIVIDED attention. If I can truly juggle more balls, let them be company balls.

Truth is: I love my job. I love what I do (mostly), and I love the people I work with (generally). I am Grateful and Honored that I have been given some status and privilege, and feel I owe my employer my respect. So, no personal silliness during business hours.

And, let me tell you, people: this new rule is KILLIN' ME! Jesus, I'm addicted to my lifestyle of "drive-by blogging". I sit in front of my monitor, jumping between Access 2003 spreadsheets, Outlook email, and the user -interface for the metadata tool I use, and I'm seriously wondering how Bigg is doing, if Dick Small has posted another dumbass cartoon, and what silly shit is collecting on Overheard In New York today.

It's tough, but I'm restraining myself. Because it's the right thing to do.

Don't be surprised it you see a little less of me. I'll try to check-in before work, after work (like now), and on weekends.

Just know that I'm crazy missing being on all day, off and on.

[ insert Heavy Sigh here]

Meanwhile, here's a cartoon I lifted from Joe.My.God (who admits he got it from somewhere else) that, in light of all the Republican gay sex scandals, made me laugh.

Later!

Happy Labor Day!

...and God bless any of you who have ever gone through it. Life may be a miracle, but that is certainly a part of the process best left to only the strongest of our species. I may be gay, but MAD PROPS to you amazing females out there who have delivered babies!

The rest of us may work for a living, sure, we all rock. But "Mother's Day" just doesn't cut it for acknowledging how much we all owe the women of the world.

I'm Still Laughing At The Name "Butch Otter"...


Okay, with all the hoopty-do over Senator Craig's misguided attempt at entertaining the troops with a little "hand puppet" show under a bathroom stall, I can't seem to get away from stumbling into conversations with my gay brethren about what it all means. Everyone is talking about it, ad nauseum. Here are the main questions currently under debate, yet resolved byYours Truly:


Q: Does tapping your foot against someone else's and sticking your hand into a private space in a public restroom constitute solicitation for sex?
A: Yes, you silly bitches!


Q: Is it wrong to want to have sex in a public restroom?
A: Wrong to "want" to? Nah. Stupid to attempt? Certainly.


Q: If a "straight" man engages in sex with another man, does that make him "gay"?
A: Not in my book. Look, guys are biologically driven to have as much sex as they can get. It's what we, as a gender, do. There are straight men all over the world who get a little on the "dl"and go right back to their heterosexual lifestyle. They prefer women, but any port in a storm, if ya know what I mean. It cracks me up that we, as a collective conscious, can't wrap our brains around the concept of "bisexuality". Sexual Opportunism does not make you a fag. Do you think all the stories of prison sex are about converting straight men to homosexuals?


When Senator Craig pleads "I'm not gay!" - dude, I believe him. What he is, however, is a creepy, hypocritical troll. He's a guy who isn't getting enough kinky shit at home and, therefore, plays around on the side. The look on his wife's face at the press conferences just broke my heart. Maybe all she needed to do was fingerfuck him once in a while and none of this woulda happened. Who knows?


Q: Have you ever had sex in a public restroom yourself?
A: Almost none of those I've talked to have. Well, if you don't count the wild crap that happens in the men's room at any and EVERY gay bar on any given weekend. This question usually segues into someone talking about the time they went into the restroom of a gay bar on a Saturday night, only to find some freak stretched out in the urinal trough, inviting guys to piss on him. For the record, pissing on this guy does NOT constitute you having sex with him.


One friend, however, did tell this story:


Once, during a shopping spree at Home Depot, this friend went into the men's room, opened a stall door, and sat down. Once seated, a voice came from the stall next to his.


"Hi, how are you doing?" the voice asked.


"Fine, thanks" replied my friend.


"What are you doing?" was the next question from the voice.


"Well, I'm here to pick some things up for the house. Like you are, I'm sure."


"Can I come over there?"


"Uh, no. I'm a little busy at the moment..."


Then the voice's tone changed and said, "Look, can I call you back? There's a guy in the next stall who thinks I'm talking to him!"

Hear It On My JukeBox

The Part Where You Let Go - HEM

When the rain breaks the road

Are you holding on

Are you holding on

To your last good day

When the stone breaks the wheel

Are you holding on

Are you holding on
Til the stone rolls away

And I don't know

Is this the part where you let go

And tumbling out of a window

Is this the part where you find out I'm there for you?

When the sun leaves the field

Are you holding on

Are you holding on

To the last sweet light

When the flame leaves your eyes

I still see you there

I still see you there

On your darkest night

And I don't know

Is this the part where you let go

And sinking under a shadow

Is this the part where you find out I'm there for you now?

As your hand's breaking free

I am holding on

I am holding on

As you've held on to me

And I don't know

Is this the part where we let go

And tumbling out of a window

Is this the part you're there for me?

And I don't know

Is this the part where you let go

And sinking under a shadow

Is this the part where you find out I'm there for you

You find out I'm there for you

You find out I'm there for you

For Bigg

What Have I DONE?

...but blow a thousand bucks on a SA-WEET laptop! On an impulse during my lunch break today, no less. Why, dumbass, WHY?

I've got 14 days to come to my senses and return this, and only suffer a 15% re-stocking fee.

It's cool. You'd have wanted it, too. But, get your own, damn it. This one is MINE!

I'll explain more another time. Right now, I'm too busy licking the screen.

Hey, at least I won't be sniffing this in public!

Sad But True

When I was younger, I had a horrible ability to lose any and all things in my possession. I'm sure this had everything to do with the fact that I was, more or less, perpetually stoned from the ages of 18 to about 35.

"Braincells? I don't need any stinking braincells! Hey, where the fuck are my car keys? Have you seen my fucking car keys? Shit!"

Pretty much.

Point is, I spent a LOT of time replacing personal stuff that I had lost. Said car keys, drivers licences, sunglasses, underwear, cassette tapes, wallets, you name it. Wallets...

I went through so many wallets back in the day, that I stopped buying them. Instead, I would use the little cheap, plastic, checkbook covers that you get for free when you order new checks at the bank. I carried credit cards and my ID around in these pieces of shit for years. Years. They were bigger than a conventional wallet, so I could feel it better when I had it stashed in my back pocket. It seemed to help. I stopped losing my "wallet" so much.

When The X and I got together, he noticed what I was carrying around, and bought me a nice checkbook cover as a Christmas gift our first Christmas together. I loved it. It was a black Harley-Davidson embossed monster that I THOUGHT was leather. Now, I don't think so. That was, gee, 7 years ago? It finally fell apart last year cuz I can wear out a muthafuckin' wallet, ya know? It died shortly after our relationship died, The X and me, so I pitched the bitch. It also reminded me of him. Who wants THAT?

And, in keeping with Jim being Jim, I promptly went back to the cheapass, plastic freebie checkbook covers from the bank.

Well, two and a half years after the brutal breakup from The X, I am dating again. Weird science, people! Anyway, the guy I am now seeing has commented several times (actually EVERY time I pull it out) that my checkbook cover is hilarious. He can't believe I tote that shit around. Gay men are killer bitches, ya know? It has started to make me feel very self-conscious and started me thinking. Why DON'T I carry a real wallet now? It's been years since I've gotten stoned and lost anything (cuz it's been years since I've gotten stoned). Well, there was one incident last year but, c'mon, that was a fluke! He has even threatened to buy me a new, REAL, wallet.

That's all it took. I decided to go get myself one.

I went last week to Target (cuz this bear doesn't do Walmart!), and dropped a whopping 10 bucks on a simple black leather wallet. Amazingly easy to accomplish. I loaded it with all my shit, stashed it into my back pocket, and got on with Life.

Well folks, let me tell you, I have now found a completely NEW way of embarrassing myself in public.

See, this thing is genuine leather. And when real leather has been riding around in my fatass pants all day long, it gets, and stays...warm. And when new leather gets warm, it gets fragrant. You know, that "leather smell". Well, I love that smell. Always have. And it's not something sexual, you dirty pervs. I can remember being a kid, living out in the country, where we had horses. The smell of the saddles and the stuff in the tack room was all around me. So, now every friggin' time I have reached into my pocket to pull out my wallet in the past week, I have gotten a whiff of that awesome, wonderful, rugged, nostalgic smell. And, retard that I surely am, I canNOT help but raise the wallet to my nose and SNIFF IT!

Yes, I stand in front of whatever cashier is in front of me, waiting patiently to be paid, and I am smelling my wallet, eyes rolling back in my head, gurgling some kinda groan, totally spacing out on where I am and what I am doing. I can't help myself. I've tried all week to not do this and yet it happens every time!

I snap out of it within a very few seconds, but I assure you it's long enough to attract the attention of anyone anywhere near me. The looks I have gotten. Trust. This is unbelievably pathetic. It looks like I'm huffing my butt or something!

I was supposed to go out with my new friend this weekend, but have avoided calling him. He can't see this. I told myself to leave the wallet at home, just load the old checkbook up and go out. I can't do it. I LOVE my new wallet. I have to have it on me. I WANT to sniff it! Oh. My. GOD! I'm a freak!

I'm going to call him in just a minute and make up a lie about why we aren't getting together tonight. I'll figure out how to handle this, and see him later in the week. Wish me luck.

A "Dick Anonymous" Meeting

Hello, my name is Jim, and I'm a Dickoholic.

Considering my age, I have not known Dick for very long. A relationship with Dick is an acquired taste. It can be difficult, confusing, and frustrating. But it can also be rewarding and very satisfying. I have learned to love Dick.

When I don't see Dick for days at a time, I become aggitated, nervous, apprehensive. It's like I crave Dick. I start seeing Dick everywhere. Like magazine covers at the supermarket. I have seen Dick in people's faces. I have seen Dick going into Jaws. I have seen Dick just hanging out.

I'm obsessed with Dick, and it's beginning to worry me.

I hope that God will hear my prayers about Dick.

And, by the way, I don't care who knows about it. When asked I will tell people, point blank, that when it comes to all the Dicks I know, I prefer Dick Small!

Thank you for letting me share.

"God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
the courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference."
AMEN!

I Live In A Suitcase

Since I've begun working out, I have found the need to lug my gym bag around with me, most anywhere I go. This is a major pain in the ass, yet absolutely essential. It holds all my crap. It's like hauling carry-on luggage with me where ever I go. The whole world has become one big-ass airport terminal, and I am merely the weary traveler, waiting for my next flight. Or something.

I used to laugh at dudes with fannypacks, computer cases, and manpurses. Everything I ever needed, I could stuff into a pants pocket (or, in the case of a bag of pot: my sock). Back when I was underage, all I ever toted around was a wallet containing no money, fake ID, real ID, and a never used condom.

Now? Let's take a look inside my bag, shall we?:

*fresh gym shorts
*extra pair of cargo shorts
*fresh gym shirt
*fresh socks
*fresh grundersnorts
*"jimsize"gym towel
*iPod w/headphones
*shampoo
*bodywash
*powders
*minoxydil (shut up)
*anti-perspirant
*hairbrush
*toothbrush
*toothpaste
*floss
*Blistex
*diabetes meds

also included:
*thumbdrive for my pc
*bills that still need paid
*notepad
*pen
*gym ID
*plastic bag for the wet & dirty

cameo appearances by:
*my regular glasses
*my sunglasses
*the damned blackberry

shocked to discover:
*cheeseburger wrapper
*receipt from porn store
*tokens (see above)
*never used condom

So. What's in YOUR wallet?

Seth Rogan

The little gut.

The fur.

The smartass smirk.

The baby I bore him.

(swoon)

shut up

I'm McLovin It...

Really cute little movie. Tiny movie. To talk too much about it would be to take away some of its charm. Its foul-mouthed, immature charm. All I want to say is that it's worth the admission price alone to witness Seth's "little secret".

Flawed, juvenile, and sweet.

And, for the record, Seth Rogan (acted in "40 Year Old Virgin", was the lead in "Knocked Up", and now the director/co-writer/actor in this) is my new celebrity crush. He plays a bumbling cop in this, complete with a Village People moustache. I want to have his babies.

SIOOMA

Oh, yes! I will be adding this acronym to my vocab list pronto (yes, if you want to know what it means, you'll have to work for it) !

See-ew-ma.
Or is it See-oh-ma?

damnit!

I'll figure it out, then I'll be tossing it around like a hipster.

Perfect.

[Late Addition Edition: It's official - "see-Uma". I was right the first time. It's catching on now and is even an entry in the Urban Dictionary. Righteous!]

The Daily Show Gets My Vote!

If Jon Stewart were to run for office, I swear to God I'd vote for him. Enjoy the meaty goodness!

"I Wanna Run Through The Halls Of My High School
I Wanna Scream At The Top Of My Lungs..."

My thirty year high school reunion was the first weekend in August. I had told myself for the last full year that this was the year I would attend. I have told myself this every five years since the 15 year reunion. I can never seem to bring myself to actually going.

It's not like I don't know why. See, my high school years were golden for me. I fell in with the cool kids my junior year and found myself writing for the school paper, getting parts in all the school plays and musicals, was asked to join the vocal ensemble that toured local charity events and recorded an album, and was a part of the competitive acting and speaking team. Won some awards for my performance of "Long Day's Journey Into Night" at a state competition. Scholastically, I did well. National Honor Society. I was popular with the drama kids, the stoner kids, and the jocks. Well, not 'Prom King' popular, but I was well-liked, and fairly well-known.

I guess I'm saying that I peaked at 18.

Since that time, I struggled in the real world. I got fat, I got lazy. I got lost.

Then, I got gay.

Did I really want to go back and face my shining past? I have always have wanted to, but I have never been able to muster the courage.

Well, an old school mate who did attend has just sent me pictures from the event. So, for the first time since graduating, I got to look in on who and what I have been missing. And here is what I saw:

Picture after picture of people who look like my parents. Like my Dad's golfing buddies or something. They are wrinkled, balding, fat, middle-aged men and women who are old enough now to have GRANDkids! My peers, my friends, forever burned into my braincells as young and vital and adventurous, crazy, Hell-raisers are, in fact, getting ready to retire. I looked deeply into their eyes, trying to find The Teenager. Who were these people?

Seriously, it spooked me.

I jumped up from my computer and found the nearest mirror and studied my face. I still see The Teenager in me! I swear, I don't look all that drastically different in my face than when I was a kid. Sure, there is wear and tear. Of course. But I do NOT see Grandpa Jim. Could my brain simply refuse to see what I really look like? What in the hell do I really LOOK like?

I have no idea anymore.

The Forbidden Dance Of Love

Star in Your Own JibJab! It's Free!

(sing it with me...)

Monday, Monday

blah, blah, blahblah, blahblah...

Ah, a fresh start to a new week! The first day in three that I've felt like a human being. Damn, whatever happened to me on Friday lingered throughout the whole weekend. I was worthless on Saturday and Sunday. Headache from Hell. But, it's Monday now, and I feel fine. Good, in fact. Pretty dang terrific, if push comes to shove.

And, what has happened in the world while I was bunched up into the fetal position in my bed? Well, Merv is dead, Karl Rove announced he is quitting being Bush's brain, 5 people died falling from a Ferris Wheel in South Korea, and Dick Small had trouble connecting to the internet.

All in all, I got off easy.

PostSecret

This is another of my All Time favorite sites. Every Sunday a new batch of post cards with amazing secrets and accompanying artwork is posted and it never fails to catch me in the throat.

Well, this week Frank has posted a little video about this project, and has asked that fans share it. I am more than happy to do so. It doesn't hurt that the soundtrack to the piece is the amazing song "Breathe Me" by Sia. Little bit of jimmycity trivia here: I have worked up a cover of this song that I play when I play. My cover isn't nearly as dynamic as the original, but I love the idea of a big burly guy like me singing the words "I am small...and needy."

Anyway, those of you who CAN give this a listen should. Sorry, Dick.

Woozy

I'm here at work, hours after my steroid injection, and I'm feeling fairly weird. Kinda nauseous, kinda headachey, kinda sore. I felt the needle a whole bunch more this time, so they upped the sedation on me.

I'll probably go home tonight and crawl into bed early.

It's the weekend. Are you gonna do anything fun? Tell me your plans. Then, tuck me in and kiss my forehead. I'll tell you that I love you as you turn out the light.

HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY

"Indexed"!

I know I just mentioned her a week or so ago, but Jessica's BRILLIANT blog celebrated its 1st birthday yesterday. This woman is cooler and smarter that anyone I know, yet by following her for the past year, I kinda feel like I DO know her.

Blogs can be silly. Blogs can be boring. Blogs can be brutal. But some blogs are beautiful.

And this one is.

So Far, So Good

The evaluation for Physical Therapy on my neck/shoulder/clavicle/blahblahblah went okay yesterday. Twice a week for 8 weeks I'll be going to stretch and turn and swear (most likely).

Went to the dentist today. My tooffers are beautiful. They got cleaned with a pick axe and a belt sander. Dental hygiene is a BIG deal to me. Kiss me. C'mon.

Friday, I get the milkshake straw into the jugular again. No fear this time. Last time was a breeze.

Meanwhile, my "massive project" at work is worrying me. I'm doing all I can do on MY end, but the equipment needed to deploy the content involved is not cooperating. If we aren't firing on all cylinders by Friday morning, I will be commiting seppuku (or, is it hara-kiri?) all over the offending machinery. I'm certain I can get a co-worker to be my "second". They're good like that.

No big deal.

Bitch Of A Week Ahead Of Me

I don't want to project a bunch of negative energy out into the Universe, but this week is shaping up to be difficult.

To begin with, my department is still in the throes of being moved and it's not pretty. Once it's over, it is gonna ROCK, but right now it's tough. Equipment is failing left and right and my boss, generally a "Little Ray Of Sunshine" is, rightfully, an exhausted grump. Before all is said and done, there may be personnel adjustments within the facility. Not something that management likes to have to do.

Beyond that, I have a major project that MUST be up on it's feet by Tuesday, a week from tomorrow. A project that requires a fully operational facility, which does not exist at the moment.

And then, to add to that the fact that I have three doctor's appointments this week, the last being another injection into my neck on Friday. I won't be able to take the whole day off, like last time, because of the massive project.

So, wanna see a handsome naked guy? Me, too!

His name is Renzo Lewis, Jr. and he's an actor.

Huh! Go figure.

I just needed a diversion.

click pic for a WEE bit more!

Sex On Sunday

...has been pre-empted by a previous commitment. Of a NON-sexual nature. I will remain in town.

I will remain frustrated.

[Note to self: Maybe yelling at God wasn't helpful...]

Serves Me Right For Bragging

It's Saturday, and I am still in Austin, haven't made it to San Antonio for the Big Sex Rodeo I was sure I was going to have.

Friday night I couldn't go because work kept me really late and then I couldn't find my damned eye glasses to drive in the dark. I need those puppies at night now. Yes, I have hairy palms, and I am going blind, for all the usual reasons, if you get my drift (and I'm sure you do).

Found the bitches at around 11pm. Planned on driving down the next morning...

Today, Saturday, things got even more complicated at work. We are moving our facility from one side of the company's building to another. I supervise a switching center, of sorts. LOTS of electronics and computers and video and audio cables and a router like the old-timey telphone operator tower. Remember Lilly Tomlin as "Ernestine"? Plugging cables into a board to connect calls? Well, our router is a similar device, where we can move video and audio signals around on the cable channels. We've been planning for a year to move and we actually started last week.

I thought they wouldn't need me this weekend. I'm not a technician, I'm an administrative, supervisory-type of pain in the ass. Turns out, all hell broke loose late Friday night and it was "all hands on deck". When you have a piece of electronics this massive that has been "on" for over a solid decade, and then you turn it off to MOVE it, well, when you turn it back on, shit can start to pop, fizzle, and fry.

So, I worked late Friday night, and then I came in this morning and I've been here ever since. We are "operational" again, for the most part. So, I'm heading out of town tomorrow.

DO YOU HEAR ME, GOD?!? TOMORROW!!! ME AND SOME SEX!!! TOMORROW!

Checking In Before Checking Out

Friday, people! Thank God It's Fucking Friday! I am going to San Antonio to visit a friend tonight. I intend to return to town tomorrow evening, exhausted and bow-legged and drained. DRAINED, I tell ya!

...me and my expectations... (eyeroll)

or is it a ridiculous sense of entitlement?

So, there will be no workout tonight or tomorrow.

Do I care? Well, sure, but screw it, I need to participate in sexual activity (in a safe way) with another adult who is interested in participating in sexual activity (in a safe way) with me. Over and over again. I need to be DRAINED!!! And, I need to feel the power and satisfaction of DRAINING SOMEONE ELSE!!!

(cue: maniacal laughter)

Fasting blood sugar this morning : 87

In between the sex sessions, I wouldn't mind seeing "The Simpson's Movie".

And kissing. I'm hopeful for a bunch of lip-locking this weekend. I like to snog. Kiss me right, and I'm yours. No hickies. I fucking mean it.

The Dollar Store a few doors down from the YMCA had a huge-ass fire yesterday. The fire trucks had the whole shopping strip blocked off as they battled the blaze. The Y was closed. I'm giving everyone until Sunday to get their shit together.

Did I mention that I got my hair cut REALLY close a week ago or so? Yeah. Me, the guy with the biggest freaking mullet in Texas in 1983 now has his hair clipped (#3 on the back and sides, #5 on top) and I am DIGGIN' it. I rub my head more than my ballbag now. Which is sayin' something!

Shut up, it feels good.

Too Close For Comfort

Look, I love my iPod. I admit it. I've told stories here about how, when working out with it at the gym, with headphones strapped to my head, I get all excited and move around on the exercise bike. I've told you this stuff, right?

Well, now I've run across this fake ad...it is actually making fun of Microsoft's Zune mp3 player, Microsoft in general, and slow, old white guys. And I'll be DAMNED if I don't see my fat ass in it, as the dorky white guy who obviously can't dance yet who is desperately trying. When I think I'm rockin' out, I probably am just bobbing my head and walking around. It takes ENERGY to throw my arms in the air and hoot. Exhausting!

The guy in the video is Steve Balmer, the CEO of Microsoft. The image of him is taken from a Microsoft presentation (I think when Zune was announced), and his little over-the-top tirade was labeled as the "Monkeyboy Dance". Turning that footage into a commercial making fun of Zune is pretty damned funny. People who hate Microsoft are probably very familiar with this.

By the way, if you are one in the legion who hates Microsoft (like the guy on my crew who tells me everyDAY what he thinks of the company and its products), do you read "The Secret Diary Of Steve Jobs"? It's a blog that is so densely packed with inside jokes and business-geek humor, that much of it is over my head. But, whoever FakeSteve is, the man is surely a gifted writer and hardcore smartass.

[Please note the extra giggle of the video ending on the Blue Screen Of Death with the audio glitch. Dee-lish!]

Rumor has it that the guy who made this video actually worked for Microsoft, until someone found out about it and fired him.

None of that is the point. The point is : I am one of the "So-So". I see this, and I see me. Umm...without all the money.

And that sucks.

Do You Read "Indexed"?

well, my babies, you SHOULD!

It Ain't Pretty

This woman is a total hero of mine. I have no idea what she looks like, but I swear I would switch teams to be with her. If she ran for President in '08, she would have my vote. Please visit her blog and see how the human condition, current events, and the mysteries of the Universe can be expressed in mathematical equations, charts, and graphs - all on 5x7 index cards!

For All My Critics Out There

Hi. Jim here.

It has been brought to my attention, quite frequently lately, by people who apparently feel the need to point things like this out, that I have slipped in my vow to keep this blog about my health and medical issues. I promised, I am being reminded, that I would not veer away from this format, and I would drop blogging about silly shit like current events and the wonders of being a big, hairy, fat fagman in a world of slender, effeminate twinks and braindead homophobes.

I have tried, I really have. But how many posts can I write where I tell you how it feels to have the stationary bikeseat wedged up my ass, and what I ate for dinner, and what my blood sugar reading was (100 this morning, btw), before my eyes roll back in my head and I slip into a coma? Surely that shit put you to sleep as well, huh?

Look, I have a personality that likes to clown and be a goofball. It is who I am. If I can't post the occasional retarded YouTube clip here, what's the point? And, sometimes, I just need to be REALLY gay here. It's like Tourette's or something.

So. In order to maintain an interest in keeping this blog alive, I am reverting back to writing about whatever the hell I feel like on any given day. My "Quest For Health" will still be covered here, because it's a major component of my life right now.

Sorry if that disappoints you. Deal with it, or go away. Please stop with the critical emails now, okay?

Sincerely,

jim

"Dear Loser (Chris)..."

You have to hear this, a heartfelt break-up letter from one raging pre-teen/tween to one sadsack of a guy named Chris. Crank up your speakers and savor the dramatic reading of pure female hormones UNLEASHED!

Big thanks to Automatic Daddy for finding/sharing this little gem!

In Personal News: I'm very busy at work. I have no time for you. Love you. Call me. Mean it. Buh-Bye.

Let's Start Monday Off With A Bang!

click it to get in there good!

thanks to Joe.My.God for the laugh

In Other News:

My neck feels a little better. Not a lot. But let's call it progress.

Chickwreck

Just think : one awful accident could have dealt with them all...

and, no, I'm not proud of myself for feeling this way

"For All Those Born Beneath An Angry Star..."


I guess it's pretty weak of me to be all worried about a simple cortizone injection into my neck, especially when I know there are amazing people out there in the world who are grappling with life-threatening illnesses.

My procedure is at 11am tomorrow, and I will be fine. And I will think upon those who are facing SO much more, like their mortality, with Dignity and Grace. And their Courage will calm me and remind me of my blessings.

"...Lest we forget how fragile we are."

*"Fragile"- Sting

Long Day's Journey Into Neck

Well, it took all day, but I finally saw the "pain management" doctor. The appointment was for 3:30pm. I signed in at 2:55pm and began signing my life away on paperwork that was WAY more complicated than the stuff I signed when I closed on my townhouse. And, by the way, what's up with having to repeat information several times in the same bundle of papers? Like, how many friggin' different times was I asked who referred me to this place?

I was done with the paperwork at 3:25. I know 'cuz I checked the clock. I saw the doctor at 5:35pm.

Seething, I was.

When I finally met the man, I was pretty growl-y. He apologized profusely. Then, when he began examining me, I realized that he reminded me of someone. He had a Jeremy Piven/Ari Gold thing goin' on. He was funny, a fast talker, kinda sarcastic and completely on his game. Short buzzed hair, 5 days growth on his beard, chunky, short, in his mid-thirties, and personality in spades. A cocky smartass cub who would mature into a fine bear some day. A smart, smart guy who looked me in the eye and told me he wanted to make me feel better, and was going to do anything he could to make that happen.

I had to smile. And fantasize.

We decided, together, that Dr. Cubby McEntourage would be stuffing an epidural needle full of steroids into my neck some time on Friday. Time to be determined tomorrow, because by this time most of his staff had gone home for the day. It'll be a series of THREE shots, spaced two weeks apart. Then, he wrote me a script for Celebrex and some kinda muscle relaxer for in the meantime and sent me on my way.

I'm still smiling because I get to see him three more times in the next six weeks. I'm finally back in a LTR. I can't WAIT to tell my mother that I'm dating a doctor!

Shut up.

Doctor Doctor, Give Me The News...

I've finally got an appointment set for my neck/shoulder/clavicle/first rib issue. I see a "pain management" doctor tomorrow at 3:30pm. It's just the 'consultation", but the chickie-poo I set the appointment with assured me that there was space available in the week for an apointment for "injections", if needed.

And, again, I totally visualize someone sticking a huge-ass steel needle into my neck, wedging it between two vertebrae, the cracking and popping sounds of flesh and bone meeting metal, and I can feel myself start to faint. jimmycity is really just jimmybabygirl when it comes to medical stuff.

I'll do it, though. I want my neck back.

I Never Said I Was In Virginia!

-but, screw it, I finally overheard something funny enough to submit to one of my FAVORITE blogs! Check ME out, and if this doesn't make sense out of context, check the blog out, OverHeard In New York and its whole related family (you'll find this submission in "Overheard Everywhere")!

And, for what it's worth, I have a sister who lives in Virginia, but she wasn't involved in any way.


Did He Use a Condom?
Sweaty black girl #1, checking self out in mirror: Finally, my upper arms don't look so arm-y!
Sweaty black girl #2, lifting weights: Yeah, but your coochie still smells all marine.

YMCA
Virginia

Overheard by: jimmycity

via Overheard Everywhere, Jul 13, 2007

Change Of Heart

Okay, so I went to the gym tonight anyways. Just told myself to stop whining, stfu and go. I mean, my bag was packed and in the truck, waiting. Only rode the bike for 20 minutes, and then did my weight training. So, it was a light workout, but it counts. And I'm glad I went.

Doctor tomorrow. Hope we can figure this shoulder thing out. We'll see...

I'm Hurting

I'll be seeing my doctor tomorrow morning to discuss what in the hell is going on with my left arm/shoulder/first rib/clavicle.

Every morning, around 11am, I get searing pain that radiates up my neck, across my shoulder and down my arm. This lasts about 30 minutes and then is gone. The "searing pain" part, that is. My range of motion with the arm is just plain pathetic. Any old time. Been this way for years.

I know what it's from, it's from a bowling accident I had. I'm serious. Me, The X, a few white russians after seeing "The Big Lebowski" back in the winter of '99, was it? I launched myself down the bowling alley having not bowled in 20-some years and landed on my left shoulder. I've had an MRI on the shoulder and been sent to physical therapy a year ago. The therapist said I managed to screw up my first rib. I was going to look deeper into the issue last winter, and my freaking LEG exploded. Remember? Kinda got sidetracked.

The leg is no longer an excuse, and the arm/shoulder/yada-yada-ya is impacting my workout routine. I need some resolution here!

"Whatever It Takes" is my new mantra. Chiropractor, accupuncture, colonics : I don't care.

I've really been hurting lately. It might have something to do with my new bed and the insanely firm mattress I decided to buy. I don't know. But, I am marching my tanned and muscled, yet still strangely fat butt to the doctor tomorrow to find out what I can do about this.

I'm not gonna work out tonight, either. Screw it, I HURT, damnit!

Fasting blood sugar this morning : 105

The Land Of The Free

Hope you had a nice Fourth Of July! Since the holiday fell on Wednesday this year, and since Wednesday is a free-day from the gym, I was a total slug.

Went to see "Ratatouille" and avoided the fireworks displays. LOVED the movie. Wonderful message about accepting yourself for who you are.

I'll be taking off for the gym here momentarily. I'm home today, took Thursday and Friday as vacation time, so I have this deliciously long "weekend" ahead of me. Don't hate.

Ya know, I couldn't help but think about the whole thing with Bush giving Libby a "Get Out Of Jail Free" card while listening to the media remind us what this holiday is about, all day yesterday.

Cynical, table for one!

I love this country. I'm proud to be an American. But I am sick of what our government has turned into (and I'm including Democrats here, too) : Fat Cat Elitist/Whores who are controlled by Corporate Pimps and Self-Interest and who condescend to the very electorate that empowered them.

For as fucked up and righteous as the Republicans are, I see no sign of any attitudinal difference with the Democrats. For the sake of this country, I think we need to revamp the system. Purge Washington of these political careerists. Term limits for Congress. Serious pay motherfucking cuts for bureaucrats. Corporate America is a pitbull that needs muzzled before it not only BITES the hand that feeds, but wants to rip the arm off.

Did you worry a little bit about this country, give it some thought, over the holiday?

I Saw This Movie On Sunday

Small and absolutely charming. Beautiful music and the tiniest of plot. Full of warmth and heart.

Next on the list: Ratatouille

This Is My Life

I work Monday through Friday at my job. I work out at the gym 5 days a week. I sweat like a pig. I eat like I'm starving. I'm gay and alone and I'm lonely. I make jokes about it.

If you are reading this, chances are that I wish I knew you. I bet I'd like you.

I'm not kidding about the sweating part. Jesus!

The One Problem With All New Underwear...


The label on the waistband is hard and scratchy at first. Will continue to irritate until I've laundered them into submission. Meanwhile, I spent the weekend digging into my backside.

I may just rip the fuckers out.

Worked hard at the gym on Saturday, took Sunday off. Had, perhaps, the most delicious ribeye steak I've ever enjoyed in my life at my buds' house Sunday evening.

I'm heading for the gym in mere moments.

I've thought a lot about two friends out there in the blogosphere today, Bigg and Melissa. They are both going through some major life changes. If you're out there, you two sweethearts, just know I am thinking of, and loving, you both.

Here's A Little Tip, Just Between Friends

Do yourself a favor and splurge by buying a complete new set of underwear sometime. The stuff isn't expensive (well, for guys, anyway), and it can really be surprising how retiring your old, tired shorts with new, elastically responsive infrastructure can, well, umm...affect your mood in a positive way!

I'm in a boxer-briefs phase right now (TMI? hmmm?), and when these things get worn out, they look pretty pathetic. The leg parts don't really stay where they are supposed to, and don't EVEN get me started about the slack in the waistband! Well, I have a whole stash of brand-new replacements now, and I think I might have just brought sexy back!


(...crickets chirping...)


Dear GOD, I'm turning into a freak! Really, I need to get laid or something pretty quick.

It's the weekend, people. Tear it up! Me, I'm headed to the "you-know-where". I know, I'm boring. I'll check in with you soon!

C'mon And Squeeze Me Like You Do

While I was going in and out of the hospital with my leg issues earlier this year, I was told by my doctor and his nurses that I should look into "compression socks", since my leg was a little swollen. That and, during all the time I've had people examining me with my legs in the air, I've had it pointed out to me that I am now the proud owner of a couple monster-assed vericose veins in that leg. Not those little, purple-colored, broken capillaries. Oh no, not that pussy shit! I'm talkin' chunks of rigid veiny-veins that would be pure pornography if they were somewhere on my cock.

But, they're not. They are bulging on my freaking shin.

Still, I was all in denial about it.

See, I was certain that the swelling was all due to the trauma the leg was going through. Hell, it was a big ol' hole they cut into that leg! I had never had a problem with my legs swelling before. Give me a chance to heal, damnit! Besides, me in SuppHose? ME? Seriously, fuck that!

So, I ignored the advice and focused on the healing part. And, thank God, I healed.

Well, the swelling hasn't gone down and I can NOT believe it! What the FUCK, people? And the protruding veins that belong on my cock, are still defiantly camped out in Shin-City. There is no denying it.

If I'm really trying to do the right thing by my body, and get healthy and take care of myself, I need to deal with this, yes? Of course I do.

So, last week I marched to "The Comfort Store", a little boutique located, coincidentally enough, right across the street from a major hospital complex during my lunch hour at work. Wall-to-wall stockings and hosiery and sock thangs. I sat in a chair while a very sweet woman measured my swollen leg, then measured the not-so swollen leg. She took the paper with my prescription on it from me and disappeared into the back to find some "socks" in my size, and at the right compression.

As I sat there, I wondered what this was going to cost me. See, it was explained that my insurance would not be covering these things. Okay. I squinted across the room at a display of woman hose stuff. The price tag said $9.99. I groaned, but shrugged. I'll drop some money on a half-dozen of these things, and I'll feel better about the fact that I'm just doing one more thing that was healthy and smart for myself.

When the woman came back, she was carrying two boxes: a pair in black, and a pair in white. She explained how to put them on; it was quite a process. She explained how to launder them: no bleach, no hot water, no dryer.

I needed to be careful not to damage them, she said, so be careful. I shrugged and told her I would. She pointed out that, even under the best of circumstances, they would only last about 6 months. Then, she asked how many pair I wanted to purchase. I shrugged again and said that I guess about six, if they were 10 bucks a pair.

She looked at me like I had lost my mind.

"Ten dollars? What, do you think these are gym socks?"

"Well, okay, how much are they?" I asked.

She turned the bottom of one box up so I could see the price tag. Forty dollars.

Now, there was a vein bulging in my forehead as well!

I think I might have blurted out something really inappropriate like "Are you fucking KIDDING me!?!" - but I'm not sure.

What I'm sure of is the internal dialogue that was going on inside my head.

(cue: tape)
[-I didn't want to wear these fucking things to BEGIN with, and now they expect me to shell out 40 goddamned dollars for the priviledge of joining the legion of Grandpas who wear them with Bermuda shorts pulled up to just under their tits, and with sandals to boot? I AM A YOUNG(ish), VITAL, DETERMINED, (and SEXY) FAT MAN WHO DOES NOT DESERVE THIS INSULT! Are you fucking KIDDING me!?!

-Wait, wait, wait! No one got you into this situation but YOU. Do you want to continue popping pythons all over your legs? Do you really want your calves to look like watermelons? Are you going to do the right thing or not?]

(and...scene)

So, I bought the bitches. Two pair. Eighty unbelievable dollars. What? SIX pair? I don't care what I said. Fuck you.

I moaned and groaned when I got back to work. Told my boss and co-workers how I got ripped off. Forty dollars for a pair of socks! This is what is wrong with the healthcare system, I preached. I wondered aloud how much these things cost in Canada and if I should buy them over the internet instead. I swore that if they didn't make a significant impact with me right away, that I would just grow old with purply-red Geezer legs. I didn't care. Circulation? I don't need no stinking circulation!

I pulled a pair out of the box and put on a sock puppet re-enactment of the carnage at "The Comfort Store". The sock that was me swore like a sailor right on cue. It screamed aloud all the ugly things I held in at the time.

I was venting, okay?


Next morning as I'm dressing for work, I sit down to apply the socks. Man, these fuckers can cling, huh? Took me ten minutes to get them on and adjusted. Pulled 'em right up to just under my knees. Then, I stood up and walked.

Hmmm. They feel good. Not bad at all, actually. I finished dressing and got to work, where I was up and down from my desk all day and up stairs, and down stairs. Sitting and standing and walking. Wow. They don't feel bad at all.

I went to the gym and they looked very much like the other athletic socks around me. Well, maybe worn a bit higher, all right. But I pedalled my ass off and the socks stayed right in place. In fact, my legs felt damned great all through my work out! When I took them off in the locker room, my legs were considerably less swollen and looked pretty fantastic.

You know, when you see an old man walking and he kinda does a little stutter-step, jig-kinda move? I used to think he was just trying to re-arrange his underwear, or trying to shake a testicle back into position. Now, I'm thinking that he's thinking "by golly! these socks make me feel like a stud again!"

...could be...


I've worn them for a couple of weeks now. I swear to GOD, they've given me a spring in my step. My legs don't ache like they used to.

Holy shit! They work!

I love my new socks.

Nice Start To The Weekend!

Just got back from the gym, and really felt good about my workout. Plenty of energy through my first 20 minutes on the stationary bike. Enough, actually, that during my "cooldown" in between sets, instead of having to "walk it off" by lapping the basketball court a dozen times, I moved right to doing some exercises: the dreaded "jimsquats" and the band work. Two sets of 10 on those movements. Then, it was back on the bike for another full 20 minutes of cardio.

I intend to add these extra exercises into my DAILY routine, and save the weight training for Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.

This weekend is Father's Day. If you are a Dad, be sure to bask in the love of your family. If you are a daughter or son and are lucky enough to be able to, be sure to show that man how much you love him.

"You can play the game and you can act out the part
Though you know it wasnt written for you
But tell me, how can you stand there with your broken heart
Ashamed of playing the fool?
One thing can lead to another; it doesn't take any sacrifice
Oh, Father and Mother, Sister and Brother
If it feels nice, dont think twice!

Just shower the people you love with love
Show them the way that you feel
Things are gonna work out fine if you only will..."

Have a great weekend, my friends!

Alive & Kicking

Look, it's the same old, same old here. Sorry that I'm not yapping daily about it anymore. It's as boring to write about as it is to read, I assure you.

Fasting blood sugar : 102
Breakfast : Glucerna and a DanActive
Lunch : Cuban sandwich and fries (I know, and fuck off)
Dinner : Grilled New York Strip, Baked tater, salad

Today is Thursday, which is a weight-training night. I am sticking to my vow of going slowly, and I suspect the feeble amount of weight I am tugging on is ridiculous. In my defense, all I can say is that it is still a challenge for me. Because of my left shoulder injury, my range of motion on that side is really bad. I think I am seeing some improvement, but I'm only 5 sessions in.

I just don't care about results at this point. All that matters to me is showing up and sweating. And, trust me, this I am accomplishing. Results can be measured and noted later.

Something must be going on inside of me, because lately I've wanted to have sex with anything that moves. So, do yourself a favor and keep away from me for a little while.

Consider yourself warned.

Just Asking...

Do I get any points for not referring to "The Vaginal Discharge Commonly Known As Paris Hilton" his week, or have I blown it by mentioning that I haven't mentioned it?

I'm fine, either way. I was just wonderin'.

Fasting blood sugar this morning: 105

Thursday night was the first complete cycle on the circuit by myself. I am one weak bitch, people!

Tonight's "iPod On shuffle" WorkOut Surprise (which occurred right when I needed it, during a cooldown between bike sessions) :

"The Book Of My Life"

Let me watch by the fire and remember my days

And it may be a trick of the firelight

But the flickering pages that trouble my sight

Is a book I'm afraid to write

It's the book of my days, it's the book of my life

And it's cut like a fruit on the blade of a knife

And it's all there to see as the section reveals

There's some sorrow in every life

If it reads like a puzzle, a wandering maze

Then I won't understand 'til the end of my days

I'm still forced to remember,

Remember the words of my life

There are promises broken and promises kept

Angry words that were spoken, when I should have wept

There's a chapter of secrets, and words to confess

If I lose everything that I possess

There's a chapter on loss and a ghost who won't die

There's a chapter on love where the ink's never dry

There are sentences served in a prison I built out of lies.

Though the pages are numbered

I can't see where they lead

For the end is a mystery no-one can read

In the book of my life

There's a chapter on fathers a chapter on sons

There are pages of conflicts that nobody won

And the battles you lost and your bitter defeat,

There's a page where we fail to meet

There are tales of good fortune that couldn't be planned

There's a chapter on God that I don't understand

There's a promise of Heaven and Hell but I'm damned if I see

Though the pages are numbered

I can't see where they lead

For the end is a mystery no-one can read

In the book of my life

Now the daylight's returning

And if one sentence is true

All these pages are burning

And all that's left is

You

- Sting

I Did It!

Had my first session with my trainer tonight. Warmed up by doing 15 minutes on the bike, and then we wandered over to the machines. One machine makes me lift weight by extending my legs, another makes me force my legs under me. Then I pull out this big ball and put it against a wall, centered at the small of my back, and roll with the ball into a squat and then roll back up the wall again.

Gymsquats. Jimsquats. I say this to myself as I do this, trying not to think about the possibility of grunting out some colossal bowel movement under me onto the mat. This is how my sick mind works.

Then, I push and I pull on several other contraptions to work my biceps, triceps, shoulders and back. Followed by some stretching with big-ass rubber bands (again, for shoulders and back).

I end it all with a big ball with sand in it that will (theoretically) help me roll back into a stretched out position without going all the way to the floor. This is, I think, an attempt at working on abdominal muscles that do NOT exist. We'll see how successful that could possibly be.

I'll do this Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays with the bike as well. Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays will be bike only.

My arms hurt just typing now and you're a big stinky poophead and I want my mommy.

I'm a pretty happy fag right now.

Yes, Yes, I'm Still Here

What's to talk about? I ride that friggin' bike like I'm the Wicked Witch of the West, I'm eating very sensibly, (well, except for the french toast and bacon breakfast I had on Sunday. Didn't even enjoy it. Too dang sweet!) and I am marking time waiting for my Tuesday night appointment with the trainer.

I'm up to doing two 20 minute sessions on the bike, with a 5 minute breather in between. Haven't had a day off since last week.

My butt, although still ridiculously big, is solid as a rock.

Fasting blood sugar this morning : 102

Like I Didn't KNOW this...?

Your Ex is Narcissistic

Your ex thinks they're the most important person in the world and couldn't care less about anyone else. Your ex definitely has a god complex. People with narcissistic personality disorder want total power, lack empathy, and are very arrogant. Sound at all familiar?

What's Wrong With Your Ex?

Glad to see my therapist was right years ago. YEARS before the fucker walked out on me, I might add. What a putz I was.

Thanks to Bigg, again, for pointing me to this silly little quiz. And, thanks to The Ex, for moving on.

Now, I'm off to the gym...

Excitable Boy, They All Said...

So, I'm back from working out. I can still feel that bike seat wedged up my ass. Sore, is all I'm saying.

Was all jazzed about the circuit training, only to find out that my trainer was nowhere to be seen. When I asked where he was, the little chickie at the front desk replied, "He's on vacation until tomorrow."

As soon as she said it, I remembered our conversation last week. I can now CLEARLY remember him saying:: "I'm here Tuesdays and Thursdays, EXCEPT next Tuesday." I shrugged and said "Cool, the Tuesday after, then!"

But I've been so obsessed and nervous about it, I plum forgot that the appointment was when it was. All I could think about was TUESDAY: The Day I Start Weight Training!

Good grief, I am a goober!

Can I wait another week? Dude. I wanna get going on this! My guess is that I will track him down Thursday night and plead that we start then. I'm sure that will be cool, as long as he doesn't have someone else booked that night.

Meanwhile, jimmycity pedals. And kinda bike-dances. Badly.

Shut up. I'm havin fun.

Tonight's The Night!

8pm CST tonight, I will be meeting with my "personal trainer" (cough, chuckle, snort!) for the first time. I'm as nervous as a virgin gay bottom at his first orgy. No, I am NOT a virgin, OR a bottom (well, exclusively, anyway)! For that matter, I've never been invited to an orgy, either.

Suddenly, I'm pissed off, now...

Where ever you are in the world, if you hear shrieks and crying around this time, you'll know who it is.

Did you have a good holiday weekend? Good. Me? Oh, you know, swam naked in a pool, hung out with some very hunky hunks, managed to get to the gym, and slept every chance I could get. Pert-near perfect.

If you don't hear from me for a couple of days, it's because I collapsed.

American (M)Idol...

...gives me the cramps. If you are a fan, I love you, but -seriously- you are an idiot. I mean that in the best possible way.

I'm sorry I veered away from my health issues (yet again) here.

Fasting blood sugar this morning : 97. Thank you very much.

"iPod On Shuffle" Workout Surprise :

Maybe I've been the problem
Maybe I'm the one to blame
But even when I turn it off and blame myself
The outcome feels the same
I've been thinkin maybe I've been partly cloudy
Maybe I'm the chance of rain
Maybe I'm overcast
And maybe all my lucks washed down the drain

I've been thinking 'bout everyone
Everyone, you look so lonely...

But when I look at the stars
I see someone else
When I look at the stars
I feel like myself

Start lookin at our planet
Watching Entropy and Pain
And maybe start to wonder how
The Chaos in our lives could pass as Sane
I've been thinking bout the meaning of Resistance
Of a Hope beyond my own
And suddenly The Infinite and Penitent
Begin to look like home
I've been thinking bout everyone
Everyone, you look so empty...

But when I look at the stars
I see someone else
When I look at the stars
I feel like myself

- "Stars" Switchfoot

Preparing To Move To The Next Level

Fasting blood sugar this morning : 85! Thank you very much.

While working out yesterday evening, I introduced myself to one of the Y's physical trainer/consultants. This is one of three guys who hangs out in the exercise room, working out themselves, who is available to help members develop an exercise plan, introduce members to the many exercise machines, and be a kind of mentor. I have avoided these guys for a while now, I just wanted to focus on pedaling the bike without dying.

Well, Friday marks the end of 4 full weeks of bike work, and I want to expand my workouts to include some (very, very basic and light) weights. I want to get in on "the circuit", a collection of weight machines that isolate and work specific muscle groups. Like my arms. Like my manboobs ("bitchtits"). Like my shoulders and, most of all, my back. I'm never more miserable than when I throw my back out.

So, I have a scheduled appointment with Seymore, my trainer (heh heh...not really, but I intend to refer to him as such) next week,Tuesday night at 8pm. I am all ready kind of nervous about the idea : I don't want to hurt myself or bite off more than I can chew. I expressed this fear to him last night, and he has assured me that we will go slow and that he thinks I am ready to take this on. Actually, he said that he has been watching me work out, and is impressed with how I include moving my upper body around while I pedal the bike, and how intent I seem at working hard. I told him it's easy to work hard when you are this outta shape.

I have what I hope will be my last drs. appointment at the Wound Care Clinic at 1pm today. Man, what a long haul this leg injury has been! And yet, I think the leg followed by my fake heart attack were neccessary to snap me out of denial about my state of health. In a way, I guess I'm grateful that all of this has happened.

My family might disagree...

You Are Not Stupid

You got 10/10 questions right! While acing this quiz doesn't prove you're a genius, you're at least pretty darn smart.

Are You Stupid?

Okay, I don't think I needed validation, and I am suspect of these kinda tests, AND this has nothing to do with diet, exercise OR my health. Shame on me.

Been to the gym each of the last three days. I've been regularly enough that I am seeing familiar faces now. One, in particular, is a hot little latino daddy who grunts like a beast as he pumps iron. I find him very attractive in one way, and also ridiculous in another because of the way he preens and poses in front of the mirrors between his reps. He is also continually surveying the room, checking out if anyone is checking him out. He has caught me looking several times. Busted.

Fasting bloodsugar this morning: 97

My diet is the same as everyday. A grilled meat, with a veggie and a salad. I'm kinda curious about how all this is affecting my cholesterol levels. I won't know til later in the summer when I have my blood drawn at the doctor's for my regualr bloodwork.

My shorts are starting to fall off my ass as I pedal. I am considering beginning some circuit training in the next week or so. Nothing big or ambitious.

[thanks to Bigg for pointing me to the little quiz. Read this guy!]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

So, I take Wednesday off from the workout to hang with the boys and watch a friend and his band play. Straight to the beer garden from work, I went. The friend that sang kinda reminded me of David Clayton-Thomas, remember him? I felt guilty about not working out, kinda missed the sweat.

Realized Thursday at work that Friday was, like, toMORrow and I didn't have a graduation gift yet. Straight to the store from work, I went. Right. I didn't work out that day, either.

Friday I was up and about at 7am, dressing for a ceremony that I needed to be at at 8:30am. Wore the khaki's I bought last week with a light blue shirt and topped it off with a new silk tie, a stripey thing in blues and tan and off white. Brown belt, brown shoes. I hate dressing up.

The ceremony was over at 11am and I headed back to the house to get into some comfortable clothes (cargo shorts and a pull over and tennis shoes), and then headed to a relative of The Graduate for a party in honor of he The Graduate. Beef fajitas, rice and beans, and beer flowed. I ate two (count 'em, TWO only!) fajitas and nary a drop of brew. I kinda got piggy on the guacamole. How did I ever live without this stuff when I was a Yankee?

I excused myself from the party at 3pm, telling everyone that I needed to go work out. I said my goodbyes, jumped in my truck, and instead of turning right to head north on the interstate to get back into my side of the city, I turned left and headed out of town. I drove an hour to San Antonio and met a friend who is a homosexual, and was a homosexual my OWN self, with him.

Right. I didn't work out Friday, either. Well, I don't want to split hairs here, so I'm not counting Friday as a work out, okay? I mean, I wasn't at the gym, but exertion occurred. You get my drift.

Three days of no exercise in a row.

Today is Saturday and I am full of remorse. My fasting blood sugar was at 123 this morning! NOOO! This is not a good number for someone who ate sensibly (except for the close encounter of the avacado kind) and stayed on his meds during his haitus.

What goes up, MUST come down, motherfucker.

I had a grilled chicken breast for lunch, ran some errands ( a visit to the truck dealership to get my temp tags replaced, haircut, grocery store), and then returned to the gym. I prayed for forgiveness as I pedaled that bike. God rolled his eyes. Jesus wept. And the sweat flowed like grape juice from every pore.

[Note: This is why I am not a writer. Good grief!}

Hallelujah! I am reborn! Amen.

Hey, Even God Fucked Off For One Day In A Week!

Fasting bloodsugar this morning: 91

No work out. Sue me.

Not That I'm Keeping Track, Or Anything...but

Today makes 8 out of 8 days in a row at tthe gym. I can't keep this pace up, but it felt good to see how many in a row I could string together. Tomorrow I'm attending a little music set by a friend at a local restaurant, so I'll take the day off from working out.

I also need to get the kid who graduates from UT on Friday an appropriate graduation gift of some kind. Just some token of my admiration, you know? Anyone have any ideas?

Dinner tonight was a grilled ribeye, baked potato and salad. I ate an hour and a half ago, and I'm hungry already.

Oh, well. I'll survive.

Breaking A Rule

I know I said I was only gonna post about my health stuff, but did you see tonight's episode of "The Sopranos"?

Oh. My. God!

Anyway...

I worked out both Saturday and Sunday and continue to eat sensibly and my bloodsugar is reflecting it. It was 106 on Saturday morning and was an amazing 74 this morning.

When I go to the gym tomorrow after work, I will have gone 7 out of 7 days in a row.

Loving it!

Played Hookey

Took the opportunity, since things were kinda slow at work and the Director was on vacation, to burn a personal day today. Slept until 11am. Glorious! My fasting bloodsugar was 108 this morning. Drank a Glucerna (kinda like a "Boost" or "Ensure" for you regular folks, but helps us diabetics control our sugars) at noon and jumped into the truck to take on the day.

Got the truck washed and waxed, hit the tanning bed, and then headed for the gym. Pumped on that friggin' bicycle for two solid 15 minute sessions today. Oh, lord, I am proud! Did a bit of walking as well and then showered at the gym. Man, I know I'm a homo and all, but I truely love the smell of a men's locker room. Ran over to Rich's to say "howdy" and was back at home by 5pm.

Dinner was a big grilled chicken salad. Washed it down with a tall glass of cold club soda. Checked my bloodsugar just now and it was 123. That's three hours after dinner, kids! A beautiful number.

Today is the beginning of Week #3 of this lifestyle change for me. In two full weeks, I worked out 11 times and took 3 days off. Granted, the workouts aren't massive, but they are all I can handle and I am pleased with my progress.

The boys invited me out to the local leather bar for a drink later. I intend to go.

Have a safe, fun weekend. Talk to you later!

Same Old Song And Dance, My Friend

Still doing my thing: biking at the YMCA after work, eating grilled stuff and salads for dinner. Definitely feeling a groove going on here.

I'm just finishing up Week #2 of the work out, and I have doubled the time spent on the bike already. That feels good.

Now, as I'm jamming on my iPod, I find that I'm not only lip-syncing the words to my favorite badass songs (silently), I am also incorporating arm and hand movements. Whether it's windmill circles as I play air guitar, beating on my thighs with my fists as I play tom-toms along with the drummer, or busting out some very gay upper-torso choreography while Beyonce croons, I'm sure the people around me are annoyed with my antics.

Fuck 'em. I'm having the time of my sweat-soaked life.

Stiff

After my big work out on Sunday, I took Monday off from exercising. I was a little sore on Monday, but this morning, after a full day of goofing off, I was pretty dang stiff. Made me wonder if taking a day to recuperate is really worth it.

Had the usual for lunch on Monday: Chinese Buffet. It's kind of a ritual with the guys in my department that I eat with. Monday night I went out with Rich and Dave and had porkchops, mac and cheese, and braised cabbage. And THAT was the sensible part. I ordered a piece of banana pudding cheesecake for dessert ( I NEVER order dessert!). Every forkful into my mouth was met with "what am I doing? what am I DOING?!?". I dreaded taking my bloodsugar this morning, but when I did it was 108. Not bad for the pigfest I engaged in the night before.

Lunch today was a huge mound of salad and grilled chicken and a grilled steak from another buffet in town. Hey, the guys I work with like the "feed-trough" concept for lunch, okay?

I leave work here momentarily and head directly to the gym. Dinner will be a grilled chicken breast and salad in front of the "Heroes" episode I DVR'd last night.

A Productive Sunday

Started the day by having brunch with the boys. Potato, egg, and cheese breakfast tacos and coffee.

Then, hit the YMCA a block from my house, where I did my regular bike and walking routine (while watching the Spurs and the Suns on tv). Then, I drove clear across town to the YMCA downtown, so I could steam again. After 15 minutes, I got out, showered off and went to the big pool there, where I did some water aerobics in the deep end for a bit. Totally refreshing! After that, I steamed for 10 minutes more and then showered and headed to the record store.

After much deliberation, I picked up the new LCD Soundsystem cd, "Sound Of Silver". ALMOST bought the new Nine Inch Nails, but decided to wait til next week. I've been throwing money around alot lately.

On the way back to my house, I stopped at the tanning salon and nuked my butt for a mere 10 minutes to begin the process wherein I become toasty brown by summer's end.

Also hit the grocery store and loaded up on grillables and veggies for the week. Came home and grilled a sirloin steak, did a potato YET AGAIN, and sauteed some whole baby carrots. Deeeee-lish!

"The Sopranos" and "Entourage" start soon, so I'll be in front of the tv, ironing a batch of shirts for work this week in a mere matter of moments.

Smart money says I'll be sound asleep immediately thereafter.

Hope you had a great weekend as well!

It's The Weekend!

Slept 11 hours last night. Good grief! But it sure felt good. Had a hearty breakfast at noon (!!!) of scrambled eggs, bacon, and a buttered english muffin. Intend to eat a sensible dinner, since yesterday was a bit of a trainwreck. Heading to the downtown YMCA in just a minute (as opposed to the one a block away from my house), because they have a steam room that I want to bask in for a while after some bike work. Nothing feels better to me than allowing every pore in my body to open up and sweat in all that hot, moist air. A good steam is a thing of beauty.

Friday was a disaster, foodwise. At noon I ate Mexican for lunch, and I ate WAY too much. Knocked back a beef fajita just to get started, then followed with a chicken chimichanga (that's like a deep fried burrito stuffed with meat and cheese) covered in queso (that's more cheese), with rice and beans. Did I mention all the chips and salsa before the food arrived? Oh, yeah.

Rigfht after work, I went to the gym and worked out, perhaps overdoing it a bit from the guilt over lunch. I've bumped up the time on all three of my sessions, and I think I will stop adding time for right now. My back is really sore today. Anyways, it was after 10pm when I got home, and I realized that I was hungry from not having dinner. I stopped at Micky D's and had a QPwC and a fish sandwich with a Diet Coke. Yikes. So very not right.

Still, it's the idea of (almost) DAILY exercise that is my intention right now. Last week I was at the gym 5 out of 7 days. That's a big improvement for me. Getting hardcore about my diet will come later.

Taking A Day Off From The Workout

I woke up this morning feeling a little stiff. Not bad, just a little sore. I've decided to give my myself a rest day today. There will be no stationary bike tonight. I'll be back on it Friday.

Lunch was a bento box at one of my favorite sushi restaurants. 3 pieces of sushi, 6 little california roll pieces, a salad with ginger dressing, a small portion of beef bulgogi, a few pieces of vegetable tempura, and a scoop of steamed rice. Love it.

Dinner will be a grilled ribeye, corn on the cob, and more of that awesome grilled asparagus.

What kind of fresh veggies do YOU like to grill?

It's About Living With In-spir-a-shunnn!


Wound care doc thinks next week may possibly be my last visit with the leg thing. I will be sporting quite a divet in my shin for a long while. I don't care. That scar will be a badge of honor for me, I'm thinkin'.

Workout: Upped each of the three sessions by another minute tonight. I'm a pedaling bastard, I tells ya.

Food: No breakfast (was late fer work). Fried catfish, side salad, green beans, and a modest scoop of red beans and rice for lunch. Dinner was the second hamburger steak, salad, and fresh grilled asparagus - which was TO DIE FOR, it was so good. Washed it down with a Diet Coke. Drank water and coffee throughout the day.

wanted a freakin' cookie BAD this afternoon. Denied.

"iPod On Shuffle" Workout Surprise Today:

"What's the hurry
Little brotha?
Dontcha know that
God loves ya?
God loves ya
And She loves me, too!"
- "Great Life" Goat

Bigger Than My Body

Holy Cow, having tunes piped into your noggin while you are gasping for air and grunting like a pig sure helps the overall workout experience! I think I'm sometimes forgetting what I'm doing and start singing along, much to the chagrin of my fellow sweaters. Maybe they'll just assume I'm retarded.

Workout: three sessions on the stationary bike, like yesterday. Increased the duration by a minute each time. Hey, I'm going SLOWLY here! In between each session on the bike, I get off and walk laps around the basketball court to give my cramping leg muscles a break. Nothing else right now. Today was only workout #4, fer crying out loud. Just showing up is success in my book, at this early stage.

Food: Breakfast was a Danactive. Pastrami and swiss at lunch with a tiny portion of potato salad and a dill pickle. Dinner was a hamburger steak, baked potato, and a salad with a Diet Coke. Knocked back some coffee throughout the day: never sweetened, just creamer, thanks.

iPod Workout Surprise (coming at just the right time):

"Someday I'll fly
Someday I'll soar
Someday I'll be so damned much more
'Cuz I'm bigger than my body
Gives me credit for..."
-John Mayer

Love setting it on "shuffle" and seeing what pops up.