ultranow

men forever eventually one at a time i don't know what i'm doing yes i do

okay, next on my quest to extract one great one from the manpile is workout buddy culture.  got one lined up for sunday.  and i think i'm officially adding making out to the things i won't do until after a first date.  kissing is just too emotional for me (thankfully) because i'm not an autopilot sex pig who can be on with an instant sex object of choice, unless i fully believe it's not definitively a first and last kiss.  meaning my body, even when vulnerable and needing touch, must be on my side first and by my and mean my emotions and spirit too.  okay, i'm not making out with guys i meet in bars even if we do hang out for two hours or close to it and i don't make out until halfway into that or close to it because they never call because no matter how clear i am that i am not going home with them that night they think it's this seduction deal where i'll change my mind and go home with them and yes that includes walking me to get a cab because they are hoping for a last minute sex invite and besides where i walk to get a cab is right close to a sex club but then again so is my whole neighborhood.  i don't get this dating sex romance hope possibility destruction thing.  i won't get it ever.  all i know is how to take care of myself, be myself, and see someone else for who he is.  no secret on where to meet people.  that would be wherever people are. hello.  i'm ready.  and this is what serial dating and attempts at dating look like.  this is it.  not always fun.  not always rewarding.  but at least i'm narrowing down the pool of eligibles.  i just hope i can keep my tact up because next guy i may just ask "are you my damn husband or what?"  but damn that guy last weekend was a great kisser.  guess i could call him too though he already said he would take me out to dinner or make me dinner and then never called but i'm not into games so i may call.  in a couple of days.  maybe.

oprah is a sign of whatever the opposite of apocalypse is

oh did i forget to mention i was taking a blog-cation?  for, um, a week and three days?  well i did and i'm back.  so much has changed.  i missed the whole rosie o'donnell sex tape thing, the whole spaceship crashing into the white house thing, and the whole "man killed by rainbow" viral video that's everywhere, like a virus of some sort.

blame it on a new netflix membership.  suffer, local neighborhood video store small business!  that and not having anything to say for a bit. 

so i found an oprah magazine abandoned in public.  i asked the closest person if it was hers and she said no so i grabbed it and proclaimed to her:  "it's a sign.  there is something in this magazine that will change my life!"  i've scoured the pages (scoured means skimmed, right?) and i believe i've found it.

between the article "the miracle worker" on sjp's admirable cheapo multi-sizo bitten line, and queen latifah opining "like any girl whose body is changing, i felt unsure of who i was becoming." (uh, you're becoming queen latifah...duh!) between those pages was why i found the magazine, or more precisely, why it found me.  and i quote:

"now mcdonald's puts nutritional information on many [not all] of their products.  so i don't have to wonder [but could still worry] about the quality and nutrition my kids are getting at mcdonald's.  foods like chicken mcnuggets made with [not "of"] white meat, fresh crunchy apple dippers [dipped in what?] and calcium-rich low fat milk [full of bovine growth hormone].  compared to a lot of the foods my kids love at home [like captain crunch and legos?], mcdonald's is a great [cheap] choice.  i guess that's why it's called a happy meal."

why is this a sign?  because i know for a fact that i can see through spin a mile away, which means i'm pretty darn unfoolable by some man again, which means i'm ready to date again.  thanks, oprah!

and i thought i was negative

from seattle craigslist m4m (yes i go there sometimes, but only to judge, like now): 

"Most of the time I don't like most gay folks, so if in doubt...I probably won't like you."

on my knees in my apartment with two strong men over me - no, really

in considering whether or not to go out tonight, which would inevitably mean eventually hitting the seattle eagle, i just did itunes-mancy and got the following eerie three:

• no more tears
• my boyfriend
• on top

combine that with it being assless chaps night at the eagle and i don't know what the hell to do.  did i mention it was the diana degarmo version of no more tears?  that's embarrassing i have that for sure, though she did a stint in hairspray after ai so that makes it better i guess.  now if i don't go out but i don't want to stay in, is there a third option?  what isn't out or in?   sleep i think.  last time i was at the eagle someone told me dreams are out of body experiences.  well i fought really hard to get into my body so why would i want to ever go out of it i don't know.  unless there was a sale somewhere.

two movers delivered my long ago ordered furniture today.  'spensive kind since i can't afford a condo so why the hell not get nice furniture.  the key moment was when one brought in an ottoman and took the time to introduce himself and shake my hand while holding the ottoman one handed.  he was mike - a shit eating grin seann william scott clone except strong.  i like muscled powermen in shorts carrying things and shaking my hand. 

the sex moment was when i realized there was some wrapping around the chrome swivel base of one of the chairs i got and they offered to lift the chair while i removed the wrapping.  so i was literally on my knees and all i could see was their bodies from the upper thighs down.  bulging thighs.  tan calves.  penis containing homo collages on canvas at their eye level.  oh i also noticed the chrome swivel base and removed the wrapping as planned and caught a quick reflection of the same thing i already saw but from a different angle.  as i wrote the check i thought i heard the seann clone say condoms but then i realized he was saying concept 2 because i have that rower.  he was bragging how he has the best time at the 10,000m distance on the concept 2 at his gym.  i said i can manage 2000m, which while true was irrelevant somehow.

i believe the reason some of us are attracted to straight men is not for the fact that they are straight, but for the fact of their confidence, bravado, i rule the world attitude - and general lack of self-hate.  it's sexy to not be afraid of life or self.  to not be afraid of going out and being.  still don't know what i'm going to do tonight.

what? a feeling!

i can think of no better way to celebrate my finally buying some styling jeans (two pairs actually) than with irene cara's what a feeling (ultranow distressed denim mix).  just like fashion, the key with this track is layering.  actually i think that's out.  the key to fashion is nudity.  in advance of nudity, i discovered my taste in denim is not for the extremely deconstructed (rips and tears and sludge) but for the non-generic branded designer jeans (not levis, not diesel) from somewhere else in the world where they understand my legs and ass.  the names of the companies which understand my legs and ass are little big and j & co.  love them.  the challenge has been, as with purchasing furniture, the balancing of form (gay) and function (jewish).  this is a broad stereotype i'm applying to myself, and yet it's completely accurate in this context.  bottom line, i want it all, and at a reasonable price.  i spent a bit but but but i am worth it, or at least my ass and legs are, and that business up front.

i had a thought a couple of nights ago right as i was going to sleep.  a psychotic thought.  luckily it faded away after a few moments.  the belief in the idea faded, not the memory of the idea.  the idea is that i am meant to be myself, and not just when i'm alone.  i'm meant to be myself around men.  around prospective dates and boyfriends and lovers.  i really love the word lovers.  it's dreamy.  the idea is that i haven't met solid matches yet because i'm a fraud from the get go.  i look at myself through another man's eyes and become who i think he wants me to be and i wish he would become who i want him to be.  but who can keep up that level of self/partner-delusion for long?  besides candy spelling.  i'm so on tori's side by the way.  she wanted to do an aaron spelling tribute and candy blocked tori's use of the clips.  what the hell?  what's she gonna hump the clips?  anyway...

manmoney

thanks to wealthymen.com, i will now be able to "meet wealthy men and beautiful women" and experience a "higher caliber online dating experience".  that's what i want to hear when i'll be meeting online strangers face to face - the word "caliber".

choosing from the teaser shots of those in range of seattle, i'm most in immediate permanent love with "drfeelgood005" (top center), especially since he's 86 and his photo "proves" he's a catalog model, since that's where it was swiped from.  he's the l.l. beaniest!  dig that herc'n neck muscle.  yum.

for a pure romp, how could i go wrong with "tkok1" (to the good dr's right).  guess his kok is shaped like the letter t, when he holds it that way.

below him is "proczak" of the green drink.  is it midori?  scope?  poison?  and is proczak the kind of prozac you buy off of craigslist?

bottom left is a weird mel gibson squish known as "mibsen".  maybe i should change my name to a squish of mel gibson apologist jodie foster.  joster.  it's psychedelic, in a lesbian closet case kind of way. 

my last gasp attempt would be "5914hannah" (bottom right).  i'm just concerned he's already 4hannah.  what would be left 4me?  a cowboy hat and an empty wallet?  what the hell am i supposed to do with those, a midnight cowboy impression?

early century modern

how is it not all about modern times by j-five feat. charlie chaplin (rove dogs remix) [expired] right now?  it's the only thing i can listen to at the moment, mostly because of the line "people have to yell nowadays to get heard" which was really creepy to hear while i found out about the shooting yesterday.  when someone tells me to "get up and get down move to the music" i really want to but i can't always comply.  the last time i got down to the music i couldn't get up after.

i used to dance.  on speakers even.  shirtless.  yet not in a circuit boy way because i could never pass for that.  i danced because it was what to do.  i went to the gym because it was what to do.  i'm not a puppet anymore though.  i think about why i do what i do.  and if it's for me or someone else.  i thought working out was for me and i'm trying to pick up my workouts lately.  to actually build momentum enough to have a bodyshaping impact.  and i hit a wall.

i started thinking well i'm not dating anyone now anyway so what's the point?  as in my body is for other people not me.  so that's what i thought years ago too when i was working out everyday which is disturbing.  it was never for me.  and now i want it to be.  i want that to be enough reason to be strong and healthy.  i have some momentum now and i'm going to do my best to keep going.

i just hope i don't go the opposite and when i do have a boyfriend say to myself well fuckit i have a man i can let myself go.  because that will just be the whole angelina jolie phenomenon.  ever since brad, she's just collagen, a mop and oranges.  i never want to let myself go to that level.

reichen dumps lance bass for himself

okay not really but isn't that what everyone is implying with their "lance bass is so fug" and "reichen lehmkuhl deserves better" comments? there hasn't been this much uproar since the whole paulina porizkova ric ocasek supermodel monster partnership.  it's all i've heard since lance proclaimed his anal desires/gayness.

given, lance was wrong in thinking his coming out back in the early '00s would have made a lick of difference in *nsync's success (yes i used the asterisk).  as if the screams weren't 85% for justin, 39% for j.c., 12% for joey (the bears), 2% for chris (who?) and 0.000001% for lance (said pro-lance screams emanating from lance's mom and a younger reichen).  yes that's more than 100% total but clearly boyband fans can't add.  to add to lance's old school fug cred i guarantee there were plenty of bedrooms where lance's part of the posters got covered with justin solo pics and a wb starboy shot or two.

but all that said, isn't reichen just about always going to be the hottest one in any relationship?  um, yes.  and reichen's a millionaire on his own so is clearly dating lance for real.  he's a non-shallow, intelligent, built, successful and thankfully imperfect man (his nipples are too flat).  he chooses lance for now and lance is handsome to him and that's all that matters.

i can't wait until they have kids, and their kids have kids.  the world will be a better, safer place with a little reichen the third running around.

five self-embarrassingnesses (yes, paris hilton is involved)

five  sometimes i'm afraid to make eye contact with people because i think their eyes are going to shoot death rays and turn me into a colander, and not the good kind of colander from sur la table but the bad kind from ikea (which i pronounce icky).  i have never been proven wrong.

four  i don't always think kathy griffin is 100% brilliantly hilarious (more like 79%).  face it people, she's d list for a reason.

three  i've turned down one night stand opportunities that i actually secretly wanted at the time but was too busy maintaining a self-contained i'm looking for a boyfriend posture to admit to myself that the person offering wasn't boyfriend material but was sexbomb material that would have made everything better for exactly that one night.  these turn downs do not even include men who've flirted with me to whom i've remained oblivious because i'm not in a mode that can conceive of a man flirting with me because i'm not feeling my best at the moment.  what's embarrassing are the lies i've told myself about men, about who they are and who i want them to be.  and the lies i've told myself about myself, about who i am and what i want, and who i want to be, and who i want to want and why.  if it feels good do it is not what i'm talking about.  if it feels good, consider doing it.  if it feels good, it feels good.  feel.  good.

two  if i ever get a dog, i'm going to name it mr. rogers and we'll watch mr. rogers together and cry often and deeply, especially during that episode where the goldfish dies.  and most especially on that episode where daniel the tiger does anything because i love daniel the tiger.  still.

one  after being clued into its existence yesterday by chrisafer at blah, blah, black sheep, i can't stop listening to this song [expired].  as in can't stop.  as in its play count in my itunes would be 27 if i ever let it get to the very end.  as in its play count on my mp3 player would also be 27 if it could count.

looking at him looking at him looking at me looking

boyfriend of an ex-friend walks down broadway.  the seattle version of broadway which is an avenue full of pointless retail expressions.  he may be the ex-boyfriend of my ex-friend because people drift apart and that means they could have too which means he could be single.  he holds plastic bags from the grocery store which are never my choice because they cut into my palms and don't biodegrade as easily as paper which is a theory not a fact.  he wears urban flip flops.  blue with a band-aid over his left pinkie toe.  his calves are calm and purposeful.  he may have noticed me.  he may have another boyfriend.

schizophrenic resolutions

i will work out and become rick dinihanian which would make me a 50+ top selling playgirl model with steel gray hair doing sensuous bedding print ads in my spare time.  this would age me two decades into refinement and wealth and a steve martinish face/fitness mannequin body.

i won't work out because if i did people would objectify me by saying such things as "you have a body i want to touch and look at it and touch again and look at while i touch and then make you soup not from scratch but from a can that has the word organic on it because you are organic".  this type of objectification would be sincerely devastating because i don't want someone to want me more than i want myself as in appreciate me more than i appreciate myself value me more than i value myself love me more than i love myself.  i know that when a man leaves someone seeing me as he sees me has left.  his eyes have left and that used to hurt because then nobody would be seeing me that way until the next man arrived and saw me that way which i can only imagine is good and lovely.  i would cry and understand that he was gone and so was happiness.  yet now i know that i need to value myself in all those ways and not look to a man to complete me to make me to see me so i haven't looked to a man for that.  i haven't looked to a man for anything in a long time.  so by comparison my not seeing myself in those valuable ways doesn't seem to be a problem.  i'm not looking for a man to complete me so it doesn't matter that i don't complete myself.

it does matter that i don't complete myself.  it matters that i would try to.  when i work out i breathe and am the jewish jock of all time.  mark spitz.  sandy koufax.  goldberg.  i ran an 8 minute mile in junior high.  i was last.  but first in the 50 yard dash.  first in the 100 yard dash.  by the time everything switched to meters i was still and silent and invisible.  i was first in the standing broad jump.  point a to point b when point b is entirely visible.  marked on a cracking yellow gym mat set outside on the grass during junior high olympics.  i got a ribbon.  red white or blue.  which was best i don't remember but i got the best color.  it was blue yes blue.  went in the file cabinet with my report cards and progress reports.  i always got excellents in everything.  but once i got needs improvement and i was devastated.  needing improvement is failure.

to bar or not to bar

i'm digging my new juicer. it's splendiferous which means good in pretentious vintage gay. the broccoli carrot apple ginger was like brrrzapzingyum. the beet carrot apple double ginger was like whoadamnhellbam. so why would i consider chasing that by going to a bar which for me is generally yawnloudzilchwhy? perhaps i could justify attending bar services as a sociological experiment / new tv show: what happens when 1 self-hating, lonely, sad, queer jew who talks and thinks too much and has let himself go almost to the point of no return more times than he can count is put in a room with 57 rotating strangers all of whom are seemingly keeping it real but really are keeping it fake but they have penises? what will ensue? silence? pointless niceties? shrugging? in depth conversations about drool and cocktail onions? boot admiration? toilet stalking? watching drunk pool? exposed nipples? or simply absolutely utterly zero gravity nothingness emptiness invisibility?

i'm still not sure if i will bar or not bar tonight. perhaps i'll do 1500 meters on my concept 2 rower, take a hot bath, finish off that pint of carob mint soy delicious, and sleep on it until 8am.

i am trying very hard to be gay

my throat is dry because i just tore apart an old ikea dresser that was taking up too much space in my life and apartment. tore it up because it was too heavy for me to lift all at once. and tore it up because i sometimes like tearing stuff up but not enough sometimes because i am a semi-horder. not stacks of old newspapers, but stacks of old life. i also gave away my too big for my apartment couch to a homeless teen center for their tv room. they were thankful and the white leather wipes up nice for those homeless teen spills.

i am trying very hard to be gay because i have not been lately. i did not see brokeback mountain, though i did appreciate the various parodies - spongeback mountain, back to the future mountain, lego brokeback mountain. i have not kissed a guy since a disasterously self-immolating non-one night stand - as in guy does his darndest to pick me up by making out with me for an hour real deep and nice but i don't go home with him because in my mind we were headed for an actual date on another day, which consisted of me calling him like i was the kid in midnight cowboy who wanted jon voigt to call him as in he'd thrown away my number and screened my call and whatever else he could do to ignore me forever because i blue balled him. so i don't go to bars now.

when nerds dream of electric cantaloupe

so i'm walking in my neighborhood and this other guy is walking and i realize i'm supposed to be teaching him how to flirt with men so on cue this third guy is there and he's handsome and friendly looking and wearing a jacket with those suede patches on the elbows like it's 1982 and all is right with the world. so i direct my protégé to start with the flirting and he says hello and what do you do and the guy says i'm a bankruptcy attorney and my protégé says that's nice and keeps walking but the new guy who is apparently french of some sort keeps walking but not with my protégé so i say to the french guy can you repeat yourself? say what you do for a living again? but he doesn't so i say i'll do the line myself. what do you do for a living? i'm a bankruptcy attorney. and then i brighten my face wide-eyed and open and say that's incredible because i'm bankrupt...emotionally!

false romance

i've dreamed of walking into a bookstore, actually for this fantasy it would be a bookshoppe, and browsing in an intelligent, curious manner, while outfitted in mid to high fashion clothing at which point a similarly sartorially splendored gentleman strikes up a conversation, makes deep eye contact, and squirrels me away to a nearby coffee establishment for meaningful repartee, leading to an exchange of numbers and a future date which leads to love and commitment and butt babies.

today i was with my friend browsing the financial planning section of a bookstore, definitely not a bookshoppe, when a tall blondie who was already set up browsing the section struck up idle conversation with her, which for a moment i thought may have meant he was using her to get to me. he was wearing lots of brown, with lovely textures and patterns and shoes, and near as i could tell dressed left. we learned he was searching for a book on steps to take before you quit your job which either meant he was rich or at least stocked up financially for a few months or an idiot. it only took a few back and forths before his attention went completely to her, with the goal of helping her find a book on bouncing her credit back from bankruptcy.

itunes-mancy

dear itunes: will i meet some superspecial, groovy, sexy, lamb angel music baby guy and fall in love in 2006? because i went into borders books today just to browse because i don't support big chain bookstores with my moola and some guy in a gold's gym sweatshirt flirted with me awkwardly with "wow, there sure are a lot of books here!" and i would have flirted back but i wasn't into him, and the ironic thing is i'd gone into borders swearing to myself i was going to find some guy to flirt with and then i'd forgotten to cruise because tatum o'neal's autobiography a paper life was very distracting. no one should hang out with anjelica houston when they're 12. so i left borders wondering is that all i get? is that it for the year? or will i find someone to love and love me back? not just to say love but to actually do it. the action of loving. the effect and dream and potential of loving. the reality of loving.

itunes: ray of light - string quartet tribute [expired]

what does itunes mean?  if leonard nimoy's i'd love making love to you had come up at least i'd know there was someone out there, but now i'm more confused than ever.

addendum: i've been informed by the all knowing on mancy matters heretic saint that mancys must come in threes.  so i went back to itunes and randomized starting with ray of light string quartet.  the next two were crucified - army of lovers and i melt with you - nouvelle vague. i still need help on what all this means.  at least i melt with you has a you in it.

where's my mall when i was a kid?

where's my mall when i was a kid? i know it's physically still there. in the suburbs of hell where there's no burb just sub. but as a state of mind it is gone except when it rains for days and i am alone. where's my driving to the mall on saturdays and stealing a playgirl? where's my driving to the shopping center across from the mall on saturdays and buying a $6.99 sisters of mercy album? bringing an apple and that's it to eat for hours. wondering if i should go to the sears bathroom where all these men had been busted for homosexuality including a teacher from a neighboring school system. finally going in and it was so white and empty. where's my being so stupid as to not realize that nobody ever goes back to the johns that have been raided? cruising territory in the suburbs in the '80s was pointless because i had nothing to give.

the great philosopher roseanne said the fastest way to a man's heart is through his chest. i say the fastest way into my pants is through my mind and spirit. getting inside my pants is not literal and with the guy i kissed so hard it was my wish that he wanted more than sex. if i kissed hard enough and open enough he would touch my spirit and mind and know that he had and would ask me out on an old fashioned '80s date to the mall. let's go to the mall and go back in time more to the '70s mall for our second date. let's go back in time to kathy johnson's with the delicious vanilla milkshakes in metal. with the rock candy i stared out but never ate. with the 45 rpm records of barry manilow, queen, stevie wonder, anne murray, aretha franklin, foreigner, donna summer, anyone real. the store called pie place which sold pie and had rounded brown and orange '70s geometry counters and walls. the men with long hair in ponytails. the click clack credit card sliding machine. the brand new orange vw vans. the future.

despite being about love this post has nothing to do with fabio

thank goodness for jockohomo's best singles of 2005 playlist. now my friend will have something to listen to while the dentist rips her teeth out friday. this is the same friend that is slated to make yet another wedding cake for a friend's wedding, thereby forcing everyone else to the dentist soon enough. i don't use the word wedding a lot. is wedding a verb or a noun? normally i would be anti-wedding because of how it's illegal for u.s. same sexers, but the couple getting married is quite unusual and it will be a retro '50s thing so how could i miss it? perhaps as a present i'll say a donation has been made in your name to equal rights washington to support marriage rights for the gays. but whatever that wedding's like i know the cake making will be a drama again. last one she well overestimated the number of carpal tunnel syndrome inducing little purple flowers the cake would need and made a thousand too many. that's a thousand extra little tinky winky anuses. i've encouraged her to use an abacus and aerial cake photography for this next cake so she makes only what's necessary.

as for my wedding (for which there is no man yet but there will be - i mean how am i supposed to get married without a man, hello!?), i've decided in advance about the cake. cakes actually. first there will be the pure function cake: a huge ugly organic sugar free "cake" for 50 that she doesn't have to have anything to do with. then as her project, there will be the pure form cake. it can be made out of styrofoam, asbestos, cotton, spraypaint, pipe cleaners, used dildos, used picassos - whatever it takes to create her vision of queer marriage beauty. by separating form and function, there won't be the stress, drama and difficulty of her having to work with tricky persnickity edible ingredients. hell it can be photoshop cake for all i care. just as long as it's beautiful and (hopefully) permanent. as beautiful and (hopefully) permanent as tyra's merciful catwalk retirement. and, okay, as beautiful and (absolutely) permanent as fabio's hold on my heart. yes i said it.

lies i've told myself about men

so i've been reading all about love: new visions by bell hooks and dammit if she isn't a powerful transformative writer. which i knew when i bought the book well over a year ago. which is why i've only skimmed it until now. finally i'm reading it. really reading it. ready to hear and know that i've been lying to myself about who i've been with, turning men into what i want them to be in my imagination and ignoring all reality as to who they really are. well none of that has worked in creating love. surprise. it makes me feel better for a bit then it all crashes. lying to myself about who i'm with and lying to who i'm with about who i am (if only by not being myself fully). i'm over it. done. but to get done, i'm going to remind myself of lies i've told myself about specific men. in every case, these lies just prolonged the agony. have you lied?

lie: he's introspective and mysterious
truth: he's a quiet drunk (not that that's a bad thing but i don't want to date one)

lie: he's sexually adventurous and an entrepreneur
truth: he's a prostitute (not that that's a bad thing but i don't want to date one)

lie: he's an excellent listener
truth: he has nothing to say

lie: he's a poet
truth: he's unemployed

lie: he's deep and complex
truth: he's as deep and complex as anorexic nicole richie's non-existent shit

lie: he's made it to a good place in his life
truth: he's given up

lie: he's got a great sense of humor
truth: he laughs at my jokes and tells none of his own

lie: he loves me
truth: he wants my cock

lie: he loves me
truth: he's killing time until something better comes along

lie: he loves me
truth: he's cheating on me

lie: he loves me
truth: he's stalking me

lie: he's sensitive
truth: he watches oprah but he's a lout

lie: he's in naturally good shape
truth: now that he's with me he will never work out again

lie: he wants more than one night
truth: he wants less than one night then wants to go back to the bar to pick up someone else for less than one night

lie: he's the one for me
truth: i haven't met the one for me yet

this last truth is the most important. this last truth is the one that makes me smile. on to the next chapter. damn you bell hooks! what the hell are you going to help me face next?

virtual heterosexuality and maximum homosexuality

pick a surface then flex, turn, spin and bounce the always consensual virtual heterosexual simulacrums into a form of two dimensional sexual congress of your liking. you can't resist giving it a try.

speaking of resisting giving it a try, i am officially retiring even the slightest possibility of ever having a one night stand again. unless when he intones "but the bomb could drop any moment, baby" i can actually see the bomb and his cock is as big as the bomb.

i will do many things with someone i just met. many many things. talk, make out, talk, make out, talk, make out, trade numbers, make out. and i have been very clear that i will not go home with someone i just met. i have said it anyway. but i must be putting out mixed signals that mess up my own expectations and possibly those of guys, because part of me still must want to have a one night stand that i could pretend would turn into a relationship or at least two weeks of friendly passionate dating.

what i actually want though is to know that such sexual and dating and relationship possibility is, as petula clark crooned, 'round every corner. well now i know petula was correct. sexual possibility, sexual satisfaction, passion, lust, love, boyfriends are all 'round every corner. they are not however 'round every corner 5 minutes from now. they are all here. they are simply not all now. and i don't need them to be. i just need them all to exist, to be in my past or future life.

i kissed a man on the first day of hanukkah and it was glorious and i'm never going to kiss him again apparently and i could have had a one night stand and i guess i did. it's just it was all kissing. i kissed and kissed and kissed a man. and that's it.

wishes for 2006

• giving and getting lust and love.
• naomi campbell reignites her feud with tyra banks with the debut of "earth's next top model". the key difference between entm and antm is naomi's contestants are all actually tall enough to get work. upn.com's own minisites for america's next top model cycles 1 to 5 reveal the average height shrinks every time. gots to be at least 5'10" or stay the fuck home.
• michelle williams is nominated for a best supporting actress oscar for her work in spitcrack mountain, making fellow dawson's creek alum katie holmes feel like shit for a second.
• george takei (yes it rhymes with gay when correctly pronounced) shoots a daddy porn where he dramatically, precisely and deeply enunciates "i am coming i am coming swallow it all you submissive boy. take the entire penis of a survivor of a wwii asian-american internment camp. the entire penis of a survivor of racist hollywood. the entire penis of a survivor of working with william shatner. that is correct. take it. completely. now. now. now. thank you."
• i learn a decent opening line that fully expresses my personality, desire and spunk. communicating my spunk does not then get me in the same trouble as mary richards experienced in the mary tyler moore show as mr. grant said "you got spunk" and she said "thank you" and his next line was the classic "i hate spunk!" (yeah that better not happen to me).
• advanced forms of tapioca pudding.
• male underwear becomes male outerwear.
• did i mention love?
• love.

gaydar is dead if we kill it together

listened to fresh n' tasty's latest podcast, in which he describes his complete lack of gaydar. to those of us who think we have gaydar, how many of our gaydar bleeps/alarms are ever really confirmed? sure we think we've spotted/sensed a fellow pillow biter, but we may have in fact spotted/sensed a pillow manufacturer. so, to ask a very carrie bradshaw sex & the city question, does gaydar exist (and now since she always voiceovers her seemingly key question but then expands on it) does gaydar exist...and is it useful...and if it's useful can it lead to true love?

i don't drink don't smoke what do i do

seattle's, make that all of washington state's, smoking ban went into effect today. as in no smoking in bars or restaurants or within 25 feet of the entrance. though the health department and police department said they can't/won't enforce the 25 foot rule which is based on smoke getting into the ventilation of a place since it can't be proven that smoke's getting in. so basically people will smoke outside and probably on patios if no one complains. i've never smoked or been much into second hand smoking. i still think there should be able to be cigar bars or hookah bars as they're called that are all about smoking but those are outlawed too. so now the new opening line will be do you want to go back to my place and smoke, or more specifically do you want to go back to my place and smoke outside my building because i can't smoke in my apartment either. this will not make bars a paradise for me as i will still be the wallflower type ultimately attracted to the wrong guy i'm afraid to ask the right questions of so i end up with a one night stander when what i really want is a date or two or more. so i don't do the one night stand and all i get is a we met in a bar and i drove you home or walked you to a cab kiss or 6 goodnight.

ex-boyfriend sightings

saw him on the dance floor at key west disco in philadelphia. resigned myself to avoiding the dance floor but when supermodel came on ended up dancing back to back ignoring him as much as possible while three walls of mirrors made it a quadruple ex siting. rupaul intoned "you better work" so i did. and with a better ass than my ex. he cheated on me. i stayed with him. he dumped me. i ate high butterfat content strawberry ice cream for breakfast because i heard that's what you do after a break up and it was my first one. he took six months to return my first pair of drag booties. $12.99 payless magic which by then i'd outgrown in style.