Shakespeare's Sister

All the world's a Blobby
And all the men and women merely players.

Which work of Shakespeare was the original quote from?

Get your own quotes: <

Again, this is a URL I toyed as having as my Site of the Month, but decided if I did, then I couldn't really use the Smiths (g-d, isn't the web address for them great?!!) song for the post title (as those are always headed by: Site of the Month. DUH). What drives me to do such things is a complete mystery.

The reality is, it is not that good of a site. I never went past the first try for this quote and let's face it - it fits. All the world is a Blobby....or at least about Blobby.......or at the very least should be!

Unlike Will, I don't think there is any confusion as to if I write my own work! Sad for him. Sad for me. Sad for you.


song by: The Smiths

Ring of Fire

Alas, this becomes a failed Site of the Month possibility.

If they had more choices in their archives, I am almost sure it would have been a finalist candidate. As it is, the movies they have selected and produced alternate endings for, I either have not seen or just not cared enough about.

If you read this blog in any regularity, you'll already guess that the two that stand out for me are Star Wars IV: A New Hope and the below clip of The Lord of the Rings. ....though the Borat thing is probably as accurate as you can get. There's 90-120 minutes I'll never get back!

If nothing else, I knew Becky and Jon would enjoy the LOTR one....which I've taken the opportunity to post below. The How It Should Have Ended site made me download some new software to play the movies from their URL. I didn't think you all should have to do that.




Personally, I like Boromir mooning Sauron. ...and the taunt of 'your mother has cataracts'.

So, it's not technically Site of the Month material - but it has its moments.


Song by: Johnny Cash

Everything Is Coming Up Roses

It's not the national championship, but there's no real shame in going to the Rose Bowl.

Yesterday the Buckeyes all but sewed up going to Pasadena on the first day of 2008. I know - you're thinking this is a sports thing and why am I even chatting about it. I can hear you out there ya know!

It wasn't as much about the game or the outcome as it was spending the afternoon with two friends watching the game.

Tom G - whom has been mentioned many a-time here - was coming to Cleveburgh to watch the game with his 'special friend' (not me). I got an invite to join. It turns out it was just at a gay bar we were going to. Oh well. How bad could it be at 12 noon on a Saturday?

Tom doesn't need to prompt me to not act my age, but it's nice to have the encouragement.

He is the master of the prop - be it for parties, story telling, sporting events or the possibility of stalking a porn star (that's another post). Jack (his 'special friend') wanted us to wear tiaras, but instead we traded the above homemade headband. You might have to click the enlarge the image (camera phone, no flash and bad lighting) to see what it is. Go ahead - sound it out. It's like live pictionary.

Each time we were not in possession of the ball, one of us was required to wear it. We did it willingly and proudly. Oddly enough - we did not get one look from the other patrons. With the pom-poms (g-d, they smelled like my high school gym locker, but worse!) and noisemaker, we tried to draw attention - but to little success.

The Woody cap is mine. It's my second. Morty got me my first when I was in the hospital with my appendix. I wore that thing all the time, it fit like a second skin. I lost it a dozen or so years ago when Tom and I went to the OSU - Michigan State game in East Lansing (home to one of my most favourite Tom G stories!). I left it at the hotel in a post-drunken stupor. The hotel claims to have never have found it - but you know they just tossed it when they saw the Block O. Fuckers!

Putting on the headband, I told the crew I felt like Patty Duke. Jack asked if I meant 'Cathy', but no....it was Patty and I told him it was because 'a hot dog makes me lose control'. I love when I never ever have to explain my jokes to people.

After the game, we hung out and I dropped money in the jukebox. I love taking over the music at a place where Whitney Houston is the standard. Ick. They had an ok selection, but I made it better just by my choices: Garbage, the Smiths, Eurythmics, Weezer & a few others.

While making the selections, I had to endure Russ. No, I don't know him. Just a bar patron who decided to come up and ask me what my favourite songs and bands were. ...and then how he should leave because he had just broken up with someone who was expected at the bar and how he shouldn't be there....or should he just not run away. Oy. I felt like I was pseudo-being hit on and yet asked to be Ann Landers. I wanted neither. Double Oy.

But on this cold, rainy day - I took in warmth by just being with friends.



Song by: Black

Devil Does You Dog Bite?

No real reference to dogs in this post - other than the fact that I've been working like one.

I've wanted to blog and not only have I not found time to, I haven't even been writing in my head before I commit it to paper screen. That is usually my M.O.

The job is getting me up to that 50% travel time they mentioned when I started. But until the last month or so, I've really been at maybe 30%. After T-giving, I'll be gone at least 50% until the December holidays. I think the opportunity for a vacation has passed us by - again.

Ruckiry (not Jon's boss), my vacation time rolls over for a year - though I don't know if it is a rolling year or a calendar year. I guess I should find out. My personal days I lose at the end of the calendar year, so I'm already planning on taking those. One of them is in two weeks!!! The other will be right before the holidays to extend my already long weekend....and to prep for the holiday party/dinner we have been hosting for the last few years.

I really don't know what to do about the party or dinner. We now have the flatware to host more folks - but still are lacking a good table to get too many folks around. So, that leaves us open (again) to the possibility of just doing casual stuff where folks load their plates and mingle.

Getting drunk is really a prerequisite. I almost insist on it. Most people who attend don't really have to be talked into it.....though at least half of them will be our house guests, so no driving for them.

There is absolutely no religious significance to the holidays for me, I'm in it for the cookies and the booze.

song by: Tom Tom Club

I Drove All Night

I left for a client site this morning before 5:00 a.m. A pain? Yes, but certainly not undoable. I should mention that it was a driving visit. The sun does not rise until 7:00 a.m., so it was pretty much two hours of total darkness.

I worked until the sun went down and made yet another trek (not all the way home) in the dark back to my hotel - 90 minutes away or so.

What dawned upon me (pun fully intended) was that driving in the pitch black in the morning seems so much different than doing the same at night.

Perhaps it is the promise of daylight that makes that drive a little more bareable. Or maybe it's the get up and go without thinking that has its advantages. The lack of any traffic is a certain plus.

But after a 14 hour day, the prospect of getting back in the car isn't all the appealing. Maybe that is why the night drive is less palatable. The possiblity of light seems so less certain, even though it will invariably arrive in 10 hours or so.

One minus about it all is the things you cannot see. You'd think I'm meaning cops who lie in wait for speeders, but you'd be wrong. I count myself lucky that though I've been stopped a few times, I have never been ticketed.

No....the things you can't see are the roadkill. Today there was a deer that had to be freshly hit. ...and it had to be hit by something big, like an 18-wheeler. A huge bloody mess - and one I missed by inches while attempting to change lanes. Had I hit it, I would have absolutely ruined my car.....and got my dress shoes all digustingly full of blood and fur as I would have had to exit onto the carcass.

No one (and I do mean no one!) laughed later when I called it the Nicole Brown Simpson of roadkill. ...but that was the first thing that came to my mind.

Yes, I know I'm twisted.



Song by: Cyndi Lauper

Record of the Month

I figured I'd do a monthly 'what I'm listening to' kind of thing. This could be viewed as a lame placeholder kind of post. And probably it is. But it's my blog! So there!

These may or may not be newly released disks. They might not even be a good disk - just what is been in heavy rotation in my car (as usually the iPod is playing anywhere else).

At face value, Raising Sand could be one of the more unusual pairings in recent musical history. Not as odd as say, Tom Waits & Crystal Gayle (seriously - you must pick up One from the Heart soundtrack!). This is more along the lines of Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris.

Like the latter grouping, Plant & Krauss don't really perform that many duets. Sometimes I swear they don't even appear on each others songs. To be fair - there is nothing on the external (or internal for that matter) packaging that says they do - it is just implied.

When they do perform duets (or at least harmonize more), it usually works. I really enjoy "Rich Woman", "Please Read the Letter" and "Gone Gone Gone". It would have been nice to see more of it.

There are duet missteps: "Killing the Blues" for instance. It seems Alison & Robert have drained the entire life out of this cover. If you want to hear a good take on it - check out Shawn Colvin's version from her Cover Girl disk from 15 years back or so.

I cannot say I have ever been a big fan of Robert Plant. I was the odd man out in high school - preferring Nick Lowe or the Clash to Led Zeppelin. My coolest high school friend, Colin Greenan, (here's hoping he Gooogles himself and finds this) used to play bass guitar and sing Zeppelin covers in a band, and because of him, I only had a fondness for "Communication Breakdown". But I digress.....

Plant doesn't seem to stretch that much on this outing - but what do I know when it comes to this. He's had a few different lives since Zeppelin, so did not start out as reigned in.

Krauss however finally gets to break free from the Union Station mold which has grown a little stagnant as of late. Technically the band is great, but are caught in a formulatic rut. "Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us" has influences of Greek music and she take the masculine lead on Mike Campbell's (from Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers) "Let Your Loss Be Your Lesson".

But the most mesmerizing and possibly annoying thing about the record are actually one in the same - Krauss' take on Waits' "Trampled Rose". I cannot quite explain it, but the continuous climb to and fall from the high note is a major focal point of interest to me.

For good or bad, she's slightly out of her element and I find it welcoming. She stretches her boundaries and that can only help her work with Union Station down the line.

Overall, I say it is an ok disk, but nothing more than that. I will not go as far as to say it is a wasted opportunity but perhaps a missed one - as there much more they could have done with it. When their voices do blend, it proves to be an interesting dynamic.

Mouth

Yesterday was my semi-annual dentist visit.

Yes, you all know what a baby I can be when it comes to anything teeth related. I mean, I've been much better over the last decade or so, but for some reason I was dreading this appointment.

This would have been my first one since my periodontal surgery. And because of said procedure, I have been a wuss about flossing the back teeth. Afraid I would upset the new tissue, I have not been that aggressive in my getting in there and stimulate my gums (yes, flossing isn't really for getting food out between your teeth - though I use it for that act).

I prepped for my visit by proxi-brushing, tongue scraping and a quick tooth brushing. I also performed a bilateral boogerectomy. Let's face it - you're tilted back in that chair, those people don't just have the ability to look in your mouth, but up your nose too. They do not want to see any bats in the cave.

Whatever flossing I was doing was a-ok with the doc. She thought my gums looked better than ever (phew). ..and she liked how the graft was coming along.

It was also picture day. Well, x-ray day. I got cleared on that too - no cavaties. So it was a good check-up. The above image is not actually of my teeth. All that money my parents put into orthodontia paid off, to a degree.

I always make my next appointment before I leave - and I was floored when in six months, it will be May!!! Winters here always seem to last so long, that it is hard to believe in half a year it will be warm again.

Naturally, before I walked out the door, I got my 'free' toothbrush.


Song by: Bush

SHOPPING w/BLOBBY MORTY & GEORGE

Yet another installment in the drudgery that is everyday shopping. The camera-phone makes it a bit more fun - though I get looks whenever I take pics of products. Like I care what people think!


I secede this month's shopping event to Morty & George. I cannot thank them enough for allowing me to co-opt their vacation photos (or, photo - singular - as the case may be) for my own purpose.

As they trek (and marathon) across Australia and New Zealand., they have been finding things just a bit different than in the States - driving on the other side of the road non-withstanding.

I don't know what they call 7-11 Down Under, but the road snacks they sell, according to Mort, are fizzies, lollies and chippies.

But noooooooo - they just can't have sour cream & onion chippies. They have to sell these disgusting morsels tasty edible treats!!!!!

As the tagline on the bag says: It's a Matter of Taste.

Lord, it must be.

It's a Laugh

You've seen the Naked Gun movies - right? You know - the one when "Enrico Pallazzo" sings the national anthem? Also in that movie, Frank Drebin goes to the bathroom where everyone hears him.

Comedy? Sure, I guess. Reality? Apparently.

I was presenting the last few days at a conference and eventually had to use the facilities and saw the above (and clearly took the pics too).

Ruckiry (not Jon's boss), as I've said before, I've been "blessed with a voice that carries", so I did not need a microphone - let alone a lavaliered one. No humming and urinating sounds eminated from the lav. ...as in lavatory. At least by me.

The afterwork event for this conference was dinner and a comedy club - which is almost always sure death.

Do I think I'm funny? Yeah. Yeah I do. Do I think I'm stand-up funny? No.

So it's even more painful when you see three (count 'em, three) guys who get up in succession that I think I can do better than. ....and off the top of my head. Horrible anecdotes they've been practicing and performing for years - you just know it - and still they can't make it work.

I should say, this was my perception. I saw people from my group actually wipe tears away from their eyes. They probably think Larry the Cable guy is funniest guy on earth. Or worse, Jay Leno. Afterwards, one of my docs says to me she says, "wow, you didn't even give any of them a nervous or sympathy laugh".

...and I didn't.

It baffles me: How didn't these guys know they weren't funny? And how is it the bathroom sign guys probably don't think they themselves are hilarious?


song by: Hall & Oates

If

It doesn't paint a thousand words, so that's why you can't paint me. ....or me you.

The Wonder Bread sign still lives!!! ....and we used to live under it - for about three years. The product it hawks hardly epitomizes something that should be in the heart of a place called Italian Village.

When looking at the apartment, the owner noticed me noticing the word 'FAG' spray painted on the side of the house. He claimed it was his ex getting back at him. I should have known better. Balls made of ice hit the door in the winter evenings when we were eating dinner or watching televison. And the same word that adorned the side wall eventually made its way to the bumper of my car. Though to be fair, it looked more like 'FAC'. I'm assuming the hooligans who lived down the perpendicular alley did not got As in penmanship. Another failure of the public education system.

The apartment was ok - but I'm drawn to the area most times I pass through town, not that I always act on it. Add-ons and crappily built fences make the place look like than desirable.
No one ever seems to put away their trashcans after pick-up. No pride.

The place it self had some good memories: we got Tovah when we lived there. And Tom G and I watched the 1995 World Series together there too.....even though we lost that one. Becky making her oranges with cloves in them during one sparse holiday gift giving time. I'm sure there were other good times, but I'm blanking on what they might be.

Back to the image: Only about half the time we lived there did the sign work 100% of the time. More often than not, it read 'Wonder B ad' or 'Wonder Br a ' or 'Wonder B ead' and my favourite, it sometimes even shined out 'Wonder Br ad'.

I never remember the word 'Wonder' ever having burned out letters.



Song by: Bread (get it? get it???)

The Devil Inside

You are The Devil

Materiality. Material Force. Material temptation; sometimes obsession

The Devil is often a great card for business success; hard work and ambition.

Perhaps the most misunderstood of all the major arcana, the Devil is not really "Satan" at all, but Pan the half-goat nature god and/or Dionysius. These are gods of pleasure and abandon, of wild behavior and unbridled desires. This is a card about ambitions; it is also synonymous with temptation and addiction. On the flip side, however, the card can be a warning to someone who is too restrained, someone who never allows themselves to get passionate or messy or wild - or ambitious. This, too, is a form of enslavement. As a person, the Devil can stand for a man of money or erotic power, aggressive, controlling, or just persuasive. This is not to say a bad man, but certainly a powerful man who is hard to resist. The important thing is to remember that any chain is freely worn. In most cases, you are enslaved only because you allow it.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Of all the on-line quizzes I have taken - and really, there have not been that many - I have to say this might be the most accurate. Not so much about persuasive or powerful, but it's a little hard to argue with the 'temptation and addiction' part of it all. Perhaps the enslavement too - whether it be work, relationship or lifestyle.

song by: INXS

Mad About You

I don't know what happened, but last night I just melted down.

It couldn't not really have been over undelivered pizza - but that was clearly my breaking point.

We had a decent day of looking at granite and then visiting one of my sisters. She has a new kitten and well, I just cannot not go visit that. I also love her dog, Petey.

For those who do not know, picking tile for our last house could have caused divorce, or at the very least, justifiable homicide. That bitch, Nancy Grace would have even let me off the hook with a, 'yeah, he had it coming' comment. So looking at granite could easily have been putting me back on the singles market. Ya just never know.

So the evening plan was to go out for a nice dinner. But that plan go downgraded to ordering in pizza. Already we were off on the wrong foot.

I should have known - and even said - that when ordering went so smoothly, something would be fucked up. We live in a place where the best delivery folks could never find us.

Naturally we order when we're already hungry and know it will be a 45 minute wait to actually get the food - so the cards are stacked against us. Or at least me.

75 minutes later, no delivery, so we call. There is no record of anyone putting in the order. I'm breaking. The bf almost almost almost lets them off the hook because they give us a $20 credit on our next order. BFD.

Personally, I want the asshole fired - or worse. He remembered the conversation and the order, but has no idea whey it is not in the computer. A major mistake of the partner at that point is - "let's just make something".

At this point it is pushing 9p. From going out to dinner - to ordering in - to making dinner, I am finally broken. ...and I act out. And I know it.

I throw on my work boots and say I am getting the fuck out of here. I'll assume I was acting irrational enough that I was not even attempted to be talked down from this....or reasoned with. He was probably smarter than I was - but let us not kid ourselves - I was hoping to be talked to, so when it did not happen, just sent me that much farther over the edge.

I did indeed hop in my car and leave....with no direction. When I worked at a hospital, I had a place to go to 24/7. I don't have that now. So I drove blasting music in my little car. It helped.

But I also ended up at a frickin' bar too: downing more than a few Blue Moons, listening to and watching bad music. Then just watching some guys play pool, while I silently mapped out their ill-fated shots and knowing the ones they were designating to sink were the wrong ones.

I had all their problems figured out - why not mine?


song by: Belinda Carlisle

High Dive

It all happens in such slow motion - yet at the speed of light.

She is standing on a train platform with her back to the tracks. I am approaching, but still at a considerable distance. People are scattered at the large outdoor station on the slight hill - waiting for their morning transport.

With no one seemingly around, she falls. Backward. U-shaped. Almost like a reverse jackknife, but not as severe in the bend of her back.

I arrive at the platform and walk to the edge, just as others do at the same time - though oddly not as many as you'd think.

She is there - the small of her back, broken on the closest rail, as her body lays across it and spills into the space between the second one. She doesn't move - nor will she ever again.

The train will not come this morning.



....such is my dream.

song by: Maria McKee

Drunk Again, Naturally

Ok....today's header is not really a song title...just a take off on a Gilbert O'Sullivan song(and if I have to clue you in to who that is - I'm way too old for you to be reading this blog probably.

Tom G got me drunk two nights ago.

Yes, it is always easier to blame someone else for these types of things. In reality, I have no one to blame but myself......and Tom G. Oh yeah, he's going down!

Ok, I paid the tab, so maybe ultimately I take the responsibility.

I was doing some work travel in-state this week and ended up staying over at my old stomping grounds (sorry Ditto). The plan was to have dinner with Mr. G. And we did - that is, if you consider eight or nine drinks and a half-eaten salad "dinner".Actually, I may have been on my second drink by the time he showed up. It's not that I'm a lush (it's not that I'm not), but he was late! What's a boy to do?

As we caught up, joked around, traded stories, sports chat and funny tales. The drinks just seemed to keep coming. I swear sometimes we did not even request them. It's not that some chivalrous gentleman was buying us rounds - I think the waiter was just trying to pad the bill. I'll get back to him in a minute.Tom is one of those people I just love being around. We totally get each other without having to explain ourselves, or our jokes. We can also trade the bawdiest of stories (mainly about ourselves) without the slightest inkling of judgment from the other.

I was relaying a story about my ex-gay boss (he's still gay - just not my boss) and talking about drag performers and he mentioned one: Miss Sonya Ross. David said (s)he was from Cleveland, I said from Columbus. He/She used to tend bar (as a man) at Trends back in the day. ...but my story was really to lead up to how my ex-gay boss had seen Mary Ann Brandt and how I know Mary Ann.

But we barely got past the name association of Sonya (call her 'Ms. Ross'), because who the frick would have thought that after 12-15 years that not only was she still around - but sitting RIGHT NEXT TO US!

Neither Tom or I know what got his/her attention - my 'voice that carries' or his cackling guffawing about her. I don't know had I been dead sober if I would have been embarrassed by this, but at this point, I was long past being either.

I should mention that we were having dinner in a gay establishment. Albeit, a nice one with a good menu, but we were eating in the bar. Plasma televisions everywhere playing 'two for Tuesday'. Which meant having to sit through two crappy Beyonce videos (is that redundant?), then two crappy P. Diddy vids, etc. Is this really what gay men listen to?

Ruckiry (not Jon's boss), they then switched to '80s videos. Yes, it was good and bad. For every Bow Wow Wow song, you had to endure Ray Parker Jr.!!!! eeeeeeeek. For the joy of getting to see Pat Benatar's "Love is a Battlefield" ("leave me alone!") - you had to sit through the 18 minute Michael Jackson "Thriller" video. Early MTV was a blessing and a curse - wasn't it?

At the magical hour of 8p (or was it 9?), the videos switched off and on came "Dancing with the Stars"!!!!!! Jebus Fucking Christ! Tom axed the bartender if he could put on a Joan Crawford movie - to which I immediately added that it 'would be less gay than what you're showing right now'.

Yes, we were endearing ourselves to patrons and proprietors alike. Including the waiter. I told you I'd get back to him.

Man, was he snotty. And just not good enough of a waiter to back up the snob with. When we actually ordered beers and water - IF they came, he'd say, oh they had to tap a new keg. Honestly, I wasn't drinking that much! But I also had to come back with something snide like 'are you tapping a new keg for the water too???'. Miss Thing got all bent out of shape.

Naturally, the closer the time came to cash out, the nicer he got. He wasn't fooling anyone - least of all Tom and myself.

I finally I got up to break the seal and noticed it was 11:36! P.M.!!! Not only way past my bedtime, but I had been there "having dinner" for five hours. Not only was Tom late for dinner - I arrived early, so.........

We got out of there (not before me running my hand through some guy's beard)and headed our separate ways. Him to his house - me barreling down I-670 to my hotel. Drunk. Again. In Columbus.

Some things never change.

Ghost In The House

I feel like I might have posted about this in the past - but the story has been told so many times, I cannot remember if I committed it to blog-form. ...and I'm too lazy to look through the archives.

Someone asked me not too long ago if I believed in angels. I do not. But I responded that I do believe in ghosts.

Years ago (fuck almost two decades ago!), I was living in a hip upcoming area in Columbus. The building had two apartments - the other inhabited by frequent blog mentions: Morty and Ditto. We had a great friendship (well, we still do) and a sweet arrangement. I've said here before - the doors weren't always locked upstairs and we just kind of came and went into each other's pads as needed, but always respecting each other's privacy. At least usually.

...and yes, many of the days we were prone to drink. It's not like we were alway shitfaced (oooh....I'm so back at 22 years of age when I could say things like that), mainly because we could hold our liquor, since our tolerances were so high.

One night hanging at their place - and to be honest, the only person I remember being there was Ditto. I know there was someone else, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it was Slusser (that bastard owes me $20!).

The room was set up that there was a couch and two chairs in the living room. We were not living large. As we were sitting around knocking them back and yakking - all of the sudden, Dith asked me if I was ok, as I had stopped in mid-sentence.....and let's face it, it takes a lot to shut me up sometimes.

But I wasn't alright. I wasn't in distress either....just a bit shocked. As I live and breathe, I saw someone walk right behind the couch where Dith was sitting. It was brief, but as real as real can be (yes, say like Ed Grimley if you must). He was tall, had dark hair and wore yellow button down shirt. It should be noted that the only form of egress was on the other side of the apartment. No one could have sneaked in.

I told the guys what I had seen, and from my tone they knew I wasn't joking (again, which I'm prone to do). It pretty much ruled the conversation the rest of the night.

Though I'm sure I told Jon, it made it no less surprising a few weeks later when he rang the doorbell and I had to trudge down the big flight of stairs to open the door. He asked why I had ignored him when he came to the door and I was at the top of the stairs a few minutes ago - and why had I changed my shirt.

Well, I had not been at the top of the stairs - as I'm sure I had music blasting and probably singing at the top of my lungs, which yes, I am prone to do. But I also had not changed any article of clothing. And Morty and Dith were not at home - just me in the building.

What Jon went on to describe is exactly the same guy I saw in apparition behind the couch. And I don't think he was yanking my chain either.

It should be noted that I never saw the ghost in my apartment, but we all called it 'my' ghost.

However, once when Becky (have you fucking pre-ordered her book yet???) was up from Houston, she stayed with me. Being the socially inept host that I was, instead of giving up my bed, or asking her to share it, she slept on the couch.....at least for awhile. In the middle of the night she woke me up and crawled into bed because someone/something had touched her as she slumbered. Human touch - and not the Springsteen album.

Every now and again, I think of those instances and feel that something is out there....or stuck there. When in a Columbus bar a few years back, as I was there on business - the town, not the bar - a woman came up to me and said 'you're the guy who had the ghost in your apartment!!'.

It kind of freaked me out - more so than the ghost itself. Turns out she was a friend of Jon's - but it had been 10 or 12 years since I had met her (which was all of twice), but the story (or perhaps my striking good looks) stuck in her memory. Weird.

Now that we have this 97 year old house, my 16 year old niece asks if we've seen any ghosts. We have not. But she is undeterred. She fully believes it has to be haunted. You should have seen her face when I told her about the one at my old residence. Her mother was not amused that I might be keeping her up at nights.

Ditto, Morty and I are all gone from those $200-300/mo apartments, which now go for triple that (or more). But here's hoping the supernatural resident still lives there. It was a great view.

So Happy Halloween to you all.

...as for the image post - just be thankful I didn't use a Patrick Swayze or Caspar .jpg.


song by: Alison Krauss

That Smell

Autumn is my favourite season. I'm not sure why. Probably the colours, the crispness of the air and possibly the lack of humidity.

As we age, we don't really enjoy summer the way we did as kids. Or am I just talking for myself with this one? It's all just work anymore. There are moments of warmth and sun and frolic - just not days of it.

I have learned to loathe Winter. I don't mind the snow (oh - I say that now!), but I do not tolerate the cold anymore. 35 degrees and rainy is still probably worse than 15 and snowy. That cold makes me shiver to the core.

Spring? Eh! There is rarely a spring anymore. It seems we go from winter to summer rather quickly anymore. 50 to 80 in a heartbeat. It doesn't help that we continue to get snow into May. And why is it that a 50 degree Spring day is warmer than a 50 degree Fall day?

I think I know the answer, of course. We have acclimated to the cold of Winter and any hint of pseudo-warmth has us donning short sleeves and knickers. Yet six months later any nudge of cold gets us sweat pants and flannel shirts (this in fact does not count if you are a lesbian).

But I do love the smells of Fall. I can't really describe them, though I think you know what I'm talking about with that too. Fallen leaves disintegrating in the yard, or bunched up wet on tree lawn. But I think it goes back to the crispness in the air.

The other seasons certainly have their own smell too. Winter with the smell of cold. Yes, I think it has a smell. The fireplaces burning as you are out shoveling the drifts comes and wafts through your olfactory nerves.

Summer has the unmistakable smell of a slight rain on hot asphalt. That's one you won't find in a Max Factor perfume bottle.

I was smelling Autumn this last weekend when we took down the awning...which is a true indicator of the change of seasons - both Fall and Spring. Hopefully I will be smelling Autumn for a few more weeks - as I gather leaves. Hundreds of thousands of leaves.

But it is almost November and it hasn't snowed yet. For Ohio - that's saying something.

Smell ya later.


song by: Lynyrd Skynyrd

Record of the Month

I figured I'd do a monthly 'what I'm listening to' kind of thing. This could be viewed as a lame placeholder kind of post. And probably it is. But it's my blog! So there!

These may or may not be newly released disks. They might not even be a good disk - just what is been in heavy rotation in my car (as usually the iPod is playing anywhere else).

I love Annie Lennox. Her voice. Her music. Her persona.

So why am I not 100% overjoyed at Songs of Mass Destruction? Maybe it's producer Glen Ballard - let's face it, the man can do wonders (Alanis' 'Jagged Little Pill') or schlock ('Wilson Phillips'). The man has no consistent track record.

Don't get me wrong - Lennox is in fine voice and her keyboard work is better than good - but the songs aren't resonating with me. Sure, some of them are, and overall, it's an ok disk. .....which is still better than 98.8% of the crap that is out there. And it certainly is better than her last one - Bare.

I am starting with the weakest song: "Sing". Ugh. Yes, the premise is done with a noble and good cause, but isn't she just pandering by having back-up vocals by Fergie (!) and other people of lesser or no-talent (umm....did I mention Fergie?). Only Madonna has prominent part in this song - and I'm not saying that's a good thing. Did no one listen to how weak her vocals are compared to a powerhouse like Lennox? Sad sad sad.

Womanhood is the theme of the record. It is mentioned in at least four songs - and the title of one of them.

But fear not - there is good stuff on here. "Ghost in My Machine" is far and away the best song on the disk. There is a rockin' cajun accordian thing going on there than more than makes the song a stand-out.

"Dark Room" did not immediately hit with me, but after multiple listens it is a pretty strong track. But an initial single? It's a hard sell for airplay, but let's face it, the days of Lennox getting on the radio are slim. She's not a tween in a Disney movie or isn't public fodder for websites. She has no 'Grey's Anatomy' tie-ins. How else does one get on the radio these days? Not with quality product - that's for sure.

What I've loved about Lennox's music is that even though she is so identifiable with the Eurythmics, she has been able to forge her own solo path. Here she doesn't shy away from some of those early '80s influences. Check out "Coloured Bedspread" (Touch-esque).

Some other songs could have been lifted off her first solo disk, Diva....and that is not a bad thing. "Through the Glass Darkly" and "Love is Blind" are extremely solid efforts.

I do not regret the purchase one little bit. As I write this, I zero in on the reason it's not an outstanding album. For a woman who for 20+ years continually broke ground as an artist and never/rarely repeated herself - I don't hear anything earth shattering here.

Where that might not mean much for other artists - it does for her.

Can't Stop the Music

Well, actually you probably can. And it probably will.

I know it's a flimsy excuse for a site and probably no basis in reality - but it's out there: the iPod Death Clock. I found it via a tech webiste called CrunchGear.

Though I've had my Nano for over two years (and still lovin' it), it seems it would only have about 204 more days to go before it hits the expiration date.

I always knew there is some kind of shelf life for these things, but kind of amazed (if it is true) that three years is what is expected for it's longevity.

Granted one can have a longer existence for it - and the calculations are based on how often you use it and how many times you may have dropped it (too many to count!). There is a placeholder for 'where you normally use it' which kind of - and kind of not - makes sense. I assume using it during extreme sports could harm it more often than when you use it sitting and doing nothing. But on the bus? Are the chances that it gets dropped and stepped on greater? Or getting stolen? There are no explanations.

But I do use mine on planes, trains and automobiles.....as well as when I'm in the kitchen cooking (hooked up through the Bose radio), when I bike, cut the lawn and shovel the drive. And even sometimes in the office. It was a great little purchase that I don't regret - even if the new video Nano's are $100 cheaper for the same storage. ....but that gives me something to look forward to in 200 days or so.

I think the most disconcerting thing about this site was the need to find the serial number on the back of the iPod. Even with bifocals, I had a very very difficult time distinguishing an S from a 5.

Forget the iPod Death Clock - what about the Blobby Death Clock. I'm gettin' old!



song by: The Village People

Johnny, Are You Queer?

Over a weekend lunch, Jon C. and I discussed being out in the work place.

For the most part, I keep my personal life just that. I've mixed personal and professional with gay and straight people and it usually just ends up weird. Not because I'm gay - just because. Yes, being gay does not define me (shut up - and you know who you are!), so being out at work is not a priority for me. Eventually it always happens. Sometimes by choice, sometimes not.

Of course, I always assume/think/know that I am indeed gay (yes - you can still keep your mouth's shut!) and I just don't discuss my personal life at most levels at work. I'm happy to do my job, do it well and leave.

At Ohio State, I mentioned that Denton had gotten a job in Cleveland. Phyllis, my boss, had to finally ask if I'd be leaving too. It's not like I ever told anyone that he was my partner - but she was quite intuitive. Or I was just more blatant than I thought. Maybe a little of both.

In Cleveland, for the first few years, I never mentioned it at all. But my boss and his wife would often go out with the bf and myself. Again, assumed but never said. I was never sure if it was others or myself I was trying to protect by not saying anything. I still don't. And this too was a point of discussion between Jon and myself.

At my last place of employment, I ended up outing myself to said boss before someone else who out and out asked me if I was gay. I wasn't going to lie. He was upset - but at the person who has asked me my sexual orientation. It was no biggie - we were all very very drunk, not that Chris (the asker) wouldn't have asked anyway. He just needed liquid courage. We've all been there for something or other.

This job, well, I've said (I think) that I outed myself to my gay boss - and the CEO has met my partner. Now we have OurSpace pages on our intranet. I have never seen a MySpace or FaceBook page, but I assume it's like that. We are to post about jobs, our interests and personal things: favourite book, record, food, etc. And then there is martial status and name of 'partner'. So fuck it - they ask, I'll tell. And I did.

Now one of my staff in DC who noticed my new ring and asked: 'are you a newlywood?' (that spelling does not look correct) will know I am not and who I am with.

She'll also know my cats names.

Song by: Josie Cotton

Seen The Doctor

Do I need to start putting the artist and album title for the song/post titles? I have not decided. Anyway, this would be Michael Penn. He, the one hit wonder fame of "No Myth" - but I like the rest of his stuff anyway.

I have seem to have gotten off course. It happens with me. Often.

Here's a t-shirt you won't see making the rounds. At least, not anymore. Thanks Bono!

Seriously, the self-righteous "singer" (who lets face it, peaked in his skills with the album War....in 1983!!!) and his "organization" has put the kabash on the manufacturing and selling of anything (red) that isn't his. Including this shirt.

45 million people in the United States are uninsured. The U.S. spends over $100 BILLION per year to provide services to the uninsured. The war in Iraq is almost up to $500 BILLION and rising. The war there and in Afghanistan now has a potential price tag of $1 TRILLION dollars. What is wrong with this fact? (it's rhetorical - but feel free to answer.)

But Bono has a beef with someone selling a shirt that co-opts his (red) brand. This doesn't seem like time well spent for a self-professed do-gooder. He has time for Darfur, Africa and the IMF - none of which would seemingly affect him personally (except for the fact they won't download the last U2 disk from iTunes), but neither does the uninsured in America.

Yes, I know you have to protect your copywrited brand but sheesh....the lady who was making an hawking these is an uninsured freelance artist. .....just like he was before he raked in millions of dollars himself.....for himself.

Do-gooder, my ass!

Sex (I'm A......)

I always suspected it.

But it is just one of those things no one wants to actually talk about - let alone admit: No one really wants a passive bottom.

And clearly they are marked down - though they are seemingly more expensive than tops.

Doppelganger

If you think this might not be a song title, look no further than a group called The Fall of Troy.

I really just had to get this posting in under the wire before a certain friend of mine goes out of the country for the next three weeks. I wouldn't imagine he'd go back and look at all my missed posts - oh but how I wish he would.

Please note I did not mention my friend's name - nor will I.

No - This isn't he. It's just the guy with whom he was separated at birth.

Here he is. The likeness is uncanny - no? So says Asian reporter Tricia Takanawa.

In truth - one of his next door neighbors just has way too much free time on his hands and some knowledge of Ye Olde PhotoShoppe. But it made me laugh and laugh and laugh.

....and there within lies the problem of people having access to too many photos of you. Eventually they will find one that fits their twisted little schemes. But at least it's to my amusement

....and at least it's not of me.

SHOPPING w/BLOBBY

Yet another installment in the drudgery that is everyday shopping. The camera-phone makes it a bit more fun - though I get looks whenever I take pics of products. Like I care what people think!

Blech!!!!

The smaller fish are ok (I guess), but what is it with the big one? The tongue? The teeth? ....and where exactly are the eyes? (click to enlarge - you'll see what I'm talkin' about.)

And even if you actually plunked down money to purchase it - what exactly would you do with it?

Sara Moulton expounds upon the importance of befriending your fishmonger - but I don't know I could be friends with someone who tried to pawn that off on me.

Site of the Month

Actually I have a few potential sites - but will only use one. Some months I just got nothing (or nothing good), so hopefully I can utilize the others in the upcoming months. Mind you - that's assuming I remember them. I guess I could draft them and save them for future reference, but I know me and I just do not see that happening.

I found What Would Jesus Blog through my blog reading expeditions. First and foremost through one of RJ's comments/commentators.

There are some funny things in the blog - though way too many videos for my liking. Sure I post a YouTube here and there, but try not to make this site about virals. Not a dozen in a row. Blech.

I'm not much of a believer in Jesus Christ as a lord and/or saviour. And by 'not much of' of course I mean - 'at all'. I've said that here before - somewhere. Probably many times.

I don't doubt his (no upper case here) existence...or necessarily that of g-d. But son of g-d? Here to save us, rise from the dead thing?? ........no......no......not so much. It's a great story though. Though not the greatest one ever told.

I totally lifted the image in this post from said blog. I found it funny. ....and I'm all about the funny.

The Wizard of Ahhhhhs

So Ms. Rowling says that Albus Dumbledore is a queer. BIG DEAL.

Anyone with half a brain could have potentially deduced that one.

Besides the fact in The Deathly Hallows, a younger Albus was known to spend time with another wizard in training, he was never ever associated with a woman (hell, even Snape that going on for him).

Though it never spelled it outright, he and Grindelwald were planning on taking over the world of magic together....as partners.

If the Ministry of Magic had a 'sexual predator' list, Dumbledore probably have been on the top of it. Let's face it - the man sought out underage boys who had troubled histories and been abandoned by their families in one form or another. He took in both Tom Riddle and Harry Potter under similar circumstances. Not only that - he followed their whereabouts from a young age, until he approached them and cajoled them to come live in a far away land.

He gave them a 'safe place' and robes to wear and had them live up in a tower. Usually, those kinds of kids are put in basements or crawl spaces - so in theory they had it pretty good.

Naturally, the weirdo christian right, who think the books are evil because of magic, now have another reason to vilify the highly regarded series.

One Year Later

It's been a long time since there's been a Sophie update.

But I thought I should at least acknowledge that as of today we've had her for a year. Sometimes it seems like she's been here forever.....others it seems like we've had her for a few days.

During my other updates, I said that in time Sophie and Tovah would get along. While that has happened to a degree, Tov seems to still hold much animosity towards her sister....but luckily none against us for bringing her home.

As I type this, she is confront Tovah who is just trying to rest on the couch. Paws are raised...as are kitty vocals. Sophie gets whapped a lot from Tovah, who just does it in preparation of being besieged upon. I till think Soph just wants to play, but Tov is having none of it.

Sophie is still kitten-like, though she is probably 16-17 months old. Boundless energy and always under foot - literally. And like me, she feels the need to comment on everything. She is a chatty little thing.

She still exhibits no fear, which scares me. While Tovah is good in her limited time outside, Sophie likes to tear around and not adhere to the rules. Getting her to come back inside is a full-time job.

She is her father's cat too. ...and I don't mean me. She climbs on top of and sleeps on or next to Denton...at least downstairs. For some reason I'm the heat source upstairs. I'll take whatever time I can get with her. Though truth be told, I'm a little envious. ...or is it jealous? All the cats have been this way - they like their other dad bestest.

Oh - and recently Soph has figured out how to open cupboards. Cute - yet annoying.

I'm On Fire

So yesterday just blew big time......and not in a good way. From start to finish.

I knew in the next two weeks we were supposed to have a fire drill at work, but since I am actually at the office maybe one day in the next two weeks, I figured, 'eh - I won't be there for it'

WRONG!

No, it was in the morning. 25 flights of stairs down. As I didn't have enough work to do. Some chick I work with, who is like 4 mos pregnant, didn't think she should have to walk down, well, because she's pregnant. I snapped at her a little and said, 'it's not a disability'.

Without getting into the rest of my day, I get home wanting to do nothing but leftovers for dinner and relax. It was not meant to be.

Someone (not me), decided to heat something up in the toaster. But whatever it was decided to catch fire. This was not a drill.

All those safety videos and classes about fire safety are true. Let me tell you how fast something can spread. .....and blowing on it really doesn't put it out. It's not birthday candles.

Moving the toaster into the sink was a start. But it was still plugged in. Potential disaster. At least no one (not me) tried to pour water on it.

Kitchen filled with smoke. Opening windows to air it out and shutting doors so the smoke doesn't go upstairs....and hopefully not set off the fire alarms. We actually pulled out the fire extinguisher we've had for years.....and used it.

We left most of the windows downstairs open (yes, it is cold!) all night for the place to air out.

I mean fuck! We were there. We caught it immediately....and it could have been way out of control in about another minute. The smoke damage alone could have been devastating.

On the plus side - Denton gets to shop for a new toaster....and lord does that man love to do that.

Everyone Knows It's Windy Wendy


I stood in a frickin' Wendy's and made Denton take this picture. And it was only one of several shots. This just happened to be the best one. Seriously, how does Madonna do it?

Yes, I am that queer.

The Wendy's commercial are horrid, but I was more going for a Pippi Longstocking thing anyway.

It's all about the blog, people. I do this for you! I certainly hope you appreciate it.

Breathe Me

Morty sent me us the below YouTube video from Baker Hall West - which is a residence hall at The Ohio State University - for National Coming Out Day.

I am constantly amazed at how open college kids are now-a-days. It certainly wasn't that way when I was living in the dorm next to Baker Hall some 26 years ago....in the last all-male dorm on campus.

Long before I went to OSU, I knew I was queer - and like many of these kids, lived in a small-ish town before going to a big campus. At the time, though I could admit it to myself, I wasn't about to just tell people.

Immediately after arriving on campus, I tried scoping out the Gay Alliance (at that time they didn't include by name: bi-sexuals, lesbians or transgendered folk). They held meetings in the Scarlet & Gray suites at the now torn-down Ohio Union. I was too wussy to go into the actual meeting but hung out in the hallway pretending to wait for someone. This way I could see who all went in and gauge whether this was for me.

And though I shouldn't have let it, there was one guy there who kept me from ever going in. He was from my dorm, Park Hall, and lived a floor below. And a huge queen. Like I said - it shouldn't have mattered.....but at the time it did. I never went back.

Instead I did what any other gay boy would do: I rushed a fraternity. Yes, I sought out the company of men. ...and let me tell you - it's not all paddles and hazing. Actually, none of it was.

The fact that I joined probably said more about my state of mind than anything - trying to fit in somewhere that I'm not sure I ever did. Even at the first party, a would-be brother came up to me and slurred....'are you russian...?' I told him I was German. Of course he said 'rushin'' but who was to know. Clearly not I.

I joined a house that was fairly anti-semitic, though I didn't know it at the time. I was probably the only student at the party when someone told the joke, 'what's a famous jewish w(h)ine?' and I thought it was more a quiz. So I answered 'Mogen David?' I got a blank stare and then an emphatic 'no'. But did I stop there? No. I had a second answer, 'Manischewitz'?

I should have turned back right then.

There was plenty of sex for me in my fraternity years - just not with anyone from my house. There were a few guys who were gay - and a few more I found were gay after the fact. Actually, not long ago, I got an email from someone who read this here blog. Yes, Gooooooogle found mention of a brother's name I posted here a few months ago and another brother gooooogled him and found me. Ahhhhh...the internets.

Steve was no one I would have ever thought to be gay - but clearly - what do I know? Via email we have slightly caught up over the last two plus decades. He even lives in Phoenix, but I did not get the chance to see him when I was there last week.

Back to the video. Yes, the kids don't all seem to be gay, but are clearly friendly with their gay peers. Something I don't think I would have found at Park Hall or in 1981. Though things seemingly move at a glacial pace, I think videos like this speak leaps and bounds for how the general population accepts gay men & women. I hope it does.

I know gay kids still have their own struggles, just like we did....but hopefully some things have been made easier for them.





cross posted at Queer Deviations

I Don't Like Wednesdays

....tell me why...

So I am sitting on a conference call yesterday, looking out my office window 25 floors above street level and happen to notice dozens of police cars racing down the main drags and even through the small cross streets.

At some point someone asked me a question that I wasn't concentrating on. Something was going on and I was too enthralled to pay attention to my job.

Unfortunately, it was a scene that has become increasingly all too familiar: a school shooting. This time it was too close to home. Or to work, as the case may be. Three or four blocks away. Close enough that they locked down our building - not like I was going anywhere anyway. I had deadlines.

I haven't heard all the ins and outs and whys of the shooting. Just that the 14 year old (!!!!) gunman kid is dead and four others shot. I don't know who killed the kid - himself or the police. In a way - it doesn't matter. I'm sure the NRA will make it all better.

The regional FBI office was across the street....as was the local NBC station. I'm only venturing to guess who might have arrived on site first.

On a completely unrelated note (or is it?), on the way home I was actually listening to a radio station that wasn't NRP and came across Bobbie Gentry's "Ode to Billie Joe'. An odd song to be sure - but you know, Gentry had a pretty incredible voice and the strings on that song were pretty innovative for something that became a Top 40 hit (quick Morty - how high did it chart, what week and what replaced it?).

...and then for years they ruined that song with a tv movie with Robbie Benson making Billie Joe out to be some closeted homo who kills himself because of it. WTF?

Yeah - I'm pretty sure it is an unrelated note.

as for the image....the building where the shootings took place, I think is in the old Cleveland Aquarium. And though you can't see it, my office building is just next to the one you see on the far right in the picture.

Talk Talk

I know you're thinking I'm gonna talk about the Indians again - but my song/post title might tell you differently. After a painful Game 3, I'm drafting this while we are (currently) winning Game 4. But it's early. Only time will tell.....

Since it was a later start for us tonight, we went to another lecture sponsored by Cleveland State - the same folks who brought us Doris Kearns Goodwin.

The second speaker wasn't quite as eloquent: Khaled Abou El Fadl. The subject was interesting enough: The Rise of Islamic Extremism & Islamophobia. The orator kind of sucked. Not kind of. More like really. Really really really sucked.

Oh, he started off ok, but quickly lost his way. He jumped around years and topics with seemingly no rhyme or reason and no way to tie it all up. On the way out I overheard a woman say, "it was just like free association". Phew. At first I thought it was just me who wasn't smart enough to completely follow what he was attempting to get at. As it turns out everyone I heard talking thought the same thing.

The speech tic and/or impediment he had didn't really help matters. And he didn't tailor this slowness in his speech to go with the length of it. Soon, his allotted 60 minutes became 90 before the moderator had to cut him off.

The organizers even 86'd his Q&A for the evening due to time constraints. Honestly, there'd have been no way to reign him in...which would have been fine if you thought you were going to get any viable information out of him.

The longest 90 minutes of my life. At least it seemed. ....then I had to endure the Indians game.

Which we won...and now head to the ACLS. So here is just a shot of that.

Bang Bang My Baby Shot Me Down

It's not really homicide is it? If even if it was, it's justifiable - no?

All one really has to do is get the gun into her hand - clearly she'd do the rest. At worst you'd be charged with an accessory. At best, you would receive some medal of freedom award.

Rocket Man

I've been toying with the idea of using song titles for each of my posts. There are enough songs out there that could relate - directly or not so much - to whatever I have to blabber on about.

Yesterday was our annual block party. There aren't tons of houses in our 'hood, but enough. It was still kind of a small turnout - but a nice one.

Attending the event is part of my continuing effort to be more social. All the gays in the five street area were there, but we connected with a few more of the folks on the block. I've mentioned before that we're the last house on the street and you cannot see the house from it, so most people don't know we're there and don't know the house is there.

We brought salsa. Not my normal stuff, but some nice mango stuff. I'd like to say I made it and had I not gotten back from Phoenix during the Indians game, I might have. But I had my priorities. Store bought seemed to go over just fine. ...and it's not like the ladies who brought the teeny cupcakes didn't get them from Costco! They didn't even have the nerve to repackage it and try to pull it off as their own - like I did.

But the cool thing of the party was that one of the organizers commissioned the Rocket Car (see picture above - which btw is a stock photo, as I did not bring a camera with me to this event) from Euclid Beach Park. For years I've seen this thing drive all over town when it's on loan from the Crawford Auto Museum, but never up close. I certainly never had been in it - until yesterday.

It was fun and completely more unsafe than a Corvair. The Rocket Car had seat belts, but that really wouldn't help if you rolled it. Dual airbags are for pussies. Massive head trauma would be for he-men!

I was surprised how folks we passed while riding in it never got jazzed about it. I always did when I saw it. I thought it was fun to see when no one expected it. It's cooler than the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile......and I've seen that on the road......twice!

We had missed our first two (which were also the last two) block parties. First year it was raining and we didn't know anyone. Last year we did my parent's 50th anniversary the same day.....they kind of took priority.

But I can see us going again. ...and we were invited to a Halloween party. The caveat is - you have to wear a costume. Curses!

Mrs. Travis Hafner

...I like the ring of it.

I think I'll just be doodling it on scrap pieces of paper at home and work. I'd be just fine being the woman in that relationship.

I am shameless in what few baseball posting I put up here. I utilized a nice Travis image on my opening day ramblings. And don't get me wrong - the Indians have a number of nice looking players this year. Probably the best since 1997 - Thome, Giles, Vizquel, Justice, Williams and Chad Ogea!!!....and the likes.

Anyhoo....I know many folks like football, but I prefer American's pastime. And I have a soft spot for the Indians - which can be quite the futile experience. But one I've been living with all my life. I watch the games, I read the sports section - I just don't seem to ever post about it here. I can actually talk sports (some) with 'the guys'. I'm SO butch!

I mentioned the other day that as g-d is my witness, they will win a World Series before I die. If I passed-on in 2008, that'd be just fine, if we won one this year. It's not like I have a death wish or suicidal ideations - I just want them to win!

Last night - after 11 LONG innings, they got one step closer. Again. The game was a car wreck you just had to watch and could not turn away from. Tied (I'd say, 'obviously' but some people don't know the ins and outs of baseball......Jon....David) for inning after inning at 1-1.

At Jacob's Field, they have a graphic of a vampire who eats and eats and eats and then rubs his belly. I laugh at it every time I see it - and invariably have to explain it to someone: The Count is full (think about it...........think about it.....).

Yes, bottom of the 11th: bases loaded. two outs. three balls. two strikes. It has cliche and excitement written all over it. Travis hits a beautiful shot through the millions of canadian soldiers and into deep center field. He brings in the winning run and FINALLY ends Game 2 of the ALDS.

There is something so satisfying about beating the Yankees. I can take a loss from almost any other team....but they are so fucking smug. And it was just nice that we prevailed 3-12 during Game 1.

Only one more game to win before we'd face either Boston or Los Angeles for the ALCS. (please oh please - let it be the Angels....and I'm actually writing this before the end of Game 2 of their series.)

And just for fun, as this is not a photo-blog per se - I thought I'd leave you with some pictures of my future husband. ...and might I be so crude as to say that one Tom G told me after the win last night (as he was in a bar doing shots) that he was imagining Travis' low-hangers swaying in the locker room.

Who wasn't?

Hot x 3

I am out in Phoenix for a meeting I'd just rather not be part of. What does it say when I'd rather be back AT the office - IN Cleveland???

• First - almost the entire company is out here. Blech.


• Second - I have tons of work I cannot get done....because I'm here.


• Third - because of the time zone change, the meeting agenda and travel, I am going to miss the first two playoff games the Indians are in.


• Fourth - it was almost 100 yesterday and the next two days are more of the same....but these folks do not pay me enough to get to see me in a bathing suit/shorts/skorts or to have to see them in one.

I'm tired. I'm hot. I'm cranky.

It really is NOT a good combo.

The Sweetest Taboo

I am not supposed to write about this - but screw it. Names will be changed....or not even used. Locations will be desensitized. Genders don't even come into play. Photos will be graphic representative only - and not indicative of person or persons involved. I am sure copywrite laws will be infringed upon.

That being said - there is nothing horrid about this post. There is nothing subversive, cruel or even humiliating about what I wanted to write about. But I try to be sensitive, because that is just the kind of guy I am. Oh - shut up all of you!

"Friends" of mine got married. In Massachussettes (hint hint hint). There! That's it!

They are not from Massachusettes. Technically no laws were broken - or at least I don't think. No one at the courthouse impeded the marriage, or tried to, even though the judge talked about baseball teams that were not the Red Sox and mayors that did not reside in MA. No one was pulling wool over anyone's eyes. Mitt Romney would probably tell you otherwise.

...and isn't that the way it should be? (not questions asked - not Mitt Romney.)

I'm not pro or con marriage - gay or otherwise. I've said before, I'd be in it for the jewelry and cake. I got the ring already - so, that just leaves the baked goods.

I guess if I could get married, I would. I mean, I guess I can, but outside of Mass., it means nothing. It's all symbolic. I don't know I agree with some queers doing multiple marriages in Canada, San Francisco (when they could), New Paltz (when they could) and Mass....just to prove a point. It kind of skews the numbers.

But enough about me (as if!). I'm just happy for my friends - and that they did something that made them happy.