crush on a porn star. Can you guess which one?

Wow. I was going to tell you the story about how I finally got replacements for the credit cards I lost before my birthday. Late last night and all this afternoon was spent on the phone making repairs to my vast financial empire, re-registering passwords and proving my ID. All the fraudulent charges had posted to my Amex, Visa and my Citibank cards. That took phone calls to all three companies. Now, I was going to actually post the charges including the dollar amounts of each charge. There was one charge for over $500, I think to a Best Buy, on one card alone. Probably close to $1100.00 in charges in about four or five hours. Somebody totally scored.

I say I was going to post the charges, but I can't. I just pulled up my accounts on-line and all the fraudulent charges have been removed and my cards were re-funded. In less than 24 hrs. Something actually worked the way it was supposed to. Amazing. Citibank is making me fax in a form they send me but they promise to credit my checking account in two business days. Knowing I'm getting the money back relatively quickly makes me not obsess over it at all.

But I will say this, Washington Mutual, the bank that holds my Visa account, has obviously outsourced their customer service center out of the country. Unless I miss my guess I would have to say Bangladesh. Now, let me say that I was born with an innate facility for languages and accents. I used to be fluent in French and I know bits and pieces of Italian, German and Spanish. The German I picked up simply because my brother studied it for a few years. Language by osmosis. It's come in handy working in bars all over Manhattan serving tourists from all over the world. Further, no matter how badly said tourists mangled their foray into American, I could almost always decipher what was being said or asked for. At more than one bar I was the go-to guy for this. If three or four people took a crack at understanding the unintelligable guest and gave up, invariably someone would say, "Go get Tom". I have to admit a certain amount of smugness if I got it on the first try. I would relay the request from the finally satisfied customer, toss my weave over my shoulder and walk away.

I only tell you this because this afternoon, while straightening out my Visa card with Sanjay, now Will (I'm guessing), I had to really concentrate to make sure I understood what he was saying. I have no idea how a lesser mortal, say anyone from Kentucky, would have had clue one what he was talking about. Worse, he was obviously reading from a script, and didn't really even know what he himself was saying. I did OK, and it wasn't until the end of his garbled instructions that I lost the line. I had been replying with a series of OK's and "I understand's", until he finally so badly mangled something I responded "I have no idea what you just said to me". At which point he went all the way back to the beginning of the script and started over. It was at once hilarious and annoying. I really have no opinion on outsourcing these jobs, and I know that foreign companies try to see to it that their employess are understood, but this guy needs a little remedial help. Cause if I can't understand him I guarantee you not a single soul in Kentucky can either. That's all I'm saying.

Soooooo much!

I had been looking forward to the convention for over a month. I bought my ticket ($25.00) on line last week. So today I made sure my camera was charged, and fortified with a healthy sandwich and some V8, I set out for the Javits Center. Typical of a lot of big cities, our convention center isn't exactly conveniently located. It's all the way on the extreme west side, on the river to be exact in the upper 30's. I live in the east teens. I could have taken a crosstown bus to lighten the walk but the sun was out and it was a relatively temperate day. So I walked it, arriving at the Convention Center around 3:30. The exhibit was scheduled until 7 so I figured 3 1/2 hours was plenty of time to wander around and see things. There were people milling about everywhere and it was hard to dope out where the entrance was exactly. Staircases were blocked with garbage cans and caution tape, escalators were turned off and nobody seemed to be going in anywhere. After 15 minutes of wandering I finally discovered the check in desk. Curiously, it was unmanned. I spotted a tiny woman with a ComicCon Staff shirt but from what I observed, she didn't appear to have much in the way of helpful information. Finally, after exhausting myself of other options I broke down and asked her where I could scan my ticket and get a badge. It was then she meekly informed me that nobody was being admitted to the convention. It was too full.

"You can't get in even if you bought a ticket?"

"No. They're not letting people in."

"Huh."

I happened to glance over at a piece of paper another disappointed attendee was holding. I spotted "Refund Information".

"Are they giving refunds to ticket holders?"

It was only then that she handed me a piece of paper of my own with the information. If I hadn't asked, it seems that they weren't volunteering how to get a refund. Worse, the refund information actually states that refunds are not guaranteed. And on top of that, if you got a refund it wouldn't be until the end of APRIL!

I hung about for a few minutes. A father and his friend and two little boys were just turned away as well, but told that "maybe" more people would be let in "later".
Now I can totally see if the turn out was big enough to stop selling any new tickets. But what fucking genius decided it would be OK or fair to turn away people that already paid for them? Or not offer to honor the tickets tomorrow? It was beyond lame. I got stopped by a reporter from the New York Post.

"I understand this has turned into a cluster fuck"

"Yeah you could say that."

"Can I ask you some questions?"

So I gave an interview where I expressed how disappointed I was and how I don't understand how you sell someone a ticket but then turn around and not honor the ticket you sell. Also, nowhere on the ComicCon page or when paying for my ticket was there any kind of disclaimer that your ticket may not get you in to the venue. I then responded that I would not try and come back tomorrow and further, I doubt I would come back ever, even though they're talking about doing this every year.

There was nothing to do but head home, but instead I took a side trip to Midtown Comics, just to see if there was any buzz there about the fiasco. The whole time I was there, the manager or some such head guy was on the phone answering angry calls from people who bought tickets through them. They were obviously sympathetic and a little embarrassed. I overheard him addressing the outrageous late April refund nonsense. You didn't hear it from me, but they were planning possibly to issue refunds themselves, as they hadn't sent all the ticket money in yet and then shorting the lame-ass event planning company, Reed Exhibitions.

ComicCon totally sucked. If you have tickets for tomorrow, get there early.

UPDATE: The Post ran the story about what a cluster fuck there was at the ComicCon. I was not quoted, but the guy who drove three hours from Hartford into New York, paid $40.00 for parking and then walked into the convention with his pre-paid, pre-registered ticket only to be turned away and not admitted, was. So I take a little comfort in that guy's misery. Reportedly, the lame-ass event planning company, Reed Exhibitions, feels just awful. Stupid fucks.

I've been waiting for a replacement debit card from my bank. They send it by UPS, and I was supposed to get it on the 22nd, so I could start fixing all the damage from losing my cards last weekend. Uncharacteristically, UPS made a morning delivery to my neighborhood, at 10:30 am to be exact, and I slept through it. Annoying. And they wouldn't re-deliver that day even though I called them early in the afternoon. Fuck it, I tried. So yesterday I got up at 10 am and I stayed in all afternoon so as not to miss the delivery again. But a girl has to keep busy and when the UPS man re-dilvered at 4:30 pm I had two fingers in the hole of this gorgeous 6'2 blonde Chelsea bottom's ass, finger fucking him while he sucked my cock. Needless to say, I didn't hear the buzzer. Again.

So today was my 3rd and final opportunity to get my new bank card delivered. Again I got up at 10 and stayed inside waiting. This time no sex was to be had. But that didn't stop my from arranging a photo shoot with two guys. Turns out, the one that was all aggressive and gung-ho turned out to be a weird looking 30 yr. old skinny German dude with pasty skin. The other guy that I thought might be a flake was HAWT! 6'2 (again) and about 35 years old, tan skin and facial stubble and the most distracting treasure trail leading into a nicely bulging pair of undies. He wore jeans and work boots to start. I swear I started to salivate. The entire time I was shooting him I was calcuating how to offend the weird German dude enough that he would leave. But I didn't try, it seemed too mean. I did get a nice view of the weapon of ass destruction he was packing when he changed from the underwear to the black jockstrap he brought with. He seemed ready for anything and I'm going to try and get him back here. As a matter of fact after everyone left and I put the apartment back in order, I *ahem* took matters in hand so to speak, for almost an hour and 1/2 not to mention, and sent a toe-curling, ball-busting load half way across the bedroom.

Of course, the UPS man returned while I was in the shower getting ready for company, and while that scenario has "Bow Chikka Bow Bow" potential (just stick it anywhere, Paolo), I didn't get around to re-creating a porn scene with the UPS man. I just signed for my bank card in a robe, dripping wet.

Now with all that out of the way I'm fixin' to tear into an order of chicken parm and an entire loaf of garlic bread. Needless to say, I've worked up an appetite and I'm staying in tonight.

I am in love with Johnny Weir. How do you handle the pain of an Olympic appearance gone wrong? Olympic level shopping! You go, gurl.

New York is hosting it's first ever ComicCon this weekend. This is the grand-daddy of Geekdom. It's going to be huge and I have tickets for Saturday. I'll bring a camera.

The Ex is leaving town for a long weekend tomorrow. I'll have my castle high atop Second Ave. all to myself until Tuesday. I'll be naked. A lot.

about Viagra. It does the job it was intended for that night. The "problem" is it seems to linger the whole next day. I had a really good time on my birthday. But now I keep getting a hard-on all day.

After Elton has a really well done four page piece on the media coverage both before and after Johnny Weir's meltdown in Torino. -via Queerty (ugh)

Benjamin Nicholas has a hilarious take on our shared love of the Iron Chef.

Hunter James has video posted about both the parties I also attended this weekend. Yes, I too went to a party called Mount Cockmore and yes, I also rocked out with my (hard) cock out. I may not have any social skills but I sure can get my dick sucked in public.

I've been linking to a lot of hookers lately. I wonder what that's about?

44 years ago today, in approximately 1/2 an hour or so ( my mom's a little fuzzy on the details) I got birthed.

When my oldest sister was born in an Air Force hospital, the Doctor broke my mom's tail bone before delivery. Even though my mom isn't particularly small and my sister was never very big at all.

When my youngest sister was born she had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck and she was blue and had to be revived.

My older brother was born without a horror story but he was (by all reports) an awful, crying, needy little baby.

I, however, (ask my mom) was born after an uneventful and extremely convenient labor and the only child she had where she was able to watch the delivery in the mirror. Is it a big surprise I hit my marks at birth? And I was an unbelievably happy little baby.

I guess that might explain why even though I lost my bank card and two credit cards yesterday, and whoever found them charged over $500 in one store alone, I'm really not stressing all that much. It's life. And I'm in it 'till I'm not.

Happy Birthday to me.

I'm simultaneously watching back to back episodes of Footballer's Wives on BBC America and Airline on A&E. Footballer's I assume needs no explanation to regular readers of this page. HOT! Airline is addictive and infuriating. Basically, most episodes can be summed up like this:

Passenger: "I'm a dumb-ass retard who has no business leaving the house let alone getting on an airplane."

Airline Employee: "Yes. It appears you are."

Passenger: "Give me something for free!"

As long as I'm recreating conversations, how about I give you this little snippet. Keeping in mind it took place at 4 am and we had both been drinking.

The Ex: "So where did you go out, tonight?"

Me: "Mr. Black."

The Ex: "I always have a good time at Splash."

Me: "Mm."

The Ex: (Sits on couch) You know, Tommy, we should hang out more. We never just go out and hang out, anymore.

(Beat)

Me: "I don't want to live here anymore."

The Ex: "You want to move to a new apartment?"

Me: "Alone. I don't want to live with you and The Hellcat anymore."

(Beat)

The Ex: "I'm gonna have to think about that one. I'm going to bed."

Me: "O.K."

That's all for today. Heading out for a stop at the fake N' bake, a little shopping and then a trip to the gym. Oh, and I'm freakin horny!

Today while out doing the laundry I bought a Mega Millions lottery ticket. The Jackpot is $145 million dollars. If I win, next week I'll be doing laundry in a washing machine made of SOLID GOLD.

In case you haven't figured it out, The Hellcat has gone to California for two weeks and I am taking full advantage of having the apartment all to myself. So this morning I ran a Craig's ad offering a free naked massage to a guy. Of course, tons of freaks, really scary gross men and other people I wouldn't pee on, let alone massage, answered the ad. But fortunately, one ad seemed promising. 31, 5'11, Italian-Spanish. The face picture was yummy. He didn't ask a lot of questions as my ad was pretty specific about what I was looking for. I sent him my address and cell number with a message to please let me know if he wasn't going to show. He assured me he would be there.

At precisely 3:00 he buzzed my door as I was stepping out of the shower. I unlocked the apartment door and continued getting ready. I stayed in the towel as I was about to get naked anyway. He looked nervous as he came in and I tried to read him to see if he was OK with me/my look. I led him through the apartment to my room. I started moving blankets and pillows off while making small talk. He still didn't seem comfortable so I told him if he wasn't happy or wanted to leave I wouldn't be offended. He declined. Of course, I was totally lying. I didn't want him to leave he was really good looking.

"I'll finish getting ready you can put your clothes over there."

He started stripping, while I laid a bath towel on the bed sheets and left a single pillow for his head. When he was finally naked I noted that he had a pretty dick and a hot tan ass. He wasn't in great shape, a little flabby around the middle but far from fat. He had olive colored skin and had only a little chest hair. I instructed him to lay face down as I dropped the towel. He lay down and I straddled his ass. I was half hard. I hadn't taken in to account that he could see me in the mirror I have along the wall in lieu of a headboard. I kinda liked it, though. I dribbled massage oil on his back and went to work. I reiterated I wasn't a pro but I knew how to give a pretty good massage. I told him if I did anything that made him uncomfortable to speak up.

I started with long strokes massaging his back and shoulders. After a bit, I tried to dig in using the heel of my hands to trace the muscles in his back. I alternated long strokes and short. I moved to his arm and shoulder and then down to the palm of his hand and each individual finger. By now I could tell that he was totally relaxed and into the massage. I finished his upper body and moved myself off his ass. After applying more oil I started massaging his ass. I was trying to find the muscle in his butt that I like to get massaged. I have to admit, he had a pretty flabby ass but I worked each cheek in a circle. I wasn't getting much feedback. I assume it felt good. I took the opportunity to run my fingertips up and down his crack, past his hole. I lightly brushed his balls. I wasn't hard anymore, but I noticed my cock had leaked a pool of pre-cum on his leg. I put more massage oil on his legs and starting working on his left. As I started working his hamstrings I made sure to make several trips in between his legs, just brushing his balls and keeping him turned on. I worked down his leg and paid attention to his calf and gave him a foot massage. I did the same for the other leg. He started touching me back, just running his hand along my back and legs.

Finished with his back I decided to have some fun. I spread his legs wider and poured some oil on my fingers. I went right for his hole, slowly massaging him. He shifted his hips and I heard a little moan. Yep. More oil and more assplay. I couldn't resist and started to eat his hole. I heard him gasp his approval so I dug in. Noticing he raised his ass in the air I reached underneath to pull his cock back. He was bone hard and raised his ass higher. I ate his hole and stroked his cock. All the while grinding my hard-on into the bed. After a few minutes of feasting and jerking he pulled my hand off his cock in the universal "I don't want to cum yet" signal. Fine. So how about I stick my finger up your butt? He liked that, too. I finger-fucked him for a while and thought about shoving two in there. Instead, I ate his ass some more. I lay fully on top of him so he could feel my hard cock in his crack. I whispered in his ear.

"You want to turn over?"

He did, and I massaged his chest and stomach, occasionally playing with his cock and balls. I did the tops of his thighs and his legs again. I switched from massage oil to Gun Oil and lubed up his cock. He kept pulling my hand away. Fine. I spread his legs and rock him backwards exposing his hole. And I ate his butt for a while. He really liked it. I tried to put my finger back in him but he pulled it away. Then he scooted up on all fours and pointed his cute ass at me. You don't have to tell me twice and I got back to eating his butt. I pressed my cock in his crack again. I started jerking him off. That's when he grabbed my cock and guided it towards his hole.

I wanted to. I really really wanted to. But we didn't discuss my status or his. For the scene I was proposing it wasn't necessary.

"No."

He nodded his understanding and I continued jerking him off and rubbing my cock along his crack. His moaning got louder and I looked over his shoulder as he shot his load. Hot. He instantly got really sensitive and covered my hand with his. I stopped. I jerked my cock intending to cum on his ass but he moved out of the way. By then I didn't care and shot my load on the bed as well. Sweaty, hot and exhausted we both fell back on the bed. We laid there for a good ten minutes, recovering.

Eventually ....

"Sorry."

"Don't be. A lot of guys jump right out of bed. I enjoy laying there." I said.

But we did get up and he cleaned up in the bathroom and got dressed. I led him to the door and gave him a hug.

"That was fun, thanks."

"Yeah."

"Take care, man."

A true story from today. And then tonight, after this fun and sexy experience, I had a really disgusting bad sex experience. And that's a story you're not getting. I'm not teasing. I'm just saying they're not always good.

A couple of days after The Hellcat left town, I set about cleaning the kitchen. I mean, really cleaning. Inside the microwave. Refridgerator shelves. I took every appliance off the counters and cleaned them. And I cleaned the counters. I emptied the garbage cans and cleaned the garbage lids. I EazyOff'd the inside of the oven and cleaned all the grease off the side. I swept and mopped the floors. The kitchen shined like the top of the Chrysler building. It made me completely relaxed and beyond that, content. A half a year of therapy has revealed that my need to clean and organize and the feeling of contentment I get from it is rooted in my childhood, but that's another story. I'm not even going to complain (again) about how the other people I live with are pretty filthy guys, especially for gay guys.

Of course, a day or so later, while enjoying the Iron Chef in Battle Giant Mushroom I discover we have mice. Again. They're coming from under The Hellcat's door. Wonderful.

Off topic: I don't care what the other fags are saying, I really like Johnny Weir.



Finally! One that made me laugh. Star Wars: The Empire Brokeback - via Naked City Boys (I still haven't seen the actual movie. I'm stubborn like that.)

Just a word to the wise. If you want results, make sure to call me Mr. Tease-y Pants in the comment section. I will give you what you want.

....My new boyfriend was playing footsie with me in the shower. The Gaysian looked down right at where our feet were intertwined and kept right on pulling at his cock. I shot him a dirty look, hoping he would take the hint and give up the room. I didn't feel bad about this as hardly anyone was around and the steam room was currently empty. My new boyfriend scraped my foot with his again. The Gaysian looked down at it again. Fine. I had no intention of loosing this man and he clearly was not interested in putting on a performance. I didn't know or care if he just preferred private/public sex or he wasn't into the Gaysian. I was more than happy to relocate and leave the Gaysian to his normal spot in the sauna. So I got up, left the sauna, and walked into the empty steam room. About a minute later my new boyfriend joined me. After a minute he reached over and ran his hand down my leg, giving my calf a squeeze. I lightly brushed the back of my hand along his rock-hard abs, up his chest and over his right nipple. It was then I heard the door to the sauna open and close. Unbelievably, the shadow of the Gaysian appeared in the doorway and sure enough, he opened the door and walked in. I've never done this before, although I've had some guys sorely tempt me, but I finally snapped.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I said to the Gaysian. And loud enough and aggressive enough that he must have known what I meant. It didn't stop him from sitting down, but as soon as he plopped his chunky butt down, I immediately stood up and walked out. I went to the shower to run some cool water on me. Now some may say I was being snotty, or unrealistic for putting down rules while trying to have sex in a public place, but there are some etiquette norms when it comes to gay sex in public, including the gym. One of those rules is that if the guys aren't in to you and clearly into each other, and the guys take the time to relocate to a place without you, it's considered very bad form to follow them to the new location and cock-block their fun. It's simply bad manners.

My new boyfriend followed to another shower, and after a few minutes the Gaysian left the steam room and returned to his usual spot in the sauna. I assumed the message was received. I turned off the shower and went in to the now empty steam room, hoping my new boyfriend wouldn't bail on me. A minute later my wish was granted and he returned. My heart was pounding. God he was gorgeous. He leaned over and put a hand on my leg.

"Persistent little fucker, wasn't he?" He smiled.

"I know! I almost beat his ass."

He ran a hand down my leg again and I grabbed him around the waist and then ran one hand up his back and through his hair. I leaned in closer and he pinched one of my nipples. Tit play doesn't drive me crazy like some guys but I like it. I had turned my head to check the door and make sure no one was coming in, although my Gay sex senses hadn't heard a shower go on or a door open or close. All the while I was running my fingertips on his chest and grabbing/kneading his thighs. His legs weren't super big but nice and hard, solid. When I turned my head back his face was right next to mine. And then he did it.

He kissed me. It was slowly at first and gentle. I was surprised. I was thrilled. I returned the gentle kiss and then leaned in further. I wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and kissed him harder. I let out a little moan into his mouth and it made him kiss me harder. I shoved my tongue in his mouth and then gently bit his lower lip. Have I ever told you I'm a world class kisser? I rarely brag about anything I do but I'm an Olympic level kisser. And when the other guy is good too, well, let's just say if the Gaysian had walked in at this point I would have strangled him with a towel and stashed the body in a closet. Now mind you, at this point, neither one of us has reached or felt the other's cock, but I did take a second to look down. My new boyfriend was not compensating with a hot body for a tiny dick. I could see between the towel that he matched me inch for inch in the cock department. More kissing and groping took place. And then he did it.

He kissed my neck. More specifically, he kissed and bit my neck. My whole body shuddered and I think I leaked some pre-cum. I know I gasped.

"Oh god..."

I attacked him now, throwing everything I had into kissing, grabbing, licking. I intertwined my fingers in his hands and pushed him back against the wall as I moaned again into his mouth. We were both gasping as we separated.

"Do you want to take a shower?" he asked.

I smiled. "Isn't that a little dangerous?"

"No more dangerous than in here."

Truth to tell at this point I would have let him fuck me on the front desk. But he was playing into my exhibitionist streak as well.

"Let's do it."

We left the steam room and headed for a shower. The curtains reach all the way to the floor so assuming we could get inside, no one would be the wiser that two people were showering together. Unfortunately, the guy in the shower we passed hadn't pulled his curtain all the way closed and saw two guys enter one shower.

"The guy in the stall next to us saw us." he said as we stepped in.

"I don't care."

We adjusted the shower temp and he backed my up against the wall. Now he pressed his whole naked body up against mine. I immediately grabbed both his ass cheeks in my hands and ground my hard cock into his. Now he moaned. He liked cock grinding. Cool. He was rock hard. Kissing, licking, rubbing, kissing. At some point, he worked his cock between my legs and did that imitation fuck maneuver. I reached back between my legs and rubbed his cock head with my fingers for extra friction. His cock was slick with pre-cum. I started running through in my head what I was willing to do in a public shower. Turns out, I wouldn't rule out much. My new boyfriend started fiddling with the shower curtain, making sure it was closed. Turns out, the Gaysian had taken up residence in the adjacent shower with a view of "our" stall.

"He's over there trying to see."

"Fuck him."

"Not interested." Cute.

"Ignore him." I said.

We went back at it. Eventually, he grabbed a handful of conditioner and slicked up both our cocks. We proceeded to kiss again and rub our cocks between our bodies. I decided to jerk him off and he returned the favor. Eventually, we both jerked ourselves off. When it was pretty clear he was ready to go for it I put one hand on my cock and another on his hole and got to work. He came first, and I wasn't far behind. I bit his neck as I shot my load. It took all my willpower not to scream out loud but it made it hotter to keep quiet. After we recovered sufficiently, we scoped out the shower room and when the coast was clear, except for the Gaysian, and fuck him at this point, I hopped out to another stall to clean myself up.

I don't know what happened to my new boyfriend after that. I didn't see him in the locker room and I have no idea when he left. I returned home worked out, freshly showered and completely relaxed. It was the best workout I've ever had.

It says something about how determined I am to overcome my social anxiety, as well as a complete dearth of cool gay friends, that I launched myself out onto the streets of Manhattan during the birth of a blizzard, but there you have it. Besides, as I was reminded by The Ex, we Buffalo boys aren't the least bit intimidated by a freakin' snowstorm. So, properly outfitted to battle the elements I made my way from my castle high atop Second Ave. down to Christopher St. I arrived at Pieces about 10 after 10 and the festivities seemed in full swing. After gamely entering and surveying the scene, where over 30 mostly male and mostly manly men gay Bloggers (I know) had gathered and were chatting amicably, I suddenly found myself in the grip of performance anxiety. So I left. I glumly headed back up Sixth Ave. alternately berating and comforting myself.

This is the gaggle of Bloggers I bravely faced.


I got about 3 blocks away when it seemed I managed to talk myself in to returning, but in reality I only managed to get myself within a block of the place before I turned around again. I know. I'm a mess. But fear not, all is not lost. I did in fact manage to talk myself in to one more attempt. Deciding that the worst that would happen is I would have a drink alone. So once more emboldened, I returned to Pieces and sidled up to the boys, quickly ordering myself a drink, in order to be committed as long as it would take to suck that (hee) down. The problem? Except for the mastermind that conceived (guffaw) the idea, I couldn't pick out a single familiar face amongst my fellow fag Bloggers. Worse, shortly after I managed to get a space at the bar and enjoy a drink, some unrecognizable signal made everyone put their coats on and head for the next stop on the train to Drunkville.

I left as well, but again headed in the opposite direction. You'll be happy to know that by now, even I thought I was being ridiculous and ended up circling the block, hooking up with three or four people inside the 7th Avenue entrance to Stonewall. What stopped them in their tracks was the fact that there was a 10 dollar cover. At Stonewall? During a blizzard? At Stonewall? What the fuck? What genius had that idea? In any case, after a quick consult to a handy Palm of some sort, it was agreed by me and my insta-friends that we would head to The Duplex and re-join the party there. Of course, it turns out that was the party as en mass, everyone decided that a 10 dollar cover at The Stonewall (!) was enough of a reason to pass.

By the time I arrived the crush at the bar had subsided and I got myself a drink right quick. I observed what I assumed were the "Duplex regulars" looking downright pissed off at this seeming invasion of bookish-looking older men. Pissing people off frequently is enough motivation for me to push on. Presently, someone else inquired if I was with The Bloggers. I responded I was but that beyond Joe himself, I didn't recognize a soul. A few moments later, and introductions were made. It was then I had finally made Joe's acquaintance. I attempted a bit of small talk, badly, but chat I did. I repeated how intimidated I was being in a group of people I didn't know. He rattled off the names of about six different Blogs that I confess, are probably extremely well written, but I had never heard of until he mentioned Richard's site. Finally, someone I'd heard of. He pointed him out across the room and I made a note to myself to be sure and say hi. After a few more drinks.

Next stop was The Monster. I always enjoy The Monster, especially if I've got a hankering for foreign tourists with loose morals. Nothing says suck me like a fucked up German on vacation. More people chatted me up and I was feeling, if not comfortable, at least less clenched. Being on my third (or was it fourth?) drink certainly helped. Joe led a bunch of the men downstairs to The coffin-like dance floor below the piano bar. I've always liked that room as well. It's dark and very ... forgiving. Dancing ensued. I saw it, I didn't actually do it. Eventually, we left for Boots & Saddles.

She was the token girl, and very sweet, and has some hilarious recollections of the night.


If I'm remembering correctly, and from here on in that's questionable, Boots has had a makeover and now goes by the moniker B&S. Sort of like when Splash became SBNY only with far, far, less money and more blonde wood. I actually enjoyed the old gals new face and started getting downright, well, friendly is the wrong word but I started meeting quite a few people I wouldn't be able to recall the next day. At some point, I think it was Joe, someone bought me a drink. Oh, the humanity. Ty's went by in a blur. But that may be where I introduced myself to Richard. We had a short conversation about that ridiculous "cartoon controversy" but I readily admit, I was struggling to form complete sentences. Onward!

I don't think he was blurry, I think it was me.

I've been to The Hanger many times and I'm always comfortable there. The pool players take the game there a tad seriously for my taste. Pool is supposed to be for fun, isn't it? But despite the blizzard now in full rage outside, it was warm and friendly inside. I did get scolded for snapping a picture of the gorgeous Go-Go Man, but it was worth it in the name of journalism.

The things I do for you.


By the time I came to on the couch the next day, I had a sense that I had accompanied the group over to Chi Chiz but I couldn't be sure. For the first hour I couldn't even find the television remote, let alone my coat or camera, but eventually I located everything (!) and as I gulped down buckets of water followed by ibuprofen chasers, I discovered photographic evidence that I was, in fact, inside Chi Chiz at least long enough to snap a picture. I did recover enough memory fragments to recall walking all the way home. Mercifully, I was by now immune to any effects of the cold or snow.


photographic evidence found the next day.


I found out days later that an attempt was made to finish up the Christopher St. crawl at The Dugout, but they were closed due to a little thing called a blizzard, but I'm pretty confident my "get home you drunken asshole" alarm went off and I hightailed it out before that happened. All in all, I had a pretty good time and I'm so glad I went, even if the actual going took a bit of an internal struggle. Everyone I met was so nice and ummm hairy. And a big peace the spork out to Joe, the madman architect of the mayhem. A picnic in the spring, perhaps?

I've spent the night doing another sort of the comic book collection. I've put together a box of comics I feel I can part with without a lot of distress. So they will be the first to go in order to get the ball rolling.

I ran out about 4:30 am to buy ice. I'm defrosting the freezer and decided I wanted a cocktail. Apparently I'm over this mornings hangover.

I'm watching a Soapnet re-broadcast of Friday's General Hospital episode. I don't watch the daytime soaps anymore but I used to be hooked. It's part of the bartender lifestyle. Just being a media junkie I've been aware of what's going on in some of the stories. Besides bringing back Rick Springfield (!) Tristan Rogers and Emma Samms, now it seems they've killed off Tony Jones (Brad Maule). He's been on the show forever. Significantly, as part of his death scene, he had a touching connection with his gay son, Lucas. Still, it's a soap opera. if they want to bring him back they will. It was still extraordinary.

So, as predicted by the guy that came up with the cockamamie (giggle) idea in the first place, last nights Blarg Hop along Christopher St. resulted in a rare (for me) hangover. I've begun to rally and I've set about pulling some pictures off my digi and putting together a post about it. In the meantime, here's a picture from the corner of Seventh and Christopher, sometime after 2 am. I think.

Last Saturday. I'm at the gym finishing up a good workout. Usually Saturday night I do 30-40 minutes of cardio and work out my chest. That takes a little over 30 minutes as well. If I'm feeling really energetic I'll finish up with a few tricep exercises as well. That usually doesn't happen. On this night I was feeling really good and of course, a good workout makes me horny. Hell, Jello makes me horny, but that's another topic. Anyway, I think it's the sweat. The smell and the salt turns me on.

It's well past time when the night bathroom attendant usually shuts down the sauna/steam area, but when I go into the locker room there are towels everywhere, on the floor and all over the benches. The bin that used towels go in is completely full and overflowing. Obviously, the night attendant either isn't in or has suffered a catastrophic and debilitating stroke, and has yet to be found. Normally, by this time of the night, I would have showered and left immediately, but sensing an opportunity I decide to check out the steam room. The late hour meant not a lot of guys were around. Someone was in the steamroom or joined me there shortly, I just remember he wasn't a prospect for me. Shortly after that, someone else.

He was beautiful. In his 30's and, I would find out later, exactly my height. But blond, usually not my type. His body was amazing, muscled but not overly so without an ounce of fat on him. That usually makes me not his type. His skin was beyond fair, it was alabaster. His upper body was hairless. I was staring, and he caught me. I looked away, but not until I knew that he knew I was looking. So I looked again. His eyes met mine and I smiled slightly but got nothing back. Unsure of the signal, I sat back. I try not to come on to guys in a public setting unless I get a little encouragement. First, to avoid getting punched.

Eventually, we were joined by one of the tub queens. She's Gaysian and about 25 lbs overweight. I've never seen her workout once. My gym has a group of guys like that. They don't work out at all or just do a few minutes of cardio and then hit the showers to fool around. Eh, to each his own. I didn't know if it was me or her but my boyfriend left for the showers, only to return a few minutes later. OK. He was clearly working the room, but where did I fit in? He was confusing me so I hit the showers. Afterwards, I spied that the sauna was empty and decided to see what would shake loose there. I was quickly followed by the Gaysian. My past experience with her is that she likes to jerk off under her towel while others get busy. Again, I don't really care if someone watches me get my freak on but beyond that, she did nothing for me. My new boyfriend soon joined us. At first, he seemed to be ignoring us both. The Gaysian had already started tugging on his cock under his towel. I was getting a little over the whole thing and was thinking of bailing. That's when my boyfriend ran his foot along the arch of mine. I swear, it was electric. My whole body shuddered. He looked right at me and smiled. I blushed, and smiled back. He did it again.

My new boyfriend was playing footsie in the sauna with me.

More tomorrow. Wait for it, bitch! -Not you, R.J.

Rumor has it that East Village staple and host of more than it's share of tweaked out naked twinks Boysroom is closing it's doors. Admittedly, no great loss to me as I am waaaay outside their target demographic but where oh where will the spikey haired skinny fags in tight little T's go?

What is true is The Hellcat and the boyfriend never left the bedroom today. Hell, they stayed in bed (sleeping mostly) until 8 pm. I used to be a little envious of The Hellcat. But the both of them frequently accomplish absolutely nothing in an entire day beyond sleeping and eating. So not a life I would want to emulate. I mean, I didn't change the world or anything today but I went to lunch, read a newspaper, went to the gym and did 45 minutes of non-stop cardio and made a trip to Midtown comics. I did buy a few comics, it seems I jumped back in in the middle of a major continuity shift, but I also bought a few hundred backing boards and bags. The inventory is complete and now I need to do another sort and start bagging and boarding the ones that are going up for sale first. I know I get some comic geek traffic. Anyone want a heads-up as to what's about to go up for sale in advance? I'd be happy to. At first, I was disappointed with what I thought some of the older and first issue books were worth, but as I've been researching further, I've got some valuable books here and some seriously valuable comics back in Buffalo.

What's also true is I have a Dr's appointment tomorrow. I'll be getting results from my latest blood work and I have a feeling the news will be good. I'll update tomorrow late afternoon. I know, I know, I promised you a sex story. Honestly, considering I have no job you'd think I'd get more writing done. You'd think.

Update(s):

It seems that Boysroom is indeed closing but the latest intel I've received says that they're dropping the gates tonight.

As for my medical update, it turns out that it's a bit of non-news. My viral load did drop again. It's now down to a measly 78. But I was hoping for undetectable this time and didn't quite get there yet. It turns out, the only test he ran was a viral load test so I'll have to wait until my next full blood work in March to get a bigger snapshot. My Dr. informed me that he's moving on, which is about right as far as how long they seem to stay at the clinic. He loaded my up with a pocketful of prescriptions for everything I take. It will be six months at least before I need anything. I've already met my new care provider and she seems very nice.

Gov. Pataki quietly signed an extension of domestic partnership laws in New York State. The new law gives gay and straight domestic partners the same rights as married couples in dealing with a loved one's remains. In addition, the new law makes it possible for a domestic partner's wishes to supersede a surviving child or parent's. 'Bout time, I say.

Doctors at the Center for Disease Control and Prevention have announced promising results in the study of HIV prevention. The study involved six monkeys injected with a combination of Truvada and Emtriva, then exposing them *ahem* rectally for 14 days to the virus. None of them contracted the infection. Hardly a cure for people yet, but a promising step.

An international team of scientists has announced the discovery of a "Lost World" in the Indonesian jungle, largely untouched by humans. They've discovered dozens of new plant and animal species including butterflies, frogs, plants and a new species of bird. Very cool!

The Body.com recently ran an in depth overview of the various gastrointestinal problems people with HIV can experience both before and after starting treatment. I for one had no idea how just being HIV+ could so thoroughly fuck up your system before you ever become "officially" treatable. Just passing the 411 along.

According to reports, New York area black men are dying from AIDS at six times the rate of whites.

There. You can consider yourself informed. Dirty gay sex tomorrow. See you then.

I have much to tell you about from the weekend. Highlights include:

-An argument with The Ex, where we don't use many words.

-Going to see Hedwig and the Angry Inch at the midnight movies.

-The hot, hot sexual experience on Saturday night. At my gym.

-I may even weigh in on the ridiculousness of rioting about "blasphemy" over a cartoon! But maybe not.

But for now, as promised I'm posting a picture of my aforementioned new and oh so luxurious matching sheet set.



Here it is folks, the place where it rarely happens. As you can (sort of) see, there are red satin pillows in the back, the next set of pillows match the sheets. The smaller throw pillows match the purple in the sheets and the purple in the blanket at the foot of the bed. The mirror I occasionally use to ... errr, comb my hair is slightly visible behind the headboard (handcuff) area. The tiny pillow in between is a dream pillow. It's a gift from Neo and contains flowers and herbs that are supposed to give you good dreams. It doesn't smell like anything, not sure if it ever did. The floppy red dog was also a gift from a bar customer one Valentine's Day. I didn't particularly like the customer but I've grown to love the dog. I end up sleeping with it in the crook of my arm most nights.

So as suggested by you, OK only Thom, I couldn't resist stripping down and hopping in to the picture myself. I've been working out pretty hard the last month, so I'm feeling a little more confident about my creaky old bod, the lighting wasn't the best but I wasn't in the mood to be fussy. Not too bad for an old dude.


I realize it's not HNT, but I'm a rebel like that. I left the socks on because I know a few people who really, really dig white socks. What can I say, I like to give the people what they want.

Got a hankerin' to see a movie yesterday and opted for a late screening of Transamerica. For those of you who haven't heard of it yet, it stars Felicity Huffman of Desperate Housewives fame. It's basically an old fashioned road trip buddy movie with a twist. Huffman is a woman playing a man who's becoming a woman. A pre-op transexual who ends up on a cross country car trip with the son she never new she fathered. The son thinks she's a Jesus freak missionary with a hidden agenda. Thus begins a series of funny, uncomfortable and poignant misadventures as "mother" and son learn to care for, or at the very least, respect each other and the people they've become. Or are becoming.

I enjoyed it. I thought the writing was brilliant. The script was a tad predictable, no surprises as to where the story was going or how things would likely end but getting there they were witty, complex and fully realized characters. The supporting cast that was woven in to the storyline was wonderful as well. Kevin Zegers, who starred opposite Huffman as her son was, as everyone who has seen the film has noted, fucking hot, but also turned in a subtle, multi-faceted performance of his own. I also enjoyed Huffman's portrayal as Bree. There were moments of brilliance and her timing can be superb. If I had one reservation it was that sometimes, you can see Huffman "acting". Her performance was both nuance and artifice, at times breathtaking as many critics noted and other times melodramatic and overdone. Did we really need the drooling, overwrought breakdown at the end of the movie to "see" her pain?

As an aside, I went to see the movie at the new Waverly IFC center. I say new because it was the first time I saw a film there since it opened. So new to me. I'm glad I went. It turns out this weekend there will be midnight screenings of Hedwig and the Angry Inch. John Cameron Mitchell will be there to introduce the film and meet and greet the audience. I've never seen the entire film and look forward to seeing it on a big screen. Speaking of Mitchell, what ever happened with this project? Anybody?

Oh Stephanie Tanner, say it ain't so! Still, anything that makes the Olsen Twins put down their Starbucks and come out from under their rags must have an up-side. You know, I've frequently found myself bored during the course of my underemployment. I never once said "Hmm, maybe I'll pick up that crack pipe." And if Bob Saget ever felt the need to intervene me I would stop immediately, whatever it was, to make him go away.

Went to pick up my prescriptions yesterday. I was informed by the pharmacist that they switched the Kaletra I've been taking to a new version. I had heard that it came out and meant to ask about it eventually. Now instead of three pills twice a day I only need to take two. Also, it doesn't need to be refridgerated anymore so I can just jam some pills into my pocket and be on my way. Sweet!

Took that yoga class last night. It kicked my ass as I'm not at all flexible, but I liked it and my back does feel a bit better. I plan on taking at least one yoga class a week from now on. If for no other reason than I love the end of the class that includes a few minutes of meditation, something I need but never take the time to do.

Just a thought: Several well read blogs are repeating the story reported in The Sun that Brad Pitt is actively looking to play gay. This story is such obvious bullshit, attributed to "Brad's people" and "a source". I just wish that certain "informed" bloggers wouldn't slavishly reguritate a "story" just because it has a gay angle. It's stupid and lazy.

My neighbors that were responsible for the "bloody Santa" Christmas display that made news outlets all across the country are back in the news again. Specifically, the owner of the townhouse around the corner. Apparently he observed a 13 year old girl not pick up the poop deposited by her marauding chihuahua. His solution? He scooped up a handfull, followed her home and smeared it on her jacket. My take on the story? If you're gonna take a stand on this issue, it might be a good idea to wait until a larger breed of dog dumps on your sidewalk. How much poop could a chihuahua have left behind?

Everyone in the house has been sick over the last couple of weeks. And I never got my flu shot this year. I caught the sniffles and I woke up sounding like Lauren Bacall. But otherwise I feel fine.