5,6,7,8

If ever i have had a gay moment the worst one and most embarrassing happened on Saturday night. I have been obsessed with the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders for a while now. More specifically I have been obsessed with the CMT show making the team the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. It showcases the trials and hard work from the the initial audition process, to training camp, and ultimately those who make it and those who are cut. It can be harsh to see a girl who weighs 100 pounds be cut because she doesn't look good in the uniform, or to see a girl who does not have the appropriate verbal skills to represent the team be cut as well. The team is run by Kelli Finglass, a former cheerleader herself. She runs a tight ship and cuts girls for different reasons. One of these reasons is part of my obsession. The famous high kick line. The girls line up and kick a series of high kicks that end in a jump split. Yes i said a jump split. Its amazing. Well, I decided on Saturday that I would try and replicate this kick line with the help of my loving patient partner. I figured why not, it was snowing outside, i was bored, and i was determined to see just how high my leg could go. We were standing in the kitchen and I asked him to lift his hand so i would have a point to focus on. I put my hands on my hips and in my head played the song Simply Irresistible, this what they kick to on the show. Then I counted 1,2,3,4 and kicked my right leg up as high and hard as I could to reach his hand. As if in slow motion my left foot slipped on the kitchen tile and I watched my partners face turn to fear as I slowly fell backward. As I fell a thought came to mind, I might die of a head injury. If I die then my partner would have to explain to the police, my family, and my friends that I had died of an injury sustained from practicing the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader kick line. It would be in all the gay papers, and be part of my eulogy. They would have to find a huge casket to put me in to fit my leg that was stuck over my head. Then as I hit the floor I thought it might not be so bad. Kelli Finglass would hear about it and send the cheerleaders to my funeral to do the kick line in front of my over sized casket as a tribute to me. That would have been cool. Well I was okay, I landed hard but nothing broke, and I looked to see my partners face fighting back a laugh until he knew I was okay. Thank God I did not try the jump split.

Just Venting

I have been in a relationship now for nearly 4 years and it amazes me that some people think they know my relationship better than I do. They look at me and Dalton whom they have known for only a short period of time and analyze what they think the dynamic of our relationship is. I find myself border line insulted by their assumptions. One assumption is that I am Dalton's "boy" who spends his days shopping and going to the gym. While I do like a good pair of shoes every now and then this is simply not the case. Another assumption I have recently discovered is that Dalton lavishes me with what I want because they feel he and I do not compliment each other physically. What the hell? This is more insulting to him than me. These are assumptions that I knew very well existed but were not confirmed until we met up with a friend last night for a drink. I will go record saying that no one really knows a relationship looking in from the outside. We have each sacrificed for each other and I will admit at the moment Dalton is the primary bread winner but there have been times when that role was reversed. As far as looks go, there is no man more attractive in my eyes than Dalton ( except maybe for Daniel Craig, but I digress.) We share a both good and bad times together. We have our disagreements, but who doesn't? We have mutual respect for one another and a strong love. I realize that having to defend my relationship with him should not have to be done, but I just needed to vent. Dalton himself could care less, which is one of the traits I admire in him. I however still carry that high school trait of caring what is said about me, and believe me much has been said. I know I shouldn't care, especially since those who make these assumptions are not exactly models for solid relationships but it still bugs me. I guess i will have to just live with it.

With Age Comes Wisdom and Aching Bones

I have begun my daily workouts and let me tell you times have changed. I use to be able to run a 5 mile stretch with a hangover and a cigarette hanging from my mouth. Now I can barley crack 3 miles sober. What the hell? I am 31 years old and have been eating healthy for a while now. I still smoke and drink but even that has tapered off a bit. The gym I attend is 4 blocks away and it took all my strength to walk home from there today. So now lets recap.....Losing my hair, the hair I still have left is going grey, i have man boobs, and I when I read for an extended period of time my eyes begin to blur. I'm scared of whats next. At least i still have regular bowl movements, God forbid i have to start using a stool softener. Also for my good friend Vicky no matter what age group your in there is always a younger group. The other day I heard some kid use the slang "that's sick" and didn't realize it meant something good. If I say that's sick I'm usually referring to those guys that weigh 100 pounds and have a Leif Garrett haircut. Well i guess I'll sign off for now its time for my afternoon nap.

Boobylicious

Well I've embarked on something new yet again, or revisited something. I have begun to work out at the gym again. I have done this partly because I was inspired by my friend Joe who is embarking on the same thing, and partly because the other day when i ran across the street I nearly gave myself a black eye with my man boobs. Now mind you I am not a heavy guy, in fact I am fairly thin, but it seems no matter how much I work I cannot get rid of them. They are not Pamela Anderson big, but if i don't take action I will soon be a B cup. All the woman in my family are well endowed, and unfortunately so are the men. No matter how thin I get they never shrink. I have begun wearing muscle shirts under my normal shirts in order to keep them in place, and lets face it an undershirt is basically a man bra. There is nothing more embarrassing ( except falling down on a regular basis, no names needed) than a man whose chest bounces when he walks. You feel as if everyone passing you in the street is staring. You feel violated when people talk to your man boobs instead of looking you in the eye. I bet all you women out there thought you were the only ones. Men with fatty boobs get the same stares only for different reasons. I am going to work my butt off until they are gone, if that doesn't work I am thinking pf plastic surgery. I will keep you updated.

Seriously?

Well it happened yet again. I know I have mentioned a couple of instances when my beloved loses his balance and eats dirt, so it should come as no surprise that I have yet another example as to why I need to put him in a bubble. Yesterday, my partner and I along with a few friends decided to attend German fest in our neighborhood. It was a wonderful day filled with food, German music and lots of beer. The weather was beautiful, and the crowd was friendly. We started with a parade that marched right down the middle of our street, next we went to the square to join the festivities. We played games and ate brauts, and drank lots of beer. Now mind you I am not a beer drinker so I was cautious and limited myself to a only a few. My partner and friends went a little further. By the time eight o'clock rolled around the majority of our group was thoroughly plastered. My partner was part of this majority. It was decided that at this point we should go home. Dalton was very intoxicated and we decided to end the night. A friend of ours kindly helped me walk Dalton home because I needed the help. After a couple of blocks the beer kicked in with force. Dalton had to go potty. After yelling at him not to pee in the street he stopped at a local park to attempt a relief of his bladder. Again I cautioned him against it but he was determined. He did not realize that a chain blocked off the park and he would have to walk over it. Well this is when it happened he tripped on the chain and down he went into the dirt. My friend and I quickly ran over to pick him up. We walked the rest of the way home as blood trickled down from his knee and I wiped mud from his shirt. We got home and went to bed. The next day I discovered his knee was swollen and bruised. It has come to my attention that I really may need to put him in a bubble or fit him with knee pads and a helmet, I haven't decided which of these to go with yet.

Its Not Funny

Its been a while since my last blog, so I decided to update it with a little story called " You thinks its really funny but its really wet and runny". This past week a good friend of ours visited us here in beautiful Chicago. Now those of you who know us are aware that we enjoy the occasional cocktail. Vicky our friend also occasionally enjoys a cocktail or two so when she arrived we decided we would partake in a few and catch up. It took longer to catch than anticipated so a few cocktails turned into a few more. The next after we awoke we decided to walk around the neighborhood and then head out to Boystown, and by Boystown I mean the street where 100 pound boys go to find themselves a husband. We enjoyed yet another cocktail or two before heading home at 1 am. The next day our house guest and myself woke to find Dalton bright eyed and bushy tailed ( Yes its time for a wax). Vicky and I were less than enthusiastic when he proposed we go to Navy Pier. We agreed so as to show Vicky more of Chicago than we had. It was a beautiful day and the pier was full of people. Now mind you when I have a slight hangover my body does things that I have no control over. My head pounds, i get nauseated, and I have a very loose stomach. In other words I poo like no body's business. Well you have probably guessed by now that I had one such attack at Navy Pier. It started slowly with a cramp or two then turned into what I would assume giving birth is like. I handed my partner the shopping bag I was carrying and ran for dear life. I searched and searched yet could not find a bathroom without a line. Finally after I had run the majority of the pier I found an empty restroom. I wont get into detail about what happened next, but I will say this was possibly one of the most embarrassing things that has happened to me in a while. I exited the bathroom sweaty and red faced.I do not like to use public restrooms for this particular function, but alas God had other plans.

How Dare She

Recently while walking my dog i came across a young hippie girl walking her big mutt. Usually when I see another dog out and about I cross the street to avoid conflict between the two animals. This day I did it as usual. I turned around while Misty (my dog) was doing her business. As I turned I saw the dog I was avoiding come darting at us. I decided I would kick it if it attacked. It didn't. It was one of those big dogs that like to play. Well I was about to yell at the lady for not having her beast on a leash. This is a big pet peeve of mine. The dog could hurt someone, encounter another dog that is not friendly, or get hit by a car. Put your damn dog on a leash. She came and started making conversation. She was one of those eccentric hippie people that only eat veggies and smoke pot. I usually really get along with those type of people. We talked for a bit but I was nervous because Misty can play a little rough and the other dog was much bigger than her. I told her I had to go because I was afraid Misty would get hurt. This woman proceeded to tell me that it would fine if I got rid of my negative energy that Misty was sensing from me. I told this bitch that I did not have negative energy but that I was protecting my dog, and hers, and I mentioned that some of the other dogs in the neighborhood are not friendly and to be careful in case her dog encounters one of them. AKA leash your dog. I didn't tell her that part, but I wanted to. I walked Misty back home, and proceeded with my day. I have encountered the same lady almost every time I walk Misty now. We have resorted to walking a new route to avoid her. I am going to start a neighborhood petition to have everyone leash their dogs when they are being walked. Might I mention she had the worst dye job of anybody I have ever seen in my life. I know this has nothing to do with my story but just because your a hippie doesn't mean you cannot have nice hair. I'm just saying.

Tragic and more Tragic

My partner and I spent Monday night drinking at home and watching music videos on CMT. You would think that this would have been a relaxing evening with good music and company, it wasn't. In our inebriated states we began a discussion about the differences and similarities between Carrie Underwood and Leanne Rimes. The discussion started out well comparing the two. Then it turned ugly. Dalton is a staunch supporter of Leanne Rimes and I am in love with Carrie. First I happened to mention that Leanne was popular in her time because she was a little girl with a great voice, and now she was a woman with a good voice.He said Carrie didn't pay her dues and didn't deserve her success. I mentioned that Leanne was 13 when she made it and she didn't either. Then he said Carrie could not sing like Leanne. I said he was right Carrie sings better. He said Carrie just got lucky and Leanne has sold more albums. I said yes after 12 years in the business. Carrie after 2 has out sold her. I went on to say that Leanne can no longer make the top ten, while Carrie is hitting number one left and right. He said it was because of American Idol, I agreed but went on to say if she were not good she would have fallen of the face of the earth after her first song. He said that I never respected Leanne. I said I always thought she was talented but she screwed up trying to go pop and when she came back to country Carrie had blocked her comeback. He said Leanne was more country than Carrie. I said Carrie was just inducted into the Grand Ole Opry and was more country. During this we continued to drink and it turned into a full fledged fight. We yelled at each other and then refused to speak to each other the rest of the night. We woke up the next day and realized just how sad we were. An old married couple who fought about something so stupid. I guess this is how it is. If our biggest fight in a year was about Carrie versus Leanne we are doing pretty good. We need hobbies.

Puff Puff

I recently tried to quit smoking. I failed. I am now 31 years old and am trying to be healthier. I eat right. I get some exercise, and take care of things as needed. However my one big vice is smoking. I don't use drugs, I avoid sweets as much as possible, and although I do enjoy a cocktail I know my limit there. All these things and I cannot break my smoking habit. I grew up in a smoking family. My grandpa smoked a cigarette while eating supper. My mother enjoyed a few years of smoking but was able to kick the habit. I can't seem to do it. It has gotten to the point that I no longer feel the side effects of it. There was a time when I would wake up with a sore throat and hacking up tar. I miss those times because it always cautioned me to skip a few that day. Now my poor body has just accepted this and I no longer have side effects. It is a gross and might I add expensive habit to have. It is a horrible nasty addiction. They have gotten so expensive in Chicago that I now drive to Indiana to purchase them. It might as well be crack and I'm Amy Winehouse. Alomost everyone in my social circle smokes. My partner and I plan weekend trips to Indiana just to buy them. Its ridiculous. Friends of ours who drive to Indiana for work always call us to see if we need them picked up for us. I know I need to stop but its a hard habit to break. I decided to try again next weekend. Wish me luck.

I plucked Now I'm F******ed

I am one of the few men I know that admit to having to pluck his eyebrows to avoid a uni brow. I do this every couple of weeks when hair between my eyes gets long enough to braid. Yesterday was one of these days. I picked up my tweezers and hand mirror and began the painful process. When I was done I noticed that I could see long hairs peaking out from within my bushel of eyebrows. I decided it was time to man scape them. Again I began to painfully pluck out these long strains of hair. When I was done I noticed that stray hairs were growing at the end tips pf my brows. I plucked. Then I noticed course hairs growing at the arch. I plucked. Then I plucked more. Unfortunately I continued this process even further. When I was done with my plucking frenzy I decided to check out my work in the bathroom mirror. My eyes widened when I saw what I had done, but only one of my eyes seemed to catch this expression, the other one looked angry. One eyebrow was fine, it still held its natural arch and was cleaned up. The other however was as a ruler, I had plucked out its natural arch in my frenzy. All that was left was a big red spot. I am not one of those guys that shapes and sculpts his eyebrows. In fact I dislike it when guys do this to themselves, I pluck simply to clean them up. I don't know what got into me but now I am left looking surprised from one eye, and angry from the other. I think I am going to have to use a marker to fix my tragic work until grows back.

Down She Goes

Last weekend I spent Sunday drinking with a few buddies. Our intention was to have a few at brunch and then head home. This did not happen. We ended up staying a few hours more than we intended. In our buzzed state we decided to head to the strip of bars we frequented. We decided to take the train as it was cheaper and we wanted to use all our money for drinking. On the train we took our seats and began our journey into debauchery. At one particular spot an attractive young woman stepped onto the train. As she attempted to take her seat her skinny ass missed and she fell between her intended seat and the wall. She quickly jumped up red faced and sat down. Being the gentlemen that we were we proceeded to laugh out loud in unison. The young lady turned and gave us a dirty look. We turned our heads and stared out of the window trying everything in our power to hold in our laughter. A few stops later she exited the train just in time for her to miss the entire population of our cart burst into laughter. I tell this story as a warning. If you are skinny enough to fall between a seat and the wall which are very close proximity you need to eat more, and secondly laugh at yourself if you fall in public in will diffuse the situation. Those of you who have read some of my previous posts know that I speak from experience.

I'm Hungry

I have been spending the better part of the week dieting. After many weeks of binging on fatty foods and ice cream I have begun to notice that when I take off my underwear a red mark stays imprinted on my skin. This is not good. Although I'm fairly comfortable with my weight I cannot let myself get to the point where I have a permanent tattoo around my waist that says BVD. I am going about the diet the right way. I bought tons of healthy food and I make sure to eat breakfast everyday.This also is not good. Instead of a heaping bowl of creamy smooth delicious ice cream I eat little tiny containers of yogurt. Instead of a greasy tasty cheeseburger I eat a bland dry turkey burger. Instead of a large wonderful peperoni pizza, which by the way I would run over a good friend with my car for, I eat a whole wheat lean pocket with pizza flavoring. Instead of being happy I am mad and hungry. Why did man have to invent Hostess Twinkies? Who came up with idea or pouring nacho cheese on tortilla chips and piling it with ground beef, guacamole, and sour cream, and why does it taste so good? Why do all the foods that taste the best have to be so bad for our waistlines? Sure you can all fool yourselves into thinking that soy milk tastes just like regular milk, or a stick of celery is just as satisfying as a candy bar, but your all wrong. It doesn't taste the same people, it never will! I don't want to eat baked chicken for dinner, I want fried chicken. Juicy crisp fried chicken I tell you. The kind that burns your mouth when you first bite into it, and grease trickles down your chin. The kind of fried chicken that crunches in your mouth as you chew. The kind you eat with a heaping steaming plate of mashed potatoes and gravy (and a biscuit). Excuse me while I go suck on an ice cube.

Children Behave

This past weekend was gay pride in Chicago. The streets were alive with anorexic boys in little underwear. The alcohol poured freely, and music filled the streets. Prior to the actual parade on Sunday there was a sort of street fair that occurred on Saturday. In order for my partner and I to avoid the rain and large crowds on Sunday for the actual parade we opted to just attend the street fair. News cameras filled the streets and reporters sought out only the most flamboyant men to interview. In the mix of it all several b list musicians performed on the main stage. The one wonderful exception was singer Tiffany. Yes I said Tiffany. For those of you not familiar with her she was a late eighties teen queen. Do you remember "I Think We're Alone Now"? She was the last performer of the evening. Now I have never been one to follow the normal gay stereotype. I do not worship Madonna or Cher. I don't sing along to Bette Midler and own Judy Garland Albums. It's just not me. However, this was Tiffany in all her former glory. I remember as a tween, sitting in my bedroom with my five pound cassette player and headphones replaying "Could Have Been" over and over. I recall staying up to watch Dance Machine on Friday night to catch her performance. I remember reading a teen magazine and discovering she was dating Jonathan Knight from New Kids On The Block. Yes, I truly do remember. She sang all of her songs pitch perfect. She wore a fringed black skirt, halter top and white high heeled platform shoes. Her hair was curled short and tight with sunbeams highlighting her beautiful red tresses. If all this were not enough she grabbed my hand twice, not once like she did with all the other bitter queens, but twice. It was as if we had a connection. It was as if she was saying "David you are my favorite". It was as if she knew me and I knew her. It was meant to be this chance interaction with Tiffany. It is what the universe intended.

Velma

If I could pick one person in my life besides my mother whom I believe to be a great influence on me it would be my Aunt Velma. As a child she cared for me as if one of her own. One of the advantages of this was that she was not that much older than me. Yes she was alive when the first man walked on the moon, but not much older. I spent many nights sleeping in her house, and eating her food, so much so I regard her children as siblings. I was taught a little about cars from Uncle Peter, and played endless games with my three cousins. Much more than this she was a maternal figure in my life that provided me with advice and comfort. There was and is always a door open at her house. She is gentle yet bold at the same time. This characteristic is what I admire most. She could be asked to leave a local convenient store for making a rude remark to the cashier, yet give a homeless person money in the parking lot of that same store as security escorted her out. This is Velma. A woman who along with her husband raised three kids while working full time. A woman who mastered the art multitasking. She could cook an enchilada dinner from scratch on the same day as she stained her wood floors by herself. Much more than this she could love her children unconditionally and her nephew at the same time. This duel love is what I live with, the love I have for her and my mothe is one in the same. This person whom I am privledged to know is one of many who shaped my life. She cries when I cry and laughs when I laugh. As sappy or sugary as all this may sound the fact is it is the truth, and I am lucky that this thruth is sappy.

Down He Goes Again

I will admit I am not the most compassionate person when it comes to someone taking an uninjured tumble. I have mentioned this before, so I will not elaborate. However I cannot keep this to myself any longer. It has pained me for two days deciding whether or not I should mention yet another fall I witnessed. The victim is familiar but the circumstances are different, he was not drunk this time. As I mentioned in my prior post I was lucky enough to attend a family reunion at a rented beach house in Florida. It was beautiful and picturesque. The drive down was long and wrought with wrong turns and exhaustion, but we finally found our way there. During the course of the trip my wonderful partner Dalton seemed to be cursed. During the drive he somehow sprained a toe. I don't how people. He didn't stub it on anything. Nothing fell on it, it just started to hurt him and we discovered it was sprained. This was just the beginning. On the trip back he became car sick. He was nauseated and could not eat anything. He has always had a delicate stomach at times, it just seemed that after the toe incident he had suffered enough. In between these two incidents something else happened. Yes people he fell. On a dark moonlit night in a beautiful beach front house he and I decided to join my family on the sand to listen to music and talk. The back of the house was designed with a large second story porch with wooden stairs that led to the bridge to the beach. On our way down we talked about how much we were enjoying the trip. As I turned towards my gentle giant he missed the last wooden stair from the porch. Down he went again. He fell to his knees as if praying to God for mercy. His face reddened with embarrassment because although I was the only one to see it happen he knew by the end of the night everyone else would be informed. He rose limping on his sprained toe with his knees dusty from sand. His face expressed a longing for me not to tell. But alas he must know me by now. I decided to forgo my story to my family. All except for one. The one from whom I inherited this gene. My Aunt Velma. We both laughed. As my guy approached us on the porch my Aunt asked Dalton what happened to his knee, he looked down unaware that I had told. He stopped short of his explanation when he saw our faces. He mentioned that we should shut up and walked away. I will be shopping for a bubble for him to live in tomorrow.

These Things

Last week I had the wonderful opportunity to go to Destin,Florida for a family reunion . It was a wonderful privilege to see my entire family present in one house. There was good weather, food, and a great deal of conversation. We all gathered to celebrate my grandparents fiftieth wedding anniversary. The wine poured free and the week was spent lying on the beach and catching up with everyone. The journey although tedious was well worth it. Everything was as it was before I left for Chicago. My uncles and aunt offered their many opinions and jokes on family matters. My mother, the mother hen of the group, took care of everyone. My sister and I traded witty banter, or at least it was witty on my side. I caught up with my brother and forgot how much I missed him. My grandparents remained close to the house soaking in the love and marveling at the accomplishment they had produced, keeping the family intact. On the trip back I stopped at a book store to find a way to pass the time during the long drive home. In between my turns at the wheel I read an incredible heart wrenching biography of a Holocaust survivor. His family had been torn apart and murdered, like countless other families during this dark period. As we all know, or at least should know by now the tragic unthinkable loss of these families and generations of people is unimaginable. There are countless lessons to be learned from such stories of horror and family. The lesson I learned is one that I shall never forget. At times I must admit I take my family for granted. I do not call them as often as I should. I let important days in their lives go by without even an email. I regrettably do not visit as often as I should. My reasons are selfish and self pitying. I think if I do not call them I won't miss them. The fact is I will always miss them, but I am lucky enough to still have them available to me, alive and living life. I am lucky to still be able to share a silly joke with my sister, or hear my mother's voice at the end of a phone receiver. I am fortunate that I have an aunt who still pushes me to move back to Dallas. I have the privilege of watching my niece grow up and see what an amazing father my little brother as turned out to be. These things I will no longer take for granted. these things are what makes me who I am. These things are the blessings and gifts my God has given me. These things are why I live.

No Hablo Espanol

It has been my experience that most people judge a book by its cover. I know that I am guilty of it myself. When I see someone of a particular height, dress, etc. I initially assume that they are of a certain race or religion. In addition I assume they speak the language of their native countries that I have assigned to them. So it should come as no surprise that I when I experience the same assumptions placed upon me I should accept it as it is. However, this was not the case the other day. While working a temp job a man approached me in the lobby of the hotel I was working at to ask me about a particular car service he was waiting on. His first question was ..."Do you speak English?". I was insulted and a little embarrassed. There were several people around me and they seemed to be just as shocked as I was. To the gentleman's credit he meant no ill harm by his question. I don't think he even thought about what he had just asked me. Nonetheless it was a humbling experience. I replied by saying I speak better English than Spanish. He smiled and continued on with his inquiry. After all was said and done I was a bit angry, but the question remains if I do the same thing do I have the right to be upset if someone does it to me? I would never ask such a question. however I would think it. Is it any worse for him to ask it than me thinking it? I guess in the grand scheme of it all it is the same. I do not speak fluent Spanish and I have experienced the same inquiries about my language speaking skills by people of my own nationality. It seems that this judgement about myself will continue on forever. English is my first language, but some people outside my nationality will assume I speak only Spanish. Meanwhile people of my nationality will assume I speak fluent Spanish. It is a stereotype I will always live with, but I have to tell myself judge not lest ye be judged. With that note I must say I am really craving a taco right now.

Hey Man, you got a Square

The other day as I was smoking a cigarette outside, a person came up to me and asked me for a quarter and a square. Long ago when this request had begun making its way throughout the streets I thought a square was a drug term. It is actually a cigarette. In the beginning I always obliged. Then I realized it was becoming a frequent occurrence. Still I obliged, for a while. Currently I am financially in limbo so I began to tell people that I was out of cigarettes but still would give them the quarter. Then I realized the money request began to sky rocket. It was now a dollar. I like to think of myself as a kind person, maybe even gullible, but a dollar and a square? People cigarettes are expensive and a dollar is down right insulting. If you need to beg for a dollar you should not be smoking. If you are a drug addict and need the dollar for crack, smoke the crack instead because its cheaper than cigarettes. Also if on a really good day I give you a cigarette do not stand there and smoke with me. You will ruin my cigarette smoking experience because I will be wondering what your going to ask for next, five dollars and a triangle. Leave me alone!

Light Blue Collar

For the past few day I have been working with a temporary agency hoping to find my new calling. It seems somewhere in between my initial interview and the first assigned job a communication error occurred. Throughout the years I have been fortunate enough to be employed with two great companies. These careers afforded me a comfortable lifestyle. Prior to this I was in college and worked in a factory during the summer to make ends meet. During my factory days I was a young kid working towards a college degree and didn't seem to mind the endless hours standing and working an assembly line. I didn't know any better, all I knew was that I received a check on Friday and it was good money at the time. However, I became spoiled. I finished college and spent my days making too much money at a new job for sitting in a desk chair all day. My breaks were not scheduled and I didn't have to wait for a whistle to eat lunch. In the eleven years since my college degree took me to this place I lost a certain vision of the blue collar working person. I always held respect for him or her but lost sight of what they actually do. In regards to the miscommunication, you probably guessed it, I was sent on manual labor jobs. The temp service business is apparently slow and all that is left for temporary employment are jobs that are less appealing to the average young professional. In these rough times we are forced to take positions that once seemed unthinkable to the spoiled office worker. This is both a negative and a positive. The negative being you have to work harder and longer for less pay. The positive is the point of my current rambling. Did we forget how to appreciate the hard working man? In my case I know I did. I stood on my feet all day with scheduled breaks this weekend. A personal accomplishment I had not done since my factory days. To make it clear the job was a cake walk mentally, but physically tiring. I realized while standing there in the sun working that I had become much more soiled than I thought. I giggled as my supervisor told me what time I could take a break. I laughed at the fact that I was not allowed to eat lunch when I wanted too. The normal eight hour day most of us are used to is a ten plus hour day for others. I made it home with enough blisters on my hands and feet to last me a lifetime. In this troubled economy we are doing what we have to do. I am confident that I will once again be back to the spoiled conditions I have been use to for so long, but I am more than confident that next time I see a man or woman working a construction sight, or digging a ditch I will take the time to appreciate the hard work they do to put food on the table. It is my belief that if every person at one time or another has the opportunity to work a manual labor job for one day you will learn to appreciate those people that do it everyday, and learn a little more about yourselves.

Wedding March

In the ever changing landscape of America a current issue seems to be the demise of the marital union. Bundled with this subject is the issue of gay marriage. It should come as no surprise that I agree that everyone should have the right to marry regardless of sexual orientation.There are many reasons why I believe it should be legalized, however these reasons have been voiced by many, and in a better way. My question is if and when it is legal for two same sex partners to marry nationwide will gay men and woman take it seriously? Although it may perpetuate a stereotype I have viewed first hand the promiscuity that many homosexuals participate in. Partners who have been together for many years begin to explore open relationships with both agreeing to rules that dictate their sex lives. This seems to work for them. A relationship that consists of true love and mutual respect with just the act of sex being shared with others. No judgement should be passed on those who live in these relations, it is a private agreement between two consenting adults. The same could be said for the single gay person who enjoys sex to the fullest. This is just how it is for a great deal of people in the gay community. I realize that the issue of gay marriage is a sensitive one, and yes a person's lifestyle should not be a factor in a person's right to marry. If that were the case it would be illegal for many people regardless of lifestyle to marry. However it makes me wonder if many gay people will run to the alter in haste and not take the time to think about it. Will the usual questions be asked? Is this person right for me? Do I see myself with this person twenty years from now? Am I truly in love? These questions have entered the minds of every bride and groom at one time or another. Once the right is given, and I believe it will be one day, will it be looked at was an institution of monogamy and love, or just a piece a paper. Gay marriage should be legalized, but it is my opinion that marriage itself should be respected. Do we in the gay community want a high divorce rate to be thrown in our faces by those who oppose gays in general, much less gay marriage? For those of you jumping on the next plane to California, remember you are a reflection of all of us in the community not yet contemplating marriage. Do not give all our opponents more ammunition to fight with, take the time to reflect upon if you are truly ready to walk down that aisle. Yes it should be our right, but is it right for you?

Daddy Dearest

In my recent postings I complained of my graying balding scalp. Although this still remains true, I received a bit of an ego boost today. My partner Dalton and I decided to be domestic today due to the fact that we were out very late last night. The morning started out slow but turned out to be yet another amusing day at Dalton's expense. We ate breakfast and decided to get our hair cut. The establishment we go to is full of eastern European women who seem to have an affinity for my 6'4 tall partner. They treat him very well, and it is a bit flattering for him. On this day however my dear sweet guy was subjected to an off hand question from his stylist. We usually go in together and we assume people get that we are together. We are use to the stares as people try and figure us out. However this young lovely beautiful woman ( whom I tipped very well) asked my Dalton if I was his son. Yes my friends out there in cyber land she thought I was his son. Dalton is only a few years older than me so this question came as surprise to him. Dalton was insulted but was kind to the young lady. In true fashion he replied by stating my age to her. He does this often if someone believes I am a little younger than I am.He gets pleasure out of it although it annoys me to no end. I decided to add a little salt to the wound because of this. My haircut was complete while I waited for him. I decided to step outside to make a call, and as I did I walked up to the stylists' station and said "I'll be right back Dad, I'm stepping outside".I walked through the door with the young women's giggle echoing in my ear.

Fifteen Minutes Too Long

Andy Warhol once stated everyone will have fifteen minutes of fame. This seems evident in the constant creation of some reality television that is flooding American TV. I will be the first to admit I love a good competitive reality show. Competitive being the operative word. I like to watch people compete for a prize by showcasing their talent. Another operative word being talent. However it seems as if television is becoming bombarded with men and women with no particular talent but certain attributes that make them famous. By attributes I mean body parts, money, and maybe a sex tape or two. My question is have we gotten to the point with American TV that we are actually watching rich kids run around attracting photographers for no other reason than they have a reality television show that showcases their day to day lives. It would be easy to dislike the "stars" that fall into this category, but is it their fault? No it is not. It is our fault collectively. They are doing a job. They earning lots of money for nothing. I am jealous of that, but I cannot fault them for doing it. Our media and television executives are creating these sub celebrities because it makes money, and money makes us happy. The trouble is we created this generation of media whores, and given them a certain power over the next generation. We are allowing a new generation of fame seekers to be created by letting them watch these shows. The new American dream for our kids is to be famous no matter what it costs. Johnny Doe wants to be rich and famous, so what is he to do? He has no talent that would make him a commodity in Hollywood. Apparently all he has to do is sleep with a reality show star (which I assume is not difficult) and videotape it. Sell it to the media, and sit and wait for a rush of photographers to follow him to the supermarket. Johnny will have made it. Its time to prioritize. This is why the rest of the world hates us.

Reply All

I have the great fortune of being part of a tight knit family. Like many Hispanic families this tapestry extends to aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. Since my move to the windy city I have realized how the power of modern technology has become an intricate part of maintaining this closeness. Years ago family members who were living in different parts of the country and the world were forced to communicate via Sunday night phone calls and hand written letters. These days email and free night time minutes have revolutionized the communication process. I agree with some when it comes to overuse. You know, that person in the supermarket line yelling into their cell phones for the whole world to hear, but when it comes to the tightly woven threads of family it is a plus. Email has become the tool of choice for my family. Family updates, get togethers, requests, and yes demands fly through our in boxes like birds overhead. They are frequent and impossible to ignore. Each email contains the personality of the one sending it. There's my comical uncle replying to a question with sarcasm. My take charge aunt listing what everybody should bring to the barbecue, and my mother who will not be ignored. Some of us fall into the category of tell me what to bring and what time. These are just a few examples of the characters that comprise my family. Then there are the serious emails. The family issues that need to be addressed. A family member who needs our support. The updates on cousins fighting for our country, new pregnancies, and new adventures. The emails are daily with one or two responding to a question that has been asked. My patch of the family quilt extends to Chicago. I along with my sister in California am physically removed from the family. The core remains in Dallas, along with the heart of it all, my grandparents. They recently jumped onto the email bandwagon. I realize that a phone call or a letter sent is more to their liking. However, email has kept me in constant contact with everybody. The family squabbles however big or small read like a Thanksgiving dinner conversation. The invention of email has gotten some people in trouble. They get fired from their jobs for accidentally sending a remark to everyone in the company when it was meant for one person. Pictures that are sent for one persons eyes are intercepted for all to see.However with all this the fact of the matter simply remains , for me at least, that it has kept my family as tight as ever. I look forward to seeing them when I log on to my computer. With one swift click of the reply all button I am back in Dallas at a family barbecue conversing as if I never left.

Clean and Clear and out of Control

I have experienced a most embarrassing moment recently. The other night I needed to run to the grocery store across the street. It was about ten in the evening and the store was closing soon. I put on my shoes and jacket and ran across the parking lot in a hurry. When I arrived I rushed through the aisles to grab the items I needed. There were only about 3 or 4 people there at the time. I got in line and the checker began to scan my items. As she did this a horrifying realization dawned upon me. I had recently developed a zit on my forehead and an hour before I had put cream on said zit. There I stood in front of this teenage girl with a white cream glaring off my forehead. If I had realized it when i got home, it would have been better. It would have been over and done with, but I didn't. I realized it in line. I could feel my entire head turn ten shades of red. I looked towards the floor avoiding eye contact. She was polite and sweet, but I knew what she was thinking. This idiot needs to wash his face. I slowly and cautiously began to lick my finger and tried to wipe the area clean. I waited till she wasn't looking. If that were not enough I had requested a pack of cigarettes from her and she was not of age to sell them to me so she had to call her manager to come and scan them. The manager at the time was helping someone else so she did not come for about 3 minutes. Three of the longest minutes of my life. When she was done I grabbed my bag and rushed out of the store. I got home and began to chastise Dalton for not giving me a heads up. He said he did not notice it before I left. Needless to say I try to do all my shopping before the late night crew comes on. I was humiliated.

Sex and The City

The new Sex and the City movie is coming out soon. I have not been this excited since Daniel Craig exited the ocean in his little blue speedo in the OO7 movie. I have a date with a friend of mine to go and see it the first day it comes out. Yes I am one of those queens that loves it, but how could you not. Speaking of this my partner and posed a question to each other. Which character do most identify with? I always thought I was a combination of Charlotte and Carrie. He thought he was most like Miranda. Although it is my opinion that we are all Carrie. The other characters were an extreme part of Carrie's personality. Her cynicism....Miranda. Her promiscuity....Samantha, and her optimism towards love...Charlotte. Thats what I love about the show. Who are you?

I've fallen and I can't get up.

This is a little mean but I can't help it. Saturday my partner Dalton and I decided to stay in and watch movies, and by watch movies I mean get drunk and order any stupid show on cable. We like to do this often because the bar scene has worn thin for us. Don't get me wrong its fun every once in a while but when your in a relationship the only reason to go out there is to socialize. Most of the new people we have met here are single, so their out looking for a little slap and tickle. If they are all looking to hook up that leaves us to sit there and drink. So we stay home and drink because first its cheaper, and second there is no point to go to a bar (Especially a gay one) if your not out to meet someone. Anyways back to my story. We were drinking and having fun when it happened. Dalton got up to go to the kitchen. He stood up and got tangled up in a table tray. He reached his hand out to catch himself on the wall but missed. There he went falling towards the floor. He could not brace himself in time to soften the blow. He fell to the floor like a broom handle, straight down. In the initial chaos I was concerned because he made no sound. I jumped up and ran to him, there he lay like a turtle who had fallen on its shell. I asked if he were okay, and he replied yes. Then I did it. I helped him up and bit my tongue as long as I could. Laughter erupted from me. I could not stop laughing. He was okay after all. I just cannot help myself when I see someone take a tumble (AS long as they are okay) I laugh. I have no prejudices when it come to it. I've laughed at my mother when she tripped at the lake when I was a kid. She tripped and rolled down a small hill. I laughed when a kid at the movies tripped on the stairs in front of me. I laughed when a man who was yelling at his kid outside of the school I worked at tripped on the stairs, and then turned to me and said boy the stairs must be moving. I laugh if I trip and fall. Its just a character flaw I guess, but I cannot help it. Is it wrong?

Just for Men

I recently turned 31 years old and something shifted in my body chemistry. I have been losing my hair for a couple of years now ( I blame my partner, he is a handful) and have come to terms with it. Its not one of those crown dissipation's but a receding hairline. Again I'm dealing with it. However, in recent weeks several little white monsters have begun to invade my follicles, gray hair people. Now mind you I can deal with one or the other but mother nature has the audacity to deal me a double blow. I only have so much hair left, is it too much to ask to at least keep it dark. I'm afraid of dying it because I do not want the chemicals from the dye to increase my hair loss. What is a guy to do? In the grand scheme of things it should not matter, but I am shallow when it comes to myself. Not conceited , but shallow. One option is to shave my head, but I really do not want to look like a cue ball. Also I'm not one of those people who would look good with a shaved head. I feel this payback for all the jokes I crack at my friend's expense ( Sports Nut in Dallas) Joe. He has been going gray for as long as I have known him. Yes he is much older than me ( He participated in the Stonewall riots) but he is not losing his, just going gray. This is not fair. I will not go down without a fight.

I have been incredibly slacking when it comes to this blog, I have decided to re establish it. I have been hibernating this winter, my first in Chicago, and have now woken from my deep sleep. Its amazing how you learn to adjust in such harsh weather. I made it through though. My partner and I are planning a trip to Florida for a family reunion of sorts. It is mt grandparents 50Th anniversary and we are celebrating it with my entire family at a beach house in Destin. We were thinking of renting a hotel room to avoid any awkwardness we might feel but decided we would miss all the drama that may ensue when you gather a whole family together. I have not seen my entire family in 6 months. I was lucky enough to be visited by my Uncle Santos and Aunt Belle about 6 weeks ago. It was good to see family.