Thursday, October 27, 2005

so long, suckers!

I wanted to sit down and write a nice, long blog entry today, but I had shit raining down on me all day. Why is it always like that the day before you take some vacation time? Seriously, I planned on coming in and having a fairly easy day, leaving at 4:00, hitting the gym, etc. and now it looks like I'll be here for another couple hours. Blech.

And in addition to this work stuff, I'm trying to get ready to leave for Minneapolis tomorrow morning. All the tasks I had planned out in preparation for leaving seemed very simple two days ago but have now exhausted me.

So I've printed out my airline reservation stuff, reserved a shuttle to the airport at 8 a.m., gone online and searched through three websites to find a wedding present (and trust me, two days before a wedding, all the good shit is already taken), ran to two card shops to find the perfect card, gone to the bank to get cash, stopped by my favorite shoe shiner to get my dress shoes all spiffed up (but he was gone today...bastard!), and called my friends in Mpls to arrange rides/places to stay/etc.
This is in addition to what I'm supposed to be doing - namely, working!
I guess that just leaves stopping by Rite Aid, picking up my dry cleaning, doing laundry, and packing. And getting my ass to bed early. I've been out late drinking the past two nights and I think my liver needs a night off.

So, anyway, I'm getting the hell out of this town and will be back next week!

Deep down I know this story is very sad and somewhat troubling, but it is Halloween weekend after all!

The past couple of days I've seen that video all over the place of the Chinese boys emoting to the Backstreet Boys. First on the Today show, then on a coworker's computer, then on my own computer after a couple people forwarded it to me. I have to admit, the boys are pretty funny, but does anyone else think the boy on the right is also really cute??

Happy Halloween you little monsters!

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

now with 40% more sass!

Grrr. I'm crabby today.
I'm super tired and a little hungover and so sore. Sore mostly from working out last night and then proceeding to fill my body with tequila, but still also a little bit from sex this weekend (hee hee - RAWR).

I blurrily got out of bed this morning (15 minutes late) and practically broke my toe on my bedside table.
And then Al Roker had to push me over the edge. Why is he such a douche? How in the hell did he ever get on the Today show? Really. I want to know.
He's such an idiot.
Then, right before I turned off the TV to head to work, I heard them say, "Coming up next: We look into why older men are interested in younger women."
Oh – for the love of….
Is this some sort of mystery? Something Today has to investigate? Uh – can I take a stab at it Katie?
Cuz their boobies are high and perky, they're not all wrinkly, you could bounce a quarter off their asses, and they want to ride you like a wet stallion all night long??

I'm so crabby.

I think there may be some sort of toxin leaking into my apartment that's putting me in this mood because Ernie just lay there in my closet this morning – listless. He's usually purring around in the bathroom while I'm getting ready and always comes running when I give him his breakfast (he's fat), but not today. And when I gave him a nudge with my foot to make sure he was still alive he gave me a little bite. Not a good day for feet.

I saw fuck buddy at the bar last night. He was on a date. When his date went to the bathroom we made out like two sailors whose ship is going down. I don't feel particularly bad about doing that. That's what a F.B. is for.
Evil P. was also there. G. offered to claw out his eyes, but I couldn't let her do it. He still may be of some use to us someday. Like if we're desperately poor and down on our luck and really need a haircut from a flaming, evil hair stylist. A fantastic haircut would be a slightly hard to pull off without eyes.

I'm eating yogurt, but I'm a little concerned because it only has a "sell by" date. No expiration date. How is that supposed to help me? How long can you eat yogurt after its "sell by" date? Jesus – maybe I'm slowly being poisoned by expired yogurt.

I have GOT to do my 2005 PDP – Professional Development Planning – today. It was due five weeks ago, and I think my HR person is about to have an aneurysm. For some reason I have a really hard time identifying "where your career is today in comparison to this time last year. Discuss how you've progressed in your career path."
Um…am I allowed to just say that my productivity is down approximately 25% while at the same time they're paying me 8% more than this time last year? Probably not. On the other hand, I've stopped taking Diet Pepsi's from the fridge without throwing some change into petty cash. Well, most of the time. OK, at least half the time. I count that as progress!
Some of these other categories are really hard too:
Inspiring – Ability to motivate people, champion great work, act as a role model and develop the contribution of others.
Entrepreneurial – Skills to build the business, create new opportunities, innovate, explore and take risks that create opportunity.

Oh dear. I count myself lucky on the days I make it here by 8:35, fully dressed, with teeth brushed and hair mussed in that perfect gay way.

I asked my buddy J. who works in our San Francisco office for some advice on how to address these serious issues and this was his feedback:
Inspiring: I am inspirational, because I bring joy to so many lonely boys in Denver.
Entrepreneurial: I find these boys on my own, with no help from anyone else.

Friday, October 21, 2005

a falafel-astrophe

Oh christ. That title is so weak. My apologies.

We're having some shit weather here in Denver today. It's really cold and when it's not raining it's all misty and shit. Nast.
I didn't want to have to walk very far to get my lunch today so I just went one block over to the Republic Plaza Food Court to get some yummy yummy Falafel King. About a year ago, I became addicted to the meat salad with chicken and extra falafel. I ate it every day. Until my digestive system almost shut down, and I was forced to stop. Now I enjoy it in moderation – like once a month or so.

When I was in line to order today, a woman at the front of the line bumped into the multi-piece black plastic thingy that holds all the forks, knives, toothpicks, salt & pepper packets, mints, etc. It came down with a mighty CRASH that made everyone jump. She got this real strange look on her face – a mix of fear, annoyance, embarrassment, anger – all layered on type of appearing as if she were about to cry. Then she immediately slunk away without apologizing or offering to help clean up the mess. So I got down on all fours (WOOF!) to help the Falafel King chick help clean up. It seemed like the nice thing to do, and there was a lot of shit to pick up.
Then, feeling like I'd helped to make the world a little better place, I grabbed my bag of food and came back to the office. But when I opened up my salad there was no falafel! My falafel was nowhere to be seen! D'oh!
So out I trekked again in the shitty weather, walked past the annoying begging woman who doesn't like to take "no" for an answer for the third time, and back down to the Food Court. They gave me my falafel, but with attitude, and a rather callous and obvious joke inspired by my saying "I need my balls." And then they didn't even offer me a free meal or beverage or SOMETHING for all my trouble. Shenanigans!
Still it was delicious and totally worth all the trouble, if a bit cold, by the time I sat down to eat.

It appears that the weekend is shaping up to be pretty sweet.
I've heard gay underground whisperings that B. is still in town. Of course, the twat hasn't bothered to call or text me since I last saw him on Saturday, but that's his usual M.O. So I'm hoping to maybe see him tonight. If not, I'm sure I'll still be able to find some trouble.
Yesterday I got a random message on connexions from a guy I've hooked up with a couple times. I guess he's the closest thing I have to a fuck buddy, cuz I don't think either of us is really interested in a romantic relationship, but we get along really well and really get each other's motors running. He wrote that he got some really good bud down in New Mexico and he'd like to have me over for a little smoke session ASAP. I of course accepted, and now we're going to make an evening out of it on Saturday – grab a drink or two, hit a couple parties, stop by The Church for a little V.I.P. birthday party, then go back to his place. Do I sense an imminent end to my depressing dry spell? Yes. Yes I do.
Sunday is my friend's baby shower. It's co-ed, but I may be the only guy attending. That's cool with me. I love hanging with chicks. I crashed my sister's baby shower a few years back. That was pretty hilarious. All my aunts and cousins and my mom and sister and all their friends were there getting drunk (well, not my sister, obviously) and they were rowdy! One of my mom's best friends (who I've known ever since I can remember) screamed out when I arrived, "WOOOO! The stripper has arrived!" and started pulling at my clothes. *shiver*
Anyway, last April on G.'s birthday we had dinner with the expectant mother (E.M.), then went to a couple bars. I probably bought the E.M. three or four tequila shots that night, on top of all the wine we had with dinner and all the beers we later consumed.
The next week we found out she was pregnant. My first thought when I heard the news was "Oh jesus – I've deformed the precious little fetus!"
Others have since explained to me that the baby is most likely perfectly OK, but until I see the little sucker with all ten toes and fingers and non-crossed eyes and such for myself I'm still living with that hanging over my head.

And that's about it. I also need to rest up and get a lot sleep to prepare to go to Minneapolis next weekend. I'm ready to party and watch another single friend bite the dust!

Ya'll be safe this weekend now, ya hear?

Thursday, October 20, 2005

stream of consciousness

I don't know much, but I do know that I wouldn't recommend eating an entire Chipotle burrito immediately before sitting down for a two-hour strategy meeting with your firm's principals and your immediate supervisor.
Oh my god – I could barely keep my eyes open. I was trying everything – pinching my thigh, jiggling my legs, clenching my calves (I read on another blog that's a sure-fire way to wake yourself up), poking my pencil into the palm of my hand, picturing the last sexual experience I had (and that wasn't too helpful since the memory is quite distant and hazy)….

I'm such a wimp. I was at a party last weekend (that consisted entirely of gay boys), and spent 90% of the time checking out one guy in particular. He was so friggin' cute, but we never really talked because he was at a teeny little kitchen table with his friends and I was out in the living room with my friends. And because he was all gorgeous and shit and I was totally intimidated.
Then today I was walking back from getting my Chipotle nap-inducer and saw him walking out of the Republic Building. I gave him a subtle little head nod, and I think I saw him give me a little nod too. But I wasn't sure, so I played it cool and kept walking. Arghh.
Thank god I'm wearing the pants that make my butt look fantastic today!

Oh – and as long as we're on the subject of "Matt is a freak," I might as well 'fess up about my experience with the hot guy at Banana Republic two Fridays ago. I know the way I portrayed it, the situation came off sounding pretty smooth. In reality, this is what happened:
Me: Hi – I'd like to get this shirt in a medium, but you only have it in large and small.
Hottie: OK, I know we don't have it in a medium here, but let me give the Cherry Creek store a call. Just a second.
(Awkward pause while he's put on hold. We stand there silently for about 90 seconds. I can't stop thinking what great forearms he has….then he catches me staring at his arms and I immediately look away....)
Hottie: So, where do you live?
Me: (getting physically aroused by the very question itself) Um, just north of downtown. By the Platte River.
Hottie: Oh yeah? I have a friend who lives in the Riverside Lofts.
Me: (about to shamefully lie, but at the same time giddy at the prospect of continuing the conversation) Really? Me too!
Hottie: Oh yeah? What's his name?
Me: (frozen in shock over being caught in a lie) Um, ahhh, mmmmm (3-5 second pause - my eyes darting all over the place) Patrick? Yeah! Patrick. Well, actually Patrick stays in the apartment of his boyfriend….um…Scott!
(Hottie stares at me like I'm the hugest freak EVER)
Me: Well, actually it's a bit of a stretch to call him a friend. He's really more of an acquaintance. I mean, I have a lot of acquaintances, but very few real friends. You know? Like, someone you've only hung out with once or twice can't really be considered a friend, can they? I mean, you can call them a friend, but a TRUE friend is the kind of person who's there for you in an emergency, like, when you fall in the shower or something. (Interior monologue: Oh my god – why did I just say fall in the shower? What am I, 80? Oh shit! – his eyes are starting to glaze over….)
Hottie: Yeah...O.K. Anyway, they're just going to need your address and billing information here. You have yourself a good day....
(He walks away, shaking his head slightly. I begin to try to slit my wrists with my Visa.)

And that, my friends, is Smooth Matt. I just felt like I had to come clean. Ahhh - let the healing begin!

Tonight I'm going to be a jock.
My firm is having a bowling party at Lucky Strikes from 5-7, and then I'm meeting some friends at Shakepeare's afterwards to play pool. Two sports in one night! And yes, I do realize that I'm using the term "sport" loosely.
I'm such a renaissance man….

wuv u

Hey everybody – I just wanted to quickly post to say that as soon as I possibly can I'm going to link my blog to all my favorite blogger friends!

I just don't know how to do it yet. I know - I could try to figure it out on my own, but…meh.
I don't want to.

So…hotbabe, stacy, dan, matt, duane, jason, sven, kiddo, paul, christine, et. al., please know that I love your blogs and want to direct others toward them!
(There are a few other bastards out there who have blogs that I've wittily (is that even a word?) commented on who have never bothered to comment on my ridiculously unimportant life. You can burn in hell – along with Hitler, the inventor of "Crocs," the last guy I was interested in, and Ben Affleck.)

ps – Thanks to for giving me the hook-up on Madonna's new song! I've already listened to it 17 times this morning. I love to wreck a good thing….

Wednesday, October 19, 2005


I checked out the new Logo channel on Sunday. I have to admit, I had negative preconceptions. I thought that it would just have a bunch of those cheesy gay movies where an impossibly good-looking boy faces the tribulations of being oh-so-good-looking and gay, and in the end finds true love with another perfect male specimen. You know - the kind of movies you see reviewed in The Advocate and Out magazine all the time?

But Sunday I crawled out of bed and turned on Logo and watched the second half of Truth or Dare, then part of The Birdcage, and then later in the evening I saw the most incredible documentary. It was about what gay men endured in Nazi Germany. I already knew that gay men were persecuted, but I had never heard the personal stories of the men who were there or the specifics of the atrocities that were committed against them. I had to stop myself from putting my hands over my ears more than once.

And actually, the most heartbreaking part of the documentary wasn't necessarily the gruesome stories of what happened at the camps and prisons, but the stories the old men told about what happened before and after they were imprisoned.
One man was locked up for years and years, and when he finally made his way back home, his family was so embarrassed and ashamed that they didn't ever mention where he had been. He had NO ONE to talk to about it. His family acted like he had never even been gone. In fact, the interview he gave for the documentary was the first time he had ever been able to discuss at length what had happened. His emotions eventually completely overwhelmed him and he couldn't continue talking, his shaking hand covering his mouth as if what he was saying was somehow bad.

Another man told two stories that stuck with me. In the first, he met a young, blond Jewish boy and invited him to his house. They spent the night together. According to him, it was one of the most perfect, romantic, beautiful nights of his life. The next morning the Jewish boy was taken away and he never saw the boy again.
Later on, his lover and his lover's whole family were taken to a schoolhouse to be held until they were shipped away. The man found a Nazi uniform, dressed up in it, and entered the school pretending to be a Nazi to free his lover. Somehow they got away with it and got out of the school, but when they were only a short distance away from the school his lover changed his mind and turned around and went back to the school because he couldn't bear to leave his family behind. He ended up getting shipped away and killed.

I was heartbroken and crying the whole hour. When I think about it, I can't even believe how much time I spend bitching about my petty little problems with boys who aren't worth the time or the effort in the least. I'm very frivolous about my sexuality – I need to remember more often how privileged and spoiled I am to have the opportunity to be that frivolous.
And how maybe one of these days I need to stop being so frivolous.

Friday, October 14, 2005

oh, and two more things

I was at a downtown Wells Fargo this afternoon waiting in line to use an ATM, and a guy who had just taken out a $20 turned around and asked me if I could break it for him.
OK Einstein, whatever – we're only standing in a bank 30 feet from a teller line.

This week I'm totally into bike messenger boys. Heh heh – skinny and surly and smelling of exhaust. Hot! They're pretty much straight though, right?

alternative to working

I broke my vow after two days and drank tequila again last night. By 11:00 I had that glassy-eyed/stumbly thing going on. On the walk home from J.R.'s I had to stop at the Wrangler to pee from too many 50 cent beers, and while the bouncer was carding me, I fell into him. Yep. Fell right on him. He still let me use the bathroom, but told me I was cut off. Good man.
Needless to say, sitting at work right now is not the most pleasant experience in the world.

I need someone new to root for on Survivor, but all the players are a bunch of douche-bags, so I'm left with few choices. I was in love with Stephanie, and then she had to go and use the "g" word on last night's episode. I'm sorry, but I can only accept someone referring to something as "gay" if that person is gay or a fag hag. Or in junior high.
I say, let the monkeys have their way with her.
And don't ever lump that waste-of-oxygen Bobby Jon in the same category as us fabulous gays again. (I'm not saying I wouldn't sleep with him, but there would have to be a strict no-talking rule. Hmmm – that's a double negative, but I can't think of a way to avoid it.)

I'm over The Apprentice. I'll probably still watch it from time to time, but it's the SAME DAMN THING every week.
Apprentice…you're fired! (sorry, I had to go there….)

Coming back from lunch with G. and L. (shout out to L.! congrats on your engagement!) earlier in the week I saw a couple outside of Virgin wearing matching his/her Scarface jackets. Has anyone else seen these atrocities? Unbelievable – I had to resist the overwhelming desire to put out my own eyes. Still, props to them for obviously not caring in the slightest what others think of them or are saying behind their backs.

I'm going out with the boy tonight. I know maybe it's a stupid idea, but I never claimed to be the brightest something in the something (I'm too tired to think of anything clever to insert there). If it goes well and we fall madly in love, I will only speak of him positively on this blog from now on, and you will all forget that I ever ragged on him. If it goes poorly, I will continue to slander his character per usual. Cool?

I had lunch with G. today, and she used the phrases "hood" and "hymen broke on the green carpet" while I was eating a guacamole/sour cream-covered La Salsa quesadilla. *urp*
Shame on you G.! *shiver* Ewwww!
ps – the phrases were referring to things she heard at a lesbianic poetry reading/art show last night, not personal experience…heh heh….

I saw my ex with his new boyfriend last night, and it made me really sad and scrunchy (hence, the drinking binge, at least in part). I know I broke up with him and I should grow up and get over it and blah blah blah, but I can't help it. Sometimes (i.e. most of the time) my feelings are completely irrational. It also doesn't make me feel any better that it took him about 2.2 seconds to find someone new to replace me. If I'm so great, and he was so crazy about me, how about a little mourning period?? Jesus. Some people really should spend more time thinking about me and my happiness and general well-being.

All right – we're getting close to the home stretch here. I can hear a big, juicy nap calling my name.


Wednesday, October 12, 2005

tequila sunrise

Oh boy – I went out last night and drank too much AND smoked. So, so bad. And so unnecessary when I really should be staying home on Tuesday night and watching The Amazing Race and having a lovely cup of tea and getting to bed early.
Still, you only live once, I guess. Well, probably not for too long if you spend it drinking and smoking. *hack*

Arf – I still felt drunk when I got up this morning.

But B. is only in town for a few more days so I'm soaking up as much of his crazy behavior as possible before he leaves. He wanted to go to poker night at a local gay club last night. I don't really understand the whole poker thing, so I just sat at the bar and drank tequila shots and Heinekens while he played.
After he got eliminated from the game we decided to check out the strip club, but when we got there, there was just one sad-looking old man sitting at the bar who shouted at us as we peeked around the doorway, "COME ON IN BOYS – THE STRIPPERS START IN AN HOUR! HEH HEH HEH…" We immediately turned around and ran away. Then we tried the Compound, which was N-A-S-T-Y. We ordered tap beers and our glasses were not clean. I gagged at the thought of trying to take a drink out of that filthy glass.
So we abandoned our drinks and went to the porn store next door. That was awesome. I love porn stores. I cannot believe the price of porn DVDs these days. $60-$100! They cannot be that good. I also couldn't believe the size of some of those penis-shaped dildos. Those have got to be decorative. They were HUGE! We were all drunk and giggling at everything like a couple of junior high kids. I love that giddy feeling.
And ball-gag masks are freaky. I'm sorry if you're a fan, but if someone I was sleeping with ever pulled one of those out I would run as fast as I could (and probably place an anonymous call to the cops, just to be safe). *shiver* Gives me the heebie-jeebies just looking at one.
Anyway, then we went to J.R.'s and cleaned up on free Bud Lights. This Bud Light chick was just handing 'em out right and left. There's also some new kind of Bud product that has ginseng or something in it. Kind of an energy-beer. I guess it didn't taste too bad, but it definitely didn't taste like beer. It was funny to see all the drunk gay boys running around trying to carry three beers each just because they were free. Drunk gay boys. Gotta' love them.

The boy finally called last night and I let him go into voicemail. He said on the message that he was sick all weekend and was just starting to feel better. I wasn't going to call back, but after my second shot at the poker bar I changed my mind. I had thought through exactly what I was going to say – I was going to be cool, noncommittal, breezy, friendly yet dignified (given the circumstances).
And then the second his voicemail kicked in B. came up behind me and started talking to me, poking me in the back, trying to get me to buy him a Bud Light and bring it over the poker table, causing my message to turn out like this:
"Hey ---, it's Matt. I'm just returning your –
*yeah, yeah, B. I'll get you a Bud Light in a second. Chill!*
Um, yeah, anyway, sorry, just returning your call from earlier –
*OK B., I heard you the first time!*, your message about last weekend -
*B. I'm trying to leave someone a voicemail! Fuck off!*
Sorry again about that. I'm at poker night and B. is bugging me. I got your message and I –
*What?? You'll get it yourself? Fine – now leave me the hell alone!*
Anyway, I hope you're feeling better. K. and I were talking about you on Saturday night. You really should give me a call back. Um, bye."

Horrible. Horrible message. Argh. Just terrible. And the tone in my voice in that last sentence unintentionally came off sounding very scolding and foreboding. Why oh why did I think I could actually leave a successful voicemail? Everyone knows maybe only one in five voicemails are actually good and come off sounding the way you want them to. This whole situation has now been completely fucked. At this rate I'm never going to have sex, let alone a boyfriend, again.

But…the sunshine is back today in Denver and it's a brand new day!

Ugh – that made me sick.
I'm sorry - I was just trying to end this post sounding all optimistic and happy and shit.
I'm never drinking tequila again.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

sunday night blues

*Post written on Sunday, uploaded on Tuesday*

Hey ya’ll. I’m doing a little writing at home tonight (Sunday) because the geniuses at Fox have decided to play a baseball game instead of The Simpsons. Brilliant. My night is ruined. Thanks. Thanks a lot.

But, while channel surfing I’ve come across a magnificent alternative….

wait for it…..



It has the potential to be SO disgusting and informative. Think of having this story at parties.
I’m only 5 minutes in, but here’s the setup so far: A woman gave birth to three babies with one guy and when they got a DNA test, the dad was a 90% match, but the mom was a 0% match. And she really is the mom. Fucked up huh? So…my suspicion is that she has a little absorbed twin living in her nether-regions that is releasing eggs or something.
I’ll let you know.

I was going to title this post “I hate men” but I don’t really. I love men. But I kind of got my hopes up over a couple guys the past couple weeks, and got shit on by both. Well, not shit on – that's being overly dramatic, but everything just got all scrunchy.
The friend of the sex (f.o.e) (see previous posts) is now back with his boyfriend, but there are serious shenanigans going on there. I saw them on Friday and f.o.e (after a few drinks) was less than subtle about letting me know that he considers his relationship an “interim” one and that he's feeling randy. While hypothetically this should make me excited, it actually makes me sad because I really don’t want him to be slimy. God knows that I’m not perfect, but I don’t want to do that, especially because I like his ex/now current boyfriend. He’s cool.
I did kiss f.oe. a little last night, but only because he had been at the casino all day and was WASTED and had won $87 and was totally on a high, and I was bored.

I was supposed to get a call from the boy on Saturday and I never heard from him. He had mentioned on the phone on Thursday that he felt like he was coming down with something, but thought he would fine by the weekend. I gave him a ring from the cab on my way to JR’s and left him a little breezy message. You know, “Hi ---, just calling to see what you decided to do tonight…I’m headed uptown…hope to talk soon…blah.” Didn’t ever hear back from him, but I still had a pretty good night. Found out from an acquaintance that B. had started drinking at 10 a.m. and had already passed out for the night by early evening. Poor kid – he weighs like 90 pounds. He’s like a male Calista Flockheart. He’s Mary Kate!
I hung out with a couple that know B. from the city he lives in now, and when the chick saw me she was like, “AAAAAAHHHHHHH! I know SO much about you and B. is always talking about you! Get over here you and gimme a hug and kiss, sexy!!!” With a British accent. Nice. I felt so unbelievably special and loved. Within a half hour, she had done the same exact thing to three other people. People who barely even know B. That deflated my balloon a little.
G. stopped by after she got off work, and we had a shot and a beer and gabbed, and we saw a guy we know from a while back. G. left and I hung with the guy, and we started talking and eventually realized that we both originally had plans to meet up with a boy that night, but that would no longer be happening. I said, “Yeah, my boy is really cute and he’s a social worker!” and guy was like, “Yeah, mine is too,” and I’m all “My guy is named ----“ and guy was like “mine too” and then it just got CRAZY. It was the same boy for both of us. And guy even told me that the boy was sick. What are the odds that we would be hanging out, let alone broach that subject?
So, so powerfully lame and unnecessary. I don’t know why I even had my hopes up about it. I only semi-drunkenly talked with him for about 20 minutes last weekend and about an hour on the phone this week. Bleh. Men suck ass. And not in that good way.

So I’m just going to chill and hide out at home tonight and drink wine and watch Desperate Housewives. It’s on in about 20 minutes.
It’s a totally chilly, rainy day in Denver today. I woke up at noon, had a late brunch with G., read at Tattered Cover, and worked off some major beer calories on the treadmill. I wish I had someone to just chill and get cozy with under a blanket right now. I guess I have Ernie, but I gave him a taste of my soy latte a couple of hours ago (he LOVES coffee SO MUCH) and he’s still too wound up to let me hold him.
Just chill – before you get all PETA on my ass, I only give him a teeny, tiny bit. Like, he gets to lick the lid. Gawd.
And you should hear him purr when I walk in the door and he smells that Starbucks. He’s a junkie.

I’m saving this to the hard drive. I don’t even know how I’ll get it to work unless I can find one of those old square plastic disks that I used in grad school. I don’t have the internet at home. I’m typing this on the world’s oldest, shittiest laptop that was given to me for free from a friend. Not worth doing internet junk on. Besides, if I had the internet at home I would be a total porn junkie. No one would ever see me again.
I'm not kidding – I'm filthy.

Happy Monday everyone!

Oh – and the T.V. show turned out to be boring. I don’t think I’m going to watch anymore. Too technical and slow, and I wanted to see something nast like them removing teeth and eyes from her stomach. All I’m getting is a bunch of DNA mumbo-jumbo.
Damn you baseball!!

Monday, October 10, 2005

it's beginning to look a lot like xmas....

Denver is getting its first snowstorm of the year!
Not much is accumulating on the ground downtown, thankfully, but it was snowing pretty much all last night and this morning.
I feel bad for that poor lady that got killed. One of my greatest fears is getting killed or maimed (or, at the very least, soaked and inconvenienced) by a big chunk of melting snow/ice falling from a downtown high-rise building. And Denver has such fast cool-downs/warm-ups that it's definitely possible.
The snow is beautiful, but I'm not ready for winter weather yet.
Luckily, it's supposed to be back in the 70s by the end of the week.

I wrote a post last night at home about my weekend, but forgot to save it to a disk and bring it to work. So I'll post it tomorrow.

Saturday, October 08, 2005

ooooh - pictures!

Hey - I just figured out to put pictures on the blog. Nice. I figured putting pictures of tired, old me would be boring, so I put up a couple with me and my niece. The best niece in the whole world, if I do say so myself. I'll try to put up something a little more interesting soon, but I just had these two saved in my files here at work.
BTW - can someone explain to me how I get a little pic up next to the "About Me" sidebar of my blog? I couldn't figure out how to do that.
So, I'm at work on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. And obviously I'm working on my proposal pretty hard. Heh heh. I think I'm going to get the hell out of here and go lie around in the park and read for a while. Then hit the gym.
I'm meeting the boy tonight for a drink! I'm pretty excited. Hopefully we'll get along splendidly, and maybe get to make out a little bit...or more!

Happy weekend everybody!

This is the cutest picture of my niece. My mom took the picture and I was like, "Hailey, we're not supposed to be picking grandma's flowers!" Isn't she the most beautiful kid you've ever seen? Posted by Picasa

Me, my sweet (but restless) niece, and my sis at the Aberdeen airport last fall. Posted by Picasa

Friday, October 07, 2005

danger? what danger??

Right after I last posted we had yet another building evacuation.
Jeez – setting everyone free on the streets of downtown Denver at 2:30 on a Friday afternoon on a beautiful fall day, and then expecting us to come back? That's just cruel. Cruel and unusual.

Still, there was one positive: I shopped away my stress at the Pavilions! I got a groovy new zip-up sweatshirt at PacSun at half off the original price. And then I wandered over to Banana Republic and found a perfect new button-up shirt for a wedding in Minneapolis at the end of the month. And the guy assisting me was a fantastic hottie I see all the time at the gay bars. Now I know his name, and the next time I'm drunk and see him I will grab his ass!

Evacuations rock!


I swear I'm not turning this blog into a reality show blog, but I just have to talk about last night's Survivor.

Is it just me, or is this season crazy homoerotic? Last night's episode opened with what basically amounted to an up-close crotch shot of one of the male players.
Then during a challenge two of the players won showers, and the cameras went in the showers with them! One of the shots was looking straight down from the showerhead, and they blurred out the dicks! I couldn't believe it – I was all - hubba hubba.
And THEN, if all that wasn't enough, Bobby Jon and another hot guy were out talking in the woods and they both whipped out their cocks and started peeing while standing right beside each other. Honestly, they were only a matter of inches apart. And they were filmed the whole time – peeing, shaking 'em off, getting 'em back in their pants, and then they shook hands! I couldn't believe it. I was touching myself a little. I'm not going to lie to you.
And don't even get me started on Jeff's forearms. *drool*

I'm a little worried about the monkeys. I'm sure the producers are just using clever editing, but they keep showing these shots of crazed-looking monkeys hovering over the camps. And I keep expecting one of them to jump on somebody's head any second and take a bite out of it like an overripe cantaloupe. I'm sure that would cause a huge ratings spike, but it would probably make me throw up, followed by sweaty nightmares for weeks. Monkeys are extra scary as it is because they can really grab onto you with those human-like hands and feet. *shudder* You can't get away, and the last sound you'll ever hear are their ear-piercing shrieks.

And I know the producers were probably just trying to give straight guys out there something to lust after as well, but enough with the titty shots of the perm-head woman. Totally saggy and inappropriate guys.

And can someone please get Gary, the former quarterback, some lip balm STAT? Jesus h. christ! I haven't seen lips that nasty since that herpes film in high school.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

on your marks....

O.K. – I'm loving The Amazing Race this season.

I had originally believed it was going to be super lame because of the whole "family" theme, but now I can clearly see it's working out quite splendidly. There are now four people per team instead of two. And if you think two people can get on each other's nerves and fight like cats and dogs, try four people!
It honestly seems like this season of the show may actually be destroying families. And that's just entertaining T.V. Period.

"Oh – he's a heavy one!" – My favorite quote of the night when a family was hauling one of those Civil War bodies off the battlefield. I mean, the dudes were just pretending to be dead for christ's sake. The fat guy could surely hear what they were saying and was probably crushed. Hee hee.

My favorite family at the moment is the widow/kids combo. Normally I hate intensely religious people, but for some reason I love them. It's just so damn funny every time they take off running to do something. That dark-haired girl always lets out a cute little shriek. And I've never heard so many "oh my goshes." And "god, please help us in jesus' name, amens." Plus the kids nearly killed their mom in the first episode with an Amish buggy. They literally ran over her ass. And jebus protected her!

I think the two families who have been booted so far are going to need some intense therapy. The first family kicked off was the Black family (literally their last name - not a generalized description, although they actually were, in fact, black). And their older kid looked absolutely devastated and emotionally destroyed. I don't think he's ever going to get over it.
Last night's family was equally ruined. The mom was like, "I'm really going to have to work to keep this family together now" after they got eliminated, while the son was staring at his dad like he's going to put Draino in his coffee as soon as they get back home. Fantastic. Reminds me of my family vacations as a kid. Except we didn't have a big huge fancy SUV to get around in.

And I think that Phil may have replaced Jeff from Survivor as my favorite reality show host. Jeff is just so 2001. Phil is hot! Heh heh hehheheh – yummy. Yum, yum, yum! *smmmmmmack!*

notes from the weekend

(delayed due to me actually being really busy at work right now….)

Jesus – talk about a fast weekend! I feel like it didn't even really happen it was so fast.

I caught my first professional hockey game on Thursday night. G. scored us free tickets and they were actually really good seats – 15th row. I was so excited to see some crazy fights and blood on the ice. There were a couple skirmishes, but alas, no blood or teeth flying through the air. Rats.
Lots of hot guys at the game though. And nice, big, expensive Coors Lights.

Friday night I went out with B. (my drunken friend who crashed at my place a couple weekends ago). We just went to J.R.'s and it was in all respects a pretty normal Friday night, except that I just wasn't getting drunk. Do you ever have one of those nights where you drink and drink and drink, and everyone around you is getting bombed, but for some strange reason you still feel completely lucid?
I'm not saying I need to be wasted to have a good time (although it doesn't hurt) but after drinking from 8-2 you'd think I would have been feeling it.
The lowest part of the evening was when I bumped into the friend of my ex from last weekend. I thought we might continue our little flirtation, but he really didn't seem into it, and after we had been talking for about two minutes his ex-boyfriend walked up and sat down at the table. I was confused for about half a second, then realized – oh shit, they're back together. And they are. Back together. And the ex/current boyfriend didn't look me in the eye once. So obviously he had heard about the previous weekend's flirting. Sheesh – lame.
I went looking for B. and found him kissing some guy he'd met the night before. Then I started to feel a little depressed that I didn't have anyone to pay attention to me and make out with.
Anyway, at about 1:15 someone hanging with us bought a round of tequila shots. I was standing at another table and when I walked back over B. had just done his shot. I looked at him and his hand was over his mouth. The shot was coming right back up. I was like, "B., get to the bathroom!" and away he ran. He was in there for about five minutes and I went to check on him. He was fine – he had thrown up and was washing up a bit. There was a good-looking boy in the bathroom who gave me a little smile and asked if everything was O.K. About ten minutes later I saw the boy out by the bar, and we started talking. He told me I was cute and asked if he could have my number. And lo and behold, out of the blue I had a new crush! We only talked for about fifteen minutes, but I already know that he's attractive, in shape, articulate, and a good dresser. And he's a social worker who works with old people, so he most likely has a soul too! Sweet. We're going to hang out later this week.

*I love the initial crush period where the anticipation of what could happen makes you all giddy and makes your heart beat a little bit faster. Before you find some ridiculous flaw that makes you rethink the whole situation. Before an intense fear of commitment kicks in or an overactive libido makes you do something stupid.
One of these days I'm going to get it right – I really am.*

Instead of getting to bed early on Saturday night I went out again and ended up crashing at about 3 a.m. And my alarm was set for 7 a.m. for the Race for the Cure. Ouch. The Race started at 8:30, but I didn't get to the starting line until almost 9:00. The whole pack of 65,000 or so people had already taken off, and I was one of those pathetic stragglers at the back. At that point I almost decided to say screw it and head back to bed, but I summoned that teeny little bit of charity at the bottom of my heart and started walking. I power-walked my way through the clusterfuck of strollers and balloons and little kids and dogs, and right before the end caught up to my team. And I did feel good about myself for sacrificing a little sleep to support the efforts to put an end to such a horrible disease.

Then I sat in front of the T.V. (when I wasn't napping) and was a zombie for the rest of the day. Go Roseanne reruns!

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

take 'em down from the inside

I hopped on the mall ride this morning and saw one of my neighbors. We started chatting about our jobs, what we do now, what we want to do with our lives, exchanged business cards, etc.
She works as a graphic designer and her firm does a lot of work for the AIA and other various architectural companies, so I mentioned that if she hears of any potential job openings in my field she should let me know.
Her eyes immediately lit up and she said, "My friend just told me last week that Bonfils Blood Center is looking for a marketer!"
Bonfils Blood Center. The very organization I wrote about yesterday. Now that's Alanis irony for you.

Monday, October 03, 2005


Another three months have rolled by, and it's again time for the quarterly blood drive here in my building.

Of course, fags need not apply.

Having given blood in college I was aware that they ask a question about man-on-man sexual activity. However, in college I would have never admitted I was gay to a total stranger, and I hadn't given blood since college, so I wasn't aware of the repercussions of answering "yes" to a question on gay sex.
That is, until I signed up for the blood drive last spring.
When I went upstairs for my appointment at 11:00 a.m. the room was completely empty. COMPLETELY. And there are probably thousands of people who work in the two towers.
There were volunteers sitting around, chatting, eating those shitty little snacks they give you to get your blood sugar up, and just looking bored in general. While I was filling out my paperwork they even asked if I would be willing to go back to my office and try to recruit a few more coworkers.

Then I was called behind the curtain. The nurse's eyes scanned my form, and then stopped at the gay question. She frowned slightly, tapped her pen on her teeth, leaned forward, flipped through her "Big Book of Blood Do's and Don'ts" for a few moments, then looked up and told me that they couldn't accept my blood because I've had sex with a man and that I would be permanently prohibited from donating.
I was speechless. And pissed. Pissed at her not because she was turning me down, which was undoubtedly beyond her control, but because she acted like she'd never faced this situation before and had to look at her goddamn book for an answer, even though she knew exactly the kind of bigotry that was being propagated. Chicken-shit nurse.
I voiced my disappointed and then fled the room, red-faced and sweating with my heart pounding, feeling so ashamed of myself, even though I had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.

I know I was being naïve going up there in the first place, but I was stunned that in this day and age physicians would trust the blood of straight people more than gay people. I mean, this is 2005, not 1985. We all know the truths about HIV and that anyone – ANYONE – can potentially have it.
I go in regularly for my STD tests and I use protection in sexual situations. I'm not saying that all gay men do, but I know all straight people sure as hell don't either.
Why is it still acceptable to treat gay people like second-hand citizens in situation after situation after situation?
I really hope we can look back at all this anti-gay bullshit years from now and shake our heads at how ridiculous it was.

I just hope it happens in my lifetime.